by Gayle Buck
Lady Pomerancy’s eyes snapped with errant humor. “I cannot conceive why, for you are trembling like a blancmange at sight of me. Come to tea tomorrow. I should like to talk privately to you.”
Mrs. Dower assured her ladyship that she would be delighted to do so, though her expression would not have led anyone to believe the truth of her words. Lady Pomerancy snorted before she turned her eyes on the younger lady. “Well, girl, you have entered society at last. I trust that it shall meet all your expectations.”
“I doubt it not in the least, my lady,” said Evelyn with a small smile.
Lady Pomerancy stared at Evelyn for a moment, attempting to put the girl to the blush. Her ladyship gave a sharp nod when Evelyn steadily returned the unnerving appraisal. “You’ll do.”
Lady Pomerancy had dispensed with her wheelchair for the evening. She was instead leaning heavily on a cane and the arm of her grandson. She turned her head to Mr. Hawkins. “Peter, I am tired of standing about. Find me a chair.”
“I shall do so at once, ma’am.”
Mr. Hawkins smiled and said a few words to his hostess and Miss Dower. His eyes lingered appreciatively on the younger lady before he guided his grandmother off in search of a suitably placed chair. They were flanked by a stalwart footman and her ladyship’s maid, the latter carrying her mistress’s cushion.
Once Lady Pomerancy had been settled with a small circle of friends, with her ever-vigilant maid and the footman in attendance, Mr. Hawkins was released from his duty.
He immediately set out to seek Miss Dower, only to discover that she also had dispensed with her duty in the receiving line. Not unexpectedly, he found her to be the center of attention amongst several of the guests.
Evelyn had gathered a circle of admirers from among the gentlemen. Her tawny eyes sparkled and her color was becomingly high at the compliments that she accepted. The ready laughter sprang lightly from her lips, and Mr. Hawkins had no difficulty in discerning that she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
He cast a swift critical glance over the other gentlemen surrounding Miss Dower. With the exception of Viscount Waithe and two or three others, there were none that he deemed to be of much competition. Most were very young gentlemen, but amongst the admirers were several graying heads as well. Mr. Hawkins recalled that the Bath population numbered an unusual number of retired admirals and clergymen. He grinned to himself, thinking that perhaps his own powers of address were not in any danger of being outshone, after all.
A small stringed orchestra struck up, signaling that dancing was to be the order of the evening. A wave of expectation raced over the company. Young ladies waited breathlessly to be led into the first set of a country dance that was forming. It was always an anxious moment, for no one cared to be left sitting next to the wall when there was dancing.
Miss Dower, at least, would have no lack of partners, for Mr. Hawkins could already hear the appeals of her admirers. He started forward, to put his own bid for the lady’s hand for a dance.
“Good evening, Mr. Hawkins.”
Mr. Hawkins turned. He immediately recognized the lady who had addressed him, but he was less certain of the identities of the gentleman and the young lady with her. “And to you, Miss Sparrow,” he said with a polite glance for her companions.
Miss Sparrow brought to Mr. Hawkins’s recollection her betrothed, a worthy gentleman by the name of Fiddle, and her sister. The younger Miss Sparrow blushed fierily when she was addressed and was obviously painfully shy in a gathering.
Miss Sparrow gently suggested that perhaps her betrothed might find a lemon ice for her sister. The gentleman’s face registered surprise. “I know that Maria would adore such a high treat, sir,” said Miss Sparrow with a meaningful look at Mr. Fiddle.
“Of course, my dear. With the greatest of pleasure,” responded Mr. Fiddle, his momentary amazement giving way almost immediately to polite convention. With greater presence of mind than his benign countenance suggested, Mr. Fiddle took the younger girl off.
Miss Sparrow glanced up at her tall companion with a small smile. “Maria’s come-out is such a short time away that it was thought there would be little harm in her accompanying me this evening. Mama would have accompanied Maria herself, but one of our younger sisters has the toothache and is very fretful. However, Mama had complete confidence that my chaperonage would do as well. The Dowers have been our good friends for many years, after all, and may be depended upon to have a respectable gathering.”
“I am certain that you may rest easy. Miss Sparrow,” said Mr. Hawkins. He wondered what the lady could possibly have to say to him, for her maneuver to have him alone had been obvious. He did not have long to wait.
Miss Sparrow fell silent for only a moment before saying hesitantly, “May I request a favor of you, Mr. Hawkins?”
“Certainly, Miss Sparrow.”
She smiled up at him, but with a question in her eyes. “You do not yet know what I would ask, sir.”
“I can hardly be so ungallant as to regard your unspoken request with suspicion,” he said with the quirk of a smile.
Miss Sparrow laughed. The reservation in her eyes completely vanished. “Perhaps you should, though, for what I would ask is rather indelicate. It concerns Maria, whom I care for very much, and I would not ask at all except that I know you to be a true gentleman. Mr. Hawkins, I would be very obliged if you would aid my younger sister to overcome her retiring manner in company. I—I do not mean for you to hang upon her sleeve or anything of that sort, of course, but—”
“I understand perfectly.” Mr. Hawkins smiled down at the lady reassuringly, thinking that she had the air of a small anxious hen with one chick. “I was once myself terrified of society. It is the worst feeling imaginable. I have every sympathy for Miss Maria, believe me.”
Miss Sparrow smiled her gratitude. “Thank you, sir. I had hoped that I might find a sympathetic ear in you. You seem to engender trust, as I could certainly see when Evelyn and I chanced to meet you and the viscount.”
“Miss Dower has an open and engaging manner,” said Mr. Hawkins.
Miss Sparrow’s blue eyes suddenly sharpened on him, becoming very earnest in expression. “You must believe me when I say that I have not known Evelyn to be so easy in her manners with any gentleman before.”
Mr. Hawkins recognized that Miss Sparrow was attempting to correct any erroneous conclusions about Miss Dower that might have been drawn by himself or Viscount Waithe. It said much of the quality and depth of the friendship that was enjoyed between the young ladies. “I assure you. Miss Sparrow, I have nothing but the utmost respect for Miss Dower. On the contrary, as I come to know her, I am increasingly aware of her fine qualities. As for his lordship, you may rest easy there as well. I suspect that Lord Waithe has been greatly impressed by Miss Dower’s attributes.”
“Yes, so I, too, have noticed.”
Miss Sparrow nodded at the coterie that was protesting the good fortune of one of their number, who was leading a laughing Miss Dower out onto the floor. “Evelyn is quite the belle with the gentlemen this evening. I had told her how it would be, of course. I do not think that it will be long before we hear the announcement of a betrothal.” She looked up in time to catch a glimpse of an odd expression in her companion’s eyes. It was so quickly gone that she thought she must have been mistaken.
“Perhaps not, indeed,” said Mr. Hawkins in a noncommittal voice.
Mr. Fiddle returned with Miss Maria and the offering of a lemon ice for his betrothed. “I did not forget that you, too, enjoy such refreshment, my dear,” he said gruffly, with almost an embarrassed air.
Miss Sparrow accepted the ice with blushing pleasure. She had not often in her life had her partialities catered to in such a fashion. The expression in her eyes was shyly adoring as she looked up into her betrothed’s face. “Oh, thank you! Of course it is just what I most desired.”
Mr. Fiddle turned red about the ears with gratification.
Out of politeness,
Mr. Hawkins remained with the trio for a few minutes. He deliberately directed some of his comments to Miss Sparrow’s young sister and encouraged her whenever she managed a strangled word or two. It was not long before Miss Maria had forgotten her tongue-tied awkwardness with him and began chattering happily about the party.
“It is beyond anything great! I have never before attended such a fashionable squeeze,” she confided, her blue eyes sparkling with awe.
“You will be enjoying many more such functions in future,” said Mr. Hawkins, smiling at the girl’s naive breathlessness.
Miss Maria’s eyes rounded. She glanced swiftly at her sister for confirmation. “Shall I really, Abigail?”
Miss Sparrow also smiled, her amusement accompanied by a fond glance. “Indeed you will, Maria. I shall inform Mama about your progress this evening and I am certain that she will give her consent to your attending a few more small parties such as this.”
“Miss Sparrow, if you would not object, I will introduce Miss Maria to a particular lady known to me who may be depended upon to take her under her wing,” said Mr. Hawkins.
“Of course, Mr. Hawkins,” said Miss Sparrow. There was a slight intonation of surprise in her voice, but she did not appear to be alarmed by his suggestion, but merely enjoined her sister to watch her manners.
Mr. Hawkins led away Miss Maria and brought her to the notice of a matronly acquaintance whom he knew would treat the shy young miss with kindness. He had met the lady, an acquaintance of his grandmother’s, in the Pump Room, and during their brief conversation he had learned all the news about the lady’s two stalwart sons. He had thought it would be a good thing if Miss Maria was to become acquainted with a few young gentlemen around her own age so that she could begin to feel more confident on her own in mixed company.
His obligation to Miss Sparrow fully discharged, he began to mingle again among the other guests. Though he smiled and held polite conversation with several personages, he was ever alert to the possibility of catching Miss Dower between partners in order to solicit her hand. It was undoubtedly too late to be favored with a dance, but he hoped that she had not yet been asked for dinner.
Miss Sparrow’s earlier observation was never far out of his thoughts. He found that it perturbed him to hear that Miss Sparrow, who was obviously a close friend, could predict with such certainty that Miss Dower would soon be betrothed.
Perhaps he was too complacent in concluding that he had little to be anxious about in presenting his suit to Miss Dower. He had assumed that because he was not a callow youth nor an octogenarian he would be one of the most likely gentlemen to catch her interest. Yet what did he know of a young lady’s preferences, and particularly of Miss Dower’s?
Certainly it did not appear that she felt any lack for his company, he thought, a shade grimly. Miss Dower had not been given a single moment off the dance floor. The instant one set ended, a new partner appeared at her side and swept her back as the music again struck up.
As he watched the activity of that evening, he became even more convinced that he had allowed his confidence to betray him into complacency. Miss Dower appeared impartially appreciative of the attentions that were paid her. He could not assume that she would not do the same with himself.
Mr. Hawkins discovered that a streak of jealousy was stirred in him whenever he witnessed Miss Dower bestow a smile upon another gentleman. Though never having experienced the emotion before, he had no difficulty in identifying it. It did take him by surprise, however. He had not thought himself capable of such a base emotion, especially in connection with the high regard that he held for Miss Dower. He knew that it was unworthy, but he could not shake himself of it.
Even more than jealousy, however, he felt a stab of unexpected fear. He feared that the gentlemen he had dismissed so perfunctorily might appear quite different in the estimation of a young lady of untouched heart.
Mr. Hawkins’s perturbed thoughts were not aided when Sir Charles came up beside him.
“The little Dower is quite the flame for the moths this evening. And with some reason,” commented Sir Charles, his dark eyes on the lady in question.
Mr. Hawkins glanced sharply at his friend. “Do not tell me that you are infatuated.”
Sir Charles smiled. He gave the slightest of shrugs. “Unlike Percy, I never fatigue myself with such all-consuming emotion. However, it cannot be denied that Miss Dower possesses an intriguing beauty. Perhaps it is worth pursuing.” He looked at Mr. Hawkins, his hooded eyes gleaming. “You do not dance, Peter?”
“I have not the desire,” said Mr. Hawkins shortly.
Sir Charles nodded. “True, it is an exertion like any other. The effort hardly outweighs the energy one must put into it. Yet, it does have worth, for the ladies, for some peculiar reason known only to themselves, set store by a gentleman’s talents in that direction. At any rate, it seems to greatly appeal to Miss Dower.”
“Miss Dower is naturally like any other young lady just out,” said Mr. Hawkins.
“It is your thought that she might eventually become jaded by the exercise? I do not agree, my friend. Miss Dower is a lively beauty not easily contained. As such, her favor must naturally fall upon a gentleman of social address and grace who can lavish these attentions upon her. This society boasts few gentlemen of our caliber, but I do not rule out the energy of these youthful sprigs, nor the enticement that wafts about a dodder’s bank account. It is not unknown for the older gentleman to possess the dashing young beauty and show a tolerant face at her subsequent indiscretions.”
“Have done with your philosophizing, Charles. It sets my teeth on edge,” said Mr. Hawkins abruptly.
Sir Charles sighed. “How extraordinary that one so unflappable as yourself can admit to excess imagination. You are excessively bad company this evening, Peter. One must in truth wonder why.” With a mocking smile, he excused himself.
Mr. Hawkins nodded. He was not at all put about at his friend’s departure. If the truth were told, he was relieved. He had not cared for Sir Charles’s observations. They had tallied uncomfortably close with his own and only served to underscore his sudden doubts about his chances with Miss Dower.
Chapter Eleven
If Mr. Hawkins could have but known it, his fears were very nearly groundless. Though Evelyn was thoroughly enjoying the admiration of several assorted gentlemen, her eyes strayed more than once after a certain tall figure.
When Evelyn had greeted Mr. Hawkins in the receiving line, she had been struck at once by how elegant he appeared. The exquisite cut of his dark evening coat had magnificently set off his broad shoulders; his stark white cravat flattered the line of his firm jaw and deepened the tan of his face; his silk waistcoat mutely testified to the expanse of his chest; and his close-fitting pantaloons emphasized the long, clean length of his limbs.
Evelyn had felt her pulse leap in response to the sheer virile masculinity that he embodied. It was a pity that Mr. Hawkins was too passive to determine upon his own bride because otherwise he was everything that she had ever dared to hope for in a gentleman.
An admiring glint in his eyes had told her that he was at least as impressed with her own appearance. She had seen when his glance lingered on the intriguing neckline of her gown before rising to her face. She had hoped that she had not betrayed her perception by too obvious a blush.
She had expected Mr. Hawkins to pay court to her at least once, if for no other reason than it was the conventional thing to do upon a lady’s come-out. She could always depend upon Mr. Hawkins to behave with perfect propriety, she thought with an inner smile. Her confidence had been further underpinned by that singular appreciation that she had seen in his eyes. Evelyn awaited him with close-held breath, wondering whether he would unbend enough to compliment her on her fine appearance. Despite other claims of her, she unobtrusively managed to keep watch for Mr. Hawkins’s approach.
However, Mr. Hawkins had not instantly sought her company. He had instead stood about talking with
her friends and then had taken Maria Sparrow off on his arm. Maria Sparrow, who was still in the schoolroom! Evelyn could scarcely believe it. Why, it was a positive insult to be thought of as of less importance than a schoolroom chit. After that upsetting sight, she had not glanced again in Mr. Hawkins’s direction.
Even as she laughed and danced with several partners, she inwardly fumed over the insult that she perceived for herself. Once again, Mr. Hawkins had dealt in an awkward manner where she was concerned. What was more, he did not grant her the courtesy of letting her convey her displeasure to him.
The gentleman was positively impossible, she thought, not really certain what she desired most. The opportunity to give Mr. Hawkins the set-down that he so richly deserved would give her considerable satisfaction. But she was as strongly tempted to prove to him that she was worthy of more than his grandmother’s recommendation as a bride. She had a heart, and she had a right to be wooed. Anyone with the least intelligence could certainly see that others agreed.
As she was escorted from the floor yet again, Evelyn thanked her partner.
“The pleasure was mine, I assure you. Miss Dower,” he said, leading her toward the chair that she had scarce occupied all the evening.
Evelyn glanced up into the gentleman’s face, making a laughing rejoinder as she turned away. As she did so, she practically collided with a second gentleman. Embarrassed, a swift tide of color sweeping her face, she attempted to disentangle herself. “Oh! I do beg your pardon!”
Sir Charles steadied her with a hand under her elbow. He smiled down, his eyes lingering on the soft flush in her cheeks. He said softly, “My fault entirely. Miss Dower, I do assure you. I was in hopes of soliciting your lovely hand for this next set.”
Evelyn was acutely aware of the intensity of his dark gaze. It inexplicably unnerved her, even as on the first occasion that she had met the gentleman. “Sir Charles, I—”
“Miss Dower is fortunately my partner this set.” Viscount Waithe’s voice was cheerful as he appeared beside them. He grinned at Sir Charles in a friendly way, but with a determined glint in his eyes. “Take yourself off, sirrah.”