She laughed – the sound ran through him, like a rush of heat.
“Perhaps you are correct, my Lord, although I, of course, will not admit to any such thing. But I will direct your attention to Lady Gosham, whose elderly husband is rarely seen out in society, and Lord Bessmark, who seems to be always quite close to her…”
Kevin glanced about the room, as the dance rotated them, eventually discovering the couple Lady Hyacinth had mentioned. They were tucked away in an alcove, almost screened from view by potted palms. They sat very close together, and Lord Bessmark’s hand appeared to be behind Lady Gosham. He gave a quiet snort of laughter, and Lady Hyacinth’s smile widened.
So, she observed that sort of thing too. Oh, how he wished that he could speak to her in true privacy, and hear the unexpurgated version of her thoughts on the affairs of society. It would be, he was quite certain, far more accurate than the gossip sheets. The music slowed, and he realised, with a start, that the dance was about to end.
She looked up at him, and whispered, her voice so soft that he could barely make out the words.
“When you return me to my family, I pray, do not abandon me. Stay, and speak to my father, or my sisters, as well as to me – anything will do as a topic, but allow me to hope that your presence may deter Lord Puglinton.”
“Of course, my Lady.”
It seemed to work – Puglinton glared, but did not approach, and Kevin spent the rest of the evening discussing agriculture with the Duke of Elbury, who, although far more interested in flowers, was a positive font of knowledge on the topic of modern methods of farming. It was a surprisingly pleasant conversation. Lady Hyacinth looked at him with gratitude, and his heart sang in response.
<<<< O >>>>
After the Ball at Porthaven House, where Lord Kevin’s presence had deterred Lord Puglinton, Hyacinth had been hopeful that the man would abandon his pursuit of her. She had been disappointed in that hope.
The next three Balls, whilst she danced and spoke with Lord Kevin, that no longer prevented Lord Puglinton from asking her to dance. She had done the socially correct thing, and agreed, hating every moment of it. But she had been cheered by the fact that Lord Kevin watched her. Somehow, his eyes upon her had made her feel safer.
Until tonight – when he was not in attendance. She felt bereft without his presence, and Lord Puglinton’s leering smile did nothing to ease her dismay.
Chapter Six
The sisters sat in the parlour, chattering away about a random collection of things – men, fashion, dogs, horses, painting, books and more. Hyacinth was, as always, amused by her sisters’ vastly differing views of the world. But today, when Hyacinth most wanted to not think about the previous evening, and the ways of society, her sisters kept coming back to a discussion of gentlemen. And, in addition to that, Lily seemed distracted – far more than usual, and had barely said a word.
Hyacinth turned to her.
“What do you think Lily? Should Rose allow a gentleman’s opinions on food to influence her view of him? It seems rather shallow to me.”
Lily blinked at Hyacinth a moment, then, as Hyacinth waited, shook herself out of her woolgathering to answer.
“If it matters to Rose, why should she not let it influence her view of him? Surely, we should each choose who to like, based on what matters to us.”
“I see – so, do tell us, what is it about Lord Canterford’s likes or dislikes that matters to you, Lily? Or are you still trying to pretend that you are not smitten, even though he calls on you almost every second day?”
Lily blinked and Hyacinth wondered what was wrong with her – certainly Lily did not always like being teased, but usually managed to take it in good part – but her expression said that today, she was not at all happy.
“Oh Hyacinth, stop it! Cannot you leave me alone on the matter? Yes, I do like him, if you must hear the words from my mouth! But I cannot answer your question, for I fear that this last few weeks I have become less and less sure of what he cares about, what matters in his life. It is all so frustrating, and quite lowering. I thought that he cared for me, but now…”
Her voice tailed off, and Hyacinth looked at her, a little shocked. The other sisters’ conversations stopped, and they all turned to look at Lily. Lily never snapped, not even when teased unmercifully. Something was obviously wrong. Camellia came to sit beside Lily, and took her hand.
“What do you mean, Lily? What are you unsure of?”
A strangled sob escaped Lily, and slow tears trickled down her cheeks. Rose produced a handkerchief, only slightly discoloured by icing from the cakes they had just had with tea, and handed it to her silently. Lily gulped.
“I… I thought that he cared, yet whilst we talk, and I enjoy his company, and he seems to enjoy mine, there has been nothing further. Not since… not since one moment, weeks ago. Since then, he has not attempted to hold my hand, to be closer than propriety dictates, or to kiss me, or… anything! It is as if I am a sister to him, not someone he might… he might marry!”
“Do you want him to marry you, Lily?”
Camellia’s words dropped into a pool of silence. The ripple of thought that they created spread through the room, and six sets of eyes studied Lily’s face, waiting for her answer. Lily drew a long breath, and Hyacinth felt as if something momentous was about to be said.
“Yes, I believe that I do want him to marry me. But I have obviously been a fool – I have been seduced by the comfort of our conversation, into allowing him to see far too much of my intellectual habits. Surely that is why he has become so distant from me – no matter what he says, surely he is like every other man of the ton, and does not really want too much intelligence in his wife. After all, an intelligent wife might argue with him, might dare to have her own opinion.”
There was bitter sadness in Lily’s voice and Hyacinth found herself achingly in sympathy with her sister. She was personally all too aware of the attitude of most gentlemen of the ton, to a woman who dared to have opinions, and express them. But she had concluded, at least a year ago, that a man who would not hear a woman’s opinion was not worth spending time on – and Lily needed to recognise that too. Hyacinth snorted.
“If that is true of him, then you are better without him. But I can’t believe it.”
“You can’t?”
“I can’t. The man is far sharper than he allows most people to notice, and far more respectful of women’s opinions than almost any man I have met – with the obvious exception of our father, and a few others. I think that you are letting your fears run away with you.”
“Oh Hyacinth, I so want you to be right!”
Camellia squeezed Lily’s hand, and Lily turned to meet her eyes.
“Lily, you know that not all men prefer their wives dull and uneducated -- look at the people we know – the Duchess of Melton designs gardens, the Countess of Porthaven runs an art gallery – yet they are loved by men who appreciate their skills and interests. Compared to that, my dear Lily, you are almost ordinary – so why should you not be loved? Do not let yourself lose the only man I have ever seen you care for at all, just because you fear that he does not appreciate the real you. Surely, there is some other reason for his reticence of late. Why do you not simply ask him if anything is amiss. You could, perhaps, even be brave, and declare your feelings, and see what happens.”
Lily looked at Camellia, blinking as if somewhat stunned by the words. Hyacinth considered them too. Camellia had a way of going to the heart of things, in the kindest possible manner. Finally, Lily spoke again.
“You are right, Camellia, I need to know the truth, not torture myself with imagined reasons for his manner. But the idea of declaring myself to him, of risking rejection – that is quite terrifying.”
Hyacinth considered Lily’s statement. She realised, in that moment, that she liked Lord Kevin – rather more than she had ever liked a gentleman before – and that the idea of telling him that was, as Lily had called it, quite terrifying. How
would she feel, if she were in the situation that Lily was in now? She suspected that she would be just as uncertain.
“I believe that I agree Camellia. If… if I ever start to think like Lily has been thinking, please shake me hard, and tell me what you just told Lily.”
Lily gave Hyacinth a hard look, obviously startled by what she had said, and Hyacinth swallowed – had Lily realised, even though she had been so distracted lately by Lord Canterford, that Hyacinth was coming to care for Lord Kevin? Then Lily dropped her eyes from Hyacinth’s, and spoke.
“Thank you, all of you. You have made me determined. When he next calls, I will ask him about his reticence, and, perhaps, if I can gather up the courage, even tell him of my feelings – for knowing the truth of it would be far better than this perpetual uncertainty.”
The sisters applauded, and Lily seemed cheered by their support. Rose pushed a fresh cup of tea into Lily’s hand, and placed a plate of cakes beside her. In Rose’s world, tea and cakes could fix anything, as they all knew.
They went back to speaking of ordinary things, and Lily joined the conversation normally, but Hyacinth found herself still distracted by the questions that Lily’s distress had triggered in her thoughts. Just how much did she care for Lord Kevin? And… why had he not been at the Ball the previous evening? After the last week or so, when he had spoken with her, danced with her, at every event, his sudden unexplained absence disturbed her.
It was like the previous time – one day he was there, the next he was gone, for a week or more, with no warning, and no explanation. What could possibly take him from London like that, especially if he truly did wish to spend time with Hyacinth?
She did not know, but it did not seem the actions of a man who might truly care for her. Perhaps, dreadful thought, he had a mistress somewhere, tucked away in a pretty country cottage, and that was where he disappeared to. She did not wish to believe such a thing of him, but she was not an innocent fool – men had mistresses, and men happily courted young ladies, whilst still enjoying those mistresses.
She stilled, all awareness of the rest of the room fading away. ‘Courting’ – was that what had been happening between them, however informally? It might, she realised, be perceived that way. Had anyone noticed? Probably. Did she care? That they noticed – no, she cared nothing for that – she was watched regardless, what was one more aspect to that? But… did she want it to be courtship?
That was a far harder question to answer.
<<<< O >>>>
The following morning, after yet another Ball where Lord Kevin was not present, but Lord Puglinton was, Hyacinth sat abed with her journal on her lap, pouring her frustrations with the situation onto the page, in the form of particularly acid commentary on the previous evening. She had intended to take her journal to the park that day, but had woken to the sound of a steady light rain. So she curled in her bed, with a cup of rich heated chocolate beside her.
Once the writing had eased the pressure in her mind, and she had space to think of other things beyond the scandals of the ton, and their dreadful fashion sense, her thoughts turned back to the previous day’s conversation with her sisters.
She had still not answered her own question.
Did she want it to be courtship?
She began to suspect that she did. At that thought, fear filled her. It seemed that, for now, he found her sharp tongue and acid observations amusing – but how long could that last? Surely, like most men, he would come to find it wearing, would come to resent the fact that she disturbed his peace of mind, by having such outspoken opinions. And what would happen then? If he had a mistress, if that was where he went, when he suddenly disappeared from London for days, then surely, when he tired of Hyacinth’s sharp tongue, he would go to that mistress. That was not the sort of marriage she wanted.
She lifted her chocolate and sipped, torn between the desire to laugh and to cry. Here she was, building castles out of air, imagining that a man who had shown her interest and courtesy – truthfully, the first man to ever really do so – was not only courting her, but would marry her. It was absurd. But having thought it all, she could not so simply erase it from her mind. Somehow, she had to be patient, to discover whether he did, in truth have a mistress, and whether he actually cared for her at all, beyond finding her an option for light entertainment at Balls.
Discovering that, of course, was dependent upon him reappearing in London – something which she could not guarantee would happen, no matter how much she might wish it.
<<<< O >>>>
When he arrived at Chester Park, Kevin found himself swept up in a whirl of happiness. Charles had, it seemed, finally asked Maria to marry him, and been accepted. They had all expected this, but to have it confirmed was wonderful.
Maria was nervous, yet gaining in confidence about venturing back into society, to some degree, and his mother was delighted – she had another wedding to plan. His father was equally happy, for he had always liked Charles, and respected Charles astute management of his brother’s estates, but in that happiness, Kevin detected something more – almost a sense of relief, as if seeing Maria settled and happy sooner rather than later was of the utmost importance.
It wore at him, that little inconsistency, that inexplicable element to his father’s attitude, and he determined to spend time with his father, again, to try to get him to admit to whatever was amiss with him. For Kevin was more certain than ever that something was.
On the last evening before his planned departure from Chester Park, he found himself, again, sitting with his father in the study, brandy in hand, after everyone else had gone to bed.
“Are you happy, Father, that Maria will marry again?”
“I am, I am. Wareham is a good man, and genuinely loves her, as she loves him. After that fiasco of a first marriage for her, I would have done anything to see her happy. And now I will – I already do, for she positively lights up when in his presence.”
Kevin sipped his brandy, carefully assessing his father’s words. The way that Lord Chester had said ‘and now I will’ was odd, as if he had not expected to do so. Yet he was not an old man – he was in his fifties, what should be the prime of his life for a man who had always had a good life.
“That is good to hear – but tell me – did you ever truly doubt that she would find happiness? I could not imagine her hiding away in sadness forever.”
His father’s eyes brightened, almost as if he held back tears, and Kevin blinked – surely it was an effect of the flickering light from the fire, an illusion?
“Oh, I was sure that she would overcome the past, eventually. But I was not sure how long that might take…”
Kevin nodded. There it was again, that unspoken implication that his father might not have all the time in the world. The worry settled deeper into his bones. He decided to take a risk.
“Father, forgive me for asking, but is something amiss with you? You seem, somehow, more… worried?... about the future than you used to be. Does something trouble you?”
Lord Chester met his son’s eyes, which were so like his own, and hesitated. Kevin waited, hoping that his father might reveal what it was that worried him. After a moment, Lord Chester looked away, and lifted his brandy with a slight shake of his head. There was a moment, a small sound, a small movement – as before, like a stifled cough, then he sipped the rich brown liquid, before meeting Kevin’s eyes again.
“No, no, nothing is amiss. I just like things to be in order. The older I get, the more that seems to matter to me. But on that note, tell me – have you not yet found a woman who appeals to you? I would see all my children married and happy…”
Kevin was startled – his father had never pressed him on the matter of marriage before, even though he was an only son, and knew that it was his duty to marry and get himself an heir. Something was definitely odd with his father, there was no doubt at all. The man was far too stubborn to admit it, it seemed.
But his words had brought to Kevin’
s mind an image of Lady Hyacinth, which startled him even more. Was he truly beginning to consider Lady Hyacinth in that light? As a potential bride? Two months earlier, he would have laughed at the very idea – now, it did not seem so preposterous.
“Not yet Father. I will be sure to inform you, as soon as I do.”
“Good, good, and do make it soon.”
They spoke a little longer, about the planning for Maria’s wedding, then Kevin took himself off to bed. But the thoughts of Lady Hyacinth stayed with him. How did he truly feel about her? If he was honest with himself, he knew that she meant more to him than simply amusing conversation at social events – but what did she feel for him? She was always so self-contained, so confident and perceptive, yet she showed little of her feeling to others. He did not know, at all, what she really thought of him.
And he wanted to, with a sudden urgency. He resolved that, upon his return to London, he would call upon her, would allow himself to go further than just conversation at Balls, at least until he discovered whether she was at all interested in anything more.
He certainly hoped that she was. The sight of Charles and Maria’s happiness had made him, just a little, jealous.
Chapter Seven
The sun was warm on Hyacinth’s face as she walked across the square and into the fenced park. She wound through the flower bordered paths until she came to the bench she preferred – set among trees and bushes as part of an artfully constructed folly, with a tangle of ivy and other plants all about it, almost underfoot.
It was early, by the standards of the ton, and almost completely quiet. Birds twittered in the trees, and there was, in the distance, the ever-present rumble of carriage wheels on cobbles, but otherwise no sound distracted her.
A Vixen for a Viscount: Book 2: Hyacinth - Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet) Page 5
