A snort sounded in the back of his throat.
“I’ll pretend not to be offended by that,” she supplied haughtily.
“How magnanimous.” He grinned and stopped their whirling, putting his hand to her lower back once more and walking side by side with her as the dance slowed. “I say, what do you think of the weather today?”
“It’s been windy and rather cold.” She tilted her shoulder, continuing the snobbish drawl. “Fortunately, I have several furs with which to bury beneath at home while reading such literary works as Pride and Prejudice.”
“Pride and Prejudice?” He nearly missed a step in the dance.
“Of course,” she said in her normal voice, once more Miss Bexley. “The story is divine. Elizabeth went on about it at such lengths, we all ended up reading—and adoring—the book. Have you read it?”
He hesitated, halting his knee-jerk response before it could rush from his mouth.
She leaned away from him. “You’re baring your teeth at me.”
He closed his lips, not realizing he’d held them open. “I am not.”
“You are,” she accused with a laugh. “Tell me what you mean to say.”
“Frankly, I wouldn’t waste my time with such drivel,” he replied, grateful to have been given leave to break the dam of his thoughts. “Not when there are better works to engage my time.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, and he kicked himself for that response, knowing it would likely earn him a rebuke.
“Well, it must be noted, that is not how to respond when dancing with a lady,” she chided lightly.
The music slowed, and the dance came to an end. He bowed.
She curtseyed, but as she rose, she said, “Have you read the book at all, or are you judging it simply on the audience to whom it appeals?”
To that, he did not have a response. At least not one he cared to voice.
Miss Bexley lifted her brow, her point made. “In that case, I have many books to recommend, but I would suggest you start with Pride and Prejudice.” Her lips teased upward. “It may be enlightening.”
Despite himself, he grinned. There was an openness about Miss Bexley that appealed to him greatly. She said exactly what was on her mind without preamble or prevarication.
“And you ought to dance more.” She slid her hand into the crook of his proffered arm. “You’re quite good.”
He should be after the countless years of instruction he had been subjected to. For now, he was grateful it afforded him such a delightful time with Miss Bexley.
“So, in summary: dance with ladies, keep conversation to the weather and fashion and endure gossip when it’s presented,” he said, organizing her advice into a succinct statement. “And read Pride and Prejudice.”
She smiled. “When next I see you, I wager I will be toasting to your success as the most eligible bachelor of the season.”
It was such a preposterous concept when he had been thus far invisible all these years. He nearly scoffed. He was certainly not the sort to attract much attention, but he could at least perform the small suggestions she had given him. Even reading Pride and Prejudice.
The following day after breakfast, a small parcel was delivered to him with his name written on the back of an envelope in a beautiful slanted script. The small card within was filled with the same elegant handwriting.
To ensure you don’t forget to read it. Enjoy!
Thoughtfully,
Miss Bexley
He knew what the item was before he even peeled back the paper wrapper and was not at all surprised that she had gifted him with his very own copy of the first volume of Pride and Prejudice.
6
Hannah almost leapt from her seat every time their butler entered the drawing room where she was painting a watercolor of their garden. Or at least what their garden looked like when it wasn’t stripped bare by winter’s wrath.
Surely Lord Brightstone would have received her gift by now. And surely etiquette would dictate that he replied with thanks.
But then, he didn’t seem to always abide by all the points of etiquette, which was one of the many things she liked about him. He was perhaps one of the few people in her life that did not make her feel as if she had to be perfect.
Thus far, no note had arrived, and she tried hard not to be disappointed. After all, he had requested her instruction to attract a wife. One who was decidedly not her. He owed her no correspondence.
“Oh, Hannah.” Lady Westwich clasped her hands over her heart. “You are such a divine artist!”
Her mother rushed over to examine the almost completed painting. It was nothing special, merely a way of passing the time with a few strokes here and there with the paintbrush. Hannah’s talent was, at best, average by her objective consideration. Indeed, it was nothing like Jillian’s skill, who could create a piece twice as good in half the time.
“When this is complete, I should like it to be framed for my room,” Lady Westwich declared.
“You already have several on display,” Hannah replied. “Most of them are far better than this.”
Her mother tsked. “Every one you do is a stunning piece of art. Don’t you ever tell yourself anything different.” She embraced Hannah between brush strokes. “Truly, you are so talented.”
At that moment, Lord Westwich entered the drawing room with a newspaper folded in his hands.
“Henry,” her mother called, waving him over. “Do come look at this beautiful painting our Hannah has created.”
His face immediately lit up, and he approached the window. “Hannah, you’ve outdone yourself on this one.” He settled a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners with affection and love.
It made her wish she could be the person her parents thought she was.
“Your mother will likely want that one for her bedchamber.” He removed his hand from Hannah’s shoulder and smiled at his wife, leaving Hannah grateful for the redirection of his attention from her.
“That’s precisely what I told her,” Lady Westwich said proudly. “And since you are here, I believe we were going to discuss the invitations for our dinner party next week.”
Her father’s dark brows lifted. “Oh. Yes. The dinner party invitations, of course.” He nodded so enthusiastically that Hannah immediately suspected the gears of a plot were turning.
Lord Westwich was always a willing player in her mother’s schemes. Only, he was a terrible actor.
“Who are you planning to invite?” Hannah asked innocently, even as dread curdled in her stomach.
“Oh, the usual,” her mother began. “Most likely Lord and Lady Whimbly as well as Lord and Lady Hasselton.”
Which left an open spot for a single gentleman to be included. How very transparent. Hannah squelched an enormous sigh.
“Ah, but we cannot have our seats so uneven, my love,” Lord Westwich said in an unnatural tone, as though reading from a card.
“Is it uneven?” The baroness gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
Hers was a far stronger performance than that of Lord Westwich. Hannah would give her mother that.
“How careless of me,” Lady Westwich continued. “Perhaps…perhaps our Hannah might have a suggestion?”