Caroline allowed herself only once to ponder the man’s elegant features—his tall frame, brown hair, and honey-colored eyes. She felt her heart beat fast just thinking of him. He was handsome, but so much so that the man knew it and did not seem better because of it.
Lucy had been far too busy to notice Caroline’s blush at the mere mention of the duke. It was not that Lucy was neglectful, but rather Lucy seemed to be in a fever herself, a fever of confusion. Lucy had had three visits from gentlemen in the last five days. Mr. Jenkins, from the previous seasons, upon renewing his acquaintance with her at the concert, had taken the liberty to call on Lucy. He had been polite and engaging, but Caroline groaned when she thought of his glossy eyes and the way they never left Lucy for the full twenty minutes, even alongside Lady Hopkins. Caroline had sat in a nearby chair, pretending to be consumed by her embroidery. But to sit before a lady and her mother and show such puppy-faced indulgence was more than degrading. How Mr. Jenkins had endured it, Caroline was not sure. Lucy had looked relieved at Mr. Jenkins’s departure, but she did not mention it other than to answer Lady Hopkins’s inquiries about his hat and coat and the state of his dreadful coach.
Then there was Charles Jasper. The poor fellow had indeed come to London in an effort to protect his prime objective. He would not allow another man to rob him of Lucy. Charles’s attention to Lucy was as always, quite disturbing. Caroline had counted how many times he had spit as he spoke. The count was nearly twenty. Caroline also could not help but notice the poor condition of his thinning hair. He had actually attempted to style it much like Lord Searly’s—curls mounted in a mop on top of his head. Sadly, Charles’s hair was much more reminiscent of a ratted hair ball slicked in grease.
It was clear that Charles had indulged himself more often since arriving in London, for his belly now hung quite awkwardly over his thin frame. Caroline had endured his talk of his cousin, the lovely and exceptional Miss Georgiana Lenore, and it was not until he had extended the invitation for Lucy and Caroline to call upon Miss Lenore that Caroline became irritable. Caroline had tried to object, but Lady Hopkins had insisted the girls would visit in the coming weeks; for it was only fitting they exhibit the kindness expected of such close neighbors.
Lucy’s third suitor was, however, quite unexpected. Mr. Frandsen, Lord Searly’s young cousin, had sent a letter to Lady Hopkins two days prior asking permission to call on the family. Lady Hopkins, anticipating a certain cousin that would accompany Mr. Frandsen, sent word straight away to him that he was most welcome. A friend of the duke, or better yet, cousin of Lord Searly, was always welcome in Lady Hopkins’s home, especially if it was to see one or both of her daughters.
Mr. Frandsen arrived exactly at eleven o’clock. He arrived in a burgundy coat and brown trousers. His hair was neatly styled, and he carried a book at his side. Bentley had directed him to the east drawing room where the three women were waiting.
Lady Hopkins’s disappointment upon discovering him unaccompanied was much too obvious. Caroline shook her head in embarrassment.
“Lady Hopkins,” Mr. Frandsen said as he took her hand. He did not hesitate to turn toward Lucy. He bowed. “Miss Lucy and Miss Caroline, it is a pleasure to see you both looking so well. How do you do?”
Lucy had almost made her reply, when Lady Hopkins mistook his inquiry to be about herself. “Oh, we are most comfortably settled, I assure you, though it has only been a week since our arrival. Our estate is just north of Chelmsford in Essex. You must know the place.” Lady Hopkins looked up at Mr. Frandsen and noticed he was flushed. She cleared her throat. “How silly of me! I did not even offer you a seat. Please, be seated, Mr. Frandsen. How do you do? And your cousin, Lord Searly?”
There was no mistaking the way in which she said Lord Searly. Caroline recognized her mother’s impatient tone. It was apparent that Mr. Frandsen also caught Lady Hopkins’s emphasis, for his brow furrowed and he swallowed uncomfortably. “I am well. Lord Searly sends his regards. He is looking forward to seeing each of you at his ball next week. He has had little time to attend to all the details. The guest list and arrangements are not yet settled. I hope you will forgive him for his absence this morning.”
This seemed to satisfy Lady Hopkins, and after a few minutes, she kindly excused herself. Mr. Frandsen nodded in acknowledgement as Lady Hopkins left the room.
The girls sat in silence for a few minutes as a housemaid brought in a tray of tea and crackers.
“You must have a cup of tea,” Lucy sweetly offered. She poured Mr. Frandsen a cup, extending it toward him.
“And what book do you carry with you, sir?” Caroline inquired.
The rattling of the cup against the saucer signaled his surprise, as he handed the small book to Caroline. “It is an old book I have been studying. It is not my usual course of study, but I do find it has fully engaged my interest.”
Caroline glanced at the worn cover. The Nature of Condition.
“What is it about?” Caroline asked, genuinely interested.
“It is a discourse on the station of one’s birth and the consequences of the said condition.” Mr. Frandsen smiled and paused. “It is very philosophical, much too boring and, perhaps, too forward-thinking for such a meeting as this.”
Caroline smiled at his modesty, stifling a giggle as she watched Lucy gaze at the man in open admiration. Lucy had absentmindedly filled her cup to the brim, a small trickle running down its side. Mr. Frandsen did not seem to notice Lucy as she quietly wiped her cup.
But Caroline struggled to ignore Lucy’s mishap. She cleared her throat, determined to prevent her sister from embarrassment. “Oh, but I am intrigued. And how does one overcome one’s station? By simple ambition?” She sipped her tea, patiently awaiting his response.
“It is not as easy or as simple as that. It is not a book about ambition, but rather a discourse on men, and the divergent ways in which one may learn to overcome society’s expectations of oneself.”
“Quite the forward-thinking book, wouldn’t you agree, Lucy? And what would your cousin say to such thinking? Surely he does not plan to put off society’s expectations of him?” asked Caroline with a twinkle in her eye.
Mr. Frandsen began to laugh. “I assure you my cousin would call such a book rubbish. My cousin sometimes complains of all that is expected of him, but I’m sure he celebrates his great luck in being born to such a station. Would not all men?” Mr. Frandsen glanced more intently at Lucy.
Caroline did not think there was a single thing that Lord Searly concealed. He seemed abominably proud of his situation in life. Only a true friend, or biased relation, could have such an optimistic estimation of the duke’s character.
“I am sure he will make his family proud, Mr. Frandsen.” Lucy smiled. “As will you. When will you begin managing his estate? And have you no estate of your own?”
The sound of Mr. Frandsen’s cup against the saucer again signaled his surprise. He apologetically smiled and straightened his coat. “I possess a small country home, which I inherited from my father. It is not large, but it is quite beautifully situated. I shall take over management of the country estate next year.”
“I think we shall be wonderful friends, Mr. Frandsen,” exclaimed Caroline. “I am not sure I have met a gentleman quite so grounded. Anyone associated with you might count themselves lucky.”
Mr. Frandsen blushed. “I am flattered, Miss Caroline, but were you to know many of the men that our society deems below our rank, you would find there are a great many grounded gentlemen right here in London.”
Caroline smiled at that. “Perhaps you are right. I hope I shall meet many more, though I do not have expectations of a great many with half the qualities you possess, Mr. Frandsen.”
Mr. Frandsen fidgeted with the book in his hands, tapping his thumb across its title. “You must come to know my cousin, Lord Searly, then. Jonathon, though he is frivolous when it comes to the luxuries he is so entitled to, has many admirable attributes.”
/> “Indeed?” Caroline’s eyebrows rose as she studied Mr. Frandsen’s expression. She wondered if he had been sent to put in a good word for the duke.
Mr. Frandsen only nodded and rose to his feet. “Ladies, I do apologize, but I have lost track of time. I am late for another appointment. I hope you will forgive me. It has been a most enjoyable visit. I hope to see you at the ball?” His eyes met Lucy’s face.
“Why of course, sir.” Lucy said sweetly. She rose to her feet.
“Then may I have the pleasure of your company for the first two dances, Miss Lucy?”
Lucy’s cheeks colored, but her composure did not weaken. “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Frandsen.”
Caroline attempted to conceal her amused smile. Mr. Frandsen’s desire to call was quite of its own accord. Caroline’s opinion of Lord Searly’s cousin had, within just one sitting, risen far above her opinion of the duke.
A
It was two days later that Mr. Clark’s note of appointment arrived. Lady Hopkins accompanied Caroline and Lucy as they made their way down the bustling London streets to the shop. The same red-haired clerk greeted them and offered them seats in a separate room furnished with a small drafting table and cushioned seating. The women waited in silence for Mr. Clark.
Caroline studied the small room. The table had several designs laid out and beside them were a few samples of fabrics and beads. The walls were covered with a gold patterned paper, complementing the large framed mirror that hung above the table. If it had not been for the strong smell of wood, leather, and polishes, Caroline might have forgotten she was in a shop and not a small sitting room. Though it was not extravagant, the shop was kept fashionable and tidy.
Caroline’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.
“Good morning, ladies,” Mr. Clark said as he offered a small bow. His smile seemed polite, if not a bit rigid.
As the women greeted Mr. Clark and offered their how-do-you-dos, Mr. Clark placed two sets of carved lasts on the table. Caroline picked one up, inspecting it carefully. The wooden molds were meticulously carved in the pattern of her own foot.
“I have finished your lasts, and have endeavored to begin sewing the boots and slipper liners. I need only to discuss the details of design before they are completed,” Mr. Clark began.
Caroline could not help but gaze into his handsome face. A small dimple between his chin and cheek appeared whenever he spoke, and the result was simply charming. His every move spoke of confidence and independence, yet Caroline could not gather any clue as to the man himself.
Lady Hopkins clapped her hands together. “I am not astonished one whit, Mr. Clark. I would not wish for any other cordwainer in all of England or beyond.” Lady Hopkins seemed to have meant it as a compliment, but the tone was condescending.
Mr. Clark paid no heed, however, and began inquiring about fabrics and embellishments.
As Lucy and Caroline sorted through the piles of sketches, Lady Hopkins continued to instruct Mr. Clark. “Now the ball gown slippers must be elegant but simple. Although I dote on my daughters exceedingly, I would not wish a gentleman to find them too frivolous.”
“I see, Lady Hopkins.” Mr. Clark replied. “Shall I endeavor to make the slippers elegant yet ordinary?” His brows were furrowed in what Caroline could only guess was quiet amusement.
Lady Hopkins laughed. “Just so, sir! You must indulge me! I wish you to design the slippers as you see fit. Perhaps the boots as well, for I see you are ahead of me. Please, Caroline, Lucy, come stand before Mr. Clark. He shall look at you and see the style I have so poorly attempted to describe. Perhaps you would design them better yourself now that you know the fabric color, Mr. Clark?”
Mr. Clark stared at the lasts for a moment, placing his hands on his hips. “I would not wish to disappoint, Lady Hopkins. I have never designed shoes without input from my customers. You must have some requests. Perhaps you can choose one of these designs,” he offered, gesturing to some sketches lying on the table.
Lady Hopkins waved her hand at him in refusal. “As I have just explained, I think we shall be better off leaving it to you! Now, do observe my daughters. Do you not see their seemingly effortless elegance?”
Mr. Clark looked toward Lucy. Lucy stood straight but did not meet his gaze. Mr. Clark nodded, as if to say he had captured her style. He then studied Caroline. Caroline could feel him assessing her. And though she knew his intent, she felt he was instead studying her character. At last she met his gaze. His dark eyes scanned her face, causing Caroline to blush.
Mr. Clark nodded and turned away. “I shall endeavor to please you, Lady Hopkins.”
Lady Hopkins stood, smiling at her daughters. “We look forward to the finished product, Mr. Clark.” She paused, slowly raising a finger to her chin. “Is there no possibility of the slippers being completed by this week? We are to attend Lord Searly’s ball this Friday.”
Mr. Clark only sighed. “I will finish the slippers straight away, Lady Hopkins.” He gave a slight bow.
The women curtsied and took their leave.
Caroline could not help but look back at Mr. Clark. He leaned against the table, his broad shoulders and arms gripping the edges, as if he studied the fabric patches before him, but Caroline noted he was instead watching her.
A
Thomas had not stirred from the table of swatches and notions for quite some time. His sketches were almost complete when Joseph interrupted his thoughts with a snide remark.
“I see you are still working on the sketches for Miss Caroline’s slippers. Shall I order gold trimmings for the lady? I see you wish her slippers to be the finest.” Joseph was smiling, leaning against the booth’s frame.
Thomas cast a dark glance at him, and spouted off the first words that came to his mind. “By all means, if you like the lady so much. I am apt to subtract the cost from your pay!” He then threw the book of swatches across the room playfully, the impact sending Joseph sideways into a heap of crumpled sketches upon the floor. Thomas laughed as he scratched his head and released an unintentional sigh.
A
CHAPTER 7
Lord Hopkins studied the card next to the flowers.
To Miss Caroline Hopkins,
Please allow me the first two dances.
Your humble servant,
Jonathon Searly
Lord Hopkins flinched, dropping the card to the table. It did not feel like it had been long ago that he had been courting Miss Eleanor Davenport.
Uncle Whitison had all but ruined him, until Lord Hopkins had caught the eye of the charming Miss Eleanor Davenport. Everyone had called him lucky, and perhaps he was, but Lord Hopkins could not shake the guilt he had battled for years. He had loved Eleanor, almost from the start, but he had known of her fortune from the beginning.
Of course he had grown to love her deeply, but his heart had almost broken when Lady Hopkins had discovered his financial situation. And though he was not all she had wanted him to be, she had never been anything but mindful of him. Lady Hopkins was a dutiful wife. She was an even greater mother. Lord Hopkins could think of nothing more beautiful to him than the image of Lady Hopkins. He adored her, and he told her often by way of flirtatious compliments and looks. But his wife had not seemed to hear it. Or, at least, she did not believe him anymore.
Lord Hopkins stared at the card before him from Lord Searly. Lord Searly, Duke and Earl of Rembridge, who knew so little of life and so much of comfort and entitlement, was attempting to court his Caroline. Of course the duke’s attention should have been an honor to him, but instead Lord Hopkins felt instinctively protective. What could Caroline gain from Lord Searly besides even more fortune? Lord Hopkins shuddered as he pictured his youngest daughter battling the guilt that had plagued him for so many years. No, Phillip had learned it was better to marry for love than for fortune. Yet, Lady Hopkins had her heart set upon the match now. He could not stand to think of offending his wife, not when he had already proved to be such
a general disappointment to her. No, Phillip decided, he would not intervene. Caroline could always stand upon her own two feet. It freed Lord Hopkins’s soul when he watched Caroline. She lived without regret, a trait he had once prided himself for.
Lucy and Caroline descended the stairs. Lord Hopkins watched in astonishment as they came to his side. “My girls have become women right before my eyes,” he happily exclaimed. He grasped their hands, holding them at a distance to admire them. Finally, satisfied, he added, “There could not be two prettier little women in all the town!”
Lucy smiled, hesitating.
Caroline happily embraced her father, kissing him sweetly on the cheek. “Oh Papa! I shall never understand why you dote on us so.”
This remark brought a smirk to Lord Hopkins’s face. He shook his head in denial. “And I shall now have to play the part of the protective father, I see. For you both will have the lot after you!”
Lucy slipped her hand in his arm as she tenderly whispered, “Papa, I have missed you so. Shall you dance with me tonight?”
“But of course! You think I shall leave it all to the suitors? Not on my life!” He kissed Lucy on the cheek. As Caroline began to show her father her new green slippers that had been delivered earlier that morning, his attention turned to the stairs where Lady Hopkins now stood. Though she had matured over the years, her face was just as beautiful to him as it had been the night he had first kissed her.
“Lucy, on second thought, I do not know if I will be able to dance with you. I think I shall have to keep your mother beside me all evening. Some young suitor might try to snatch her up.”
Lady Hopkins blushed but waved her hand in dismissal. Her eyes glistened in the darkly lit foyer. “I shall not mind what your father says, girls, for he is set on teasing me tonight.”
The Second Season (Regency Romance) Page 4
