Charming Artemis by Sarah M. Eden
Chapter Twenty-Five
The sisters-in-law had been divided into two groups to deliver baskets in the area of Collingham. Mater, who had insisted Artemis call her by that familial name, had returned to Lampton Park with Sorrel. Artemis was going about with Catherine and Marjie. Catherine put Artemis firmly in mind of her quietly discerning sister Daphne. Marjie had curly, golden hair similar to Artemis’s but fell somewhere between Catherine and Artemis in the matter of her talkativeness.
The three of them had easily fallen into friendly conversation. Both ladies had a son, and Artemis learned a great deal about the boys as they made their way from house to house. She also discovered, by listening closely to tiny clues left here and there, that they had both endured very difficult childhoods, that they were now quite happy, and that the Jonquil sisters-in-law were as close as sisters could be.
“Are you thoroughly overwhelmed amongst all of us?” Marjie asked her after they’d finished the last of their basket deliveries. “We number twenty-five now, thirty with Mater’s gentlemen friends.”
Artemis grinned. “Her gentlemen friends. We should begin calling them that. I suspect every one of her sons would be up in arms, panicked at the very thought.”
“They are very protective of her,” Catherine said, “and so loving. I wish I had known the gentleman who taught them to be thoughtful of her. He must have been remarkable.”
“Did your husband know the late earl?” Artemis asked. Catherine’s husband, after all, had been unofficially adopted by the Jonquil family, but Artemis wasn’t entirely sure when that had happened.
“He did,” she said. “And my Crispin speaks very highly of him.”
“The late earl raised seven exceptionally good sons and proved a remarkable influence in the lives of both Crispin and Arabella.” Marjie looked to Artemis as she added the second name; the Arabella she referred to had married Artemis’s brother, after all. “Though we did not know him, I feel like we see him all around us. And not a day passes when I am not grateful to him for raising his boys to be good and kind.”
Good and kind. Charlie had shown himself to be both those things. He’d listened to her on the occasions when her grief or exhaustion had rendered her a puddle of frustrated emotions, and he’d done so sincerely and without complaint. He’d been as good as his word and not done anything to embarrass her ever since the disaster that was the game of questions and challenges. And she knew as long as she lived, she would never forget the tenderness with which he’d combed and braided her hair that morning. Or the all-too-brief kiss that had followed.
Her heart still jumped to her throat at the mere thought of his arms around her, his forehead pressed to hers, the warm fall of his breath on her lips, the spicy, woody scent of his shaving lotion. Her fingers had shaken as she’d brushed them along his jaw. And the momentary feel of his lips on hers . . . Heavens.
If not for the ringing of that infernal clock.
“Oh dear.” Catherine’s worried whisper pulled Artemis back to the present.
On the road up ahead of them was a gentleman Artemis did not know. Catherine looked a little afraid.
“Who is that?” Artemis asked.
“Mr. Finley,” Catherine said. “He is . . . ” She swallowed down whatever she meant to say, but Artemis felt she understood. This Mr. Finley was a bounder, though of what variety she did not yet know.
There was no real means of avoiding crossing paths with him. Catherine grew more nervous as they drew closer. Marjie hooked her arm through Catherine’s, offering her silent support but appearing nearly as unsure of the coming encounter.
If only her new sisters-in-law understood how long Artemis had been preparing for these moments. Adam had not allowed her or Daphne to grow up without the weapons necessary to put people firmly in their place, and Artemis had learned long ago how to appear utterly unshakeable.
She kept her expression uncaring as they approached the gentleman. He offered a bow, his gaze lingering on Catherine. The required curtsy she answered with was too abbreviated to go unnoticed.
Mr. Finley didn’t seem to care. “A pleasure, as always, Catherine.”
“Oh dear,” Artemis said innocently. “It is pronounced Cavratt. And you’ve neglected to include Lady.” She gave him a look of commiseration. “I know it is a lot to remember.”
For just a moment, he looked confused, but he quickly regained his oily composure. “The newest Mrs. Jonquil, I believe, and the legendary diamond of Society.”
“No, sir, she is Lady Cavratt, not Mrs. Jonquil.” Artemis looked to her companions, assuming an expression of bewilderment. To the ladies she said, “Do you know him? Ought we to see to it he is safely returned somewhere?”
“He is Mr. Finley,” Marjie said. “He lives on the other side of Collingham.”
“Then he has wandered very far afield.”
Mr. Finley dipped his head. “My home is Finley Grange, a fine and grand estate. Large and spacious and . . . cozily isolated.” He stepped a bit closer to Artemis. “The perfect place to escape an overly large family and an unwanted husband.” He moved nearer still and lowered his voice, assuming a husky tone. “I assure you, ma chérie, I am a very accommodating host.”
She studied him a moment, making certain she gave the impression of being a bit baffled. Then, brows drawn, she turned to her sisters-in-law. “I think this old man is attempting to flirt with me.”
Marjie bit back what was clearly a laugh. Catherine even looked a little less ill-at-ease.
“Do you suppose he has skipped his powders?” Artemis looked at them both with a feigned expression of concern. She turned back to Mr. Finley. Speaking very slowly, drawing out and overpronouncing each syllable, she said, “Who is meant to be assisting you?”
He clearly had no idea what to make of her. “I am not doddering.”
With the same indulgent tone one used with very little children and a pasted-on look of clearly feigned agreement, she said, “One is only as old as one chooses to feel.” She pointed down the road behind them and spoke slowly again. “Collingham is in that direction. Your house is on the other side of it. Should you grow confused, do not fret. Many people are only too happy to help the frail and aged.”
Artemis took Catherine’s free hand and led her sisters-in-law away from the gentleman who had, without question, intended to importune them, at the very least. She made one last comment before leaving him behind, and she spoke loudly enough to be overheard without being obvious that such was her intention. “Perhaps the vicarage can add Mr. Finley to its charitable efforts, check on him now and then to make certain he is not wandering about lost and confused.”
They walked on, silently, increasing their distance from him. Their conversation didn’t resume until they’d passed through the gates of Lampton Park.
“Your handling of him was masterful,” Catherine said to Artemis. “I’ve never seen anything so brilliantly done.”
“You should see how my brother-in-law the duke handles difficult people. He makes my efforts look amateurish.”
They laughed good-naturedly as they stepped inside and were divested of their gloves, coats, and bonnets, then walked arm in arm to the drawing room, where a good number of the family were gathered.
“You appear to have enjoyed your deliveries,” Sarah, the vicar’s wife, said.
“It was lovely,” Marjie said, “until Mr. Finley crossed our path.”
Crispin was on his feet in an instant, moving swiftly to his wife. “Did he mistreat you again?”
“He tried,” Catherine said, “but I had a very able champion.”
Marjie took up the tale. “Artemis was brilliant. She kept ‘correcting’ Mr. Finley’s pronunciation of Catherine’s name and inquiring as to where his nursemaids were and if he’d taken his powders. And then, when he turned his attentions on her, she said, in such hilariously innocent tones, ‘I think this old man is attempting to flirt with me.’”
The room erupted in laughter and applause.
“He was put so neatly in his place, I suspect we’ll not be bothered again by him for some time,” Marjie said.
Crispin took Artemis’s hand in his and bowed gallantly over it. “You have my deepest gratitude, Artemis.”
“The horrid man needed a setting down. I was pleased to deliver it.”
From across the room, someone—Artemis was nearly certain it was Philip—called out, “Charlie, come hear the miracle your wife wrought while she was away.”
She searched the room for Charlie. He would enjoy hearing her retelling of the morning’s events. He might even put his arm around her again. Hold her near him. Kiss her more than fleetingly.
Her eyes found him, and she could not look away. He wore a very handsome green waistcoat, not so bright as to feel inappropriate for one who preferred subtlety but with color enough to be pleasantly striking. It had been paired with a jacket and trousers in complimentary but neutral colors, again in keeping with his personality. And the green brought out a bit more of the red in his hair. Hair that had been cut and fashionably arranged.
He was, in a word, devastating.
He moved toward her, and she toward him.
“You’ve changed your clothes,” she said when he was near enough for words to pass between them.
“I thought I ought to make a little more of an effort,” he said.
“You look very handsome.”
He smiled a gorgeous, heart-flipping smile. “Wilson said he was pleased that I no longer looked like a land pirate.”
“Wilson helped you?” She ought to have seen the hand of a genius in the transformation.
“And Mr. Layton. And Philip.”
As much as she liked seeing him look a little less like he hated his life too much to even try, she fully realized he had likely not enjoyed the undertaking. “Those three together are a great deal to take in at one time.”
“I have suffered greatly, Artie. But not, apparently, as much as Mr. Finley.” He grinned. “Did you really call him ‘an old man attempting to flirt’?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Did the trick.”
“You are a wonder, Artemis Jonquil. An absolute wonder.”
She could feel the eyes of every person in the room, though she did not know how many of them were actually watching. She dropped her eyes, unsure what to say or do in that moment. Give her an enemy and she could strategize better than Wellington himself. But allies weren’t quite so familiar.
Charlie stepped up close enough to her to whisper, “Did I do something to embarrass you? I really do intend to keep my promise not to do that again.”
Artemis leaned against his chest, resting her hand on the silk of his green waistcoat. He set his arms around her and held her softly.
“Catherine was right,” she said.
“Right about what?”
“That you and your brothers are good and kind gentlemen.”
She was nearly certain she felt him kiss the top of her head. “I am trying, Artie,” he said quietly.
The whole room grew quiet at the sound of carriage wheels. The drawing room windows overlooked the front drive, and several people moved to look out.
Philip, who was among those at the windows, announced, “It’s Arabella and Linus. Best send word to the dower house. Mater will wish to know they have arrived.”
Charlie stepped back, his arms slipping away. “We should go greet them.” He held out a hand to her, which she gladly accepted. They walked hand in hand to the front portico, arriving just as a footman handed Arabella down from the carriage, followed by Linus.
Artemis resigned herself to waiting while her brother greeted Charlie, the two being quite good friends. But Linus surprised her.
He pulled her into a fierce embrace. “Oh, Artemis. I should have been there.”
“Been where?” she asked, letting herself enjoy the firm, brotherly hug.
“In London. For your predicament and your engagement and wedding. What good is a brother if he can’t protect you against anything?”
“No good at all.” She stepped back and assumed her most dismissive air. “You’d best return to Shropshire.”
He knew her too well to be fooled by her theatrics; she’d not have wielded them otherwise. “I’ll leave it to you to tell Arabella. She will, I warn you, shoot the messenger, as the saying goes.”
“She is fond of this family, is she?”
“Extremely. And you, my dear sister, are now one of them. It boggles the mind.”
“Believe me,” she answered dryly, “I am thoroughly boggled.”
He laughed lightly. “We will soon be accosted by six or seven thousand Jonquils—however many there are now—but please promise that sometime this evening, we can sit down and talk. I’ve not seen you in an age, and I need to be assured that you are well.”
She readily and happily agreed. Had Linus arrived mere days earlier, she would have struggled to pretend she was unconcerned, but she would have done her utmost. To do otherwise would have led to prying questions she did not wish to answer. But now she felt confident she could honestly tell him she felt hopeful.
For the first time in years, she felt hopeful.
