“No, dear.” Mrs. Langley patted her son’s hand, smiling quite sweetly at him.
He was solicitous of his mother’s welfare—Athena could certainly say that of Mr. Langley. Mrs. Langley had the prior claim on her son’s attention, not to mention a far greater claim. And they made such a touching picture of maternal affection and filial loyalty.
Athena smiled across the carriage at them just as Mrs. Langley’s eyes shifted from her son’s face to Athena’s. The woman’s smile was instantly replaced by a narrow-eyed look of evaluation. Her long, pointed noise and rather piercing dark eyes put Athena firmly in mind of the hunting dogs a neighbor in Shropshire had kept when she was a little girl.
“Who’s the gel?” Mrs. Langley asked, her voice nasally and stringent.
“This is Miss Athena Lancaster, Mother,” Mr. Langley replied.
“Lancaster?” Mrs. Langley’s forehead wrinkled up like a wad of fabric. “Never heard of any Lancasters worth knowing.”
Athena was too taken aback to do more than stare mutely.
“Her sister is the Duchess of Kielder,” Mr. Langley answered.
“Hmmph.” It wasn’t a very flattering response. “I suppose she’s considered something of a beauty.” There was enough doubt in Mrs. Langley’s tone to take any hint of a compliment out of her words.
“I—” The single word was all that Mr. Langley managed before his mother’s gaze shifted to him. “Er—she does not, of course, hold a candle to your own handsomeness.”
Mrs. Langley was suddenly all tender smiles. Another hand pat clearly communicated her approval of her son’s evaluation. “I have always been thought to be a handsome woman,” she said. “Though I am certain the years have diminished my looks.”
“Not at all, Mother.”
Another hand pat preceded a look of undisguised triumph shot in Athena’s direction. Athena was certain she looked like the greatest simpleton in all the world, sitting as she was with her mouth slightly agape, unable to formulate a thought, let alone a response. Mrs. Langley was as shriveled as a prune. And her wrinkles were not the sort borne of a lifetime of laughter. She had the appearance of one who spent hours on end sucking on lemons.
Mr. Langley continued fussing over his mother as they approached the entrance to Hyde Park, not a glance or word spared for Athena’s benefit.
“Do you require many hours in curling papers to create such a riotous amount of curls, Miss Lancaster?” Mrs. Langley asked.
“No,” Athena answered, dumbfounded.
“No doubt, your impatience leaves you with flat hair before the end of an evening.” Mrs. Langley sniffed.
“My curls are not created with curling papers,” Athena answered, realizing she’d been misunderstood. “They are natural.”
“Of course they are.” The comment was not merely dripping with sarcasm, it was saturated with it. “Your father. Who are his people? What sort of family connections does he have?”
Athena clasped her hands in her lap, doing her best to maintain a calm and civil demeanor. “His grandfather was Lord Henley, though the title now belongs to a somewhat distant cousin of mine.”
“That is not a barony of great significance,” Mrs. Langley said with another audible sniff.
“The baronies in your family are, then, I assume,” Athena shot back.
Mrs. Langley’s mouth tightened, but she didn’t reply. Athena strongly suspected there were no titles, significant or otherwise, in Mrs. Langley’s family. Only a moment passed before Mrs. Langley continued her picking. “And what kind of person is your mother?” she asked, her tone indicating she expected to hear something to disapprove of.
Athena gave her a very direct look. She would not endure insults to her beloved, departed mother. So Athena selected a response she knew would close the subject. “The dead kind,” she answered, turning her face away, gazing as if mesmerized by the passing view.
The landau slowed to nearly a stop as they converged upon the congestion of Hyde Park. All around them was the noise and commotion of the fashionable hour, but amongst the passengers of the Langley carriage there was only tense silence. Mrs. Langley managed to look both indignant and frail, depending upon which of her fellow travelers she was looking at. Mr. Langley had grown felicitous to the point of being almost frantic. Athena was simply annoyed. From the moment they’d entered the carriage, Mr. Langley had essentially forgotten her existence. If only his mother had as well.
“Now. See there, Jonas,” Mrs. Langley said, breaking her blessed silence. “There is Miss Harrington. Now she is quite an agreeable young lady. Her uncle is an earl, you know. And her mother is the daughter of a marquess.” Mrs. Langley gave Athena a look so pointed Athena half expected to find herself bleeding from someplace vital. “And yet she does not put on airs. I do not think we would hear her spouting nonsense about natural curls and family connections that were not worth mentioning.”
Athena clasped her fingers more tightly, keeping herself quiet by sheer willpower. If only Adam were in the carriage at that moment. He would set the dragon to the right about!
“Quite right, Mother,” Mr. Langley agreed. That was all he’d done from the moment they’d left Falstone House. He’d simpered and fussed and agreed to every bit of nonsense that had dropped out of his mother’s mouth.
“Oh, Jonas! See. There is Mr. Windover. Do wave him over. I simply must speak with him.”
Harry? Athena shifted in her seat enough to peer in the direction Mrs. Langley was indicating. Sure enough, there was Harry, riding his dappled mare and looking as carefree and unaffected as ever. Harry and his ridiculous friends!
A moment later, Harry was beside the landau. “Mrs. Langley,” he offered with a most charming smile. “You are as handsome as ever.”
“Flatterer,” Mrs. Langley replied with a playful wave of her hand.
“Not at all,” Harry grinned. “I have often said that you are a lady whose looks defy comparison.”
Harry’s eyes slung quickly to Athena, laughter sparkling in their depths. Athena understood then. Harry was speaking absolutely truthfully but phrasing his words in a way that could, if one was inclined to hear them a certain way, be interpreted as flattering. “Miss Lancaster,” he said, sounding for all the world as if he had only just noticed her there, even though his mischievous smile told Athena otherwise. “Well met. How are you enjoying Hyde Park this afternoon?”
“The park is much as it was the last time I was here,” Athena replied, borrowing Harry’s method of careful phrasing.
“Would you say you are enjoying your ride today as much as you did on your previous jaunt?”
“In some ways I would even say this ride has exceeded the experience of my last.”
“Oh, I see.” Harry kept his tone light and cheerful, but Athena saw empathy in his eyes that nearly undid her determined air of indifference. Mrs. Langley’s barbs had not been enjoyable.
“Miss Lancaster is the Duke of Kielder’s ward, I understand,” Mrs. Langley said, commandeering the conversation once more. She’d managed to make the position of “ward” sound as demeaning as “boot boy” or “scullery maid.”
“She is, in fact, his sister-in-law,” Harry corrected but with such a brilliant smile, Mrs. Langley responded with an almost infatuated smile of her own. Athena couldn’t help noting that Mr. Langley knew as much but had not seen that she was given her proper place in his mother’s estimation.
“Tell me,” Mrs. Langley leaned closer to Harry, her layer upon layer of facial wrinkles piling atop one another as she twisted her face into a conspiratorial look, “do all of His Grace’s wards claim to have naturally curly hair as this one does?”
“Miss Lancaster’s youngest sister, as well as her brother, share with Miss Lancaster the very great fortune of having been born with the envy-inspiring ringlets you see before you,” Harry told her. “Her Grace, the Duchess of Kielder, has perfectly lovely hair, as does another of His Grace’s sisters-in-law, though their hair does no
t curl naturally as Miss Lancaster’s does.”
“So it is natural.” Mrs. Langley was obviously not happy to discover as much.
“It is, indeed. Naturally beautiful.” Harry smiled at Athena, and something about his expression, coupled with his tone, made her blush.
“It is a shame the gel is so impertinent,” Mrs. Langley said, skewering Athena with her beady little eyes. Athena had to clamp her jaw shut to keep from saying something uncivil. “If she weren’t generally quiet, she wouldn’t be welcomed anywhere, I dare say.”
“The Duke of Kielder’s sister-in-law will always be welcomed everywhere,” Harry countered. His eyes fell on Mr. Langley, pulling that gentleman’s gaze away from his mother for the first time in a quarter of an hour. “And all would be advised to remember that His Grace does not take kindly to seeing his loved ones, most especially his wife’s family, mistreated or made unhappy.”
Athena heard Mr. Langley clear his throat uncomfortably.
“His Grace is particularly disapproving of insults,” Harry continued, still watching Mr. Langley closely, a warning obvious in his tone. “Even the royal family dares not slight those His Grace considers under his protection. One would be well-advised not to allow the duke’s family members to be made unhappy lest one find oneself in His Grace’s black books.”
“Point taken, Windover,” Mr. Langley said, his voice oddly strangled.
“Well,” Harry returned to his jovial manner of addressing them all, “I must not keep this beast standing, I fear he is rather the most impatient of horses.”
A moment later, Harry had cantered off. Athena’s eyes followed him as he made his way through the throng of people, wishing he had stayed longer, wondering why he had not been at Falstone House that day. She could not remember the last time he hadn’t been there before the afternoon had worn on.
“A very good sort of gentleman,” Mrs. Langley observed after Harry’s departure. “It is a shame his good friend, the duke, has been burdened with such an unwelcome responsibility. He—”
“Mother,” Mr. Langley interrupted, sounding more than a touch uneasy, “I do believe we have been out in the weather long enough. Do not you?”
She humphed, though it sounded oddly like agreement. “Learned all I needed to know,” she said, giving Athena another one of her scathing visual assessments.
Mr. Langley gave the coachman harried instructions to leave the park at the earliest opportunity.
Not ten minutes later, Athena was deposited on the steps of Falstone House.
“Good riddance,” she heard Mrs. Langley’s acidic voice declare as the landau pulled away.
“Amen,” Athena muttered in response.
Her list had grown by one more attribute. Her ideal husband would not possess a poison-tongued mother to whom he clung with almost unnatural fervor. She would not spend the rest of her life insulted by a mother-in-law and ignored by a husband who had not yet grown out of the role of needy child.
And Harry, she further decided, desperately needed to expand his circle of acquaintances.
Chapter 9
Harry was painfully aware of the fact that he was walking a razor-thin line when it came to Athena Lancaster. The time he spent in her company was to be the one consolation in all of his efforts to help her to a good match. And yet her company was proving fatal to his self-mastery.
She’d very nearly sent him into a state of panic when she had so innocently declared that holding hands with a gentleman in a darkened box at the theater could not possibly be an affecting experience. There were far too many so-called gentlemen of the ton who would take advantage of her naïveté. So, like the dunderhead he too often proved himself to be, Harry had offered a relatively tame demonstration. Those brief moments managed to convince him just how affecting a touch of hands could truly be. He was grateful that Persephone and Adam had been sufficiently distracted; a few minutes had been required for Harry to regain control of his countenance.
Portraying an avuncular acquaintance was growing more difficult with each attempt. Harry knew his eyes followed Athena around every ballroom. He was keenly aware of her location at any social function. He had noted her arrival in Hyde Park just that afternoon probably even before she herself was aware of her location. How Peterbrook could have disapproved of Athena’s carriage dress the day before was beyond Harry’s comprehension. He could scarcely take his eyes off her the entire time he’d been beside the Handleys’ carriage today. Athena would be stunning even dressed in rags.
Harry dropped into the lumpy leather armchair in his sitting room. Adam was at Lords. Persephone was probably making morning calls. And Athena, if Harry didn’t miss his guess, was most likely spitting mad. He’d seen the flash of annoyance in her eyes as Mrs. Handley had spouted her self-righteous nonsense. He’d known Handley’s mother to be something of a bossy dragon, but he hadn’t anticipated such a running stream of vitriol. Athena needed to realize that she would be marrying a gentleman’s family as well as the man himself. Having a mother-in-law who was selfish to the core and who led her son around by the nose, as it were, would be an unbearable situation. Handley had been the perfect man to demonstrate that. For that reason, Harry had offered to introduce him to the Little Season’s fair diamond. But Mrs. Handley had outdone herself.
Harry would give Athena some time to cool off. Perhaps by the time they left for the Fitzpatricks’ musicale she would be in a more receptive mood. He sincerely hoped so. There was someone attending the same function who was anticipating an introduction, an experience that was not likely to improve Athena’s mood.
Harry slouched down in the well-worn chair, his left elbow on the chair arm, head resting in his palm. He pushed out a long breath, trying to expel the smell of violets that always lingered long after he’d left Athena’s side. It didn’t help that he’d bought another posy on his way back to his rooms. Harry mentally shook his head at himself. How long had he been so infatuated?
With his eyes still closed, Harry could see her as she had looked the moment she had arrived at Falstone Castle that spring. It had only been spring technically. The snow lasted far past winter in Northumberland. Athena had stepped out of the traveling carriage, her cheeks pink from the cold. She had walked up the front steps and through the enormous front doors of the castle with all the dignity and grace that was expected of a young lady of her station in life. But her eyes had given her away, revealing a poignant mixture of apprehension and anticipation.
That was the moment. He realized it looking back. He had seen far too many young society misses who had perfected the art of looking utterly bored with life. Athena was refreshingly different. Constant detachment was expected of the ton. Society’s upper echelon worked hard at appearing so unimpressed with life as to be on the verge of expiring from it. Harry had never managed the act. And neither, he guessed, had or would Athena. He’d loved her ever since.
Harry opened his eyes. Literally and figuratively. A quick glance around the room brought him back down to earth. To say the room was shabby would have been a generous compliment. Not a single painting adorned the walls. The furniture had most certainly seen better days. His valet was his one and only servant, if one didn’t count the maid who came in once a week, and no one in the ton would have counted her. Society held itself to a very high standard even in matters of servants. The only thing in the room that couldn’t be considered ragged was the violets. And the irony of that realization was not lost on Harry.
He rose and walked slowly to the window, his characteristic smile completely missing. The street below his window was busy, but he only vaguely noted the activity. £650. That was his yearly income. It was possible to support a wife on such an amount, if there were never any children to provide for and if she had no objections to living in a manner not unlike that in which Athena had lived before Adam’s fortune had saved them. Except that Harry’s situation was worse than the Lancasters’ had been. They’d had little by way of money—that much was true. But
the family had had a roof over their heads and a home in good repair. Harry’s home and the estate upon which it sat were barely livable. Thousands of pounds would be required to bring it to the point where it could be occupied. And even with such a drastic level of investment, there would be no true prosperity.
That he needed Athena’s dowry was obvious. But he didn’t want her dowry. He wanted Athena. And he could never have her.
Time slipped by as he stood, blindly staring down at the street. His mind was filled with memories of her. He remembered her brave smile the day of Persephone and Adam’s wedding. He thought back on the time he’d found her in the book room at Falstone Castle and the palpable relief she’d exuded upon realizing Adam hadn’t discovered her there. And his mind relived the discussions and debates they’d had after that on any number of subjects. Harry had retrieved the books she’d wanted from Adam’s sanctuary, and they’d talked over the things she’d read. She hadn’t summoned the courage to learn to ride, but Harry had secretly intended to talk her into it when he had returned to Falstone Castle after the Season. That wouldn’t happen after all. She would be married, and not to him.
A discreet throat clearing pulled Harry from his thoughts. His long-suffering valet was standing in the doorway to Harry’s sitting room with a look of urgency on his face. A quick glance at the tiny, dented clock on a heavily scratched end table told Harry he had very little time before he was expected for dinner at Falstone House.
Harry let out a tense breath. It was time to force himself to be happy when he was feeling less happy with each passing moment. He would simply cling to the knowledge that introducing Athena to Sir Hubert Collington would, if all went according to his expectations, add another crucial characteristic to her list of future-spouse qualifications. And this latest characteristic was, indeed, essential.
* * *
Athena sat in Adam’s most well-sprung carriage attempting to feel enthusiastic about the evening ahead. She enjoyed music and, until her very long, torturous afternoon, had been looking forward to the Fitzpatrick musicale. Mrs. Handley’s company had left Athena drained and out of sorts. A brief nap had done little but make her head hurt.
Courting Miss Lancaster Page 7
