Signa did not remember ever meeting a lord before. He held himself proudly enough that she wondered whether he was first in line to inherit or last. She remembered from the conversation at her welcome tea that he was the most eligible bachelor in town next to Percy, and that he was the potential suitor she’d spoken with Blythe about the prior day.
Even if he were without money or title, Everett was a man who’d garner attention for his looks and for the regal way in which he held himself. His shoulders were rolled back, chest proud, and his face was full of youthful spirit. There was wealth in his imported clothing, and a glint in his eyes as he observed Signa. Everett Wakefield was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, and her mind lost all coherent thought when he smiled at her.
“Cousin,” Eliza trilled, “this is Signa Farrow, the one I’ve been telling you about.”
Charlotte observed with a blank stare as Everett bowed his head low, the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes dazzling as they flicked up to watch her beneath impressively long lashes. “I’m well aware of who the Farrows were—I met your mother once, long ago.”
Signa’s spine tingled with tiny zaps of electricity as he pressed a kiss to the back of her glove. “My mother?”
Everett’s smile gleamed bright. “Our parents were once acquainted, though I’m afraid I don’t remember your father. My memory’s a bit hazy, as I was a young boy, though I do remember how the whole house would laugh when your mother arrived. She was a pistol, and my family adored her. I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Farrow.”
Signa had to remind herself to incline her head, too lost in her thoughts and a million questions she wanted to ask the man. She’d never expected her mother to be called a pistol. If the etiquette book she left behind and the stories Signa’s grandmother had shared were right, surely Lord Wakefield was thinking of the wrong woman.
“It’s lovely to see you again, Miss Farrow,” Charlotte interjected, though to Signa’s surprise, she looked more ill than she did enthused, her hands folded tightly before her. “And you as well, Mr. Hawthorne. I’m afraid we haven’t long to chat as we’ve an appointment at a tearoom—”
“Oh dear, Charlotte, thank you for reminding me!” Eliza clapped her hands. “Do forgive me for being forward, but we’d be delighted if you were able to join us.”
Signa didn’t miss how Charlotte’s eyes darkened when she said, “I’m not sure we’ll be able to add more to our company with such short notice—”
“Nonsense. No one would deny two of the town’s most prominent gentlemen.” Eliza aimed her hopefulness at Percy. “I’m certain they will make an exception if you’d be so kind as to accompany us?”
Percy’s fingers tapped at his side, and he cast a sideways look at Signa.
Tea, as Signa was learning, never really was just tea, and accepting an invitation meant every bit as much as requesting one did. It wasn’t formal for Eliza to make the request herself, but having her cousin on her arm had made her bold. One couldn’t exactly refuse tea with a lord, and though Signa knew what it would mean to decline, all she could think about was Death’s warning ringing in her ears and that she desperately needed to get the antidote to Blythe. “It’s a kind offer, but perhaps we could join you another day? We wouldn’t want to impose.”
Eliza didn’t so much as acknowledge that Signa had spoken. “Everyone has been raving about this place. Trust me, Mr. Hawthorne, it’ll be impossible to get in once the rest of the town catches wind. Everett and I absolutely insist that you join us today, don’t we, Everett?”
He grinned down at Signa. “We’d be offended if you didn’t.” And though his tone was teasing, she knew the battle had been lost.
Blythe would have to hold on a little longer.
TWENTY-SIX
HAD THE CALABAR BEAN AND ALL IT SYMBOLIZED NOT BEEN WEIGHING down her pockets, the day would have been a lovely one for a promenade. Eliza looped one arm through Signa’s and the other through Charlotte’s, the three of them walking well ahead of the men. “What a coincidence it is to find you here. I had so hoped you’d have the chance to meet Everett prior to the spring. You’re still planning to join the season, aren’t you?”
She still had to speak to Marjorie, of course, but it made sense enough to debut in the spring that Signa nodded. “That’s the hope.”
Charlotte’s smile was polite but thin. “It seems everyone and their mamas will be out this season.”
“How right you are.” Eliza laughed. “What a challenge it’ll be to find a husband, especially now when we’ll be competing with Miss Farrow.” She said the last part in a conspiratorial whisper. “You will be the prized pony that all the men will bid on. It’s fortunate for us that only one of you from Thorn Grove will be out this season, for it will be the same when Blythe makes her debut. And it’s fortunate for me that the one I’ve got my eyes on is your relation.”
Though Eliza’s incessant gossip was tiresome, she was quite pretty, and her family was affluent enough that Signa knew without asking him that Percy would be equally interested in her. But would Eliza’s interest continue if Percy didn’t inherit Grey’s?
“If you’ll excuse me”—Eliza peeled herself away from the women—“I believe I’ll get a head start on that.” She moved back in one quick stride, taking her place at Percy’s side and tilting her head back, laughing at whatever he said.
Left with Charlotte, Signa asked, “Is what Miss Wakefield said true? I never thought that my debuting would be a problem for anyone.” Surely, that couldn’t have been what soured Charlotte’s mood the last time they’d spoken. Yes, Signa had money, but there would be others far better suited for maintaining a home. She didn’t want children anytime soon, and her piano playing and skill with a needle were abysmal. Not to mention that there would be more beautiful women out for the season, like Charlotte, whom anyone would be lucky to have as a wife.
“It’s not that it’s a problem.” Charlotte kept her voice low enough that Signa had to strain to hear her. “But it makes things more difficult for those of us who must secure a strong match. If Blythe weren’t sick, it would’ve been the same situation. The men will flock to those with the highest prospects first, and the rest of us will get their scraps and will be expected to be happy for it.”
“What of a love match?” Signa asked, not having a taste for such a callous stance. “Surely, it wouldn’t matter how many ladies are out each season if one was to make one of those?”
Charlotte dipped her chin and peered at Signa as though seeing her for the first time. “Ever since my mother died and we were forced to move after the scandal, my father has been struggling to keep us afloat. He never had a son, so it’s my duty to find someone who can support our family. I don’t have the luxury of a love match, Miss Farrow. In fact, you will find that most of us don’t. If that’s what you’re after, then I wish you luck, but I care only for securing my future. So do forgive me if I’m not enthused that you’re joining the fray my first year out.”