When he shook out the paper and began to read, her heart fluttered. His voice filled the room and smothered her with sensations she fought hard to deny. No one else assumed to do so many little kindnesses when they visited. Peter hadn’t rushed to pick up her spilled yarns, treating her like a capable woman rather than an invalid as Walter often did. And he brought precious gifts from the outside world that she’d missed but had forgotten how much. Being blind meant one only discovered what she heard, smelled or touched in her small world. Peter brought the world with him.
Occasionally, Peter asked her opinion on the news he’d read out loud and she hesitantly ventured to voice her views. They discussed politics at length and then he fell silent.
“What’s wrong?” she asked at last.
Paper crackled. “The heroine in The Lady Most Likely. Did you base her on Miss Pease by chance?”
“I base them on no one in particular. To do so would draw unwanted attention and create difficulties for Walter and myself.”
“But,” he leaned close enough that his breath caressed her cheek. “I chanced to dine in Miss Pease’s company last night at Merton’s, and this morning I was struck by certain similarities to the innkeeper’s daughter you wrote of. The giggly laugh, the over-application of perfume, and the distinctive way she cut her food into the tiniest of pieces before she loaded her fork. Could two such creatures exist without there being a slight coincidence?”
Imogen blushed at the mistake. Usually she was more discreet in her descriptions. “Well, perhaps one or two character traits might have been drawn from previous meetings between myself and Miss Pease. I do write about the world around me.”
“And you will again,” he insisted.
Although she yearned for what she’d lost there was no turning back. “No, Sir Peter. The time for writing is long gone.”
“Maybe not today, but I fear our time is up for the moment.” His breath whispered across her cheek. “I shall bend all my efforts to convince you to write again or die trying. May I call on you tomorrow?”
Although it was foolish to allow her excitement over speaking of the world at large, and writing, to overset her sensible plans, Peter’s arrival had filled a void of loneliness that had only grown larger as her sight had dimmed. “I won’t be convinced, but if you have no other plans I’d be only to happy to receive you and your family should you chance to call again. Please do not feel obligated.”
His breath skimmed her cheek again and then lingering warmth pressed to her skin as he kissed her. But why? When his lips strayed to the corner of her mouth, she caught her breath. Surely he wouldn’t attempt to kiss her? “I’ll catch you later,” he whispered.
She tensed at the way he said catch. Just because she couldn’t see didn’t mean he could take liberties. If he hadn’t been interested enough to kiss her when they were engaged to be married she certainly wouldn’t allow kisses when he was married to someone else. She sat stiffly as disappointment filled her. “Goodbye, Sir Peter.”
Imogen sensed when he stood and his slow footsteps as he left the room told her he was content to leave. When the front door closed behind him with a solid thud, she sat back, rather stunned. In the past Peter, had never stayed beyond the length of a morning call but it seemed to Imogen he’d lingered considerably longer than was proper. Why would he completely disregard the social conventions? He shouldn’t dally with her if he were married. And if he was married, he’d had no reason to call today to renew their acquaintance.
Frustrated by the gap in her knowledge, she popped a caramel into her mouth and savored the sweetness. How kind of Peter to remember what she’d purchased for herself when they’d been engaged. She hadn’t realized he’d noticed her sweet tooth. Imogen preferred to maintain her trim figure so she hadn’t asked Walter or her housekeeper to replenish her supply in a very long time.
The heavy steps of her butler crossed the threshold. “Miss Teresa Long to see you.”
Imogen had barely greeted Teresa when the butler intruded again. “Miss Julia Radley has arrived.”
A set of strong feminine arms wrapped around her. Julia. “You survived his call then.”
“Whose? Sir Peter’s?”
“Well, who else’s you silly girl?” Teresa chided in a gentle voice. “I’ve never seen the man in so foul a temper as he was last night during dinner. When he beat us to your door this morning, I was half afraid of what he might have said to you. It was very clear to all last night he hadn’t known of your situation and wasn’t the least happy about being kept in the dark.”
Imogen gestured to the chairs around her. “Oh, do sit and be calm. There was no need for him to know. I was the one to set him free, if you recall. What do you think of his wife? Is she very beautiful?”
A vast silence settled on the room and then Julia cleared her throat. “He has no wife with him. He’s not a married man, Imogen.”
Imogen frowned. Then whose scent was Peter drenched in last night and how had he come to be that way? Had he spoken to her after he’d been with a ladybird? The idea turned her stomach. And if that was the case, she didn’t know what to think of his behavior this morning. “I don’t understand.”
Julia sighed heavily. “Are you sure breaking your engagement was the right decision? After all, you did make a very fine looking pair. According to Linus, Sir Peter spent the better part of half an hour choosing the perfect bunch of scented flowers to bring you this morning after their swim.”
“And sweets,” Teresa chimed in. “I thought that very thoughtful of him.”
Imogen couldn’t help the smile that crossed her lips. When they’d been engaged, Peter had been everything that was charming and kind. At least that part of his personality had survived his elevation in rank. “I have to admit that without my sight, pretty flowers without scent fall a little flat as a gift for me. I appreciate his forethought in choosing a scented bunch, and the caramels, but it doesn’t change anything. I’d make a completely unsuitable wife for him. Now, tell me what else happened at the dinner last night.”
There was another long pause before Teresa spoke. “I know you claim your heart uninvolved, but I must warn you the whole of Brighton will surely have set their sights on Sir Peter as a candidate to marry. Even Melanie.”
Imogen squeezed her hands together, disappointment filling her. At least by being blind she’d be spared watching any courtship. “That was to be expected. A titled gentleman is much sought after as a husband.”
Teresa patted her hands. “I think chances are slim Sir Peter will be in a rush for matrimony. He’s had ample opportunity in distant fields and is still unwed. But Melanie and even Miss Pease looked him over last night as if he were made of gold. I can only conclude that Melanie will add him to her list of candidates for her hand and Miss Pease will become a frequent caller to Cavendish Place in the hope of running into him.”
Julia giggled. “I do hope Miss Pease leaves off her perfume the next time Sir Peter sees her. The scent she’d drenched herself in made his eyes water and set him to sneezing. Lilac. The poor man suffered.”