“There is all kinds of business. At least he’s been honest.” Walter chuckled. “He wanted to court you publicly, but you’ve refused him every opportunity to be a gentlemen and escort you about. Don’t deny it. I have ears, too. However, as I recall, you don’t really approve of proper gentlemen as suitors. Forgive me if I place little weight on your complaints. To make you both happy the rules must be bent in the short term.”
She snorted again. “Bent? How about completely broken?”
Walter paused. “Then you’d better marry him this time and be done with your protests that a closer association won’t work between you. It’s apparent to even a blind man you are not indifferent to his attentions. And from what I can see, he is equally smitten with you.”
And there was the rub. She wasn’t suitable to be his wife, but Peter was unbelievably good company. “I do like him.”
“Then marry the man and put him out of his misery before some other woman gets between you.”
That didn’t appeal to her but still… “It’s not that simple, Walter.”
“Sure it is,” he said immedia
tely, amusement lightening his tone. “He asks. You accept. You move next door and live happily ever after. That’s what you’ve written in your books many times. Are you claiming the rules of attraction don’t apply to you?”
Imogen crossed her cane before them and tapped him on the shins with it. “How would you like me to ask when you are going to marry?”
Her brother spluttered. “Never.”
“Why not? Are you afraid?”
“Damn right I am afraid. Every woman I’ve ever met wants nothing more than to change a man into her personal lapdog. That’s not the life for me. I’d rather die an old bachelor than have to bend to fit the mold a woman expected.”
Imogen bit her lip. “If you think women always try to change men then why are you suggesting I marry your friend?”
“You and Peter are an exception. You’re alike in many ways. Stubborn. Bookish. Always have been.” He bumped into her side. “I kept an eye on you both at work yesterday. Each time I poked my head through the door you had Peter’s complete attention. I know he didn’t see me because he didn’t pause in kissing you.”
“I didn’t hear you on the stairs.”
A deep laugh sounded beside her. “Miss Radley is not the only one who attempts to sneak around you. He makes you happy, sister. You may not have figured affection or even love into your decision to marry him last year, but I think he has your heart now. Why fight against it?”
Imogen considered that as Walter led her on in silence. To her right the relentless roar of the sea muted the growing murmur of many voices. Walter stopped frequently, pausing to speak with mutual acquaintances and the odd stranger’s voice Imogen couldn’t place. As usual, Walter neglected to introduce her to some, but she didn’t mind so much today. She had a lot to think on. Had she underestimated Peter badly? He said she should have given him a chance last year. In truth, Imogen had been afraid he’d not return and leave her dangling so she’d acted first to save herself from the eventual disappointment. She’d never dreamed he’d come back.
“I say, what a peculiar day to see Miss George out in the sunshine.” The vicar’s booming voice cut into Imogen’s introspection, forcing her attention back to the present and her location on a crowded beach she couldn’t see the beauty of.
She lifted her chin. “I’m here for the race, sir.”
“But she cannot see it.” His daughter, Miss Pease, advised in a perplexed voice.
Imogen inhaled and the scent of lilac swept over her. She blinked her watering eyes and tried not to pull a face at the stench of Miss Pease’s distinctive perfume in the air.
“Yes, yes. Quite a wasted effort,” Vicar Pease agreed in a loud voice. “Shouldn’t she be sitting down, Mr. George, and resting in the shade?”
“I’m fine.” Imogen said through gritted teeth. Being spoken of as if she wasn’t there was rude, being spoken of in a louder than normal voice set her teeth on edge. She was blind not stone deaf. “Miss Radley will see I have come along to support her endeavors and that is all that matters.”
Silence descended. “A word, Mr. George,” the vicar barked.
Walter slowly unraveled Imogen’s arm from his. “I’d better see what he wants. Stay right here and I’ll be back before you know it.”
Imogen hated that Walter never stood up to the vicar when he used that tone. Walter had his own mind and often enforced his will, however, the vicar was another kettle of fish. “Walter, you promised.”
He patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Miss Pease is right here to keep you company.”
Imogen hoped she did not roll her eyes at the idea of having a scatterbrained twit watching over a blind woman. It was better than no escort at all. Imogen held out her hand, hoping to encounter Miss Pease’s support. When no touch came, she cleared her throat. “Miss Pease?”
Silence. Imogen took a cautious sniff of the air. Not a trace of lilac. She listened but could not hear Walter’s voice or the vicar’s booming baritone. In fact, it seemed as if the crowd was moving away from her. What was she to do now? Miss Pease had likely deserted her the moment Walter’s back was turned and she stood alone with no idea in which direction he had gone. Her palms grew damp inside her gloves. Her worst nightmare had come to pass.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN