All of a sudden, this project seemed much more complicated than I had originally intended it to be.
* * *
Fairlinn Court was elegant. Long, even columns lined the front of the house with dark windows set evenly on each side of the front portico. Our carriage pulled into the drive at dusk. The light stone wall glowed orange from the remaining sun and torches lined the entry. Major Heybourne and his wife greeted our party, and it was clear at once we were not the only people invited. I should have assumed, with our numbers so heavy in females, that the Heybournes would need to do something to even them up.
Mrs. Overton was set upon at once by Mrs. Bennington and I wanted to stay by her side, to protect the small woman from Mrs. Bennington’s vulgar claws. They moved into a corner and took seats on a couch, appearing to have a comfortable coze. I could see it for what it was, however; an inquisition.
“I am delighted you could make it,” Mrs. Heybourne said beside me, threading her arm through mine as she led me toward a set of chairs before the fireplace. A large dog lounged in front of the fire, taking me off guard.
Mrs. Heybourne noticed my reaction. “Do not mind Tiny, he is harmless. He usually sleeps with Thomas, but he has a lingering cough and keeps Tiny barking all night long. No one can get any sleep around here.”
“I hope he recovers quickly,” I said, concerned. It was too late now to ask if Thomas was her son. I merely had to assume.
“It is nothing,” she replied, waving away my unease. “Just a case of catching a chill. He will be right as rain in a matter of days.”
Mrs. Bowen occupied a nearby seat and beamed at me. She was apparently not too upset that I had to beg off the dinner at her house when Elsie and Lord Cameron visited.
“I cannot wait to introduce you to my sons,” she said.
A sudden wariness overtook me. Politeness forced me to say, “I would be pleased to meet them, I am sure.”
She stood straightaway, her round cheeks beaming, and cupped her hand under my elbow, pulling me toward a small group of men before I even had a chance to sit. Apparently, she had taken my words as a request, and I caught Mrs. Heybourne’s surprised face as I was dragged away.
“This is Miss Hurst,” Mrs. Bowen announced with all the enthusiasm of a fresh puppy. Turning to me, she proudly introduced her sons. “Alfred, John, Lucas, and the youngest one there is Henry.”
I curtsied to the men. I would not have guessed that the four tall, blonde, handsome men before me were the offspring of Mr. and Mrs. Bowen. The men were neither short nor portly, and while their parents possessed fair hair, that was just about the only trait they held in common.
Except, perhaps, the nose. If one squinted.
The men were as interested in me as they might be in a set of fashion plates. I received perfunctory smiles and nods before attention was arrested elsewhere.
“Miss Hurst is the owner of Corden Hall,” Mrs. Bowen said. Four sets of eyes instantly snapped toward me.
“Fine, fine farmlands you have there, Miss Hurst.”
“Prime hunters. I’ve seen them with my own eyes.”
“What about the wood?” One of them said to the rest. “I’ve heard it’s ideal for pheasants. Doesn’t get hunted much, though, as it stands.”
“As it was,” another pointed out. “Now it’s inhabited. I’m sure their pheasant need has doubled. What say you, Miss Hurst? Do you need any help hunting your woods?”
My eyes rounded to capacity, I was sure, and I had no inclination of what I should say. It was the precise time a companion would come in handy.
An idea formed and I grasped it. It was precisely the time that my companion would come in handy. “Please excuse me, gentlemen, but I must check on my friend.”
They all bowed dutifully and I escaped to where Mrs. Overton was now surrounded by the matrons of the room. I was worried for her but found her smiling politely, listening to Mrs. Bennington explain Thomas’s rigid schedule. I was correct. Thomas was a child.
“This house is run like a tight ship. My son-in-law does not do anything by halves.”
I wanted to sigh, but I swallowed the urge. Mrs. Heybourne was seated beside her mother now and listened avidly to the older women’s conversation.
She moved over on the sofa to make room for me and I sat beside her. Her smile became conspiratorial, worrying me. “I have done my duty as hostess and placed you in the most advantageous seat I could. You’re welcome.”
Smiling tightly, I only nodded. I had dealt with this frequently, regardless of my scandal. People constantly believed my sole purpose in life was to wed and they were doing me an immense favor by finding men to complete the job.
It was so difficult for them to imagine that I might be content with my place in life. Or, perhaps it did not occur to them at all.
Mrs. Heybourne possessed the same even-tempered cordiality as her husband and I could not find it within myself to complain about her efforts or put them down. I delivered a bland smile and stood when dinner was announced.
It was to my chagrin that I found I was seated between two of the Misters Bowen. Perhaps I should have put down Mrs. Heybourne’s efforts after all to avoid a repeat in the future.
“How long have you been in residence at Corden Hall?” the one to my left asked after he had seated me. I could not remember his name for the life of me.
“Not too long,” I said, pulling my gloves from my fingers and setting them on my lap. “I have been in London recently.” A small voice in the back of my mind rang a warning bell but I did not know to what it was referring, this man, or the topic of conversation.
“I love London. I have been there for most of the last five years.” His eyes squinted at me thoughtfully and I felt the warning bell ding again.
I promptly faced forward, waiting for a shift in the conversation partners.
“Which part of Town did you reside in?”
“Mayfair,” I said, as though I had nothing to hide. Which was almost true. My eyes sought out Daniel’s where he sat on the other side of the table. He faced away from me, listening intently to a woman I hadn’t before met. She had pale blonde hair and was around my age, if not older than me. I felt jealousy sprinkle through me and scowled, irritated by the man beside me and the other one across the table.
“How strange,” Mr. Bowen said, “that I have not met you in Town.”
“I’ve spent the last six months in mourning.” I did not continue an explanation. He did not need one. “Do you have a favorite venue in Town?”
“I do.” His eyes lit up. “I am not one for stuffy ballrooms, but a fine woman can be spotted at card parties. I must say I’ve never been opposed to a proper dinner, either. As long as the menu is done well.” He leaned in. “Mrs. Heybourne selects a decent menu for a country gathering, but it is nothing compared to the hostesses of Town.”
I nodded slightly. I would not agree to slander against my host. It was rather tacky.
“You’ve experienced the Season in London, then?” he asked.
“Yes, quite a few.” I tried not to sound too dry, but it was unseemly of him to inquire so and I felt like reminding him of my aged status. Perhaps it would put him off my scent. If he looked too closely, he might discover things about me I’d prefer to keep from this parish.
Like the status of my birth, for instance.
Chapter 14
The women were directed to the drawing room following dinner and the men remained behind to talk of horses and drink brandy. I felt comfortable the moment I left the Bowen brothers’ sides. I could not place precisely what about them left me feeling so uneasy, but it was clear the moment we were separated that something had.
Mrs. Heybourne descended upon me like a hawk on a mouse, clutching my arm with her soft talons and pulling me to a sofa along the back wall. It occurred to me as I sat that the furniture in the room had been rearranged, the carpets rolled up and placed along the wall. While we had eaten dinner, the servants, apparently, had conver
ted the drawing room into a dance floor.
Her eager eyes caused me to wish I had good things to say about my experience at dinner. She was so proud of her seating arrangement. “How were your dinner partners?”
“They were cordial,” I said.
Mrs. Heybourne leaned forward, her eyes perfectly round. “Yes, and?”
“And they were conversational.”
She slumped back on the couch slightly, looking disappointed. “They appeared eager to me.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “They were that.”
She rallied, giving me a soft smile. “We’ve time yet. How are you liking Linshire?”
“It is certainly growing on me. I have lived in the center of a busy metropolis for such a long time I had forgotten the advantages of a quiet, simpler life.”
She nodded in agreeance. “I have always felt that way. I did venture into Town once for a Season, but it was not particularly my cup of tea. I was glad to have met my Mr. Heybourne for now I never have to go back.”
That was the opposite of how I had felt in the beginning. I loved the Season. The balls and dances and dinners were fun. It was not until the scandal erupted that I began dreading social engagements. In fact, it had not occurred to me until this moment that I had felt little worry before attending the Heybourne’s dinner party. The man who once wished to marry me was not my first choice in a neighbor, perhaps, but the family was exceedingly friendly and inclusive. I could not ask for better neighbors in that regard. Except for Mrs. Bennington, of course.
“I knew your husband, actually,” I ventured, swallowing a small lump in my throat. “We were introduced by my dear friend Lady Cameron Nichols—she was Elsie Cox at the time—as they were previously acquainted from a holiday in Bath.”
Her face stilled, her mouth set in a firm smile. Had I said something I shouldn’t?
“My husband told me about your earlier acquaintanceship,” she said. “You’ll understand I can only be grateful your courtship never amounted to anything.”
“I would expect no less.” The tension between us pulled taut, her face a picture of discomfort. I did not regret my words, for I was grateful to know Major Heybourne disclosed our past with his wife. My worry stemmed from not knowing precisely how much he had shared with her.
Was my scandal to become common knowledge in this town? I had hoped I would be able to avoid it for at least a little longer.
The door opened, welcoming the men into the room, and Mrs. Heybourne stood as though her seat had caught fire beneath her. “You’ll excuse me.”
I nodded, but she did not see. She was gone already.
“We will have dancing,” Major Heybourne said, his grin spreading as his wife approached him. “And music as well, if any of the ladies might be persuaded?”
The woman who sat beside Daniel during dinner stood, her hands neatly clasped before her. “I would love to play.” Her voice was softer than I anticipated, meeker.
“Capital!” Major Heybourne called.
I was approached by a Mr. Bowen, the one who had sat to my right during dinner. We had not had much opportunity for conversation, his brother taking up a larger amount of my time. His expression of achievement as he led me to the center of the room was obvious. It hinted of competition and I was not pleased to be considered in such a light.
“Do you have a favorite dance?” he asked.
I had, at one point. I loved to waltz. At present, however, I was only grateful to be dancing once again. Regardless of my obnoxious partner, I did enjoy this particular pastime. It was not with large regret or hesitation that I decided to ignore the man guiding me and simply enjoy the dance. It was not a marriage proposal, after all.
Every member of the younger set had obtained a partner and lined up for a country dance. It was lively, and I was surprised by the tune. The meek blonde woman, I had thought, would choose something more sedate. A quadrille, perhaps, or a minuet.
I peeked down the line and found Daniel partnered with the other woman I had not yet been introduced to. It was clear that she was some relation to the woman playing the piano and my curiosity rose. A younger sister, perhaps? He had an easy way about him in their presence; it begged an explanation.
I supposed I ought to focus on my own partner and simply be grateful Miss Chappelle had not been invited to the Heybournes’ dinner party that evening. Not the most charitable thought, perhaps. But I did appreciate her absence, nonetheless.
“Well?”
I glanced sharply at my partner. He had asked me a question earlier, had he not? I could not recall what it was. To my relief, the dance began. I found myself smiling. The dance was enjoyable. It mattered not that my partner was a total stranger with zero interest in me until my estate was announced. I tried not to mind that two of the women I met in this new town had already begun matchmaking schemes at my very first social event.
They had good intentions, I supposed. There was no use feeling offended. Instead, I lost myself in the rapid motions and quick-footed steps of the country dance. By the end of the song I was grinning at no one in particular, my chest heaving from the exertion and sweat beading around the edges of my hairline and back of my neck.
It was exceedingly warm in the room, the heat only growing from the dancing.
“We shall have a quadrille!” Major Heybourne announced.
My eyes landed on Daniel and I was startled to find him staring at me. Would he ask me to dance? My body hummed with anticipation as he took a step forward. The mere thought of placing my gloved hand within his was enough to set my heart to a gallop—a remarkable feat when it was already beating hard from the previous dance.
A second Mr. Bowen stepped into my line of sight and bowed. “May I have the honor of this dance, Miss Hurst?”
I could no longer see Daniel. He was blocked from my view by this giant blonde man. Regret pooled in my shoulders, dragging them downward, but I maintained a polite smile, nodding and placing my hand in his.
I had not sat by this particular Mr. Bowen at dinner. He was the youngest of the lot; that much I did recall. We took our places in preparation. The older set was sitting out this round and I caught Mrs. Overton’s eye before the music began. She had faint lines between her eyebrows, confusion drawn on her face.
It was not the moment to inquire, but I would have liked to ease her worry, whatever it was. I planned then to go and sit with her when the quadrille ended.
The youngest Mr. Bowen was graceful, leading me through the steps with a polish I had not noticed in his older brother. He did not try to hold a conversation, for which I was much obliged, and I was equally gratified to find Daniel partnering Mrs. Heybourne.
Not that it mattered whom he danced with, of course. But the more matrons, the better, in my opinion.
Mr. Bowen bowed over my hand on completion of the dance and I turned for Mrs. Overton, disappointed to find Mrs. Bennington seated beside her. The older woman had not left her side for much of the evening. The fact, while seemingly harmless, left me uneasy.
“You seem to enjoy the dancing,” Mrs. Overton said as I sat beside her.
One of the older Misters Bowen was attempting to convince the blonde woman at the pianoforte to take a turn on the dance floor and allow another young woman the opportunity to play. I watched his efforts with some amusement.
“I have always enjoyed dancing,” I replied. “Mourning has required that I sit out for the last six months and I find that I’ve missed it exceedingly.” Not that I’d had many dance partners before that, either, in recent years.
Mrs. Overton nodded knowingly. Mrs. Bennington turned an eagle eye on me. “Mourning,” she said. “How sad.”
I was not going to bite the bait. “It is a necessary season in most lives. This was mine.”
I could not ask Mrs. Overton what had bothered her earlier with Mrs. Bennington nearby. The predatory woman was on the hunt. If I stayed nearby then she would surely sniff out my scandal. It was only a matter of time. I stood. �
��If you’ll excuse me.”
Mr. Bowen was still in the act of convincing the blonde woman to leave the pianoforte. I approached them, my hands clasped before me. The party had broken off into small groups of conversation, no one seeming to notice or mind that the music had stopped.
“I should like to play,” I said to the woman. “If you would like to dance.”
She eyed me, her face looking tired in a way I had not noticed at a distance. She looked to Mr. Bowen and said, “Pray introduce us, sir?”
He was surprised, but recovered quickly. “Mrs. Wheeler, allow me to present Miss Hurst.”
“Of Corden Hall?” Mrs. Wheeler asked, her face betraying her lack of surprise. She already knew who I was. I fought the urge to glance at Daniel where he spoke to the Heybournes a few yards away. Had he spoken about me at dinner?
I nodded. “Yes. Do you live nearby?”
“In town,” she answered. “My sister and I keep house for our brother.”
The other blonde woman must’ve been her sister, then.
She smiled at me then, and I liked her despite my reservations. Her title implied marriage, but there was no mention of a husband. Off at sea, perhaps?
“Allow me to play?” I asked. She stepped aside and Mr. Bowen beamed.
“A waltz, Miss Hurst?” he asked.
I nodded, seating myself on the bench. Mr. Bowen took Mrs. Wheeler’s hand and led her to the center of the room. I began warming up my fingers on the keys and was aware through my peripheral vision of men slowly asking women to dance.
Mrs. Overton remained seated, Mrs. Bennington beside her. The remaining guests were dancing, aside from two of the Bowen men, seated in the corner, and Daniel.
I nearly lost my place as he approached the pianoforte, but continued play. The transition was smooth enough that I hoped the dancers had not noticed.
“Would you like me to turn the pages?” he asked.
I looked to the empty place where music would normally be placed and gave Daniel a small smile before glancing back at my hands. I was playing from memory, but I could not glance away for long or the distraction would cause me to falter again.
Love For The Spinster (Women 0f Worth Book 2) Page 11