by Leenie Brown
Henry leaned closer to Constance and whispered his apology. “My mind was still on Mr. Edwards. I should have known you would not ask such a thing.”
He paused to inhale the fragrance of roses that always surrounded her. It was quickly becoming his favourite fragrance. He would have to ask her what it was so that when he found a lady willing to marry him, he could purchase some for her.
He studied the lady sitting next to him. It really was too bad she was Linton’s sister. For if she was not, he was almost certain he would request of her brother to call on her. Then again, if she was not Linton’s sister, he would never have been allowed the opportunity to know her so well. She, like so many other proper young ladies, would have smiled politely at him, answered his questions with great civility, and never shown an ounce of preference for a gentleman with his reputation. Well, he supposed, that was not entirely correct. He was not without means, and there were proper chits that needed to make an advantageous marriage. In fact, he had thought that it might be best to start his quest for a bride with such ladies.
He leaned close to her again. “I do believe it.” He shrugged when she looked his direction. “I understand the need to marry well and all that. However, I am enough of a sap to hope for marriage to be established on love if at all possible or mutual respect at the least.”
Constance touched his arm quickly and lightly. There was a well of sorrow within the man next to her, and she knew it was not all from his rejection by Miss Price. “Your uncle’s marriage was not such an arrangement, was it?” she asked softly.
He shook his head.
“That is unfortunate. My mother and father’s marriage was.” One shoulder lifted and lowered in a half shrug. “I wish for such a marriage. I think many ladies do. Who does not wish to be respected?” Again she touched his arm. “Oh, I know there are those who prefer wealth and position, but I believe, if such a lady were to be honest with herself, she would admit that such things are empty. Why else would she go looking for …” She clamped her lips closed and darted a look at her brother, who had cleared his throat.
Henry chuckled. He found the way Constance could get carried away by a topic and forget herself enough to trip over the thin line of propriety delightful. Sometimes her ideas would come out as a scold or, like now, as a passionate lecture as if she were instructing a room full of eager students.
She had lectured him on several things when they had toured the museum the other day, and, over the course of the last sennight, she had scolded him each and every time she thought he had forgotten to do something to his best ability. He had never had a more charming or alluring tutor. And his reward for having done as she expected — the sparkle in her eyes and the joy on her lips — was something he was beginning to crave.
He shot Linton a look of amusement. “I know I should not say it as it is highly improper, but I do know a thing or two about dissatisfied ladies, and you have the right of it.”
Her cheeks grew rosy, and she lowered her gaze, just as he knew she would. She only broached such topics when her mind was able in the passion of the moment to forget how improper a topic might be. However, when she was under good regulation, which she nearly always was, anything that even alluded to impropriety was met with the appropriate shock and embarrassment one would expect from a proper lady of delicate sensibilities.
Linton shook his head and rolled his eyes while a small smile touched his lips as the musicale was called to order. Henry breathed a sigh of relief. As much as he did not mind Constance’s scolding, her brother’s reprimand would be far less pleasant.
“Miss Foss plays very well, does she not?” Constance whispered in the pause between one lady leaving the piano and another arranging herself at her harp.
Henry nodded his agreement.
“And she is lovely and very proper.” A strange flutter of something settled around Constance’s heart. She had decided as she had sat in front of her mirror having her hair pinned into place, that it was time for her student to begin practising his skills on ladies that were not her and in situations that were not confined to dancing. She bit her lip as Henry agreed. She was most likely just nervous about sending her student out to be tested. She was not one who liked to fail, and should Henry fall short in any way, she would feel as if she had failed.
“You should approach her at the intermission,” Constance suggested. “She is not being courted by anyone in particular even though her dowry is sizeable and her accomplishments nearly without fault. However, she is quiet and such reserve is somewhat off-putting to many gentlemen.” She turned and smiled at him. “I know, you will succeed where others have not, for you are most amiable. Miss Foss will have no difficulty conversing with you.”
“Is she dull?” Henry whispered as he turned his head to observe the lovely Miss Foss. She had a slight figure, not as well rounded as Constance’s but pleasing, and her expression as she spoke to the older lady beside her was open and sincere.
“No, I have never found her to be,” Constance replied. “However, I find fascination in things that others might not, so you will have to judge that for yourself.”
“You are not dull.” Henry shot her a smile, which was returned.
The first notes of the harp filled the room, and Constance touched her lips lightly, indicating that their conversation was over for the moment. The musician was proficient, and her song was beautiful, but Henry only half listened to it. His mind was otherwise occupied — first, in contemplation of how Constance’s lips should feel if he were to place his finger on them, and then, by the unsettling knowledge that he would likely never know, both because her brother would kill him if he were to attempt to discover such a thing and because she seemed eager to have him on his way. Why else was she suggesting ladies to him? He knew that eventually, he would have to venture beyond the comfort of Constance’s company, but he did not feel prepared to do so. In fact, his whole being clenched in aversion to the idea.
He leaned towards Constance. “Must I approach her tonight? Mightn’t we just begin a list of options, and then I can begin another time?”
Again, she lay that finger on her lips.
“You do not know my preferences,” he whispered.
Her brows furrowed with annoyance, and her lips pursed, but she made no other reply. She would not. During a performance was not the appropriate time to be speaking of such things — which Henry should know. Perhaps her student was not yet ready to present himself to best advantage among the sort of lady he claimed to be seeking. Maybe they should just discuss the possibilities and make a few introductions tonight. A child was not required to know how to read Shakespeare after a few lessons. He would be given time and opportunity to practice and improve. Perhaps that is what Henry needed — a gentle, considerate coaxing into society at large.
“Very well,” she said, during the next break between musicians. “I will continue to point out those who I think are good choices, and Aunt Gwladys can make introductions as needed. Then tomorrow, we shall meet, and you can give me your list of preferences.”
For the second time since he had sat down next to her this evening, Henry breathed a sigh of relief. This time, not because he feared her brother, but because he would not have to face being pushed out of her society for a while longer.
Chapter 6
Constance placed her pen in its holder and studied the list of five names before her. Each lady had seemed welcoming last night when Aunt Gwladys had introduced Henry to them, and although each chaperone had either raised a disapproving brow or given Henry an assessing look, his manners had seemed to win them over. He would likely not be turned away if he were to request a dance from or call on any of the ladies on this list. It was a good place to start. These ladies were all reserved and proper, which was what Henry had said he wanted during that first meeting when he had begged for her help.
She bit her lip and read the list again. Yes, they were all good candidates, all lovely young women, all friends and acqua
intances of long standing. Each would make an excellent wife and mother. She should be delighted to have found five such possibilities for Henry, but she was not. She blew out a great breath and rose from the desk in the library before she succumbed to the odd desire to tear that list to shreds and toss it into the flames.
She paced a circuit around the room. Perhaps Henry’s preferences would eliminate all of those ladies as options, she thought hopefully as she paused by the window and watched the people on the street below. A light rain was falling, so everyone was shuffling along much more quickly than normal. She rubbed her arms and turned back toward the fire. She would read a book until Henry’s arrival. She could not think any longer about what sort of woman Henry needed as a wife. She had spent far too much time dwelling on that very thought instead of sleeping. She would wait to see what Henry’s preferences were and then plan from there.
“Where are you off to this afternoon?” Linton asked as he entered the library.
“I am remaining at home today,” Constance replied as she settled into a burgundy chair that wrapped around her.
Linton had crossed the room and was pulling a book from the shelf. “No outing with Crawford?” He glanced over his shoulder at her.
She shook her head. “No, he is calling here in a little less than an hour.”
Her brother propped himself against a shelf and pretended to flip through the pages of his book. She knew he was not earnestly looking in the book, for his eyes were focused elsewhere — namely the floor in front of him.
“How many days has he called on you now?’
Constance tapped her fingers on her leg as she mentally listed off the things she had done with Henry since that first day he had appeared in her brother’s drawing room looking for help. “If I count the ball where you insisted I dance with him, that would make today nine days that we have spent time together in one fashion or another.” Nine, lovely days. She smiled softly and then sighed silently. Today might be their last for a while. Henry would likely call to let her know how things were progressing if she asked him to do so, but he would be driving other ladies through the park. Someone else would be on his arm as they toured the museum. The chair next to him at the theatre would be filled but not by her.
“I heard someone comment at my club this morning that Henry was courting you.”
Constance looked up at her brother, who was still leaning against that shelf, holding his book in one hand but with his arms crossed. “And?” she prodded.
“I told them he was not courting you and that you were merely just friends.”
She swallowed the sadness that rose in her throat at Trefor’s comments and nodded her head. “That is true. Did they believe you?”
She knew how the ton worked. Once someone got an idea in their head, it was often hard to remove it. However, Henry’s calling on other ladies would surely add veracity to what her brother had said.
Linton shrugged. “They seemed to, but one can never be too certain.” He pushed off from the shelf and came to take a seat across from her. “It might be best to end your arrangement with him. I should hate for you not to have any other options present themselves because they believe you are already spoken for.” He spoke gently and smiled as he placed a hand on her knee. “Remember, you have only one season before Aunt Gwladys begins arranging matches.”
Constance forced a smile to her lips, though she could not seem to summon any actual amusement at the thought.
“Are you well?” Her brother asked, his brows furrowing in concern.
Constance nodded. It was a lie. She was not well. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess much like the yarn in her aunt’s basket the last time Princess, their aunt’s cat, had entertained herself with it.
“Are you certain?” He was still looking at her with that concerned expression.
Constance nodded again and then shook her head. She could not lie to her brother. It was not something she did.
“Is it Crawford?”
She blew out a breath. “I do not know what or who it is.” She suspected it had something to do with Henry, but she could not say with perfect accuracy that he was the root of her muddled mind.
“You should end your agreement with him,” her brother said firmly.
“I intend to,” she replied. “That is why Aunt Gwladys introduced him to so many ladies last night. They are the beginning of a list of likely candidates for the role of Mrs. Crawford.” Her heart pinched as she said it. “It is also why Mr. Crawford is calling today. We are going to go through the list and see which ones fit his preferences. Then, once I know more precisely what he is looking for in a wife, I can suggest other ladies to him.” Oh, that thought made her wish to cry! She despised how weepy she became when overly tired.
“A list?” her brother asked curiously.
She tilted her head toward that rotten piece of paper. “It’s on the desk.”
Her brother rose and went to read it. “These are all good choices. Fine upstanding families and all that. None in need of a man of wealth.”
Constance nodded her head. “I know. Well funded and proper. Perfect selections.” She really should be more pleased with Henry’s prospects, but the more she attempted to be, the more she wanted to fly back to her room and water her pillow with her tears for the next several hours. She should have told her maid that she was unwell this morning and stayed in bed. It was obvious that she was too tired for anyone’s good.
“Three have sisters who have produced the required heir in short order for their husbands, so Mr. Crawford should not need to worry on that account if he selects one of them.”
Her brother peered over the paper at her. “I really wish you would find such topics less easy to discuss.”
She smiled at him. “I assure you that I turn a brilliant shade of red if any such topic is discussed in my presence. However, I find that speaking to you does not cause me the same unease. So perhaps it is your fault.”
He laughed. “I will not own that, but I am glad to hear you are not as willing to canvas such delicate topics with society as a whole.” He placed the paper back on the desk. “You say Crawford will be here in less than an hour?”
“Half an hour, if the clock has been wound and is trustworthy,” she replied.
“Well, then, I shall leave you to your reading while you wait.” He paused at the door, turned, and gave her one last assessing look. “Would you allow him to court you if he asked?” He opened his mouth and closed it again. “I mean, has he improved so much as to be thought worthy of a proper chit’s hand?”
Constance shrugged and nodded. “I believe he is. He likely still needs a bit of guidance as things are still new to him, but yes, I believe he is.”
“Would you accept him? I mean if you liked him as more than a friend — not that I think you do,” her brother stammered in a rather flustered fashion. “I am just attempting to gauge how much you think him improved.”
Again she nodded. “I would.”
“Then,” her brother smiled, “well done.”
“Thank you,” she said as he turned to leave the room. At least one person thought that what she had accomplished in helping Henry was a good thing. Personally, with as scrambled as her thoughts were at the moment, she was not so certain that what she had done was anything less than dreadful.
~*~*~
Henry dashed from his carriage to the door of the Linton’s townhouse. He knocked and then pulled his collar closer about his neck and tapped his hat down just a bit further. There was little he liked less on days like this than rain, cold rain, dripping down his back. Thankfully, Atkins was quick in answering the door, and Henry soon found himself relieved of his wet coat and hat and standing near the fire in the drawing room.
“Connie is in the library,” Linton said as he entered the room. “She’s reading while she waits for you. A tad early, are you not?” He wore a pleased smile.
Henry could well imagine why. He had not to this point in his life been known f
or his promptness. He had rather always preferred to arrive a few minutes past when he was expected. Time had never been his master, but rather he attempted to be the master of it – doing what he wished when he wished to do it. He took out his watch that had for years only been a decoration and looked at it. “I am only five minutes ahead of my time.”
Linton chuckled. “Then have a seat and spend a few of those five minutes with me.”
Henry sat in the chair his friend indicated.
“Your name came up at my club this morning,” Linton began as he took a seat next to Henry.
Henry’s brows rose. “I cannot imagine that I have done anything worthy of gossip. I have been spending my time most circumspectly.”
Linton nodded. “Yes, that was one comment that was made. It seems your change in behaviour has not gone without notice.” He crossed one ankle over the other. “Your attention to Connie has also not gone unnoticed. In fact, some were speculating that you had changed your behaviour to persuade me to accept you for her.” He tilted his head and studied his friend. “Connie tells me that you have progressed to the point that I would not be wrong in accepting you as a possible suitor. I commend you on your success, of course, but I know that is not your design, and I said as much to the prattlers.” He shrugged and shook his head. “I am not sure if the busybodies will heed my words or not, and I cannot say I am not a little worried that Connie’s options for making a match will not be hindered by such talk.”
Henry’s heart sank. He did not wish to harm Constance in any fashion — not purposefully or accidentally. “I had worried my being seen with her might cause some unpleasantness. I said so on our first drive.”