“Come now, that isn’t true,” her father said gently but unconvincingly. Lord Westwich always was a horrible liar. “He genuinely likes you.”
Lord Brightstone did not harbor an actual affection toward her, and her father knew it as well as she did. She wished she could say the same, that she was as indifferent to the earl as he was to her. One look at the crumpled newspaper at her side, however, made her heart squeeze so viscerally that she knew the dreaded truth.
She cared immensely for Lord Brightstone. Not the fashionable gentleman in the fitted clothing with the cropped hairstyle all the dandies sported, but the shy earl with hair long past due for a trim who cradled a frightened cat against his chest.
Yes, she was smitten yet again despite her determination to remain otherwise. What was worse, she’d created an eligible bachelor whose exploits would occupy the attention of the ton for the entirety of the season. And she would be forced to sit back and watch his success.
That afternoon, she was notified of a visitor and found Jillian downstairs waiting for her in a lovely green day dress and silk shawl.
Hannah rushed to her friend. “Jillian, I’m so sorry for having missed so much of your ball.”
“I wish I could have missed it.” Jillian rolled her eyes.
“Was the duke so terrible?” Hannah poured tea carefully into both their cups and handed one to her friend, who accepted it with thanks.
Jillian stared into her teacup. “Do you ever wonder if it’s possible for someone to blot out another’s existence entirely?”
“Is it truly that bad?” Hannah idly stirred her tea. “Did you agree to marry him?”
“He asked. I prevaricated.” Jillian shook her head. “And my father is greatly displeased. You know he is determined to see me wed. But at least it allows me a bit more time to come up with a way to get out of this mess.”
Hannah nodded and didn’t bother to ask how the Duke of Dudley had taken the news.
“But the dastardly duke is not why I am here.” Jillian reached across the table for Hannah’s hand. “I have come to visit on behalf of all of us without overwhelming you. We know you did not have a headache last night and suspect there might be more under the surface.”
“Oh.” Hannah busied herself selecting a tea cake she didn’t have the appetite to eat.
The small confection with a red marzipan flower and delicate green leaves looked the best. Or perhaps the marigold with dots of orange framing it on the petite square?
“Does it have to do with Lord Brightstone?” Jillian asked.
Hannah grabbed the one closest to her and popped it into her mouth. “Hmm?”
Her friend gave a knowing smile. “We are all going to be in attendance at Vauxhall Gardens on Thursday and should like you to join us. We’ll have use of Lord Langston’s supper box, and Madame Saqui is said to be performing. I can’t imagine anyone in all of London who would enjoy her tightrope performance more than you.”
Hannah’s disinclination to join them began to waver at the mention of the famed tightrope walker of Vauxhall Gardens. There had been much talk about the performer, but Hannah had not yet had the opportunity to see her. “You do know how to sweeten an invitation.”
“I take it that’s a yes.” Jillian smiled and sipped her tea.
“As long as Lord Brightstone’s name isn’t mentioned once.” Hannah leveled her gaze at her friend. “If I go, I want to remove him entirely from my thoughts and focus solely on my enjoyment with you ladies.”
“Consider it done,” Jillian replied with an elegant lift of her shoulder.
Hannah beamed at her friend. “In that case, an evening in Vauxhall would be delightful.”
Lucien was in an uncommonly sour mood the following day after his ill-fated discussion with Hannah. Lady Martha had been correct all those years ago; he truly did not understand women.
Or at least, he’d failed to learn how to speak to them properly. In hindsight, he realized his error in confessing his feelings to her after admitting to his conversation with Lord Westwich. Now he was labeled as the season’s most eligible bachelor. A title that had his mother gloating as she purposefully unearthed reasons to attend morning calls earlier that day.
The world rushed by the carriage windows as Lucien made his way to White’s. At the gentleman’s club, he could be ensured a reprieve from the business of matchmaking and debutantes.
His carriage drew to a stop, and he rushed out into a blustery wind that made him anticipate the strong cup of tea he intended to acquire upon entry. The massive room held the odor of stale smoke from the popular cigarillos and a lingering aroma of brandy that made him recall that kiss with Hannah.
Even here, far from his home, her memory still tugged at him with an undeniable lure. Perhaps he needed something a little stiffer than a cup of tea.
“Ah, if it isn’t the season’s most sought-after bachelor.” The familiar voice pulled his attention to Lord Ranford, who approached with two highball glasses cupped in his large right hand, both with hearty pours of amber liquid.
“Scotch?” Ranford held one in Lucien’s direction. “It doesn’t seem like a day for tea.”
Ah, yes. Ranford’s sister had fallen in love with a man and was soon to wed. Their engagement announcement was in the same scandal sheet as the declaration of Lucien’s popularity as a sought-after bachelor.
“I understand felicitations are in order.” Lucien took the cut crystal glass from his friend and indicated the empty chair across from him in silent invitation.
Ranford sank into the seat with a grateful smile. “I thought she would wait several more years before finally deciding on a gentleman but am pleased she’s found someone who makes her genuinely happy.”
“You’ve always been a good brother to her.” Lucien drank his scotch and let the pleasant burn slide down into his stomach and slowly warm his blood. It truly was a better day for scotch than tea.
“She’s always looked up to me.” Ranford smiled with quiet affection. “And felicitations are in order for you as well, it appears.” He lifted his brows. “Or perhaps condolences at the numbers of single misses who will forever ruin your peace at every social event henceforth until you wed.”
Lucien laughed and shook his head. “This was not exactly the attention I intended to attract.”
“Well, you did alter your appearance quite nicely.” Ranford sipped his drink. “Truth be told, I thought you had an interest in Miss Bexley.”
A knot twisted in Lucien’s stomach. “I confess, she has been advising me on what to wear and do in the hope of being more appealing to the fairer sex.”
“That was kind of her,” Ranford replied. “She was exceptionally helpful with Julia’s coming out last year. I couldn’t have done it without her patient guidance.”
The memory of Ranford dancing with Hannah rose forefront in Lucien’s thoughts. As did Hannah’s mention of helping the earl with Lady Julia’s ball.
“I’m the woman men know will help when asked.” Hannah’s words resounded in Lucien’s mind.
“Have you ever considered courting Miss Bexley?” Lucien asked.
Ranford held his glass between his two hands, staring for a long moment into its contents. “No,” he answered slowly, and his gaze shifted to Lucien, his eyes narrowing somewhat. “Though my disinterest is through no fault of Miss Bexley.”