He blinked at her, as they turned about one another in the slow wheel of the dance. So, he had heard, but had not truly believed what he had been told. She clenched her teeth again, this time to prevent herself from laughing.
“And does that not worry you, my Lady? Surely the life of a spinster does not appeal to you, and you are rather… well…”
Did his rudeness never end? Hyacinth smiled as sweetly as she could manage, remembering Lord Kevin’s words about a vixen’s sharp teeth and cunning, and ability to hide in plain sight.
“Does it worry me that some might call me a spinster now? No, my Lord, it does not. I will marry when I am ready.”
The slight widening of his eyes indicated that he had not expected that answer.
“I see – how very… unusual… of you. I would have thought that your father would have something to say on the matter. In fact, I am somewhat surprised that he has not yet simply arranged a match for you. After all, your dowry is… substantial, and your figure is not… unappealing. A gentleman could most certainly overlook your unfortunate… manner… in the light of those things.”
Hyacinth breathed deeply, forcing herself to remain calm. The man was beyond insulting, and yet seemed to think that he had said nothing out of place.
“I am sure that many a gentleman could, my Lord. But you make the assumption that I would accept an offer from such a man. I do not feel the pressure to marry so keenly that I would do such a thing.”
“And your father allows you this rebellious attitude? I wonder how long that will last, as you grow older.”
“I do not know, my Lord, but I am quite certain that I will find out.”
Hyacinth smiled at him sweetly, wishing nothing more than to spit in his face, as she had been told camels did to men they disliked. He gave her the oddest look, as if he knew something that she did not. Then, blessedly, the music ended. He held to her hand for far longer than was appropriate, as they came to a halt. She tugged it away from his grasp, and he smiled – a most unpleasant smile.
He led her back to her family, and she wondered how she would bear it, if he intended to ask her to dance at every Ball – for she would attend every Ball, regardless, if for no other reason than that she might see Lord Kevin there. She clung to that thought, feeling acutely the lack of Lord Kevin’s presence, for the conversation with Lord Puglinton had made it intensely clear to her why she found Lord Kevin’s conversation so intriguing. Lord Kevin treated her as a person, entitled to their own opinions. Lord Puglinton, like so many other men, apparently saw her as a possession, to be traded between men for their own purposes, and her dowry as her most attractive attribute.
Her sisters looked at her with sympathy once Lord Puglinton had walked away, and she allowed herself to relax a little. Primrose came to her, and actually patted her hand consolingly – truly, Hyacinth’s control must be slipping, if her sister could see the extent of her distress!
Somehow, she endured the rest of the evening, forcing herself to observe others, and, most inappropriately, to imagine delivering her commentary on them to Lord Kevin, rather than simply writing it in her journal. Imagining that helped, even if she could never actually allow herself to do so again.
<<<< O >>>>
Chester Park was exceptionally beautiful in the springtime, and Kevin felt himself somehow better there, after the soot of London. Maria was much improved in attitude, and he felt sure that Charles would propose to her very soon. As a result, both Lord and Lady Chester were happier than they had been for more than a year.
The gifts that Kevin had brought were gratefully received, and, overall, they made the picture of a happy family. But Kevin’s father still seemed, somehow, not quite right. He was quieter, and spent more time in his study, or the library, rather than out and about on the estate. He seemed thinner – not a lot, but enough for Kevin to notice – and his face held a pallor, where previously he had tended towards ruddy cheeks. Perhaps it was just that he was spending more time indoors.
Even as he thought that, Kevin knew, instinctively, that it was not true. There was something wrong. Late that first night, when his mother and sister had retired to bed, he sat in the study with his father, sipping a brandy. He had to try, had to ask, somehow, and hope that his father would tell him what was amiss.
“It looks to me as if you have been slaving away over the estate books far more than ever before, Father. What has provoked this industriousness? Is there something that concerns you?”
Lord Chester lifted his gaze from his brandy, and considered his son for a moment, as if weighing what to say. Then he gave the tiniest shake of his head, and his expression shifted to a somewhat brittle smile. Kevin knew, in that instant, that the words he would hear would not reveal anything to him.
“There are no problems with the estates – have no fear on that account – but I have found myself motivated to pay more attention. If I am to have Charles Barrington as a son-in-law, it behoves me to do at least as well with my estates as he has done for Melton. When the time comes, I’ll not be handing you a tangle of problems, I promise you.”
“May that time be long in coming.”
For a moment, Lord Chester stilled, and Kevin saw a tiny spasm pass through him, as if he forcibly prevented himself from coughing, or speaking. Then he lifted his brandy to his lips, and Kevin wondered if he had imagined it. But he did not think he had.
“A worthy wish. But I don’t dwell on such things. They happen in God’s own time, regardless of what we mortals desire. Enough of such maudlin thinking – tell me of what is happening in town – who is the toast of the Season, and what foolishness do young men believe is dashing this year?”
Kevin obliged, and recounted what he could of people his father knew, and of the idiosyncrasies of the ton in general. Doing so made him think, again, of Lady Hyacinth, and her most astringent commentary on sartorial bad taste. Even in the face of his father’s unwillingness to speak of whatever troubled him, the thought of Lady Hyacinth brought a smile to Kevin’s face.
Chapter Five
A week had passed since Hyacinth had last seen Lord Kevin, and it felt like an eternity. She was irritable – annoyed with herself for being so obsessed with a man – for that was behaviour that she had always despised when she saw it in others – and here she was, doing that herself, even whilst she teased Lily about being smitten with Lord Canterford!
Truly, she should not tease her sister so, for she had become almost certain that Lord Canterford would offer for Lily soon. And that Lily would be happy with that. To see her sister pleased by a man was remarkable, and reassuring – she would not want Lily to spend her life a spinster, any more than she wished to do so herself.
Hyacinth stood in the parlour, staring out the window at the fenced park in the middle of the square. At this time of year, it was delightful, and she intended to slip out to sit there with her journal one morning soon. It was a risk to take the journal out of the house, but the spring garden called to her, after the long months of winter cold.
As she stood there dreaming, she saw, through the greenery, the front of a house on the farthest side of the square from their own. It had been vacant for some time, and she had supposed that whoever owned it had retired to the country, or perhaps had chosen not to let it for the Season. But, as she watched the door opened, and a gentleman came out. Hyacinth sucked in her breath, barely preventing herself from gasping aloud.
For the gentleman exiting the house was none other than Lord Puglinton! If he had taken the house for the Season, then it would be almost impossible to avoid seeing him at times – and he might choose to call upon them, now that he was a close neighbour. The thought horrified her. But she would not let that stop her from spending time in the park. Surely, he would not be inclined to wander in the park – most gentlemen didn’t.
He walked off down the street, and Hyacinth turned back to the room, where her sisters were discussing the merits of various foods – a conversation undoubtedly st
arted by Rose, who was, at that moment, lamenting the fact that foods went stale, or rotten, so fast, when she often would have liked to save some of a particular cake or dish for days later. The others laughed at her earnestness on the topic, yet could not help but agree to some extent.
The day passed in a pleasant enough manner, but Hyacinth found her thoughts turning back to that glimpse of Lord Puglinton, and from there to the times during this last week that he had danced with her. No matter how blunt she was in her comments to the man, or how much she expressed her most unladylike opinions, he did not desist. He had even implied, the previous evening, that he would actually offer for her.
It made her feel ill. She was so very glad that Papa would never agree unless she did, no matter what Lord Puglinton might expect.
She steeled herself for the evening – which was to be a Ball at the Earl of Porthaven’s home – and prayed that Lord Kevin would be there – not that he could save her from being trapped into dancing with Lord Puglinton again, but at least, if he was there, she might dance with him also, might converse with someone who seemed to actually appreciate her conversation, rather than condemning her for it.
<<<< O >>>>
The London air, even scented by the spring flowers which filled the gardens of the aristocracy, still had a sooty undertone to it which Kevin was acutely aware of after the week spent at Chester Park. As the carriage set him down before Porthaven House, his heart beat faster – surely, she would be there. It seemed forever since he had seen Lady Hyacinth, since he had heard her delightfully sharp assessment of the world around her, and he almost rushed up the stairs in his need to see her.
But he forced himself to slow, to adopt that stylish, casual air of ennui. He would not make a fool of himself. In the ballroom, the crowds of hopeful young women fluttered about, as always – a sea of white and pale pastel gowns, overburdened with flounces and lace, with here and there the startling contrast of a stronger colour, usually worn by a far older woman, or by a gentleman of fashion. Kevin scanned the room, almost desperate to find her – and aware of how foolish that desperation was. He repressed a desire to laugh at his own behaviour.
As he moved further into the room, he was still looking. Then, unexpectedly, a path cleared through the crowd in front of him, and he saw her. At that instant, she looked up, and their eyes met. It was as if the rest of the room faded away. Dimly, he was aware that he had stopped – suddenly enough that someone had almost collided with him. Their muttered ‘really!’ as they narrowly avoided him brought him back to his senses. He began to move again, and the crowd closed between them.
By the time he reached where she still stood, he had calmed his racing heart a little, but the sight of her took his breath away. She was more beautiful than ever, and her smile was more than welcoming. As he bowed over her hand, she flushed a little, and he hoped that was a sign that she was as happy to see him as he was to see her.
“Lady Hyacinth. You look charming, as always. Might we take a turn about the room? And might I hope for a dance?”
“Lord Kevin. Yes, I would be happy to grant you both.”
As she spoke, her eyes flicked past him, and narrowed for a moment. He wondered why. Saying nothing more, he offered her his arm, and led her away towards the edge of the room. Her sigh of relief was quite audible to him.
“Lady Hyacinth, what brings you to sigh so?”
Her eyes turned to his, and she hesitated a moment before speaking.
“Relief. You have just saved me from a moment that I was dreading. Your timing is impeccable.”
“Oh? And exactly what is it, that I have saved you from?”
“Lord Puglinton.”
Kevin glanced back the way that they had come. Lord Puglinton stood, not far from Lady Hyacinth’s family, glaring after them. The man was, most obviously, not happy.
“I see. I gather that Lord Puglinton has found it in himself to overcome the fear of your dragonish reputation – and that you are displeased with that fact?”
“That is a fair summary of the situation, yes. The man is rude, and arrogant beyond belief. His conversation ranges from the offensive to the sublimely ridiculous, and his unpleasant manner is only exceeded by his poor taste in waistcoats. He seems to think that I am a despairing spinster, who would marry anything that offered for her. And nothing that I say dissuades him from pursuing me – I believe that he hopes that father will direct me to marry him, should he offer for me. It is as if he is deaf and blind to reality – or perhaps he needs money so badly that my dowry blinds him to all else.”
“When described that way, he sounds quite the most obnoxious man I have ever heard of. Yet as to your assessment of his potential desire for your dowry… I seem to remember hearing that he has substantial investments, in all sorts of businesses – so I do not know that he needs money to the degree you suggest.”
Her eyes met his – she seemed startled by this insight.
“Then why on earth does he pursue me, and completely ignore everything that I say to him?”
“I cannot answer that for a certainty, but… forgive me for my rather inappropriate implication… but I suspect that what blinds him is not your dowry, but your other… assets… which it would be hard for him to fail to notice.”
She lowered her eyes from his for a moment, and he worried that he had offended her with his indelicate words, but then she raised her chin, and looked at him, a wry smile twisting her lips.
“Oh dear! How unfortunate – do you really believe him to be so taken with my bosom, and my physical… potential… that he can truly ignore every word that I say, and believe that he could do so for the rest of his life?”
Kevin felt the smile on his own face widen – she was delightful – so refreshingly honest and open. With any other woman, he might never have risked such words, and if he had, would expect to have been spurned for his rudeness – yet here she was, as amused as he by the shallowness of men like Lord Puglinton.
“I do believe exactly that. You noted, yourself, his arrogance – I am sure that he rarely truly hears what others say to him, for he is too busy valuing himself.”
“I begin to see how it might be that his first wife became ill, and eventually died – a man like that would be beyond wearing on the soul!”
“Indeed. Can you not avoid him?”
“And pray how might I do that? He has done nothing outwardly inappropriate, and I cannot simply refuse to dance with him, when I dance with others, and am obviously in robust health. And I will not feign illness, for then, how might I dance or walk with you?”
Kevin’s breath hitched – had she just implied? She had. A spiral of ridiculous happiness curled through him. Her bluntness was wonderful, and she was so open with him.
He had, in that moment, an intense desire to kiss her. He forced his mind away from that thought, and back to their conversation.
“I am honoured, my Lady. But if you continue to dance with him, will he not assume that his suit might be welcome? If he actually spoke to your father…”
“He can assume all he wishes, and he can speak to my father, but it will gain him nothing. My father will not force me to a match, no matter how desperately he, and my mother, wish that I might marry. That fact is the only thing that allows me to persist with being minimally polite to the man. That, and the hope of conversation with you, to balance the scales. With you, I can speak of things that others in society would most certainly regard as inappropriate conversation!”
“You can, and I value the fact that you trust me enough to do so.”
“I am not quite certain, Lord Kevin, how that came to be the case – but I also value it, greatly.”
They walked a little further, drifting into a companionable silence, as she observed the people in the room, and he observed her doing so. When they reached that end of the room, the orchestra struck up for the next set, and he bowed to her again, before leading her on to the floor. This time, it was a waltz, and his heart thundered in
his chest as he took her into his arms. She smiled up at him, and the desire to kiss her rushed through him again. He licked his lips, resisting the urge. Conversation seemed the safest option.
“So, my Lady, what are your observations on this evening’s fashion?”
Those soft blue eyes met his, suddenly sparkling with mischief.
“Why Lord Kevin, I thought that you had declared yourself uninterested in fashion? But, as you ask… tonight, I have been observing the sartorial achievements of the gentlemen. I believe that Lord Middenhall has managed the greatest achievement in fashionable ostentation this evening. His combination of red and blue pinstripes on his waistcoat, with a mustardy gold coat and maroon paisley breeches is obviously a work of art in its own right. Rarely have I struggled so not to flinch when greeted by a gentleman.”
Her tone was so delicately sarcastic that he laughed, delighted again. And her assessment was quite accurate. As they had walked around the room, he had, even though very focussed on the woman at his side, been unable to avoid noting Lord Middenhall, for that mustard coloured coat was remarkably bright.
“A fine and accurate assessment, my Lady, I must agree with you. But tell me – do you develop opinions upon other aspects of those around us, apart from fashion? What of the gossip, and the poorly hidden affairs and scandals – do they attract your discerning eye?”
She actually blushed, and bit her lip a little – it made him want to kiss her even more. Then her eyes met his, full of challenge.
“Do you imply, my Lord, that a gently reared lady such as I would know anything at all of scandalous liaisons, of the sort that the gossips whisper about?”
They swirled around, the dance effortless.
With her, he need not think - somehow, the dancing just happened. He smiled, deeply amused.
“My Lady, I do not imply anything. But the fact that I have sisters leads me to believe that gently reared young ladies know far more of the scandalous goings on of society than they ever admit to. And your keenly observant eye would surely notice the tiny things that betray those attempting to keep secrets…”
A Vixen for a Viscount: Book 2: Hyacinth - Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet) Page 4
