He nodded, gratified by her change towards him. “I am, Miss Beaumont. My usual home is on acreage near Glastonbury in Somerset.”
She nodded. “You are a landowner, then?”
“I own a modest plot,” he said slowly. “Five acres, but it is more than sufficient for me. I rent it out to local farmers, which supplies me with a decent income.”
“Indeed,” she said, inclining her head. “I have never been to Somerset, but I have heard that it is lovely there …?”
He nodded, trying to think of something to say about the county. He had only been there twice, to visit Walter, and both of those trips had been quick. Furiously, he tried to think of something notable to say about it. What were some famous landmarks?
Suddenly, something popped into his mind.
“Cheddar Gorge is worth the visit alone,” he said. “We are very proud of it. And of course, Glastonbury is a lovely town. You and your family should resolve to visit it one day, Miss Beaumont.”
She smiled again. “Just so. I am exceedingly interested in travel …”
“I want to go to the Lake District,” declared Lavinia, her eyes shining. “I have heard it is simply stunning. William Wordsworth writes so beautifully about it.”
Samuel nodded. “I have been to the Lake District. It is as beautiful as they say, but the weather can be most intemperate. Rain and more rain …”
“I shall make sure to bring an umbrella, then,” said Lavinia quickly, her eyes sparkling.
Samuel’s heart started beating a little faster. Lavinia was simply bewitching. She was so animated and enthusiastic. When she spoke, it was as if her whole body participated in it. She became even more beautiful if that were indeed possible.
“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Hunter,” said the elder Miss Beaumont, smiling warmly. “But I am afraid we must depart the ball now. Our carriage is waiting.”
Samuel’s heart dropped. He didn’t want Lavinia to leave. It was most peculiar, but he felt that he had somehow known her forever.
“Must you?” he implored, gazing from one sister to the other. “The night is still young, as they say.” He paused, fixing his gaze on the elder Miss Beaumont. “I have an amiable friend who would love to dance with such a charming lady as yourself if he were given the honour.”
Sophie looked surprised. “That is very gracious of you, Mr Hunter,” she said slowly. “But I am afraid we have our mother with us, and she always likes to depart early.”
He looked at Lavinia, almost pleadingly. She didn’t look happy at her sister’s command, but he could see she was ready to comply. She wasn’t about to argue with her.
He was going to lose her, just when he had started to get to know her. And infuriatingly, he couldn’t think of another single thing to say to stop it happening.
Lavinia smiled. “Thank you for the lovely dance,” she said quietly. “It was, indeed, a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” said Samuel, his heart dropping further.
They both curtsied, drifting away into the crowd. He watched them until they had vanished completely from his sight.
Chapter 6
Lavinia felt as if she were drifting along in a soap bubble, as Sophie led her carefully through the crowd, to where Mama was seated.
She hadn’t wanted to leave the man’s side. If Sophie hadn’t intervened, she could have quite happily conversed and danced with him the entire night. She had simply never felt this way in her life – to be so comfortable with a complete stranger was perplexing, to say the least. The fact that he was a tall, handsome stranger, who made her heart flutter in the most alarming way, confused her even more.
They entered another room, where all the older ladies were gathered, sitting on chairs and gossiping behind their fans. She spotted Mama ensconced in a large upholstered armchair, a large cream cake on a plate on her lap, talking animatedly to Lady Colborne. She didn’t look pleased when she spotted them approaching her.
“Why are you two here?” she declared sharply, placing her fork on her plate. “You should be on the dance floor or conversing with eligible young men. That is what we are here for, after all.”
Sophie smiled. “Lavinia is tired, Mama,” she said quietly. “I think perhaps it is time for us to leave.”
Lady Beaumont raised her eyebrows. “Is that true, Lavinia? It hardly seems possible, for one so young.” She paused. “When I was your age, I could dance all night at a ball, and barely need to pause for breath!”
Lavinia smiled tightly. She wasn’t tired in the least, and she didn’t want to leave the ball at all. All of this was Sophie’s idea. Why was her sister so insistent that they needed to leave immediately?
She sighed deeply. She couldn’t contradict her sister. “I am sorry, Mama. I think that I have a headache coming on …”
Lady Beaumont harrumphed loudly, in obvious displeasure, but rose to her feet, placing the half-eaten cream cake on a table beside her.
“Very well, then,” she said crisply. “Your father has merely spent a small fortune on your gowns for the evening, but if we must depart, so be it.”
***
They climbed into the waiting carriage, settling into their seats. Lavinia could still hear the noise from the ball drifting towards her, down the grand entrance foyer. She gazed back, through the carriage window, a little wistfully.
He is still in there, she thought dreamily. Somewhere, in that house, he is talking, or dancing.
The thought of him dancing with another lady caused her heart to suddenly constrict wildly. It was so unpleasant, she gasped. What on earth was wrong with her? Why did she care if he danced with anyone else?
“You had your head turned, didn’t you?” said Sophie, gazing at her steadily.
“What?” she replied vaguely, her mind still full of Mr Hunter dancing with some unknown, lovely young lady, twirling her around on the dance floor, talking to her sweetly …
Sophie sighed. “Mr Hunter,” she said slowly. “You should not have wasted your time dancing and talking with a commoner, Liv. Even if he is a very handsome one.” She paused. “You should have been attempting to make connections that would lead to an advantageous marriage …”
Anger suddenly flared to life in Lavinia. “You mean like you with the aged Lord Fortescue?”
Sophie coloured. “There is no need to be disdainful of Lord Fortescue, Liv. He is very highly placed, a close advisor to the Prince of Wales, as well as owning two grand estates …”
Lavinia glared at her sister. “I still cannot fathom why you care so deeply about such things! A man’s character is worth more than all of that.” She took a deep breath. “Our status in society is secure enough. There is no reason to attempt to elevate ourselves beyond what we can already claim!”
“Girls,” said Lady Beaumont, a warning tone in her voice. “Do not bicker. I do not have the patience for it, this evening.” She rapped sharply on the top of the carriage, signalling to the carriage driver to depart.
The carriage lurched away from the kerb onto the street. Lavinia stared out the window mutinously. She was so angry she could barely look at her sister anymore.
They did not speak again for the entire journey back to the townhouse.
***
Lavinia collapsed across her bed. Franny had just undressed her, and now she was in her nightgown. She was tired, but her mind was whirring frantically. She knew that sleep would be hours away.
Restlessly, she turned to her side, studying the wooden bedpost as if it contained the answers that she sought. The answers to this yearning that had sprung up inside her since she had first laid eyes on Mr Samuel Hunter.
She closed her eyes. Immediately, his image appeared as if he was in the room with her. She had simply never felt such an immediate connection with a young man before. Did he feel the same way about her? Or was she just one of many young ladies he had danced and flirted with at the Duke’s ball tonight?
There was a soft knoc
k at the door. Her eyes flew open. The image of the handsome stranger disappeared suddenly like a cloud of smoke.
“Who is it?” she called out, not even attempting to keep the weariness out of her voice.
“It is me, Liv.” It was Sophie’s voice. “Can I come in?”
Lavinia sighed deeply, but sat up, pushing back her hair from her face. “Yes. Of course.”
The door opened, and Sophie entered, dressed for bed as well. Her long brown hair was coiled in a plait over her right shoulder, and she held a candle aloft.
“I could not sleep,” she said. “Not when there is so much discord between us.”
Lavinia stared at her but didn’t say a word.
Sophie sighed again. “I have come to say I am sorry,” she said slowly. “I did not wish to anger you, but it seems that I have.”
Lavinia kept gazing at her sister. She didn’t like it when there was discord between them, either. They had always been so close, doing everything together, and so like-minded that she sometimes felt that they were connected by the soul. It was only since they had been in London that this alarming tension had manifested between them.
“Come and sit down,” she said softly, patting the bed.
Sophie looked relieved, sitting down beside her. She turned and gazed at her sister, her brown eyes wide.
“I only say what I do because I want the best for you,” she said in a low voice. “You are my little sister, and I want you to be happy and secure in life. That is all.”
Lavinia smiled faintly. “I think that we have wildly different ideas about how to be happy in life, Sophie. That is becoming more and more apparent to me, ever since we have been in London.”
Her sister frowned. “But you do want to marry, do you not?”
Lavinia sighed again. “Of course, I want to marry. That is what young ladies do, is it not?” She paused. “But I want to do it when I find a man who is amiable, intelligent, and compassionate, not just wealthy or titled.”
“But does one necessarily preclude the other?” asked her sister quietly. “Why cannot a wealthy, titled man not be amiable, intelligent, and compassionate, as well?”
Lavinia gazed at her. It was a fair enough question.
“I believe that wealth and privilege, after a certain level, does nothing but corrupt,” she replied steadily. “I have seen enough wildly privileged young men, who seem to be idle and slothful, filling their days with pointless pursuits. They have very little strength of character.”
“That is not everyone …”
“No, it is not, but the ones that do have real character seem to be the exception, rather than the rule.” She hesitated. “Look at cousin Freddie, for instance. He has not turned out well, sister. His cruel words about his poor mother tonight prove it.”
Sophie nodded slowly. “Yes, I was disappointed by Freddie’s dismissal of poor Aunt Catherine as well, I must admit.” She paused. “But a man who is not privileged can have the same attitudes, Liv. You must realise that.”
Lavinia shrugged. “Those are my beliefs. Yes, of course a man less privileged can have no character. But the likelihood is greater that he will, because he has seen more of life, and worked hard to be strong and vital.”
Her sister smiled gently. “Do not let Papa hear you say such things, Liv. He will brand you a revolutionary. Do not forget what happened to the nobility in France when the common folk started to entertain such ideas. They all ended up with their heads on the guillotine.”
Lavinia sighed. “I am not a revolutionary, sister. I do not condone what happened in France, nor desire it to happen in England. I simply believe that there is an inherent corruption in too much privilege and have no desire to ally myself with someone who is idle and witless because of it.”
“Just keep an open mind,” said Sophie, standing up. “And promise me that you will not fall for the first handsome face you see.”
Lavinia blushed slightly. She knew that Sophie was talking about Samuel Hunter. Of course she was. Her sister wasn’t blind, nor was she stupid. It was the reason she had whisked her away from the ball early, because she was concerned about her. Sophie didn’t want her to make a fool of herself, at her very first London ball, in her very first season.
“Good night, little swan,” said Sophie tenderly, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. “Sweet dreams. I will be able to sleep easy, now that we have talked calmly, and are friends again …”
“Good night,” whispered Lavinia. “Sweet dreams, to you too, dearest one.”
Her sister drifted out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. Lavinia climbed into the bed, leaning over to blow out her bedside candle. The room was plunged into sudden darkness.
She lay down, and almost immediately, the image of Samuel Hunter reappeared before her. Tall, and charismatic, with his laughing green eyes, and golden red curls.
She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved.
His voice was in her ear as he quoted the Shakespearean line. It almost caressed her, lapping around her like warm bath water. She still could not believe that he had said it to her. That he had gazed at her in such an ardent way, as he had recited the line. Almost staring into her innermost soul.
Firmly, she tried to dismiss it. It had been a wonderful experience. But she would probably never see Samuel Hunter again as long as she lived.
Chapter 7
Samuel gazed out the window of the Peacock Tavern. The River Thames was springing to life outside. A multitude of barges and container boats were navigating the waters. On the docks, labourers were hauling barrels of ale and joints of meat over their shoulders, delivering them to their destinations.
It was a colourful parade of activity. Charmed, he kept gazing at it. This was the real London, located on the east side, far away from the tree-lined boulevards and stately mansions he was used to. He simply couldn’t believe that in all the time he had spent in the city over the years, he had never seen this before.
A buxom woman, with golden corkscrew curls jammed tightly beneath a white cap, approached him.
“What’ll it be, lovey?” she asked, in a broad Cockney accent.
He stared at her, momentarily flummoxed. He had never set foot in such a lowly establishment as the Peacock before, either, never mind slept beneath such a roof. The bed had been hard and lumpy, the room full of dust, but strangely, he had slept the whole night through without waking once.
“What is your name?” he asked the girl, smiling.
She smiled back. “Polly. Ain’t many who take the time to ask.” She gazed at him curiously. “Are you a toff? You speak funny. I ain’t heard yer accent around this place before.”
“I am from the North,” he said, his smile widening. “Just in London for a bit of business.”
She nodded briskly. “That’s nice. We do a full breakfast if that’s what you want. Eggs, black pudding, bacon, with a butty. Or a kipper, fried in butter …”
Samuel baulked. “Maybe just a kipper, please, Polly. I am not too hungry this morning.”
“Suit yourself.” She winked at him, then disappeared into the back of the tavern.
Samuel sat back, gazing out the window again. But he was no longer seeing the activity on the docks. Now, he was seeing the young lady from last night again, in his mind’s eye.
The delectable Miss Lavinia Beaumont. Her slender figure was twirling in front of him, her gown swirling around her legs as she danced. Her blue eyes were aglow, and her complexion was flushed from the exercise …
Falling for the Mysterious Viscount: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 5
