Free Lord Clayborne's Fancy by Laura Matthews Page A

was making of being a husband! He was overwhelmed by the now familiar feelings of sadness and despair, anger and hurt.
     

Chapter Six
     
    That evening when the party was assembled in the large, trussed dining hall, Clayborne announced, “I have business in London which will take a few days.”
    “How splendid!” Meg exclaimed, assuming without hesitation that he intended to take the whole party. “And I have just been wishing that I might purchase a bonnet to match my new pink cambric lace gown. I am sure Chichester has very admirable shops, Rebecca, but Mama has taken me to the most marvelous shop in London and I am sure you will simply dote on Madame Piscaud’s hats. The lavender one I have with the wide brim and small puffed crown we purchased there, and it is quite the thing, is it not? You have not been to town for some time, have you? I’ll show you the steps of the quadrille, which Lady Jersey has introduced from France, in case we should go to a party. Would you like to go to London, Becka?”
    “I have not been for a while,” she replied cautiously with a questioning glance at her husband. When he nodded she continued more enthusiastically, “I should like it of all things.”
    “And you, Miss Turnpeck? Would such an expedition suit you?” Clayborne asked.
    Miss Turnpeck was pink with delight. “It is many years, sir, since I have visited the metropolis. I wonder if we would have time to visit some of the sights? And I have a sister there who is a seamstress. I have not seen her these past ten years or so, but of course we write to one another regularly. I would be so pleased to see her again.”
    “Then it is settled,” Clayborne pronounced. “Town may be light of company with so many gone to Brighton, but I daresay you will find enough to amuse yourselves. If you can be ready by the day after tomorrow, I shall send warning of our arrival to Clayborne House.”
    When Meg and Miss Turnpeck had headed for bed, Rebecca stayed behind for a moment to speak with her husband. She stood awkwardly at the door and could not meet his eyes. “I’m sorry if Meg forced your hand, Jason. She doesn’t understand that you do not take me... that you usually travel alone,” she concluded, flushed with embarrassment.
    Clayborne crossed the room to her and took her hands firmly. “There is no need to apologize, Rebecca. I had intended to ask all of you. You do wish to go, don’t you?”
    Rebecca raised her eyes to his uncertainly. “Very much,” she admitted, “but I had not intended that Meg’s visit should prove a burden to you. There was no need for you to include us.”
    “I wanted to. You have not stayed yet at Clayborne House and you are mistress of it.” He dropped her hands, too conscious of their contact. His voice became more formal. “Shall I see you to your room?”
    As she regarded his now withdrawn countenance, Rebecca sighed. “No, thank you, Jason. Good-night.” She slipped silently from the room as he gazed after her, aware of the empty hands at his sides.
    * * * *
    So it was that two days later the ladies found themselves shivering in the cold morning air as they ascended into the traveling carriage, having spent a day in between happily learning the quadrille’s intricate steps, planning expeditions to Bond Street (and Westminster Abbey), to the theatre (and the Tower of London), and perhaps to Vauxhall Gardens (and St. Paul’s, of course). Their comfort had been provided for with hot bricks and warm traveling rugs lined with fur, and each expressed her excitement in her own way.
    Since Miss Turnpeck’s particular means was a rambling discourse on her chosen sights, the sisters felt no qualms at solicitously urging her to nap during the stage of their journey which followed a light luncheon. With a pillow at her head and resting easily against the comfortable squabs of the carriage, Miss Turnpeck was soon slumbering and snoring lightly.
    “I’m sure I understand now how you felt on