I started to speak, but whatever words had been on my tongue were lost as Miriam Bathurst entered the room. I wasn’t sure there were words to describe her. Every time I had seen Miss Bathurst, she had been breathtaking. She was blessed with the natural beauty that couldn’t be fabricated. It was unparalleled. However, the pearl almost iridescent color of her silk evening gown made her appear more angelic than real. The dark red curls piled high upon her head accentuated the smooth perfect skin of her neck and shoulders.
Had I ever laid eyes on anyone this lovely? She was truly ethereal in her appearance. Unlike anything I had ever seen. If I didn’t know she was just a flesh and blood woman, I would believe she was a celestial being. Emma would believe she was a princess.
I only had a moment to be enraptured by the vision before me before she shot me a tight haughty smile that reminded me she was very much female and she didn’t hold a fondness for me. I had much to rectify, it would seem. The idea of doing so was suddenly very appealing. For the more time spent in her presence, the better I could discern if she was truly what I was searching for in a wife.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” she said although her eyes said she didn’t care if she did. Yes, she was indeed full of willfulness that would be required for anyone who dealt with Emma.
“Not in the least. I would wait hours for the pleasure of escorting such a beauty as yourself anywhere,” I replied. She tensed and I could tell she was unsure how to respond to the compliment.
“Oh, Miriam, you are absolutely gorgeous,” her aunt exclaimed in awe.
Her cheeks flushed then as she shifted her gaze to her aunt who was openly praising her. For a moment, I thought she might scold or correct her aunt, but she simply gave her a soft smile and thanked her before turning her attention back to me.
Nicholas was right about one thing. I knew very little of Miriam Bathurst.
Chapter Fourteen
Miriam Bathurst
The view was incredible. I had never enjoyed the opera in such luxury. Aunt Harriet was glowing and although I wasn’t sure why Lord Ashington had invited me tonight, I was grateful my aunt was getting this experience. Furthermore, I didn’t feel as if Lord Ashington were playing a game. The small amount of time I had spent with him thus far, he seemed truly interested in me. He’d inquired of my family, and when he had noticed the fondness I held for my sister, he asked more detailed questions of her. Mr. Compton had never asked of Whitney once. I hated that I was comparing the two, but it was difficult not to. They were the only two men in London I had spent more time with than just a dance or brief visit.
Before the music had even begun, the Earl of Ashington knew a great deal about me. I realized I had been talking since our arrival. The ease in which he asked questions made one forget they were talking so much. I felt my cheeks heat at the thought and studied my hands for a moment, trying to sort out all I had said.
“I do hope your sister gets to visit London this season. It is clear you miss her,” he said, and I could hear the sincerity in his tone.
Glancing back up at him, I managed a smile. “Me too. She would simply love the city,” I told him.
He returned my smile. “And do you love the city?” he asked then.
I thought a moment then decided there was no reason to lie. I shook my head. “No. I don’t mind it. There are things, such as this, that are truly remarkable about being in London. However, nothing compares to the lush unspoiled countryside or the fragrant smell of the outdoors.”
His smile softened. “I could not agree more. Whereas London is full of energy and lights, the countryside is full of natural beauty and peace. I miss it when I’m away.”
His reply surprised me. “Away? You don’t spend most of your time in London?” I asked. I had pictured someone like Ashington being near the city, not tucked away in his country manor.
“Not if it can be helped. I much prefer the country,” he replied.
Lord Ashington had truly surprised me. As the stage lights drew my attention and the music began, my thoughts stayed on the conversation and how… it had been nice. Not at all what I had expected.
Aunt Harriet’s hand reached over and squeezed mine from the excitement of the evening. I smiled over at her and she was truly happy. Yet another thing that softened my previous feelings toward Lord Ashington. Nothing about this evening had been less than enjoyable.
Eventually the music pulled me in and I was lost in the beauty of the voices and the extravagance of the clothing. Whitney would adore this. I wanted this for her. I wanted her to sit in a box such as this one and experience it all. She was why I was here after all. I had come to London for her. Securing her a future was all that had mattered to me.
I glanced over at Lord Ashington and found his gaze wasn’t on the stage as mine had been, but he was leaning back in his chair watching me. I was suddenly very nervous and unsure of myself. Why hadn’t I noticed he was studying me? Had I been that lost in the scene below? I met his gaze unsure as to why he was watching me and wondering if I had been making a strange face or if I had possibly made a sound of appreciation.
Thoughts of Whitney were gone as I became acutely aware of his nearness and the darkness surrounding us. Although Aunt Harriet was on my other side, it suddenly felt as if we were doing something improper. We weren’t, of course, but my cheeks burned regardless. I was thankful for the darkness, so he couldn’t see my reaction to his attention. Why wasn’t he watching the performance as was everyone else? Wasn’t that why someone attended the opera? To watch the performance?
“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” Aunt Harriet whispered close to my ear, causing me to jump.
I started to turn so that I may reply but not before I saw the amused smile on Lord Ashington’s face. It wasn’t at all like him. Nothing about that smile was stiff or unapproachable. It wasn’t forced but so very real. His eyes twinkled and he appeared years younger in that moment. How often did he smile that way? I was sure I had never witnessed it, not even when he was busy charming Lydia Ramsbury, not that I paid close enough attention to be sure, of course.
I felt my own smile spread across my lips in that moment and my chest felt funny. A little tug or maybe a touch of warmth. It was a strange new sensation I didn’t quite know how to categorize and I wasn’t sure the exact way to describe it. Whatever it was, there was something there in the moment I wasn’t prepared for, but it excited me and possibly frightened me at the very same time. Lord Ashington was not a man in whom I should let my guard down and begin to feel things for… was he? How sure of his attentions could I be?
When I finally broke his gaze, and turned to my aunt, she studied me but a moment, then she grinned saucily. “Well, if I didn’t know better, Miriam Bathurst, I would think you were smitten,” she whispered.
My smile vanished then and I instantly frowned. “I am not smitten,” I assured her. I wasn’t a silly girl. One did not get smitten by a smile. It took more depth than that. I was more careful. There was a level of rejection I had suffered in my life that no other rejection could dare compare. It had made me tough and it had made me cautious. I wasn’t sure I would ever allow myself to truly be smitten for the simple fact I didn’t trust people. My father made sure of that.