“I just had never considered him for you,” Mama said, a thoughtful tone in her voice, as she turned to look out the window.
Bianca felt secure enough to claim this first interaction a success. Mama was surely pondering on her only daughter surpassing the title of baroness and moving straight on to a countess.
When they arrived at the Beards’ fine estate, the footman handed them from the carriage and they made their way to the ballroom. After being announced at the door, Bianca tried not to be obvious as she glanced around the room in search of Mr. Hensley. When she saw him standing near the exterior doors, she was surprised to find him in conversation with Lord Strapshire himself. Standing side by side made it natural to compare the men.
Where Lord Strapshire was handsome and poised with perfect hair and an elegant manner, Mr. Hensley was square-shouldered, solidly built, and a few inches shorter then Lord Strapshire, but still a hand’s width taller than Bianca. Mr. Hensley did not have such bright eyes, and yet there was a spark of intelligence in them that Bianca found more appealing. What good were beautiful eyes if there was no brain behind them? Mr. Hensley lacked Lord Strapshire’s square jaw and willowy physique, but he was dressed in elegant evening black, as opposed to Lord Strapshire’s more overt red coat and silver knee breeches. Lord Strapshire was not necessarily a fop, but, standing beside him, Mr. Hensley looked so . . . masculine.
The realization did odd things to Bianca’s stomach, and she turned away, certain that the anxiety of seeing the two men together was triggering her nervous reaction. But she could not keep her eyes averted for long and was soon watching the two men discreetly while Mama continued her conversation with her friends.
From his gestures, Bianca could tell that Lord Strapshire was telling some story he found quite fascinating, and although Mr. Hensley kept his expression neutral, she knew he was humoring the irritating man. His opinion of Lord Strapshire was the same as hers, which she considered a definite stroke of luck. If he had liked Lord Strapshire—as it seemed the rest of the village did—would he have been willing to help her? He must be very eager to settle the debt between them, otherwise he would never have agreed to this game that bordered on impropriety.
From her interactions with him thus far, she could see Mr. Hensley was very different from the rascal schoolboy who had somehow managed to end up tied to the rafters of that shed all those years ago wearing nothing but his drawers. . . She shook her head to keep from thinking about the Incident. To allow the memory too much room in her mind would make it difficult to look Mr. Hensley in the eye—even if he had grown into a steady, handsome man in the years since.
As though he could feel her eyes on him, Mr. Hensley looked at her from the other side of the room. He smiled and she felt her neck turn red. What if he had known what she’d been thinking of? She smiled shyly and tuned back into the conversation between Mama and the other matrons.
What does he see when he looks at me? she wondered. The scrawny young girl with a muddy hem who had rescued him from his cousins’ prank? Or could he see her for the woman she had become?
The first strains of music sounded from the small orchestra set in the corner of the room, and Mr. Hensley immediately excused himself from Lord Strapshire. He crossed the floor toward her, and Bianca saw the confusion grow on Lord Strapshire’s face until Mr. Hensley filled her vision. The smile she gave Mr. Hensley was completely sincere.
Immediately, Mama came up beside Bianca.
“Thank you for the lovely posy,” Bianca said to Mr. Hensley, lifting the flowers she still held in one hand.
“They are not half so lovely as you are tonight, Miss Davidson.”
He is only playing his part, Bianca told herself, but she enjoyed the compliment.
“It is wonderful to see you, Mr. Hensley,” Mama cut in, extending her hand so he might bow over it.
“Thank you, Mrs. Davidson,” he said politely, his smile not wavering for a moment. He turned back to Bianca. “Might I have this dance, Miss Davidson?”
“Oh, I do believe this dance is reserved for me.”
They both turned to see Lord Strapshire approaching, his chest puffed out and his chiseled chin lifted in an arrogant display of possessiveness.
Lord Strapshire had not reserved this dance. He certainly didn’t think he needed to since he’d had every first dance for a month and the other men gave him every consideration. Bianca moved swiftly to Mr. Hensley’s side and slipped her arm into his, clasping his elbow in case he was considering changing his mind. He did not move, however, except to place his free hand over hers at his elbow.
“Actually, I had already promised Mr. Hensley the first dance this evening,” she explained casually.
“Wha—why?” Lord Strapshire bumbled as his arms flopped to his side and his expression fell.
“Because I already asked her,” Mr. Hensley said, his polite countenance never failing.
“When did you ask her?” Mama asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“We had better take our places, Mr. Hensley,” Bianca said, pulling as sharply as she dared in order to separate themselves from the conversation.
When they were out of range of being overheard, she lowered her voice. “Mama does not know I came to see you yesterday. She had an appointment in the village that I knew would take the entire morning.”
“I figured as much,” Mr. Hensley replied, his voice equally low and guarded. “How do we explain when I asked you for this first dance? Perhaps you could claim I had included it in the note I sent with the posy—which I wish I had thought to do.”
“I already let her read the note.” They reached the center of the floor and took their positions across from one another. “I shall simply deflect her questions.”
He looked past her shoulder in the direction of Mama and Lord Strapshire.
“Are they very angry?” she asked, not daring to look herself.
He did not answer her directly, but met her eyes and smiled. “I hope you can keep up with me, Miss Davidson. I am a very fine dancer.”
She laughed out loud at his affecting the same tones as Lord Strapshire, then quickly pressed her lips together until she could contain herself. “I hope I do not disappoint you, then,” she said as the first steps—toward one another and then back to place—began.
“Oh, you most certainly shall,” Mr. Hensley said with a nod of feigned regret. “But then, everyone does.”
She smiled again, he winked, and she went on to have the most enjoyable cotillion she had danced in weeks.
FOUR
Mathew enjoyed his dance with Miss Davidson more than he had enjoyed any dance in a long time. When it was finished, he returned her to her mother, bowed, and disappeared into a card room while Lord Strapshire rushed to compliment Miss Davidson’s eyes and hair and gown and grace. The man was ridiculous.
Mathew considered dancing with some other young women in attendance, but there seemed to be plenty of men more eager than he and he was not overly fond of dancing. Never mind his boast to Miss Davidson—which she knew was in jest—he preferred cards and would reappear when it was appropriate to claim his second dance.
After several hands of whist, he checked with the program posted near the entry to the ballroom and confirmed that the waltz was only a set away. He made his way to Mrs. Davidson, noting that Miss Davidson was taking a set with Lord Strapshire. Though only recently reacquainted with Miss Davidson, he could see the tightness of her smile each time she faced her partner. Her movements looked tired, and he wondered if she had danced every set since their first. That had been hours ago.
“It is a fine evening,” he said to Mrs. Davidson when he stepped up beside her at the edge of the floor. She turned toward him in surprise, which then changed to slight confusion. He belatedly remembered her earlier inquiry of when he had asked Miss Davidson for the first dance and wondered if he would have been better to play another round of cards rather than risk conversation. There was something formidable about the widow, and he que
stioned his ability to withstand her censure should she decide to regard him poorly.
“It is a fine evening,” Mrs. Davidson said after a moment, finally affecting a smile, though it remained rather tight. “And how are you enjoying your return to Brookborrow, Mr. Hensley?”
“Very well.”
“I understand it is to be a permanent relocation on your part.”
“I hope for it to be, yes.” He went on to explain his purpose for his return and the aspects of country life he was eager to experience again. She listened attentively, but said little, leaving him unsure of the impression he was making. Miss Davidson had said her mother was the one eager for a title, yet she seemed unimpressed with Mathew’s interest. They lapsed into silence for the last minutes of the dance, and then Mathew straightened as Lord Strapshire led Miss Davidson from the floor. The slight narrowing of Strapshire’s eyes when he saw Mathew waiting was rather satisfying.
“Ah, Mrs. Davidson, the loveliest matron in attendance,” Lord Strapshire said, bending low while making a looping motion with his hand. “Why, your daughter makes the most excellent dance partner, Madame. I can only guess that she inherited her graceful manner from you.” He took Mrs. Davidson’s hand and kissed it.
Mrs. Davidson twittered, and Mathew looked at her with surprise and understanding. She enjoyed Lord Strapshire’s compliments, did she? Was that why she favored his attention to Miss Davidson? Unfortunately Mathew wasn’t sure he could lay such overbearing flattery on so thick in hopes of impressing her.
On the heels of that thought was the reminder that his interest in Miss Davidson was not meant to lead toward a match so he should not be overly concerned about making her mother like him. The thought depressed him. Strapshire would leave, and Mathew would withdraw his interest. But then Mathew would remain in Brookborrow for the whole of his life. Mrs. Davidson did not seem the kind of woman any man wanted against him.
Lord Strapshire spoke again. “I do thank you for your gracious blessing on my leading Miss Davidson out for a third time.” He gave Mathew a pointed glance, and Mathew raised an eyebrow at him, which Strapshire seemed to take as some kind of compliment. “I simply cannot get enough of your elegant, lovely daughter’s attention, Mrs. Davidson.” He bent over Miss Davidson’s hand and kissed it as he had her mother’s. Then he turned her hand and placed a second kiss on her palm. It was all Mathew could do to keep from rolling his eyes at the display.
When Miss Davidson withdrew her hand, she wiped it discreetly against her skirt. Mathew pinched his lips together to keep from laughing out loud.
Bored of the showmanship, Mathew turned to Miss Davidson and smiled. “I was going to ask you to dance this set, Miss Davidson, but I fear you might be rather spent. Perhaps you would prefer a walk through the garden where we might find a place that you can rest in the cool evening air.”
She smiled graciously, her eyes tired. “Thank you, Mr. Hensley. A respite in the garden would be just the thing. What a thoughtful suggestion.”
Strapshire stiffened. “I was going to walk her through the garden.”
“Were you?” Mathew said, lifting his eyebrows. “After three dances?”
Mrs. Davidson shifted uncomfortably, but she did not argue. Mathew held Strapshire’s eyes a moment and then looked to Miss Davidson. “Shall we?”
He put out his arm and she took it.
“Do not wander far,” Mama said. “Supper will be served shortly.”
“A-and I have requested taking you in, Miss Davidson,” Lord Strapshire added.
“Yes, Mama,” she said with a respectful nod toward her mother. She ignored Strapshire completely.
Mathew led Miss Davidson through the doors at the back of the ballroom and into the blessed coolness of the night. There was an empty bench not far away and he led her to it.
She sat with a sigh and arched her back slightly. “Thank you,” she said in a nearly reverent tone. She met his eyes, and he felt himself relax just to be seen by her. “Tonight was not the right time to wear new slippers.” She bent down and reached beneath her skirt, ostensibly adjusting the fit of one of her shoes and wincing in the process.
“Three dances with Strapshire before supper?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
Miss Davidson shook her head. “He is ridiculous, but even Mama won’t allow more than three dances so at least I can comfort myself with being free of him for the night—except for supper, I suppose.”
“Had he asked you for supper?” Mathew would have liked to have escorted her had he thought to make the offer in time.
“He did not,” Miss Davidson said darkly. “But Mama will support him, and I am not of a mind to create additional conflict this first night out.” She met Mathew’s eyes and smiled. “Thank you for that first dance, Mr. Hensley, and for this.” She waved at the evening around them. “I would be lost without such salvation.”
“I worry my attention has made his worse,” Mathew said hesitantly. He didn’t want to give her reason to call off their agreement, but he did fear that his presence had made Strapshire more competitive.
Miss Davidson shook her head. “He has no manners, and surely Mama will see that more clearly once she accepts your intentions.”
Mathew wasn’t so sure about that. “She seems determined to have Lord Strapshire for you.”
Miss Davidson met his eye. “She does?”
Mathew nodded. “Not surprising, seeing how he flatters her so pointedly. She has been polite to me, but rather cool.”
Miss Davidson furrowed her brow. “I am sure that is only because she is so used to controlling all matters of my life. She doesn’t understand why you are showing interest after so many years of distance between us, and she has taken Lord Strapshire’s attention as a great compliment to the entire family.” She rolled her eyes dramatically and let out a huffing breath of exasperation.
“I kept my distance out of respect for you, Miss Davidson. After all that happened I—”
“We shall not speak of it,” she said quickly.
“Of course not,” he agreed, nodding. “I only want you to know that I was not avoiding you out of some lack of desire for your company. I have always held you in high regard.”
She gave him a thoughtful look, but he knew she felt the same embarrassment he did at the mention of the Incident and so he hurried to spare them both. “And I wondered if I might ask you to call me Mathew, if it is not too forward. Seeing as how we are conspiring together.” He nudged her with his shoulder, and she laughed slightly. “Perhaps we might address one another as friends.”
“Then you must call me Bianca. Only we should be cautious around Mama. I do not want to raise any suspicion of our conspiracy.”
He nodded, feeling that he had made a remarkable victory.
She suddenly brightened her smile and turned it fully upon him, leaving him breathless at the new level of attention she directed at him. “So, Mathew,” she said. “Enough about the silly baron and his silly attentions. What have you been doing these last years? As we are friends now, we should know one another better than we do.”
“Oxford,” he said with a nod. “And some travel.”
“Oh, where did you go?”
He spoke about his travels—to Germany, Ireland, and India—and his study of literature, history, and economics at school. She asked well-considered questions and listened attentively to his answers.
He asked some questions of his own and learned of the father she never really knew, her love of music, and her skill with watercolors. She had gone away to a girl’s school several years ago, but the experience had been disagreeable. Eventually she returned to Brookborrow and put formal education behind her. She had two younger brothers away at school now, and Mathew sensed she was lonely without them.
“To say nothing of Mama’s attention being directed only towards me. My being at a marriageable age is almost beyond her ability to resist the need to orchestrate my future.”
“How will she react, do you think
, when both Lord Strapshire and I are no longer seeking your favor?” He hated saying it, especially since he still hoped to continue to seek her company after Lord Strapshire ran back to London with his tail between his legs, but he felt the matter had to be addressed.
Bianca looked at her hands. “I hope that the disappointment she’ll feel will allow my mother and me to speak honestly about my interests. This is not the first time she has become . . . obsessive about some detail of my life and yet stubbornly held her ground about it.” Bianca paused. “When I went to school, for instance, it was horrible. The headmistress beat us with switches and refused us meals when we misbehaved or performed poorly.
“For months I sent letters home about the conditions, but Mama insisted it was the best school for young ladies and I was to stop my whining. She was proud of my acceptance to the school, you see—it required an entrance exam in addition to the expense—and it reflected well on her.
“Finally, I refused to return to school after coming home for a holiday. I even tied myself to the bedpost on the day we were to leave and threatened to burn all my clothing to make it impossible for me to leave. We must have screamed at one another for hours—I’m sure it was something to behold—but when she finally realized how determined I was, she softened, and listened, and in the end she took up a campaign against the schoolmistress.” Bianca smiled. “Mama is formidable, and how things look are very important to her, but once I have run off two men of title I believe I can convince her of my determination to lead my own life. And I shall make sure she does not remain angry with you as well.” She smiled sheepishly, and he nodded in acknowledgment.
“You seem very confident of that.”
Her smile faded as she looked into his face. “I cannot spend my life with a man I don’t respect.”
Could you ever respect me? he asked in his mind. Is there some way I can convince you that I am worthy of your respect? He took confidence in the fact that part of his wish had already come true—they were able to ignore the Incident enough to talk of other things.
A Lady's Favor Page 3
