Page 6 of A Lady of Conscience

“Yes, Mr. Heywood,” the housekeeper replied. She immediately returned to directing one of the footmen. “Not there! Those books belong in the library.”

James trailed after Charles and Kate as they made their way upstairs to the expansive silk-papered drawing room. It was furnished in an opulent style, not vastly different from the drawing room in the Beresfords’ own rented house near the Circus.

He seated himself in an armchair, somewhat removed from the damask sofa where Charles and Kate sat down together. James may not approve of his sister’s impetuousness, but he wasn’t a killjoy. He knew Kate had been missing her fiancé. The least James could do was keep his distance while the two of them enjoyed their reunion.

As they did, James boredly examined the grain of his expensive leather gloves. It was never quite comfortable to be around an engaged couple, especially when one was still unattached oneself. It required a certain appreciation for romance, which James was fully aware he was lacking.

He was supposed to have been the first among his siblings to become engaged. Instead, Kate had beaten them all to the wire, followed shortly by Ivo. As yet, Jack showed no signs of being headed in a similar direction. Still, it didn’t sit well with James to have fallen so far behind in his duty to the title. By rights, he should be in London, searching out a suitable bride of his own. Not in Bath. And not here, in Camden Place, indulging his unfortunate attraction to a shy, West Country bluestocking.

Kate and Charles were still murmuring to each other, smiling and holding hands, when Miss Heywood entered the room. She was simply dressed in a gown of dove gray wool. Its snug bodice and close-fitting long sleeves accentuated the soft curves of her figure.

James was at once on his feet.

A soft, petal pink stain suffused Miss Heywood’s cheeks as he bowed to her. She offered a polite curtsy in return.

“Hannah!” Kate rose to clasp Miss Heywood’s hands. “How well you look!” She kissed her cheek. “I’m not at all surprised, though I know underneath you must be exhausted from your journey. Even fifty miles is a trial if one isn’t used to traveling. You will be wanting to rest, I don’t wonder. Come, sit down. I promise my brother and I won’t stay overlong.”

James said nothing. There was no room for him to speak, nor any cause for him to do so, not with Kate chattering so gaily. She resumed her seat on the sofa with Charles, urging Miss Heywood to the vacant chair next to James.

Miss Heywood took it, her eyes downcast and her face still coloring prettily.

James sat down beside her, separated from her by nothing more than the width of a low, polished wood table. Her profile was in his periphery; the dark arch of her winged brow, the elegant slope of her cheek, and the sweep of her thick, dark auburn hair, smoothed back into a simple knot at her nape.

“I’ve ordered tea for us,” Charles said to his sister.

“Thank you,” Miss Heywood replied.

It may well have been the first words she’d uttered since entering the room. The low, velvet murmur of her voice struck a disconcerting chord in James’s chest.

He steeled himself against the feeling.

He had no tolerance for unfettered emotion. It provoked one to take inadvisable risks and to make foolish decisions. He’d seen the proof of it often enough in his family. For generations, the Beresfords’ course had been navigated by a passionate star—to frequently perilous result. When it came to his own path, James was resolved to steer with his head rather than his heart.

Kate continued to cheerfully drive the conversation, talking about her impending wedding to Charles, and about Miss Heywood’s upcoming season. It wasn’t until the tea had been served and a portion of seed cake dutifully eaten that James’s sister at last returned to her private, murmured discussion with her betrothed, leaving James and Miss Heywood to talk amongst themselves.

James looked at her steadily. She was focused on sipping her tea, her posture straight, her head bent gracefully, and her skirts spilling about her in a swell of soft gray wool. He suspected she was avoiding looking at him.

It was difficult for him to fathom such a profound degree of shyness. He’d met many young ladies in his five and twenty years. Even the most reserved among them had still been capable of polite conversation. At the very minimum, they had managed to meet his eyes.

He set down his tea cup. “Your journey was pleasant?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said.

“And your parents? They follow behind you, I understand.”

“They do.” Miss Heywood slowly returned her own cup to its saucer. Her gaze lifted to his with an obvious effort, revealing her different colored eyes. They were beautifully expressive, soft and doe-like, and fringed with unusually long, black lashes. “My father had several estate matters to settle with his steward. We so rarely go away from home for any length of time. There was much to arrange.”

James could well imagine. He presently had the charge of his parents’ two largest estates. They employed stewards, of course, but it was James who worked in concert with them, not his father. When James wasn’t in London, he spent his time travelling between Beasley Park, his mother’s ancestral home in Somerset, and Worth House, the family seat in Hertfordshire, dealing with everything from crop and livestock management to structural improvements, recordkeeping, and contractual issues with farmers.

His late great-grandfather had hammered home the necessity of the future earl knowing his lands backward and forward. It wasn’t enough to derive an income from one’s property. A responsible landowner had a duty of care to his lands, and to every creature that subsisted upon them. James’s father had learned it before him. And now it was James’s turn. He’d taken up the reins not long after coming of age.

“My sister informs me that your mother is bringing your dogs to Bath,” he said.

Miss Heywood’s mouth lifted in a fleeting smile. “She is.”

“They’ll stay here with you for the whole of your season?”

“If all goes to plan. My brother took care to find a house that would be amenable to them.” She cast a glance about the room, the single look seeming to encompass the entirety of the well-appointed property. “I hope they shall be content here. The garden is very small, and there is so little in the way of fields or pastures for them to frolic in.”