The Last Eligible Bachelor - Ashtyn Newbold Page 0,52

of reach.

Love: out of reach.

Chapter 15

If the stares from the other ladies at Winslow House had been cold before, then I didn’t know how to describe the iciness that enthroned me now, as I sat in the drawing room that afternoon.

Mrs. Ollerton had not been secretive at all about my morning ride with Mr. Hill, and there was no doubt that I was the sole object of envy in the room. It was a position I was not accustomed to being in, so I shifted my weight from one side to the other as I drank my tea. If only I could tell them all that Mr. Hill had no intention of marrying any of them. How disappointed Miss Downsfield would be. The thought brought a slight smile to my face—one that was likely mistaken for gloating. There was no success to gloat about…only that Mr. Hill had agreed to contact his uncle about Papa. I told myself that that was the only explanation for my jovial mood, but the images of Mr. Hill and his kind smile that coursed through my mind begged me to reconsider.

Stop, Tillie.

I gulped too much of my tea at once, swallowing hard before coughing to dispel the liquid that had made its way into my lungs. My coughing was the only sound that had filled the room for a long moment, drowning out the faint ticking of the clock in the far corner.

“Please excuse me,” Mrs. Ollerton said with a pained smile. “I will return shortly.” She stood, seemingly just as uncomfortable with the tension in the room as I was. It only took a few seconds after she closed the door for Miss Downsfield’s teacup to clatter against her saucer. She composed herself slightly with a deep breath, but the rage behind her eyes was as clear and blue as the afternoon sky.

“How did you manage it?” Her voice was shrill as she addressed me. The other three ladies sat up straighter, just as eager to hear my response, no doubt.

I set my teacup down, folding my hands in my lap. “I’m not certain to what you are referring.”

“How did you manage to be the first lady invited for a ride with Mr. Hill? Did Mrs. Ollerton arrange it?” Her eyes had narrowed slightly, but her mouth held a smile, as if she were still trying to be polite, even against her frustration.

I had never been so tempted to boast in my life, but no good would come from it. Keeping my expression indifferent, I shrugged. “There was no significance to our ride, I assure you. I believe Mr. Hill took pity on me because of the ordeal with my maid being injured yesterday.”

“An ordeal which was surely orchestrated by you and your designs on him.” Miss Benham piped in, her eyebrows lifting with accusation as she stared down her nose at me. “Do you truly expect us to believe that you happened upon him a second time in the morning without any conniving on your part? We have contemplated the matter together,” she gestured at the other ladies, “and we have concluded that you are attempting to ensnare him.”

I glanced at Miss Coppins, who avoided my eyes. Did she believe this ridiculous idea too? I shook my head, refraining from releasing the exasperated sigh that hovered in my lungs. “You are entirely mistaken. It was coincidence that placed Mr. Hill in my path yesterday, and I am most grateful that it did. If he had not been there, my maid would not have been cared for so quickly.”

Miss Downsfield exchanged a frown with Miss Taplow, then the other two ladies, before fixing me with her intense stare again. “I suppose there is no other explanation for how this all came about. Mr. Hill cannot possibly favor you.” She touched her fingertips to her collarbone, raising her chin as she studied me from head to toe. “After your disgraceful behavior with the tea upon your first day here, and your lack of charity toward the beggars in town, as well as your ridiculously flirtatious display during archery…Mr. Hill is sure to take pity on you for your utter lack of manners and ladylike conduct. There is nothing remarkable about your appearance that might tempt him to overlook your shameful behavior, and your accomplishments are…questionable. I have never heard a lady sing who sounded so much like a scullery maid scrubbing dishes in the kitchen.” She touched her glove to the bottom of her