Page 86 of The Smuggler’s Escape

Chapter 19

Noelle spent the morning at her uncle’s house, packing a few remaining belongings. It was a complete and utter waste of time, but she had to keep up appearances.

The minute she returned to Boltwood Manor, Dorothea pounced on her. “Thank heavens you are here.”

“Has Richard returned?” Noelle asked, in a fever to warn him to keep their imminent departure a secret.

“No, he hasn’t.” Dorothea followed Noelle up the stairs to her bedchamber. “It didn’t work.”

“What didn’t?”

“Befriending Johnny.” Dorothea shut the bedchamber door. “My mother said Richard would approve, as Johnny is an invalid and appreciates visitors and books to read. As if I care one way or the other for Richard’s approval.” She paused, looking stricken. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, for as his future wife, you are bound to value his opinion.”

Noelle hadn’t been paying much attention, but this remark penetrated her worried mind. “Not at all,” she began, but then realized it wasn’t true. She did value his opinion, unless it was wrong. And even then, she gave it some thought. She knew better than to consider herself infallible.

“But what Mother meant was that . . . Are you listening?”

Noelle dug in her clothes press. “Your mother still thinks she can force you to marry Richard.”

“Precisely,” Dorothea said. “I even asked Johnny to kiss me, and—”

Noelle looked up and grinned. “And he complied. Did you enjoy it?”

Dorothea went pink. “Very much so, but I haven’t the courage to tell my mother, and even if I do, she’ll just say I must marry Richard as soon as possible, to get such foolishness off my mind. She knows Johnny isn’t really a marriage prospect for me.”

Noelle sighed. “We’ll have to find a more dangerous suitor for you.” She considered. “How about Lord Harry? He’ll be happy to oblige.”

“That’s exactly what Richard suggested, but Harry’s a rake!” Dorothea cried. “He tries to flirt with me, and I don’t know how to flirt back. What if he tries to kiss me?”

“He’s not as skillful as Johnny,” Noelle said, “but still quite pleasant.”

“You’ve kissed him, too?” Disapproval vibrated in her voice. “That’s frightfully fast of you. If you truly love Richard, why would you kiss another man?”

“Richard wasn’t here. I hadn’t seen him for more than two years.”

“Ah. You wanted him to return,” Dorothea said. “So you flirted with Harry, and it worked!”

“No,” Noelle said grumpily, “that wasn’t it at all, but I can’t and won’t explain.” She flapped a hand at Dorothea’s disbelieving expression. “My reason doesn’t matter. Harry will dine with us tonight. I’ll ask him to flirt with you. All you have to do is blush and look confused, and Harry will press his advantage, and you will giggle and pretend to be enthralled, and your mother will have a fit.”

“You’re so courageous,” Dorothea said glumly.

“So are you,” Noelle said. “You have to live with your horrid mother every day, and you stood up to her yesterday, and you’re doing your best to be scandalous when it’s completely against your nature.”

“And you’re so kind as well,” Dorothea said, but Noelle was prevented from further attempts to bolster her new friend’s morale by Betsy, who burst in to announce the arrival of Madame Lisette for a fitting. After the modiste’s departure, Lady Boltwood had cakes, coffee, and tea brought to the drawing room.

After one sip, Lady Darsington set her cup down and made a face. “I am accustomed to coffee of a better quality.”

Lady Boltwood superbly ignored this slight on coffee almost as good as that served in Paris.

Noelle did not. “Then you will not wish to attend my salon, Lady Darsington, for this excellent coffee is what I will serve.”

“You wish to set up a salon?” Encroaching little upstart, she might have added.

“As my mother did in Paris.” She smiled at Dorothea. “Miss Darsington, I hope you will regularly grace my salon with your presence.” She even managed to feel like she was being genuine—for she did intend to have a salon someday, whether in Amsterdam or Vienna. Or Paris, once peace was restored.

“I should be most pleased,” Dorothea said. “Pray call me Dot. All my close friends do.”

“And you must call me Noelle. I hope we shall be very good friends indeed.”