“Indeed, I’m sure it is,” she agreed for the lack of anything better to say.
“Would you like to ride through Hyde Park with me tomorrow afternoon?”
No, she'd rather spend her afternoon in her bedchamber reading a book. Even better, she preferred to spend it relocating to the townhouse Harris had generously left her. She yearned for the independence that widowhood would provide her, and it was the path she needed to take to heal.
She met her mother's gaze from across the room as Arthur twirled her. She was enthralled by them, and Imogen didn't want to let her down.
“I doubt I will have the chance tomorrow afternoon but I would be delighted to join you the day after,” she said stiffly.
“Excellent.” He grinned. “I shall eagerly await the day.” Suddenly, his face contorted and before she had the chance to ask him if he was well, he sneezed. Instinctively, she jumped out of his arms. “I am truly sorry, Your Grace. I did not mean for that to happen.”
“Such things are hardly in our control,” she murmured. “Perhaps we should—” She abruptly ceased speaking when he beckoned for her to resume the dance. It would not be proper to refuse him over a sneeze.
“There is something in the air that disagrees with my health,” he said as they resumed their dance.
“There is always something in London’s air that disagrees with one’s health.” She looked heavenward; praying for the dance to reach its end. The orchestra seemed determined to prolong the moment, however.
“Yes, yes. I find the soot and smell intolerable, but the pollen is worse.”
Imogen had been referring to the various faces society wore but his comments were valid indeed and she decided to seize an opportunity to discourage him from taking her on that drive. “Perhaps you should remain indoors if the weather disagrees with you.”
His eyes widened, supposedly with incredulity. “How would I fully partake in the Season as an unmarried gentleman if I stay indoors?”
That is no concern of mine, she almost said. Instead, she gave him a stiff smile. “There are several activities you could enjoy whilst attempting to avoid pollen, Lord Burenstone.”
He sneezed once more. He had the decency to turn his face away this time. But when she thought she'd seen the worst of this dance, he painfully stepped on her toe once more.
“It would be wise to take my advice,” she said; hoping her smile concealed her displeasure. The dance ended at that instant, giving her the opportunity she needed to get away from him.
“I suppose you are right, Your Grace. My deepest apologies.” He bowed.
She still had enough generosity in her to take his arm and allow him to lead her awayfrom the dance floor a she excused herself. Imogen walked toward the first set of open doors she saw, leadingonto the terrace overlooking the garden.
The cool air felt refreshingon herskin. Imogen leaned against the stone balustrade, wishing her tumultuous emotions would subside. Her first night was a letdown. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she hadn't expected it to be so difficult. She felt herself calming down after a few moments, and if she stayed in this state, she'd be ready to return to the ballroom in no time. Or shestay here as long as she wanted to enjoy the peace and solitude. So far, no one had noticed her absence.
Firm footsteps coming from behind startled her; urging her to turn abruptly. Before her stood Horace, Lord Bagshire. The corner of his mouth turned up impishly as he regarded her. Imogen tried to take a step back but was stopped by the railing. He had been Harris’s friend, and she had known him for years. Yet, she never liked him and could not understand why Harris had befriended a man with such an odious character – but then her husband had not had the best of characters either.
Something twisted in her stomach when she saw the dark look in his eyes. He was staring at her as though she were; making her want to run.
CHAPTERTWO
“It is a pleasure to see you, Imogen,” he said; stepping close to her.
She inched sideways. “Likewise, Lord Bagshire.”
He quirked a brow. “Lord Bagshire? You have never addressed me in such a formal manner before.”
It was safer to address him as such — Harris had demanded it. And with him dead, she no longer had a reason to be friendly with the pompous lord. “Much has changed since we last saw each other,” she said; feeling her body tense when he moved closer.
“I wanted to visit you, my dear Imogen,” he murmured. “But we were both in great pain, and I could not look upon you without the ache of our loss tearing at my heart.” He added with no trace of sincerity in this eyes.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She wanted to scream that she was not in pain – not over her husband, at least. “How considerate of you.” Her tone was laced with sarcasm which he did not appear to notice.
His eyes roved her body. “You look delectable. It is easy to see why Harris could never leave your side. A lady as beautiful as you should not be here alone.” He smiled. “But then widows are allowed liberties that unmarried women aren’t. I am sure no one would bother.” He stepped even closer; every inch of her body contracting.
“Lord Bagshire, I would greatly appreciate it if you kept your distance.”
His dark eyes glinted in the light from the sconces on the wall. “Oh, come now, my dear. You are a free woman now.”