by Cecilia Gray
“It’s not a game,” she protested. “Lady Landale and Lady Rivington instructed me in the art of polite conversation, which I’m to exercise at the ball on Sunday. I was practicing.”
Her words turned over in his head as he made sense of them, of her actions. “Let me see if I understand—not only did my mother and her cousin-in-law give you abominable advice on how to compose yourself to catch a husband, they advised you to practice these techniques on me, thereby putting me in the position of helping my competitor beat me at a wager?”
She smiled brightly. “Of course you understand it perfectly.”
“Why would I do that?” he asked, exasperated.
Hanna beamed at him, that smile of utter adoration she bestowed on him so often. “Because.” She gave a shrug and he averted his eyes from the rise and fall of her chest under the tight bodice—had it been that tight at breakfast? “You’re a gentleman.”
His thoughts veered into most ungentlemanly territory and he fought the errant images the only way he knew how—with verbal sparring. “I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your attention that neither my mother nor Lady Rivington possesses the tender conversational skills you’re displaying.”
She furrowed her forehead again—she did it often, no doubt because she was often tasked with having to think or consider things more than the average person. “You’re correct.”
“I usually am.”
She turned back to the bar table and fixed another drink. He almost reached out to take it but instead she downed it herself, the groove in her furrowed brow growing deeper. “Why would they advise me to behave in a manner contrary to the way they caught husbands?”
“Lady Rivington’s marriage was arranged by her father-in-law, the duke, for her copious coin. I doubt her manner would have mattered one way or the other.”
She set down her glass and leaned close. “You know, I do believe she’s happy in her marriage, but would have preferred to choose another.” She looked up at him, adoring again.
Hanna was thinking that she would choose him.
He had often considered over the years the academic matter of why this should be, and he rarely had an answer. An infatuation was one thing, but the stubborn devotion she had for him defied any logic. An insoluble proof. Confounding.
“You’ll have many suitors to choose from. Mother showed me the guest lists for our events with an equal number of suitable candidates. Any one will do.”
Just not me.
* * *
Hanna heard them arguing as she pulled on her gloves and made her way down the hall to meet the landau that stood outside.
“She’s an adult, Mother, and perfectly capable of procuring her own ribbons.”
“You’d have me send her into the streets with coin on her person? Should I paint a target on her back? Hang a sign around her neck to invite the ruffians?”
“A disturbing number of society ladies patronize Bond Street without encountering a single ruffian.”
“Hanna is exceptional, as you well know.”
She strained an ear to await his response—for he would have one. Hayden always had one. But instead she heard the slam of a door and the brisk step of Hessian boots as he made his way out of his study and toward her.
Her heart bubbled. He was walking toward her. Instead of away from her or behind a closed door. Toward her! Granted, it was because his mother made him, but—
“Are you ready?” he asked as he passed.
Hanna nodded and whirled, giddy at the prospect of spending an afternoon shopping with him.
He seemed ready to dash into traffic once they passed through the front door, but he stopped, closed his eyes in what seemed like resignation, and offered his elbow to assist her down the steps.
She accepted it, feeling light as a feather and ready to float away on a breeze.
How could she not daydream? How could she not fantasize?
Of a life where she and Hayden married and took turns around the city and ate dinners together and all the wonderful banal events that made up a marriage. Even if she wanted to imagine another man, she couldn’t.
She tried.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to imagine there was someone else at her elbow. Someone nicer, who gazed at her adoringly, who—
“Oomph.” She tripped, her ankle giving way on the steps.
She opened her eyes on a gasp, just as Hayden’s arms tightened around her waist, just as she gripped his shoulders for support, just as he gathered her close.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Time froze. Her fingers dug into his coat. His arms braced around her body, cocooning her in warmth and safety. She wanted to bury her face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in.
He shook her—funny how it was not as tender as her imaginings. “I asked if you were all right!”
“Oh…yes,” she said on a sigh.
Hayden stood her up. “Did you not see the step?”
“Ah, the step, yes…well, I would have…”
He drew his arms back to his sides with scorn. “You were daydreaming again.”
“I was imagining,” she countered, taking his arm, which he allowed without protest.
“Imagine us arriving at Bond Street without broken necks.”
She was about to retort, but he smiled as he said it, and she couldn’t help but smile back as he lifted her into the landau with firm hands around her waist.
“I suppose you know the best place to procure ribbons?” he asked.
She instructed the driver on the shop’s location and turned her gaze back to Hayden. He had fished several crumpled pages from his pocket and had smoothed them out on his lap to study them, his fist tucked under his chin.
“What is it?” she asked, leaning toward him.
“Hmmm? Oh…it’s a theorem I have been working on for ages and was just in the middle of…I feel as though there’s an answer at the tip of my tongue.”
Her eyes crossed and glazed as she stared at the series of numbers and squiggles and scratches that seemed to continue ad infinitum down the pages. “Is it something you haven’t been able to solve?” she asked, unable to imagine such a thing.
“It’s a problem that no one has solved,” he said a little defensively. “It’s called the Twin Prime theorem.”
“What do twins have to do with mathematics?”
“No, see, the numbers are twins.” He pushed a paper toward her so it settled over her lap. “Three and five, five and seven. These are all prime numbers that are separated by one number. And it seems that as numbers become larger and larger, these twin primes still exist.”
“Do you think they make baby numbers?” she asked playfully.
“Your imagination is frightening.”
“Ah, but do you think of it now that I’ve questioned it?” she asked with a grin.
“The actual question is…can they exist forever? No matter how large the numbers become, will the twin prime numbers continue?”
“God made them, and if He made them in pairs, he would continue them as such,” Hanna said, shamelessly squirming a little closer. In his distraction, he allowed it.
“Unfortunately, the Mathematical Society would reject such a simply worded proof. And if they did accept it, it would beg the question, if one could prove God did create the twin primes, why would one also assume they continued?”
“Because He wouldn’t want them to be lonely. He never intends us to be lonely.”
Hayden glanced up at her, his eyes questioning before they shaded over with frustration. “You can’t mean that to stand as proof of whether the numbers can exist forever.”
“But of course I do—of course they can!”
“There is no of course—either it can be proved or it cannot.”
“That seems silly. Whether you prove it or not will not change whether it is true.”
His mouth dropped open, and Hanna noted it was the first time she had rendered him speechless. His express
ion transformed into a grin, one that lit up his eyes.
“That may be the most intelligent thing you’ve ever said.”
“Oh, quick, write it down.” She tapped the paper on her lap and transferred it back to his. “Quickly, before it’s forgotten.”
He chuckled, but obliged her, taking a pencil from his pocket and scribbling down her words. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why they were intelligent. Some things were just obvious.
Chapter Three
Hanna wished she could slow down time. Especially the limited amount of time she was to have with Hayden. If he and his mother had their way, she’d be married off by month’s end.
“Oh, exquisite!” Lady Landale clasped her hands as she studied Hanna from head to toe. Hanna wore a rose satin dress with slim sleeves and a high waist that made her feel like the long stem of a champagne flute. “And your hair!”
Her mousy brown hair had been pulled tight into an elegant bun and twined with the green ribbon that Hayden had mentioned in passing reminded him of her eyes. She now owned enough spools to circle London a dozen times.
She hardly recognized herself in the looking glass. She seemed a soap bubble—and just as easily shattered. If one hair came out of place, one lace undone, the illusion would be over.
“Thank you,” Hanna said as Lady Landale took her hands. “Your kindness has been priceless.”
“Nonsense.” Lady Landale rubbed her wrist against her cheek quickly and cleared her throat. “Now, do you remember what we taught you?”
Hanna nodded dutifully and recited the words she had repeated to herself dozens and dozens of times. “Inquire after their health and wellbeing. Accept an offer for a drink, but also inquire after their thirst. Ask after their…”
Lady Landale nodded encouragingly.
“Ask after their…” She could have sworn she’d heard the lesson a million times, but by the time she reached this point, there was always something more interesting afoot.
“Their interests,” Lady Landale prodded.
“Ah yes,” Hanna said. “Ask after their interests and compliment them, only once, very discreetly. Manage my own opinions. Particularly if they are contrary.” Essentially the opposite of everything she had ever done with Hayden. If she had been so well behaved from the beginning, would she have caught his interest?
It was too late for speculation, unfortunately, as he was aware of her true nature.
“That was wonderfully recited, dear. Let’s be on our way to put it in practice! They’ll make the announcement for you soon.”
The long walk down the curved staircase to the glittering ballroom was the first moment that time seemed to slow for Hanna the way she’d wanted it to all week.
With every step, it was as if she could relive a memory from the days before. The dance lessons with Lady Rivington acting as the man, all giggles, especially as Hayden refused to cooperate against his own interests. The dresses, and even more dresses, which Hanna protested given the cost and her own three serviceable gowns. But Lady Landale insisted.
Best of all, the simple, quiet moments. Breakfast with Hayden, where she was able to coax him into explaining why the sunrise changed colors or how he knew by the kind of cloud whether it meant rain. City walks where they argued over whether a phaeton or a carriage would be faster and then she realized she thought he’d said fashionable, not faster, and he’d sighed in exasperation at it all. She dreaded dinner, because it meant he would soon retire to his study and slave over his mathematics and she would have to wait until sunrise to see him again.
She would miss those moments and wanted to savor them, each and every single one. Even tonight’s ball wouldn’t hold a candle to a simple minute with him.
As her name was announced, the crowd of revelers turned to watch her descent down the stairs. She held the rail for support, scanning the room, where her rose-pink dress was sure to stand out in a sea of darker, richer reds and browns. Lady Rivington had neglected, purposely she imagined, to invite a single other debutante.
She caught appreciative glances from men and women alike, but she was scanning for Hayden and did not acknowledge them. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find him.
Lady Rivington greeted her and Lady Landale at the bottom of the steps. “Introductions are in order,” she said with a gleeful grin. “I have more than enough speculations set aside.”
Hanna forced herself to stand still as gentleman after gentleman was introduced. They were pleasant. Some even spectacular-looking. Many were nice and oh, so sweet. And none were Hayden.
“Is your dance card free for the next cotillion?” asked the gentleman with curls in his hair and lace at his wrists.
She struggled to remember his name, although she had been told it a moment before. Viscount Mon…Viscount…Viscount Montcreif!
“Of course, my lord,” she said on a curtsy. He took her hand and led her out to the dance floor and she tried to focus on his pleasing smile and nice manners.
But instead, she was forced into epic bouts of concentration as she went through each of the ever-changing figures and patterns. First stepping right onto the ball of her right foot. She winced—she forgot to draw her hands over her head. She hopped to land on her left foot and extended right, but this time forgot her plié.
She glanced up at Viscount Montcreif but this meant losing her place so she turned the wrong way and bumped into a poor, flustered man who discreetly gestured for her to spin to her left—she could have sworn she’d learned it the other way.
As much as she didn’t want to marry anyone who wasn’t Hayden, she certainly didn’t want to be a humiliated ape-leader with no proposals, either.
She glanced down at her dance card, which contained a half dozen more names. This was going to be a long evening.
* * *
Hayden cringed as he watched Hanna trample yet another unsuspecting fool’s toes. To the credit of her partners, not a one had begged off, despite seeing what was ahead for them. Brave souls.
He couldn’t bring himself to dance even one dance with the most accomplished lady at this event, despite more than one hint that had been dropped. He didn’t see the point. Dancing was a courtship, and he courted no one.
When his father returned, he could finally move into his bachelor’s residence and dedicate his life to the London Mathematical Society. While he understood marriage’s purpose for society and the propagation of the species, he knew he would be better suited to remaining single, no matter what his mother wanted.
As if conjured from his thoughts, his mother rested a hand on his shoulder, the other at her heart, as she walked up next to him. “Doesn’t she look lovely?”
“How she looks doesn’t appear to be the issue. Lady Rivington’s dance lessons are showing abysmal results.”
“Well,” his mother said with a sigh, “you do know that learning new skills is not Hanna’s strong suit.”
“For once I don’t believe Hanna is the one to blame. Her lack of concentration is more academic than related to motor skills. I have seen her ride, after all.” He studied the countess. “I see your intention now, Mother.”
“What nonsense are you spewing now?”
“Your matchmaking eye has never been subtle when it comes to me or my brothers. You’ve decided to sabotage Hanna’s chances at a proposal, thereby thinking to force my hand. It won’t work.”
She slapped his shoulder. “I’m appalled you would think I’d jeopardize Hanna’s chances for future happiness and a family.”
“Chance for happiness?” Hayden snorted. “You’ve turned Hanna into a mindless parrot. Her conversational skills seem mostly to consist of repeating whatever her partner says and complimenting him on his cleverness.”
“Quite the hypocrite, aren’t we? I’m teaching Hanna to make her future husband feel intelligent and interesting—the same way she makes you feel.”
“Hanna’s admiration of me is completely genuine,” he reasoned. “And not without its cri
ticisms.”
Hayden watched Hanna teeter. In a moment she would take a spill on the floor. He had taken half a step forward, fists clenched, when her partner righted her. Her partner was more quick-footed than he imagined. He looked familiar, actually—he was certain this was his second dance.
He squinted—yes, it was Viscount Montcreif. He’d been the first to dance with Hanna and enough time had passed where a second dance would be both respectable and a declaration that he was interested…although Hayden couldn’t imagine why he would declare such intentions. Hanna had trampled on his feet and no doubt bored him to tears with her conversation lessons.
“Worried you have competition for her affections?” his mother asked, oh-so-innocently.
“I’m more concerned she will break her foot dancing. It won’t do much for our wager if she is in a cast for my week,” he said.
“Fair point. Ah, see how she is so grateful and flustered? Viscount Montcreif’s is one proposal I am sure to have in hand. And to your point about admiration, rest assured she’ll grow to admire him, and until then, she’s giving him encouragement.”
“But what of his admiration for her? He’ll be utterly oblivious to her true nature, which is far more interesting than what you’ve portrayed.”
“Then he’ll be getting a bargain, won’t he?”
Hayden bit down. He was certain there was now a tic pulsing in his jaw.
“If you think you can do better, you have an entire week to do so,” she said, and strolled away.
He was annoyed that he’d let himself be goaded by his mother. He had less sense than he should when it came to his family, and almost none when it came to her. She had denied that she was deliberately sabotaging Hanna’s efforts at making a match, but he couldn’t believe Hanna was this terrible a dancer—that Lady Rivington had allowed her on the floor unless she meant sabotage.
He supposed there was one way to find out.
He crossed the floor quickly. Hanna’s green eyes widened in shock but he didn’t give her an opportunity to react.
