Joan Smith - The Barefoot Baroness

Soon the baroness and her chaperones joined the table. As soon as she decently could, Laura rose and took her leave.

"I shall meet you outside in forty minutes for church, Mama," she said.

Olivia grabbed Laura's skirt as she turned to flee. "He is in the garden waiting for you," she whispered, and smiled encouragingly.

Laura went directly upstairs. Let him wait! What could Hyatt possibly have to say to her? If he meant to continue the flirtation, he would charm her into acquiescence. If he was tired of it, he would laugh it off. How is my fiancee this morning? Or am I being previous to call you my fiancee? No doubt you are too wise to accept my offer. She could almost see the wary light in his eye as he backed off from her.

Her hostess had left a book of poetry by the bedside to beguile a restless guest to slumber. Gray's Elegy in a Country Churchyard just suited her somber mood. At the appointed hour, she put on her bonnet and went belowstairs. She hardly felt the jarring of her heart when Hyatt was seen loitering below.

He looked up the stairs as she descended, and smiled. "Does that bonnet mean you are going to church? I thought we might have a ride this morning."

She gave him a chilly smile. "I always attend church on Sunday, Lord Hyatt, but I shan't attempt to coerce you into anything so respectable. By all means you must have your ride."

"I usually do my worshipping out-of-doors. Trees were made before cathedrals. Will you ride with me this afternoon?"

"I have made other plans," she said, and whisked past him to join a group of ladies bent on going to church.

Hyatt stood looking after her, with a frown puckering his brow. Now what the devil was bothering Laura? He could understand if she had ripped up at him after the set-to with Marie Devereau last night, but she had taken that in her stride. There should be no more trouble with Marie. He had promised to give her the damned portrait, to be rid of her. He had done it as much to please Laura as for any other reason, since she had asked rather pointedly why he wished to keep it. That had certainly sounded like jealousy. A lady was not jealous about a gent she didn't care for.

She had not joined him in the garden, and he knew she had received his message, because the baroness nipped out after her breakfast and told him so. It was beginning to look like a concerted effort to avoid him. Damn, if she meant to refuse his offer, she might at least have the common courtesy to tell him so, instead of leaving him in limbo. He expected more propriety from Miss Harwood. But in the contrary way of human nature, the worse she behaved, the better he was coming to love her.

During the church service, Laura racked her brain to think what she could do that afternoon to avoid Lord Hyatt. When the minister announced that he was giving a guided tour of the church that afternoon, she decided to attend it. A church was sure to be safe from that reprobate, Lord Hyatt.

She mentioned her plan to her mother on the way home. "Why would you want to do that, dear?" her mother asked in perplexity. "The whole point of it is to show the parishioners how the church is falling apart. He is going to take up a collection to make the repairs afterward." Laura had missed that part. "It is not a shilling he will expect either, but a couple of guineas."

"It is a lovely old church. I shall subscribe one guinea," Laura said. It was a bargain price to keep her at distance from Hyatt. When she announced her plan at luncheon, three other ladies decided they would join her.

"We can go in my carriage," Lady Meaford said.

Laura breathed a sigh of relief. She and three other ladies would fill up the carriage, in case Hyatt planned to join them. From the stiff face he was wearing, this did not seem likely.

He did not approach her after lunch. Some of the youngsters were having a game of croquet, and when Lady Meaford's carriage swept through the park, Laura recognized Hyatt's gleaming blond head and broad shoulders. Lady Devereau, she assumed, had been served her breakfast in bed and left. Laura did not see her that day, and none of the other guests mentioned her.

Laura took two memories of the church tour home with her. One was of Reverend Burnes prodding the perishing rock with his cane. A fine white powder had sifted down when he knocked it, reminding her of confectioner's sugar being sifted on to a cake. It was surprisingly white. The other was of standing a hundred yards back from the church to see the condition of the lead roof. She had worried that it would be dangerous for men to have to hang on to its steep inclination to replace the aging lead.

Mrs. Burnes served cake and tea after, and the ladies left their donations in a silver bowl on a side table on their way out. She noticed that Lady Meaford left five guineas, but there were also shillings and crowns and half crowns in the bowl, so she did not feel like a skint.

Tea at the vicarage precluded having to take tea at Castlefield. There remained only dinner and Sunday evening to be got in. They were to leave early Monday morning. Laura was at pains to avoid Hyatt at dinner. This was made easier, as he had not been to the bother of rearranging the seating. She refused to look across the board at him, but she felt that his dark eyes were often turned in her direction.

As no entertainment was planned on a Sunday, Laura went upstairs while the gentlemen took their port, claiming that she had letters to write. Olivia had been pestering her throughout the day to ask whether she had accepted Hyatt. Fearing that she would come again, Laura arranged stationery on the desk and even dated one sheet of Castlefield's embossed letter paper. It would be fun to write home to some of her friends on such prestigious paper.

She owed her cousin Belle Harwood a letter, and desultorily wrote a few lines. Before long her pen fell idle, and she sat, just gazing at the picture of a ship above the desk. A small brass plaque bore the title "Shipwreck." The ship had a great many sails and plunged precariously into waves that threatened to engulf it. Rocks loomed ahead. Change the sea to society and the subject just suited her own situation. She felt she had plunged headlong into a mess that was as doomed as that ship, tossed on a stormy sea.

When she heard a tap on the door, she picked up her pen and called, "Come in." She arranged a bland smile to greet Olivia.

The door opened, and Lord Hyatt's form loomed in the dim light from the hallway.

Laura leapt up from the desk. "Hyatt! You can't come in here!" she exclaimed.

"Then you come out," he demanded. "I want to speak to you."

His tone brought her anger to the boil. "I have nothing to say to you, sir," she replied, tossing her head.

He took a quick peek up and down the hall to make sure he was unobserved, before striding into her room and slamming the door. "I take leave to disagree, Miss Harwood. When I make a lady an offer of marriage, I expect the courtesy of an answer, one way or the other."

"I see you are eager to reclaim your freedom. In that case, you may consider yourself reprieved. And if I may just make a suggestion, Lord Hyatt, in the future you should be more discreet as to where you embrace a lady, and these nominal offers would not be necessary."

"I did not consider it a nominal offer!"

"In point of fact, you did not offer at all, despite your behavior, so it is unnecessary for me to refuse. You have done what society requires, and saved your somewhat questionable reputation by pretending your intentions were honorable. Now you may go."

He stiffened at her angry words, which accused him of trifling with her at best and even hinted at an attempted seduction. "I don't give a damn what society thinks!" he said angrily.

"You have made that amply clear, sir. I, however, do have some concern for my reputation. My concerns are best served by not seeing you again. Good day."

"Just what, exactly, are you accusing me of?" he demanded, fire in his eyes.

"With regard to myself, I am accusing you of nothing worse than a lack of propriety. What charges your relations with Lady Devereau lay you open to is your concern."

"I am not in the least concerned about Lady Devereau."

"It is perfectly obvious you care for nothing but yourself," she sneered. It occurred to Laura that, barring the fact that Hyatt had his shoes on, she was now in much the same position as that infamous lady. Hyatt had once more come slipping into a lady's room, closing the door behind him. Anyone might pass and hear his voice. She would be ruined.

"There is nothing between Marie Devereau and myself," he stated categorically. "And I have done nothing to jeopardize your reputation either."

"We disagree on what constitutes nothing," she said haughtily. "You forget my lack of a scarlet past. A gentleman's forcing his way into my bedchamber and closing the door is not a mere nothing to me. So perhaps you would be kind enough to leave," she said.

She made to brush past him to open the door. Hyatt reached out and grabbed her wrist, to swing her around facing him. "You are swift to accuse, madam." His dark eyes burned into hers. At this close range, she could even feel his breath on her cheeks. "It seems to me that if anyone was trifling with anyone's affections in this affair, I am not the guilty party."

She wrenched away. "I suspect you are always the guilty party where ladies are concerned, Lord Hyatt."

He swallowed his anger and sorrow and said mildly, "Then I can only wonder that you lowered yourself to indulge me for two whole days. But then your formidable propriety will no doubt save you from the taint of even Lord Hyatt's degeneracy. Good night, Miss Harwood."