The housekeeper’s gaze passed over the room slowly, and then she left again.
Mercy sighed. “Mrs. Callinan is such a busybody she’ll have told everyone about the gowns by the time our tea is cold. Mrs. Turner, would you be good enough to pour? I fear my sister may need a refreshing cup or two before she is comfortable with my choice of gown for tonight.”
“I will not wear any of the colors,” Blythe protested. “I’ll wear my favorite black brocade instead.”
“That is where you are wrong, dear sister. I have been waiting for this day very impatiently. Black is much too severe a color on you. On any woman for that matter.” Mercy’s hands settled on her shoulders and Blythe was steered toward a chair. “Let’s have tea and discuss tonight. I think diamonds would look very well with that gown. What is your opinion, Mrs. Turner?”
Turner endured Mercy’s stare, neither fidgeting nor automatically agreeing. That could only be for the best. Mrs. Turner was Blythe’s employee not Mercy’s. She would be the one with the final decision on what stones to wear with the blue silk. Turner passed over a tea cup with a steady hand. “I am unsure, Your Grace. It would depen
d on the style of the gown and the size of the stones. They should match the occasion.”
“Exactly.” Mercy clapped her hands together and leaned forward. “Now, about her hair . . .”
Sixteen
Devil take it. A closed carriage. Tobias clenched his fist as the conveyance rumbled to a stop before the stairs of Romsey Abbey, horses tossing their heads impatiently. He was alone in the drawing room, waiting for the others to come down to get this torture over with.
The sight of the dark coach and four, similar to the one his parents had been murdered in, chilled his blood. So far, he’d managed to deflect Leopold’s invitations to go anywhere in one. But he couldn’t walk to tonight’s entertainment. It was simply too far away and he wouldn’t arrive on time or in the expected pristine elegance of the gentleman he was to pretend to be.
Soft footfalls echoed in the hall and he looked up as Blythe stepped into the room, nervously gripping a cream shawl in her hands. She wore the blue silk he’d glimpsed on her last night and costly jewels at her throat, the rich colors reminding him of the clear waters of the Caribbean and the sunlight sparkling on the horizon at dawn.
Her throat moved as she swallowed and then she smiled nervously. “I take it Her Grace is not ready?”
Thank God Mercy was not. If anyone else was here he would not be at liberty to drink in the sight of her so completely. “So it would seem.”
Blythe glanced over her shoulder. “Perhaps I should . . .”
“No, stay here and let me look at you.” She stilled and he prowled closer. The color really did suit her complexion better, but the change of attire did suggest something else. She’d put aside her mourning. Had she done so because of his few kisses? “You take my breath away.”
She blushed and looked down, fiddling with her shawl. “Thank you.”
Tobias caressed the skin beneath her chin until she lifted her face. Although tempted to kiss her again, he was hesitant to muss her up. She was perfect. Elegant, warm, and mouthwatering. “The gentlemen will be lined up to dance with you now. I have no doubts on that score. I may not deserve the honor, but I still claim the supper dance.”
“Of course,” she said. “I wouldn’t go back on my word. Are you in better spirits now?”
He nodded slowly, surprised she asked. Her question went a long way to improving his mood. It seemed the revelation of his time aboard the slaver had not repulsed her.
“How did you get away from the slaver? I’ve heard such terrible things of them.”
Tobias bit his lip. He hadn’t intended to reveal the details of his past. Ladies certainly should not know. But Blythe had asked the question and he’d promised to be honest with her. He couldn’t very well lie outright after making such a point about his truthfulness. However, he could soften the details considerably. She’d most likely still be shocked. “The captain died suddenly two years ago and we returned to port in Charleston soon after. In the confusion of the first night, I managed to slip away and swim to shore. I made my way on foot to Boston, where I hoped to find safe passage back.”
Her eyes widened. “You’ve been to the America’s?”
He nodded. “I’ve been to many places. Most of which are not fit for your ears.”
“It took you two years to return to England? How did you manage that feat?”
“I was hired on by Captain Arnold, a good man, and owner of a whaler bound for England. I spent two years in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic hunting whales before the ship came home.”
“That’s dreadful,” she whispered.
“That is my past.”
Blythe was silent for a long while, head bowed. He stared down at the top of her head. She must be mortified now to have kissed a man with so little to recommend him. She’d certainly make sure that his past became known. He’d never find a wealthy wife now.
Her hand rose to the corner of her eyes and she sniffed. “I used to think well of the duke and his son. It seems I am an abominable judge of character.”
He winced. “You judged me correctly.”