Page 60 of A Season for Scandal

His eyes roamed my face. “You have mud on your cheek, on your clothes.”

I lifted my own fingers to my face, dimly aware that they were trembling. He caught my hand in his own. “I was gardening,” I said unsteadily. “You have asters.”

Oliver’s eyes gleamed, even as he stepped back. He turned my palm over, and though I had washed my hands when I came in from the garden, there were stubborn crescents of dirt under my fingernails. For a moment I saw my hand through Oliver’s eyes. It was not the delicate hand of a lady – it was rough in places, calloused – but he looked at it with that strange smile on his lips.

As the distance between us increased, I found I could breathe again, though I swore I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my cheek. I pulled my fingers gently from his grip.

“I have asters, do I?” he said. “And what do asters mean?”

“Daintiness,” I said, still flustered but trying to hide it. “Perfect for you.”

He laughed.

Oliver Lockhartlaughed, and I wanted to bottle the sound, to keep it for ever.

“Maybe you’re right, Bloom. Perfect for me,” he said. “Now, we’d better go and clean up. As I understand it here in polite society, we dress for dinner.”

The next morning, I woke to a loud sound that I couldn’t identify.More of these peculiar country noises, I thought, rushing over to the window and dragging the curtain aside.

Below me, three men with machines were mowing the lawn.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“I have been thinking, Mr Lockhart,” Mrs Lavigne said the next day when the company was gathered in the drawing room, “about our visit to York.”

Rain drummed against the windows, and we had all settled there with our own entertainments. Helene had her eyes down, focused on her embroidery. Meanwhile, Mrs Finch sat at a small table, dashing off several letters, and Mr Lavigne had embroiled Oliver in a game of chess that he didn’t seem particularly invested in.

“What about it?” Oliver asked, carelessly moving one of his pawns and looking incredibly bored when Mr Lavigne chided him over the folly of the decision.

“Well…” Mrs Lavigne cast aside the periodical she was reading in favour of gifting him with the full weight of her attention. “We are allexcessivelygrateful for your continued hospitality in allowing us to remain at Lockhart Hall…”

“This is my sister’s home too,” Oliver said shortly. “It is hardly hospitality on my part. She is as entitled as I am to be here.” Helene’s eyes lifted to his at this, and Oliver’s face softened. “I would not want to lose her company a second time.”

A look I was coming to recognize passed over Helene’s face. It was as if she expected no kindness from Oliver at all; as if every time he offered it, she was taken aback.

“Of course, of course,” Mrs Lavigne simpered, “and that is greatly to your credit. But I wondered if you had given any thought to Helene’s future?”

“Mother,” Helene murmured, but Mrs Lavigne ignored her, only keeping her attention fixed on Oliver.

“I suppose Helene’s future is up to her,” Oliver answered.

“What amanhe is, Miss Bloom!” She laughed, drawing me into the conversation. “Mr Lockhart doesn’t understand what I am hinting at, but I’m sure you do.”

I set aside the letter from Daisy that I had been rereading for the third time, guilt crawling over me.

There have been one or two small problems, she wrote,but nothing for you to worry about; I’m sure it will all be set right in no time. Mrs Payne did kick up quite a fuss about her delivery, but then how was I supposed to know that lilies are fatal to cats?? And we removed the flowers so quickly that the feline wasn’t even in the same room as them, but the way she was carrying on, you would have thought I had been trying to murder the wretched animal.

And naturally it is unfortunate that Robbie is laid up after his accident at the flower market on Thursday (it was hardly his fault that that silly man’s horse decided to bolt in the middle of a crowd despite what that nosy flower seller had to say!).

However, Grandfather and I have taken to attending together and I must say I find the whole thing thrilling.

Scout asked me to send you a list of questions, which I enclose separately because half of them include Latin of which I can’t make head nor tail. I’m afraid that Grandfather doesn’t hold out great hopes for the newest of the hybrid roses, but perhaps you will be able to work your magic on them once you are home!

Tearing my attention away, I tried to focus on what Mrs Lavigne had said.

“I believe Mrs Lavigne means that you should consider introducing Helene into society,” I managed.

“Society can go hang,” Oliver said succinctly.