Free Marjorie Farrell by Autumn Rose Page B

addition to the sweet inanities of young lovers, their conversations ranged over everything from literature to politics, Miranda being better read than most of Jeremy’s friends who had come down from Oxford. But Lady Lavinia had little conversation aside from the ton gossip. After a few aborted attempted to relate the latest on-dit , she realized that the Dillons not only did not know the Duchess of Handley or the Earl of Staveley, but were only being polite when they expressed their interest. So Lavinia sipped her lemonade slowly, and the others watched her, as though it were the most original act in the world.
    Nora realized the first meeting was going almost too well, from the parental point of view. She could not stand the increasing discomfort, and suggested they set off for their picnic. Even Lavinia seemed to welcome the suggestion.
    “Would you like to borrow a pair of boots, Lady Whitford?” asked Nora. “We look of a size, and I promise you would be more comfortable.”
    The countess looked with distaste at the brogues Nora was holding out to her.
    “No, thank you. My slippers are sufficiently comfortable.”
    “You are sure, Mother?”
    Lavinia was not about to ruin her appearance for anything. So she refused again, and once they had distributed the rugs and picnic baskets, they set off.
     

Chapter 7
     
    The day was unusually warm for June, and it took only ten minutes for them to realize the countess was not going to make even the shorter walk. At first, she was bothered only by the fact that the bottom of her gown was getting dusty. But then she began to feel the pebbles and ruts in the path through her slippers. To give her credit, she did try to keep up, and made only one despairing cry when, after limping alone in the rear, she was slapped in the face by a rebounding twig. Miranda, who had moved back to give Lavinia her arm, hurried up to the front of their small procession to speak with her mother and Jeremy.
    Nora walked back with her daughter and said, with genuine sympathy: “Lady Whitford, we had forgotten how used we are to walking. Perhaps we can picnic a little closer to the cottage. Do you think you can walk just five more minutes? There is a spot ahead, not as ideal as what we had planned, but adequately shaded.”
    Lavinia was so grateful to be spared ten minutes of torture that she offered Nora a genuine smile and admitted that perhaps she was not properly dressed for this kind of exercise.
    “Jeremy,” called Nora, “come and take your mother’s arm.”
    Jeremy, who had wanted his mother and Miranda to become better acquainted, had been walking ahead with Sam and was quite oblivious to Lavinia’s discomfort. He came back immediately and took his mother’s arm. Miranda fell in front of them, and Nora strode quickly to catch up with the viscount.
    “My lord, I think we will have to cut short our walk. The countess is quite obviously miserable, and even though it would suit our purpose well, I cannot torture the poor lady further. There is a spot up ahead, next to a small pond with a few trees to shade us. We could spread the rugs out there. The countess can rest, and if you and Jeremy and Miranda wish to go further, I will stay with her and keep her company.”
    Sam looked back and could not help himself from smiling at the contrast between the limping countess and the woman beside him. She was clearly full of energy and could have continued for hours.
    “That is very kind of you, Mrs. Dillon. Are you sure you want to sacrifice your own exercise? I could stay with Lavinia.”
    “No, no. You go on with the young people. I get out almost every day, and in truth, this sort of day is not one of my favorites. I prefer a few clouds and a bit of wind in my face to this heat.”
    Within a few minutes they had reached the small pond which bordered the upper end of the High Street.
    “This is not as wild a place as we would find on a longer walk, for we are barely onto the Heath,” Nora