“Oh, I never thought this day would come. My Sidney getting married. Did you hear, Cora, she will marry one of these gentlemen?” Lady Hartridge bragged as she overheard Sidney’s comment when they returned to the room.
“Well, of course, she will, Franny. Why else are we dressing her for success? Now we must hurry. Your parlor is filling up fast. We cannot keep those young bucks waiting, or else they will move on to greener pastures.”
Sidney glanced at Phee for help. Phee shook her head with a twist to her lips, relaying the message of you got yourself in this mess and I cannot help you where our mothers are concerned. Sidney sighed in defeat and allowed them to guide her along in making herself presentable for all the beaus awaiting her below.
SHEFFIELD STOOD NEAR the windows in the overcrowded parlor, waiting for Sidney Hartridge to make her appearance. As his gaze scanned the other occupants of the room, he concluded he would have competition for her hand unless he stated his intentions to her, and everybody present, when she entered. Many of the young chaps would be too frightened to challenge him. Those who were not young wouldn’t want to jeopardize any power they might hold in Parliament. He was always the deciding vote on many issues, and they would not want to lose his vote over a mere girl. One who was Sidney Hartridge at that. He lifted his cup and took a swallow of the lukewarm brew. He grimaced. He hated the taste of tea, but he did not wish to offend his hostess, who kept glancing in his direction. Lady Hartridge gave herself away when she twisted her hands in her lap as her head turned toward the door at each new entry, to no avail. Her daughter had not shown herself.
“I’m surprised to see you here, and waiting so patiently I might add,” a voice spoke near his shoulder.
“Why should that surprise you? I have visited here many times in the past, especially with Lady Sidney,” Sheffield replied.
“Ah, but usually it is in her father’s study, and only because she inserted herself in your arguments to refute your viewpoint. Not in her mother’s parlor waiting to pay attendance on her.”
“Yes, well I wanted to thank her for a lovely dance and to pay my respects to her mother before I spoke with Lord Hartridge. It would be a display of poor manners if I were to leave before the miss appeared. Even though her rudeness would be the perfect excuse for me to leave this show. I could say the same to you, Lord Beckwith.”
“Oh, I enjoy tea with the family frequently.”
“Yes, you seem to favor the chit in our debates. Your crush is more than obvious. It would appear you waited too long and have a bit of competition now.”
“She has never been a crush, only a close friend. Are you declaring your pursuit of her, Sheffield?”
“Mmm, I might be. If Lady Sidney is up to par, that is. Excuse me. It seems as if the lady has finally arrived.” Sheffield left Beckwith fuming at his offhand remark.
Sophia came up behind Rory in a fit of anger. “Up to par? He should be so lucky. Why that conceited—”
“Calm down, Phee. He is not worth your frustration.”
“He laid down an insult against our friend,” argued Phee.
“Yes, but he is a pompous arse, and Sidney will not grant him the time of day. Look now, she barely acknowledges his presence,” laughed Rory.
They stared as Sheffield made his appearance known to Sidney, who in return thanked him for visiting and continued onto the next gentleman, offering her gratitude. She treated Sheffield like any other caller, not paying him any more attention just because he was a duke. It seemed to frustrate Sheffield that she didn’t bow down before him. Sidney continued through the parlor, talking to each gentleman before she sat next to her mother. She laughed at their attempts at humor and blushed at their compliments. All the while, the duke stood at the doorway with a dumfounded expression on his face, which couldn’t have pleased her friends more.
Sheffield stood in anger at the small rebuff. All he needed to do was to leave without acknowledging her, and this would be the final time their parlor filled to capacity. He could ruin her with one action. As he spun to leave, he noticed Beckwith move to her side to greet her. He halted as he observed how much she enjoyed receiving the man. Her face lit with delight as her eyes twinkled in a teasing manner. It was then that Sheffield realized he wanted her to gaze upon him that way—him alone. Instead of leaving, he strode toward them and bowed before her like a humbled servant. He nudged Beckwith out of the way as he grabbed for her gloved hand. As he lifted her hand to his lips, he placed a soft kiss on her fingers. He heard her gasp and felt her tremble.
“I thank you for the lovely tea, Lady Sidney.”
“You are welcome, Your Grace. I apologize for my swift greeting, but Mama always instilled in me to be gracious to every guest, no matter their rank. Because if somebody calls on you in kindness, then you must extend them the same grace.”
He lightly squeezed her fingers as he turned to her mother and bowed his head. “Your mother has groomed you with the worthiness of manners. My respect Lady Hartridge, for raising such a delightful young lady.”
Sidney tried not to roll her eyes at his pompous charm. She noticed the change in his behavior after Rory greeted her. He went from being furious at her rebuff to possessive when another male paid her attention. He now staked his claim and let every gentleman present understand it. By praising her mother, it all but guaranteed him as a favorite with her parents. She noticed the effect of his attentions on her mother. Her mother beamed with pride from the courtesy the duke paid them. She needed to end this and send Sheffield on his way, so she could focus on the less trivial men of her research. The other gentlemen here would provide groundwork, and she needed to analyze their reactions. Plus, the warmth of his hand holding hers disturbed her. His thumb had caressed the back of her fingers where nobody could see. She felt warm from his added devotion, sighing from his touch. His eyes trapped hers to let her know he heard and shot her a smirk filled with the assurance of his chase.
“Will you accompany me on a ride through Hyde Park tomorrow morning?” Sheffield asked Sidney.
Sidney nodded her head in acceptance, much to the groans of the other gentlemen present. She found it difficult to speak while he held her hand. He never displayed his charm to her before, so she was unprepared for the full assault. The thing Sidney was certain of was the level of his charisma. She didn’t think it was at his maximum, but it soon would be.
“Excellent. I will arrive at ten o’clock.” He let his fingers slide from hers and smiled as he took his leave.
Sidney heard Rory humph behind her and turned to discover why. However, before she could ask, he trailed out of the room behind Sheffield. When her eyes sought Phee, it was to find her friend glaring at the men who left. Which one, Sidney was unsure of, but would inquire on their walk. Soon a few more gentlemen departed. She needed to keep the remaining from leaving or else she would gather no data. To do that, she would have to rely on the false charms young maidens used to be courted upon. She cringed at her deceptive behavior, but it was the only way. Sidney played at the simpering female who gushed with delight on being called upon by so many worthy gentlemen. The sad part of it all was that they fell for it—every giggle, “Oh my,” and blush she forced out.
NOAH WILDEBURG LOUNGED in the seat of his unmarked carriage. He had waited for Sheffield to leave Hartridge’s residence for two hours. His suspicion rose when he noticed Lord Hartridge leave an hour ago, but still Sheffield remained. Why did he stay inside? When Smith knocked on top of the carriage, sending him a signal, Wilde moved to the window to watch Sheffield depart from the townhome. He walked with a confident gait, whistling. Lord Roderick Beckwith followed him out of the house in anger. Wilde thought there would be a confrontation, but Beckwith strode off in the opposite direction. What was that all about? Was this where the mystery girl resided? Impossible, as Hartridge only had one daughter. A mousy, opinionated bluestocking from how Sheffield described the chit. Somebody his friend would never be interested in, let alone want to wed. S
oon the stoop filled as more gentlemen left the residence. Noah sent a signal for Smith to wait. He would catch up with Sheffield later at the club. The mystery inside Hartridge’s home sparked his curiosity.
He wouldn’t have long to wait. The door opened with two young misses stepping outdoors. It was her. There was no mistake about it. He knew if he followed Sheffield today, it would lead him to discover her identity. While he still didn’t know her name, he knew where to find her. There was no mistaking the beauty he met the evening before. He felt his heart beat faster at the mere sight of her. This feeling wouldn’t do, but he must explore the attraction. The two young ladies took off walking along the sidewalk, their heads bent together, whispering secrets to one another. Wilde sent a knock to Smith and ordered the man to follow at a discreet distance.
Wilde’s carriage followed them for a couple of blocks, where her friend hugged her and entered a townhome. His mystery lady continued her stroll along the street toward a park nearby. Once she entered the park, Wilde lost sight of her. He yelled for Smith to stop the carriage and gave him instructions to return home. Wilde then entered the park, searching for any sign of her. He located her on a bench near the pond as she read from a book. Her legs were drawn underneath her, and she was lost deep in concentration. Her gloveless fingers turned each page slowly as she devoured the words. She mouthed the words as she read them. He leaned against the tree, watching her. He didn’t quite understand what it was about her that drew him to her. Before he realized it, he stood before her, blocking the sun. She glanced from the book as a shadow fell over her. When her gaze rose to him, she closed her book and slid it under her skirts, hiding the book from his view.
“I did not mean to startle you. I only wished to say hello.”
“You did not startle me. Hello.”
“Hello.” He smiled at her. “Do you mind if I sit?”
Sidney unwound her legs and scooted to the edge of the bench, brushing her skirt aside. “Please do.”
Wilde settled on the other end of the bench a respectable distance away and turned toward her. He regarded her nervousness and wanted to put her at ease. He realized he would need to move slowly with this one, which he was fine with. All the sweeter when he succeeded. A blush graced her cheeks at his stare, and he admired the becoming color on her.
“It is a lovely afternoon for the park,” he started the conversation.
“Yes.”
“Especially for reading.”
Her cheeks became red as she answered, “Yes.”
“May I inquire as to what you are reading?”
“Oh, nothing of importance.” Sidney felt her face grow redder. The last thing she needed was for Noah Wildeburg to catch a glimpse of her novel. If he saw her romance book, he would spread word to his friends, mainly Sheffield, and she could never voice her arguments in her father’s discussions again. Nobody would take her seriously. She inched the book under her skirts more.
“No matter. I find reading a bore. I would much rather act out life experiences than read about them,” he informed her as he slid closer to her on the bench. He glanced around and took note of the empty park. It was only the two of them in this moment in time. An instance to be short-lived, so he wished to make the most of it. That is, if he wanted to make any kind of impact on her above all her other suitors.
He reached out to tuck a loose curl around her ear. His fingers lightly traced behind her ear as he drew his hand away. He listened to her sharp intake of breath as she turned her head toward him. Their gazes locked with one another, neither one of them glancing away. Locked in a moment he wished for and was being granted. She reached to touch where his hand briefly touched and lingered. He gulped as her eyes darkened to a midnight blue as they did the night before. Shaking himself from her trance, he cleared his throat.
“I am sorry to say I am at a loss. I do not know your name.”
Sidney felt a sense of déjà vu. The only difference was that he wasn’t the same man who spoke those same words from the night before. Was she normally that undesirable? Sidney found it hard to believe mere clothes and a fancy coiffure transformed people’s reactions to you. She must be wrong in her theory, for that was what happened to her. True, she usually wore glasses and tied her hair in a mere bun for convenience. Her dresses were always quality dresses designed from affordable material. No, they were not in pretty colors with lace and tulle adorning them. They were practical dresses while she worked alongside her father on his research. Still, it stung that nobody had taken notice of her before.
“Sidney Hartridge.”
“Are you a niece to Lord Hartridge? New to town, are you?”
“No, My Lord, I am his daughter.”
“Impossible, why Sheffield always said—” Wilde stopped himself, for he did not want to offend the chit.
“The Duke of Sheffield always said what, exactly, about me?”
“Nothing, my dear girl, nothing.”
Sidney laughed. “Oh, I doubt it was nothing. Please enlighten me.”
From her tone of voice, Wilde knew the conversation was not going as he planned. How was he to know the beauty before him was Hartridge’s daughter? The only comments he had overheard about her were her plain looks and her heavy-handed words. Never about what a beauty she was. Were they all blind, or had he missed something here?
“It would not be honorable of me to divulge a private conversation I held with a friend.”
“Very well. I will ask him myself.”
“You would not dare.”
“Yes, actually I would. Tomorrow I think would be ideal.”
“If you must know. Though I prefer not to hurt you.”
“I insist you must. I do not desire to have a man court me who once thought badly of me.”
“Is he courting you?” Wilde’s voice held an edge to it.
“Mmm, I think so. He called on me today during afternoon tea and has requested my company for a ride with him in the park tomorrow. Yes, I believe he is beginning a courtship.”
Wilde leaned against the bench, a twist to his mouth. He did not want to direct his anger at the young lady before him, but at Sheffield. The man had lied about his disinterest and had played him for a fool. Well two could play at this game. Far be it for Sheffield to have an easy time courting her. All is fair in love and war, they say.
“I would hate for any young lady to enter into a courtship under false pretenses.”
“I am glad you see it my way. Now, what is the duke’s opinion of me?”
Wilde hesitated on hurting the girl, but what he was about to speak only held truth. “He thought you were an opinionated mousy girl who needed to keep her viewpoints to herself and not pollute the rest of society with your thoughts.”
“Humph.”
“I warned you it was not pleasant.”
“Oh, but he was only being honest, wasn’t he?”
Tears came forth to Sidney’s eyes as Wildeburg described Sheffield’s opinion of her. Most of the tears were real, the others false. While it hurt her ego that a man of Sheffield’s nature thought so lowly of her, the other part of her was realistic. Also, she witnessed for herself firsthand the duke’s sentiments, and he made amends. However, she didn’t want her other subject, Wildeburg to be aware of this. It was best to play along with whatever he decided his role would be. Plus, she must have left an impression on Sheffield, if he ever mentioned her at all. On some level, she held Sheffield’s respect, that she was sure of. She made a mental note for tomorrow about voicing more opinionated thoughts with Sheffield.
“On the contrary. He was false. You are a beauty like no other, who has captured my attention and snared it in your web.”
Sidney couldn’t help but giggle at the outlandish compliment. “You, sir, are a flirt.”
Wilde stood and bowed before her. “No flirt, My Lady. Marquess Noah Wildeburg at your service.”
She waved him back to the bench. “Oh, I already know who you are, My Lord. Your reputation pr
ecedes itself.”
“All false. Do not believe a word you have heard.”
“Not all, I hope?” Sidney flirted back.
“No, not all,” he whispered, replacing the loose curl behind her ear again.
Sidney inwardly sighed at his touch as she realized the flirtation was moving too fast. She rose swiftly and backed away from the bench.
“I must leave. I promised Father I would help him this afternoon.”
Wilde stood, “I hope I did not hurt your feelings too badly concerning Sheffield.”
“You only spoke the truth, and that is all I can ever ask of any gentleman. You see, he must respect me if he ponders over my comments. If my viewpoints were lacking, then he would never have remembered them. So, he must hold me in a higher esteem than you think. As for the mousy part, well it was true. I dressed plainly and wore glasses. Since, I made promises to my mother to land a groom this season, I have taken more care with my appearance. A gentleman would want to find his wife desirable, would he not?”
He stood speechless at her reaction. His plan to diminish Sheffield’s courtship had backfired. Not only that, her declaration of a search for a groom had his mind screaming, Run away. The last thing he needed was to be caught. How did he answer such a loaded question as that? Desirable, her? She was beyond the word desirable. She was an enchantress. Run, Wilde, run and don’t look back.
“No man will ever have that trouble with you, my dear. Since Sheffield is taking you for a ride tomorrow, would you mind very much if I walked you home? For your own protection, of course. I do not want anything to prevent your excursion tomorrow.”
“I must decline. It wouldn’t be proper for us to be seen without a chaperone. I have lingered too long as it is. I thank you for your kind offer and wish you a pleasant day.”
Wilde nodded his good-bye. He granted her a smile of lazy indulgence as she looked over her shoulder at him. Lady Sidney hurried her pace along the path as she left the park. He sighed as he sat back down. However, the book she left uprooted his balance on the bench. He pulled it from under his leg and stared at the title. The little minx. She was a romantic at heart. It was something she tried to hide, not only from him, but from everybody else, he suspected. His chances to win her just improved. As he stood, he slid the book inside his pocket. Wilde whistled a favorite tune as he left the park, making his way home. It seemed he would not spend his afternoon at the club, after all. Instead he had a book to read.
Whom Shall I Kiss... an Earl, a Marquess, or a Duke? Page 5
