He looked up, finding an amused smile on Mother’s lips.
She laughed. “Your father may have served his people and his family tirelessly, but he did grumble about it occasionally. He did not enjoy climbing on top of the Jeffersons’ roof to repair the thatch that day, but his men were occupied with other things, and he knew rain was coming. He did not appreciate dinner parties or going to London to serve in parliament, and his most precious moments were those spent quietly at the fireside with his family. He was a grumpy man sometimes, but he valued his people, and he never wanted them to feel a burden.”
“I did not realize he complained.”
“Of course he complained. But he still did the work. It was odd for the Jefferson family to have an earl on their roof, Andrew. That would make most people uncomfortable, and he would have been better off allowing the servants to manage it. But he saw a need and filled it. That was just the way he was.”
“He told me once that he enjoyed serving others because that was when he felt closest to God.”
A tender smile fell over her face. “I do not think you can sum up your father better than that. But I will say that what mattered was what he did do. His service was no less important just because he would complain sometimes of his wet feet when he returned home—he would still glow from the success of having helped another. And your capabilities are no less than his. I have been watching you this last fortnight with your sisters and our guests, and time and again it has brought a tear to my eye because I look at you, and I am reminded of him. Do not ever say that you will not measure up, Andrew. You are absolutely capable of being just as good of an earl, and a man, and a father, as he was. You already are.”
A father? Mary’s face came to mind, and he closed his eyes, hoping that would chase away her round, green eyes and earnest expression.
“Please say you will consider it?”
Andrew stood. He needed to leave, to give himself time to think. “I will consider it.”
“One last thing, before you go.”
“Yes?”
“Did something occur between you and Miss Hatcher? Dinner felt different last night, but I could not quite figure out what had shifted.”
Yes. “Would it be wrong of me to admit that I’m not a fan of her rich Mr. Lockhart?”
Mother’s mouth pinched. “I’m not sure. Perhaps you ought to keep that opinion to yourself.”
Too late. “But there were…circumstances…which led me to believe that he does not intend to value her as she ought to be valued.”
“What circumstances?” Her shrewd gaze tore through him, and he realized a moment too late that he should not have said anything at all.
“We met Mr. Lockhart on the street when we were leaving Hatchard’s the other day, and he was with a woman, the widow of his friend from Portsmouth, he claims.”
“Claims? You do not believe that to be their connection?”
He sat back down, rubbing his temples. “That very well might be their connection, but I don’t believe that is why he squired her about London while she shopped for perfume.”
“Oh, dear.”
“And Miss Hatcher knows. She claims to be unbothered by it.”
Mother’s face no longer betrayed her thoughts. “I see.”
“This does not give you cause for concern?”
“If it does not do so for Miss Hatcher, then who am I to take issue with it?”
He swallowed his offense. “You are her godmother.”
Mother nodded. “Yes. But she is engaged. She cannot very well break it off now, can she?”
“No, and she won’t,” he confessed. “Lockhart owns their estate. He bought it so Mr. Hatcher would have the funds to pay his debts.”
Mother’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, that is news.”
“You mustn’t tell—”
“Do not worry yourself, Andrew. I will not tell a soul. But it does explain…”
“Yes?”
Her gaze flicked over him. “I had wondered if you and she…well, anyone can see the way you look at one another.”
Andrew’s neck heated. Had he been so obvious? Standing, he moved to leave. “As you said, it is impossible.”
“Perhaps you ought not give up hope yet.”
“I have done my best, Mother, but I cannot foresee how anything will change. Things are out of my hands now.”
She shifted, her gaze searching his face. “Trust your intuition, Andrew.”
How could he? He was a gentleman, and Mary had expressly commanded him to put her from his mind. Impossible, of course, but he would do his best to respect her wishes. “Well currently, I am famished. Can I escort you downstairs for breakfast?”
“No, no. Thank you, dear, but Fanny is coming, and we are going to spend some time together in here. I am sad to part ways with her soon.”
“If she is so dear to you, why have you not made an effort to see one another before now?”
Mother wore a sad smile. “Fanny has difficulty leaving her house. It is not a common issue, but it is a great pain to her and causes her a good deal of anxiety when she must travel. I have gone to visit her a few times, but then you children started to grow, and our visits became more infrequent until they just stopped.”
Well, it was no wonder then that Mary refused to budge on the issue. Mrs. Hatcher’s trials must be grave indeed if her daughter was willing to marry a man just to allow her to keep her home.
He moved toward the door.
“Andrew?”
He glanced back over his shoulder.
“You will still wear the green waistcoat tonight, won’t you? Anne has begged me to let her wear her rose gown, and we worked so hard on that embroidery. I should like to see some of you match.”
He smiled. “Of course, Mother. I would be honored to.”
Even if it meant publicly coordinating his clothing with the woman he wished would agree to be his.
Chapter 26
The ballroom was lit with hundreds of candles lining the chandeliers and wall sconces, glittering and reflecting on the shiny, waxed floor. More people had shown up than Mary had expected to see at a ball in London in the middle of an icy winter, but she had yet to spy Mr. Lockhart among the guests, and for that she was grateful.
“You are such an image!” Lady Anne said, beaming. She had been all bright smiles and eager anticipation since breakfast that morning, and Mary hoped the ball was everything Lady Anne had wished for it to be thus far.
“Yes, perhaps we should not have agreed to wear matching clothing when attending a ball,” Andrew said, sending Mary a tight smile. “I fear we may declare the wrong message.”
She tried to smile back, but it was strained. Could he tell? He hadn’t rested his gaze on her for longer than a second since yesterday. Even now, his gaze flitted around the guests as they lined up to prepare for the next dance.
Turning, Andrew offered his hand to his sister. “Anne, would you care to dance?”
“Yes, but I should like to catch my breath first. Perhaps the next set?”
He reclaimed his hand, nodding once.
“You haven’t danced with Mary yet,” Anne continued, “and you really ought to show off our mothers’ embroidery.”
Mary’s heart leapt to her throat. She had not been asked to dance yet, for which she was glad. She was in no mood to pretend to feel anything other than the melancholic weariness that gripped her. But the idea of taking Andrew’s hand and spinning under his direction was heady.
“Miss Hatcher, would you care to dance?”
Despite her better judgment, she nodded, slipping her silk-gloved hand within his and allowing Andrew to lead her to the floor. They stood across from one another, waiting for the remainder of the couples to line up, and Mary took advantage of the opportunity to look into Andrew’s cool blue eyes without restraint.
Her open stare was reciprocated, and Mary felt locked within his gaze. The music began, the dance shortly following, and Mary stepped forward
with the line of women. Her body began to relax as they moved through the motions, trusting Andrew to lead her through the familiar steps. She could not allow herself to imagine a life where Andrew was her partner always, but she knew if fate had thought to look kindly enough on her to have made that possible, they would likely have made excellent partners. He was a gentle leader, but firm when he needed to be. He watched her through the duration of their set with a discerning eye.
When the set came to a close, Mary laid her hand over Andrew’s arm, afraid to speak. If she opened her mouth, she was sure to release the emotion welling up in her chest. She caught Mama’s kind eye watching her from where she sat beside Lady Sanders, and Mary directed her attention quickly to Lady Anne, standing just before the mothers.
“You look absolutely radiant together,” Lady Anne said, beaming. “You almost make me wish I had worn the green dress, too.”
“Next time, perhaps,” Andrew said, his voice stilted. “Would you like to dance now, Anne?”
“I should like that very much.”
Andrew glanced briefly at Mary before taking Lady Anne’s arm and leading her toward the center of the room, leaving Mary to stand alone. She could feel the gaze of her mother and Lady Sanders seated just behind her but refused to turn and make conversation. She needed to get a handle on her emotions first.
Crossing her arms over her chest, her fingers grazed the holly leaf embroidery on her sleeve, and she considered the love that had gone into decorating the gown. Flashes of Andrew’s waistcoat could be seen between the crowd as he moved. Mary rather thought green was a remarkable color on him.
“You look nice this evening.”
Mr. Lockhart’s low voice near her ear was unwelcome and shocking, causing an unpleasant shiver to run down her body as it chased all warmth from her. She stepped back and curtsied. “Good evening, sir.”
“Yes. Now, let us not waste any time.” He glanced around the room with eager anticipation. He appeared just as excited about the prospect of meeting men of title and fortune as Lady Anne had been.
“I am afraid the only person I can introduce you to in this room is Lord Sanders, and you have already met him.”
Mr. Lockhart froze, turning to face her, a quizzical look on his dark brow. “You mean to say you know no one beyond your own party this evening?”
“Not that I can see. I was honest with you, sir. I have not been given an opportunity to know many people in the Fashionable World.”
His gaze flicked to the women seated behind her, and he lowered his voice. “But your mother is the granddaughter of an earl. Your godmother is a countess. You have connections.”
“Yes, I do. With time and energy I could give you what you seek, Mr. Lockhart, but it will not come overnight. I can more easily introduce you to the gentility surrounding our homes in Berkshire. Mother has entertained frequently enough, and I know the Earl of Haversham well, and we have a baron who I could easily introduce you to at the assemblies in Derrey.”
Her contributions to his station-rising schemes were as paltry as they sounded, and he did not seem to want to believe her. “But your father mentioned…surely when Lord Sanders returns he will be more than glad to perform introductions.”
“Yes, as long as he is not promised to dance again.”
“And your father mentioned a house party at Brightly Court every summer. I am certain that will do for us very nicely.”
Mary froze. She had decided against obtaining an invitation. How could she attend a house party at Andrew’s estate with her husband? No, she would not do that to him or herself. That was one sacrifice she was unwilling to make.
“We might be able to get introductions if we greet our hostess again,” Mary suggested. She would be forced to act every bit the upstart she knew Mr. Lockhart to be, but she would do anything to remove the house party from his thoughts.
“Splendid idea.” He took her arm. “Lead the way.”
Mary weaved through the people, moving toward the space where Lady Rutledge was speaking to another woman.
The older woman’s voice was low, laced with concern. “We are so grateful he has pulled through, of course. My poor sister, to be a widow…it does not bear thinking of.”
“It is an absolute miracle,” the younger woman agreed.
Lady Rutledge caught sight of Mary and her betrothed lurking nearby and lifted an eyebrow at them. Mary’s cheeks flamed. She had broken at least three rules of etiquette in the last few minutes—leaving the safety net of her chaperones, and with a man, no less, approaching her hostess while the woman was in the middle of a private conversation, and eavesdropping on their conversation—but this was what Mr. Lockhart required of her. He would learn eventually that this would get him nowhere.
“Miss Hatcher, wasn’t it?” Lady Rutledge asked.
Mary nodded. “And I believe you met my betrothed, Mr. Lockhart? We are so grateful for your kindness in extending us both an invitation.”
Lady Rutledge regally inclined her head but made no move to introduce Mary or Mr. Lockhart to her friend.
“I wondered if I might trouble you for some information,” Mary said. “I had the opportunity recently to learn of your brother-in-law, Mr. Bartlett’s, illness. That was over a week ago now, and I have been interested to learn how he is faring.”
The woman looked pleasantly surprised. “He is well, in fact. Dr. Kent has deemed it a miraculous recovery, and my sister is absolutely thrilled. We are all quite pleased.”
“I cannot imagine what a relief that must be.”
“Indeed,” she agreed.
The conversation moved no further, and Mary had no way to try and force it to. She dipped a curtsy. “Thank you, Lady Rutledge.”
Mary began to walk away but only made it a few steps when Mr. Lockhart grabbed her upper arm and wrenched her to a stop.
He spoke through his teeth, low and near her ear. “That was all? You did not allow me a word, and it led to nothing.”
Procuring a smile, Mary tried to pull her arm free. “You might notice that you are causing a scene, Mr. Lockhart. You would do well to release me.”
He let go at once, and it took all of Mary’s resolve not to rub her arm where he had squeezed it.
“Return with me. Now.”
“To Lady Rutledge?” She did her best to swallow her disdain. “That would not help either of our cases, sir.”
“It will if you force an introduction to the woman’s friend.”
Did he know absolutely nothing about polite society? About any society? “The introduction means nothing if the person doesn’t care to know you. You must earn their regard, their respect.”
Mr. Lockhart shook his head. “No. I know how these things work. Introductions are everything.”
Oh, he had so much to learn.
“Is something the matter, dear?” Mama said, appearing by Mary’s side.
She sucked in a surprised breath, glancing between Mama and Mr. Lockhart. How long had her mother been standing there? What had she heard? “No, Mama. We were only inquiring after Lady Rutledge’s brother-in-law, Mr. Bartlett.”
“Oh, the poor man. How is he?”
“He is much improved, actually. Dr. Kent is calling it a miracle.”
“What a blessed relief,” Mama said. She turned to Mr. Lockhart. “And you, sir? I hope you are well this evening.”
“Quite.”
“And your friend,” Mama said, “what was her name? Mrs. Dobson, I believe. How is she this evening?”
Mr. Lockhart stilled, his gaze flicking between Mary and her mother. “Excuse me, but are you acquainted with her?”
“No. I’ve only heard of her through others. I was interested to find out that she traveled to London with you, sir, after returning to England on your boat. That is quite the consideration to show the wife of a friend.”
His smile was tight. “I only did what any gentleman would do.”
“And do you plan to leave her in London tomorrow?”
“How kind of you. How selfless.”
Mary looked at her mother, then her betrothed. He nodded, accepting the praise, but his eyes were fixed on her, confusion clouding them. Mary looked to the place where Lady Sanders had been seated and found her watching them closely from across the room. The Bright siblings were still dancing, and Mary refused to search them out.
“I thought it would be prudent to inform you, Mr. Lockhart, that I no longer plan to return to my house in Berkshire. I have written to my husband, and he will begin overseeing the packing of our things and preparing us to move. The servants, you know, will complete the rest. As our landlord, I only thought it fitting that you know you are soon to have a vacancy.”
“Mother,” Mary hissed, her heart racing. “What are you talking about?”
“Perhaps this would be better discussed away from Society’s nosy ears.” Mama took Mary by the hand, leading her to the nearby door and out into the quiet corridor, Mr. Lockhart on their heels.
He looked agitated, his nostrils flaring over tight lips. “Please explain yourself, madam.”
“I believe what I said was perfectly clear. We no longer have a need for the house you purchased from us, and as far as I am aware, there was never any lease agreement. We shall vacate it by the end of the month, and then you may do with the house what you wish.”
Mr. Lockhart appeared as astonished as Mary felt. His mouth gaping, he sputtered. “I already may do with the house what I wish. It is my house.”
Mama’s face tightened. “Precisely.”
Mary lowered her voice. “Mama, what is the meaning of this? How do you…I did not think you were aware of the particulars—”
Mama took Mary’s hand in both of her own, peering into her face. “You must not feel forced to marry anyone unless you wish it.”
“But the house. How will you…you will not be comfortable anywhere else. Your happiness, your very comfort…how can you manage, Mama?”
“I do not pretend that it will be easy, Mary. But I continue to remind myself that I once grew accustomed to our house after moving into it with your father. I can do so again somewhere else.”
All is Mary and Bright: A Christmas Regency Romance (Belles of Christmas: Frost Fair Book 2) Page 20
