Free The Merry Month of May by Joan Smith

with me to a bachelor’s house and cannot like to lumber Rufus and Mama with her. I shall be at the Hall a month or so, I expect.”
    Sara felt a stab of disappointment. “A month!” she exclaimed.
    His soft smile told her he had misinterpreted the cause of her chagrin. “It is long enough, if we put the time to good use,” he said.
    She leveled a quelling stare at him. “I daresay if you put your mind to it, you can have the Poplars running smoothly by then.”
    “It will want a lady’s hand to put on the finishing touches.”
    “You will be hiring a housekeeper, I collect?”
    He gave a knowing little laugh. “Oh, that was not the lady I referred to,” he said.
    Unable to endure these loving insinuations, Sara jumped to her feet. “Excuse me, I must speak to Mama.”
    Peter watched her go, satisfied that the romance was progressing smoothly. Sara was certainly not indifferent to him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with some deep emotion. Absence had certainly made her grow fonder.
    Sir Swithin, watching the encounter, dashed forward. Of course he let the lady believe she was pulling the wool over his eyes and spoke of his attentions as a rescue. “Something in this mad dash reminds me of the fox pursued by hounds. You have reached ground safely, my dear. Was Peter being terribly obtrusive?”
    “Yes, terribly. I wish we could go home.”
    He patted her hand solicitously. “When the fox runs, the hound pursues. What we must do is strengthen the false scent. I was so overcome with sympathy when I saw you cowering in the corner with him that I hinted to Haldiman my ball was in your honor. He immediately leapt to the hinted-at conclusion. Wasn’t that devious of me? We must tread softly, or we shall find ourselves betrothed. He was furious, by the way.”
    “I don’t know why they are all so determined I must marry Peter!”
    “My dear innocent, it is so obvious a hummingbird could see through it in an instant. It is not so much wishing to snare you as to escape the Sauvage. I erred to think vulgarity would be amusing. It was merely tedious. She is a vapid little creature, though the eyes are good. Not that brown is my favorite color. Too doglike to really suit me.”
    “I don’t suppose we could go home?” Sara asked.
    “Not yet. I have promised Perdita I would sing a few simple tunes for her, accompanying myself on the harpsichord. A few ditties of my own composition. A waste of time really. Her ears worsen. Talking to her is like fishing an empty pond. She never rises to the fly. We can escape to the music room on the pretext of trying the instrument, however, if that would mitigate your agony.”
    “Yes, let us do it.”
    Idle noticed that she cast one last look at Lord Peter before leaving. The two left hastily. Peter was not watching, but Haldiman saw them go, and when they had not returned in five minutes, he learned from his mother what was afoot and went after them.
    He found Sir Swithin sitting at the harpsichord, practicing his ditties, while Sara sat alone, looking cross and bored. A lady did not wear such an expression when she was alone with her lover. This business between Idle and Sara was dust in his eyes. It was Peter she loved. He watched silently from the doorway a moment before joining her.
    “So this is where you have gotten to,” he said, and sat beside her.
    Sara looked over his shoulder, and when she saw he was alone, she relaxed visibly. “Swithin is going to play a few tunes for us,” she explained.
    He cocked his head to one side. “Aren’t we fortunate?” he said facetiously. “Will you sing while he plays?”
    “Oh no, you are not that fortunate.”
    “Idle tells me he is having a ball.”
    “Yes, that will be a charming diversion.”
    “Well, a diversion in any case. I daresay I ought to do something on a grand scale to mark Peter’s return.”
    One ball a season in this quiet corner of the land was an unusual treat. To hear of a second caused