“With a beautiful personality?” He shook his head again. “Obviously you think well of her but not enough to court her yourself. What’s wrong with her?”
“She doesn’t have access to any champion bloodlines.”
“A shortfall she has no hope of overcoming.” The man looked past Hudson to the couples visible through the open doors of the gathering room.
“If you need some extra incentive,” Hudson said, truly wanting to feel like he was helping Bianca avoid the clutches of her stepmother’s marital choices, “she is the young lady Mr. Mead has his eye set on.”
Rigsby’s eyebrows flew up and a small smile curved his lips. “Intriguing. Tell me, if you were free of this horse obligation, would you be considering her yourself?”
“One year ago I was living in India in blissful ignorance of the fact that my grandfather was dying. If I didn’t have a horse obligation hanging over me, I’m not positive I’d even have left the house tonight.”
Lord Rigsby’s question gave Hudson something to consider. He only got to marry once. He only got to make one first move as a stable owner. He only got one chance to start this new life. Lady Rebecca seemed the perfect way to properly make all those firsts in the right way, but was that what he would choose if he didn’t feel any pressure?
“Is she here tonight?” Lord Rigsby’s question broke into Hudson’s musings.
“Yes.” He looked to the dancers. “Do you want to meet her?”
“Just point her out to me. I can facilitate my own introduction. Don’t want the lady to feel like you’re trying to shuffle her off somewhere.”
The two men stepped closer to the window, and Hudson directed Lord Rigsby’s attention to Bianca as she pranced by, her pale green dress swirling about her and her brown curls bouncing in time with the music.
Lord Rigsby nodded. “And where is your lady?”
Where was Lady Rebecca? It took him far longer to find her in the configuration, but he finally located her on the arm of Lord Davers, circling another couple.
“Best of luck to you.” Lord Rigsby clapped Hudson on the shoulder and then moved to the door. “And next time we meet, feel free to call me Rigsby.”
Hudson returned the offer and then followed the other man back into the assembly room, his shoulders feeling somewhat less weighed down than they had earlier. Perhaps God hadn’t dragged him to England to lead a life of constant tension. Aaron, Bianca, and now Rigsby had entered his life by unexpected chance. Perhaps he just needed to be a bit more patient with God’s plans.
With a decisive nod that committed to doing just that, he went in search of Lady Rebecca to claim his waltz.
Nineteen
If asked a month ago, even a single week ago, if she thought she was an overly particular person, Bianca would have said no. She felt that, generally speaking, she was easy to please.
She never complained when her least favorite foods appeared on the table. Whenever her stepmother summoned her—which hadn’t been often until the past week—she’d gone along without a murmur, at least not one anyone else could hear. If the weather was poor, she didn’t mind donning an oilcloth cape for her walk to Hawksworth.
In fact, the only time she could remember feeling truly put out was when the weather was so bad or her schedule so confining that she didn’t get to go for a ride.
All her experience told her she was an easily pleased woman.
Such was not the case at tonight’s assembly.
She rarely sat out a dance and she enjoyed the activity, so it wasn’t the abundance of dances or even the longer formations necessitated by the crowd that was upsetting her.
No, it was her partners. Even though many were men she’d stood up with countless times before, tonight she found them vexing.
They were too talkative or too quiet, too tall or too short, too plain or too handsome—well, none of them fell into that category, as all the exceptionally handsome men were surrounding Lady Rebecca.
Poor girl. Perhaps she should have just sent Hezekiah in her stead. Wouldn’t that be something? A horse trying to dance the waltz?
She smiled at the thought.
Her smile faded as she saw Mr. Mead moving toward her. The next dance was a waltz. She didn’t want to dance with Mr. Mead, and particularly didn’t want to waltz with him.
Perhaps she should develop a sudden need to visit the retiring room.
Another gentleman appeared at her side before Mr. Mead could reach her. She turned with grateful expectancy, which plummeted as she realized she didn’t know the man.
“Please forgive me if this is an etiquette blunder, but I do believe as it is a public assembly that I may introduce myself?”
Could he? She couldn’t remember ever having been told one way or the other. Then again, she’d grown up in Newmarket and normally knew everyone at these dances already. There was something charming about his demeanor, and he wasn’t Mr. Mead, so she smiled up at him.
“I don’t know, but I promise not to tell anyone if you don’t.”
“It shall be our secret, then. I am Lord Rigsby.”
Other than the mention of this man in the dress shop, she’d never heard of him before. It was likely his title was a courtesy one, but she didn’t want to admit that she was so removed from social gossip that she hadn’t a clue whom he was the heir of. “Miss Snowley.”
He gave her a small bow. “May I have the honor of this dance, Miss Snowley?”
A burst of pleasure warmed her cheeks. This man had sought her out specifically to ask her to dance. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Perhaps she could actually find another man to marry.
If she weren’t making her way onto the dance floor, Bianca would have kicked herself. Why was she contemplating marriage with every man she met? Wasn’t this the very thing she scorned other women for?
Yes, Lord Rigsby was attractive, and he delivered four sentences with adequate personality, but she required more than that in a marriage.
She’d once thought she needed nothing but horses and civility, but that was before.
Before Lord Stildon.
Oh, drat the man. He surely wasn’t comparing Lady Rebecca to her, so Bianca wasn’t going to compare Lord Rigsby to him.
“Are you new in town?” she asked as he guided her into the dance.
“Merely visiting. I intend to bring my horses here to race in October.” He looked around the room. “I didn’t realize the town would be so busy already.”
“It normally isn’t. Have you never raced your horses here before?”
“My father has always refused to bring our horses to Newmarket. I’ve bought two of my own, though, so he can’t dictate where they race.”
There had to be an interesting story behind his father’s aversion to Newmarket, but Bianca couldn’t think of a polite way to ask about it.
They fell into silence for a full round of the dance floor, but it didn’t have that heaviness that silence often had. Lord Rigsby was an excellent dancer, and Bianca was able to enjoy the movement as they whirled among the other couples.
She needed to come up with something to talk about, though, as this was the first man who had piqued her interest. Then again, she’d only been looking for a week. Still, she knew a lot of people, and she’d given many of them consideration tonight.
None of them had drawn her regard.
“Did you ride the Heath for yourself this morning? The weather was a bit of a deterrent, but the ride is still nice.”
Gracious, had she just mentioned the weather? It wasn’t that she hadn’t had many a conversation about the weather, but she always tried never to be the one who brought it up.
“I confess I have not had that pleasure yet. Hopefully Monday.”
She nodded as they fell silent again. This time, it was somewhat less comfortable.
“In your opinion, what should I be sure to see of Newmarket while I’m here? Apart from the Heath, that is.” He guided her gently around another couple wh
o had turned the wrong way.
“Well.” Nothing came to mind. It was silly given how much she loved her town, but she was completely blank as to what someone should see when they visited. “You’ll want to see the training stables, of course. Since you intend to bring your horses here.”
He nodded. “Does your family race horses?”
She gave a short laugh. “My family has a pair of carriage horses that couldn’t even outpace a man at a brisk walk. I visit my neighbor’s stable frequently though.”
“Ah yes. Lord Stildon. I met him earlier.”
Bianca maintained her smile, but inside her enjoyment of the dance faded a bit more. The viscount was keeping his promise to send eligible men her way. He truly wanted her to marry another man.
It wasn’t a surprise, wasn’t even a new idea, but for some reason it was suddenly real.
They passed her stepmother, who was chatting with Mr. Mead and sending occasional glares in Bianca’s direction. Did Mrs. Snowley know Lord Rigsby? Did she not approve of him? Did she approve of him too much and want him for Marianne?
Not that Bianca cared one way or another. The only thing her stepmother represented was Bianca’s need to get busy starting her own life, and as Lord Rigsby was the best candidate she’d seen, he deserved every bit of her attention.
She pushed her smile wider and looked up at him. She didn’t care one iota about it, but Newmarket did have one other claim of import that many people enjoyed discussing. “Have you had a chance to see the remains of the palace?”
IT WAS HARD to say what was more disconcerting—the stares of the other bachelors or the assessing gaze of Lord Gliddon as Hudson waited for Lady Rebecca to return to her father’s side so that he could claim her for the waltz.
“Lord Stildon,” Lord Brimsbane said, stepping into the space between Hudson and Lord Gliddon. “Good evening.”
“Lord Brimsbane.” Hudson swallowed and kept his gaze on Lady Rebecca as her previous partner escorted her back.
“So, you truly are interested in marrying my sister?”
What was the correct answer here? He’d never had a sister, never really had a woman in his life at all other than his mother and Bianca. Just minutes ago, he’d sent Lord Rigsby to find Bianca because the man had been interested in meeting the woman, not simply finding a suitable bride.
How much more would such a distinction matter to a brother? “I’m interested in getting to know her.”
“Hmmm.”
The other man’s expression remained impassive, but Hudson could feel the scrutiny. When they’d met on the Heath, there’d been a sort of curiosity, but this felt harder. Was it Hudson’s own discomfort causing that sensation, or was it something unspoken that the other man was somehow indicating? Hadn’t Lady Rebecca said her brother recommended him?
Society was confusing.
Lady Rebecca caught her brother’s gaze before smiling at Hudson. “I believe this is your dance, my lord.”
Hudson bowed and took her hand. “I believe it is.”
He led her onto the floor and guided her into the waltz. Up close, her smiling face didn’t look as delighted as it had from a distance, though her curls were just as perfect and her manner as graceful.
He should say something. “I recently arrived from India.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled a bit. “I recently arrived from London.”
“I mean that I grew up in India and recently arrived in England from there.”
“Did you like India?”
Did he like it? It was all he’d known. He’d heard tales of other places, but India was his entire existence. There were things he liked and things he didn’t, but he really didn’t have anything else to compare it with, other than a week in Newmarket and six months on a ship.
“It was a fine place to grow up,” he finally settled on.
She nodded and continued to smile gently as they danced. Didn’t her cheeks hurt?
Over her head, he spied the refreshment table as they twirled by. “Have you tried the punch tonight?”
She nodded. “It parched my thirst.”
Indeed.
There had to be something they could talk about that would drive this conversation for more than two sentences. “Do you ride?”
She laughed, the sound as gentle and soft as her appearance. “With my father? Of course I do.” She lifted one shoulder. “I have a mare. Her name is Daffodil.”
Ah, horses. Yes, this was a topic that should last them a while. “What kind of horse is she?”
Her nose scrunched up, though she somehow managed to keep a slight curve to her lips. Perhaps her mouth was simply made that way? “I forget the exact name Father called it.” Her face smoothed out once more. “I confess that I enjoy attending the races and don’t mind riding, but the little details quite escape me.”
Another topic trampled beneath the feet of the many waltzers.
This time he would wait until she came up with something.
“Have you tried the punch?”
Or she could repeat something.
Had he tried the punch? Yes. And then promptly poured the rest of the glass into a potted plant and gone to the cardroom in search of something—anything—else. That was hardly polite conversation, though.
Perhaps that was his problem. He had no issue talking with Bianca because he was boldly blunt. Would Lady Rebecca appreciate the same thing?
He nodded once. “I did try it earlier. It was rather awful.” He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I poured it into a potted plant.”
She blinked up at him and then turned her head this way and that, looking about the room. “Oh? Which one?”
“That one.” Hudson nodded his head toward a plant in the vicinity of the refreshment table. He couldn’t remember which plant had assisted him with emptying his glass, but he didn’t think it much mattered.
With her head tilted to the side, she considered the plant a moment. “Do you think the punch will do it ill?”
“The plant?” Hudson blinked. It was a plant. Didn’t they thrive on far worse things than horrible-tasting punch?
She nodded. “It’s barely fit for human consumption, so one can only wonder what it will do to a plant. We shall have to check on it at next week’s assembly.”
“Yes. Yes, we should do that.”
On the one hand, Hudson was happy. She wanted him to seek her out next week, and perhaps even before then. On the other hand, while the topic had gone further than two sentences, the conversation was now dead once more.
They danced along. Twice, he caught sight of Bianca and Lord Rigsby. They seemed to be getting along well enough.
What did he and Lady Rebecca look like? Would her brother and father think everything was going well between them? The best he could say for this current activity was that it didn’t feel awkward. Painfully exhausting, perhaps, but not awkward.
The relief he felt when the dance came to an end didn’t bode well for his future. As he walked Lady Rebecca back to her father, he again saw Bianca and Lord Rigsby. She was smiling up at him as if the dance had been the best of her life.
At least the evening had gone well for one of them.
Hudson just wished he was happy about it.
Twenty
Bianca stood in the middle of her room, dressed in a riding habit with her hair slicked back into a bun and her hat pinned securely in place. She held her leather riding gloves in her hand and her toes wiggled within her boots.
Yet she didn’t move.
Her normal routine would have had her quickly finishing the food that had been brought up on a tray and then making her way to Hawksworth.
So why wasn’t she leaving? Why wasn’t her scrambled mind fleeing to the peace that riding a good horse would bring?
Because Lord Stildon came along with the horse, and he wanted her to marry someone else.
They’d both said that before Saturday’s assembly, but seeing him dance with Lady Rebecca while Bia
nca danced with the man he’d sent her way had made their bargain real. Up to that point, she’d seen it more as a game.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to play anymore. What choice did she have, though? Walking away decreased her chances of finding an acceptable husband. Finding more to like about Lord Stildon’s humor and personality every time they met was simply a pain she was going to have to handle.
Unless she could get there and mounted before he came down to the stables. Then it was a pain she could delay.
The longer she stood there staring at the loose thread on her bedcovering, the lower her chances of being able to leave the stable before he arrived and the greater her chances of encountering her stepmother on her way out.
Both were very good reasons to get her feet moving.
Unless she didn’t go riding this morning. She could change into a morning dress and join her stepmother and sister in whatever they were doing, but life was certainly not that bad yet.
That left her two options.
One, she could go to Hawksworth as normal and hope Hudson wasn’t up and about yet and simply deal with the consequences if he was. Two, she could ride one of her father’s horses. It wouldn’t be the same, certainly, but it would get her out into the fresh air.
A soft knock preceded Dorothy’s entrance into the room. “If you please, miss, you’ve a visitor.”
“A visitor?”
“Yes, miss.”
“It’s”—she glanced at the clock—“not even seven.”
“I know, miss, but he’s out on the drive, and he’s asking for you.”
Curiosity freed her feet from the carpets, and Bianca all but flew down the stairs and through the front hall. She stumbled to a halt as she crossed the threshold because, sure enough, there was a man waiting for her on the drive.
Lord Brimsbane held the reins of a cream-colored horse in one hand and his hat in the other. Behind him, a groom held the reins of Lord Brimsbane’s glorious chestnut and another mount.
“Miss Snowley. I wondered if you would do me the great honor of going for a ride with me.”
Well. This was an option she hadn’t considered.
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