by Gayle Buck
Sir Charles bowed. “I must yield the field.”
His glance caught Evelyn’s, entangling her in its power. Her heart missed a beat.
“This time,” he said silkily. He sauntered off.
Evelyn turned almost with relief to the viscount. At least she knew where she stood with his lordship. “My lord.”
Her expression was such that Viscount Waithe raised his brows. “What is it, Miss Dower? You appeared a little uncomfortable just now with Sir Charles.”
“I find Sir Charles somewhat... overpowering,” she admitted.
Viscount Waithe laughed as he led her onto the dance floor. “Yes, so he can be to those who are less well acquainted with him than his intimates. Sir Charles is even something of a legend in some circles.”
Evelyn was made curious. “Sir Charles a legend? How do you mean, my lord?”
“Well, as you may have readily observed. Sir Charles is what is known as an Exquisite. I do not think I have ever seen him with a hair out of place or with a crease in his coat,” said Viscount Waithe.
“But that, surely, is not the stuff of legends,” said Evelyn.
The movement of the dance separated her from the viscount and when they came together again he had obviously thought over her observation. “It is Sir Charles’s way with horses more than anything else, you see. He is a consummate whip,” he said.
“Oh well then!” said Evelyn on a laugh. “Sir Charles must definitely meet my friend, Miss Woodthorpe, for I am certain that there is nothing she admires more in a gentleman than a proper understanding of horseflesh. I shall introduce them at the first opportunity.” She smiled warmly at the viscount. “You must meet her as well, my lord, for she is quite one of my dearest friends. I know that you shall like her.”
“I will be honored,” said Viscount Waithe, smiling down at her. His thoughts had nothing to do with the pleasure of becoming acquainted with Miss Dower’s friends, however.
Standing off to one side in order to observe the country dance, Mr. Hawkins could readily interpret the expression that he glimpsed on the viscount’s amiable face. His mouth tightened momentarily, before he gave a barely perceptible shrug of resignation. He had not really expected his road to the winning of Miss Dower’s heart to be an easy one, after all. His cousin’s newfound infatuation was simply part and parcel of the whole.
If he was fortunate, and he had always thought of himself as being so, the viscount would follow his habitual pattern, and the present feverish infatuation that his lordship felt for Miss Dower would swiftly cool to friendly indifference. That would be the least complicated outcome in regard to the viscount.
Unless, of course, Miss Dower was inclined to take Viscount Waithe’s present devotion in too serious a vein.
In that instance, Mr. Hawkins thought that even at the risk of encroaching upon his friendship with his cousin, he must try to somehow turn the viscount’s thoughts elsewhere. If he did not, then his lordship’s furious flirtation would more than likely bum itself out at cost to Miss Dower’s sensitive heart. Mr. Hawkins felt that if it was in his power to do so he would shield her from such disillusionment, but at the moment he did not perceive what he could do.
“Mr. Hawkins, such a prodigious frown! I do hope that you do not find the evening disagreeable.”
Mr. Hawkins turned to find his hostess surveying him with a somewhat anxious expression. He smiled, effectively lightening his countenance. In an expression of ruefulness, he said, “Not at all, Mrs. Dower. It is only that I seem to be neatly cut out each time I detect an opportunity to pay my compliments to the lady whose evening it is. I shall confide in you, ma’am, that I have hopes of persuading Miss Dower to accept my escort in to dinner.”
Mrs. Dower smiled up at the gentleman’s twinkling eyes. “It is very bad,” she agreed. “You are, after all, quite one of our favorite acquaintances.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial fashion. “Leave it to me, Mr. Hawkins.”
The set was at that moment coming to an end. Mrs. Dower slipped her hand into Mr. Hawkins’s arm and urged him forward to intercept her daughter and the viscount as they left the floor.
“Oh, Lord Waithe! There you are. You must forgive me for not visiting with you already this evening. Pray, will you be so kind to allow me to make up for my deficiency by adjoining with me to the refreshments? I discover that I am parched with thirst,” said Mrs. Dower.
“Certainly, ma’am,” said Viscount Waithe courteously.
In almost the blink of an eye, Mrs. Dower had whisked the viscount off, leaving behind with Mr. Hawkins the laughing admonition to see that her daughter was well looked after.
“I assure you that I shall do my utmost best, ma’am,” he said on the ghost of a laugh. He was still smiling when he looked down at Miss Dower. “At last I have the opportunity that I have been awaiting all evening, to tell you how very lovely you are tonight.”
Evelyn blushed, caught by surprise at the unexpectedness of his gallantry. She wondered at his unusual forwardness as she met his intent glance. “That is a vastly pretty compliment, sir.”
“But only the first of many, if you will but consent to do me the honor of joining me for dinner,” he said.
Evelyn hesitated as the unbidden thought came to her mind that Lady Pomerancy must surely have coached him for days in just how best to approach her. But perhaps she was not giving the gentleman credit when it was due. Perhaps, she thought, he had not needed any prodding in this instance.
“You do not yet have a dinner partner, Miss Dower, I hope?”
“No, but—” At his quizzical look, Evelyn gave a small laugh. She yielded to the curiosity that had risen in her at his invitation. What lady could reject the prospect of being paid court. “Thank you, Mr. Hawkins. I would be delighted with your escort at dinner.”
With a lopsided smile, as though he had guessed the reason for her reluctance, Mr. Hawkins offered his arm to her. Accepting it, Evelyn allowed him to lead her into the dining room.
Chapter Twelve
Mrs. Dower had rejected the notion of a formal table and had instead arranged that the room adjoining the small ballroom to be set up with several seatings and a buffet supper, so that as her guests were inclined to do so they could adjoin to the impromptu dining room where they could be served in intimate groups. The result assured an air of comfortable intimacy to the large gathering and was greatly admired, as was evidenced by various comments that could be overheard.
If Mr. Hawkins hoped to enjoy something of a tête-à-tête with Miss Dower, his ambitions were speedily dashed.
Miss Sparrow and her sister Maria were already seated at one table, the remains of their supper evident on the plates before them. Miss Sparrow, espying Evelyn and Mr. Hawkins, immediately waved them over.
“Do join us, Evelyn! Mr. Hawkins, surely you have met Miss Woodthorpe and her brother, John?”
Acknowledging Miss Sparrow’s greeting and Maria’s shy smile, Mr. Hawkins glanced at the other two occupants at the table. Seated beside Miss Woodthorpe was a gentleman whose youthful countenance bore a strong resemblance to the lady’s own. “I have not previously had that pleasure, no.”
“Miss Woodthorpe and John are two of my particular friends,” said Evelyn, glancing up at her escort’s face.
She felt a half beat of disappointment when his expression did not reflect some annoyance that he was not to have her company to himself. Evelyn inwardly sighed, knowing it would hardly have been in character for the gentleman to be so rude as to reveal any such thing in light of her declaration.
Instead, Mr. Hawkins said all that was pleasant as he seated her at the table. Then he inquired after Evelyn’s preferences and excused himself to go fetch a plate for her and himself.
Evelyn watched him go, and when she turned her head back to her friends, she discovered that Miss Sparrow and Miss Woodthorpe were both looking at her with varying degrees of amusement in their expressions. “I shan’t hear a word from either of you,” she said d
efensively.
“I would not dream of it, Evelyn,” said Miss Woodthorpe.
“Nor I,” said Miss Sparrow gravely, then marred her solemnity by the lightest of laughs. “I do think Mr. Hawkins is the dearest of gentlemen, however. The lady who entertains his suit will be exceptionally fortunate.”
“Oh yes, indeed. He is ever so kind. I should like to marry him myself,” said Maria with a vigorous nod.
“What a thing to say! Why, you’re just a baby,” said John Woodthorpe in surprise.
Maria threw a mutinous look at him. “I am quite sixteen and very nearly out. And I have already been assured that I have the admiration of two gentlemen, at least.”
John Woodthorpe made a derisive sound.
Maria flushed. “It is true! Mrs. Culpepper’s sons paid me the most lovely compliments.”
“Ned and Robert Culpepper? Are you daft? Why, they are the greatest gudgeons alive. I shouldn’t want my sisters to receive their attentions,” said John with brutal honesty.
Maria burst into tears. “Oh, you are horrid, horrid!”
At once, Miss Sparrow put her arms about the younger girl, speaking to her soothingly. “Never mind, Maria. I am certain the Culpeppers are as esteemable as one could wish. Young gentlemen often speak critically of their peers, never meaning the half of what is said.”
“Well, I like that!” exclaimed John indignantly. “I have been truthful as can be.”
“John, that is quite enough.” said Miss Woodthorpe.
The young gentleman appealed to his sister. “Well, but it is true! You know it is. Ned and Robert have always been pattern cards of the stiffest respectability and jobbers to boot.”
Miss Sparrow rose, her arms still about her sister’s shoulders so that she drew the weeping Maria from her chair as well. “I think that I shall take Maria upstairs for a few moments to compose herself. It has been such a very exciting evening. Evelyn, if Mr. Fiddle should return before I do, will you tell him where I have gone?”
“Of course I shall,” said Evelyn sympathetically.
Miss Sparrow smiled at her gratefully and led her sister away.
Miss Woodthorpe gave her younger brother a rakedown for his indiscretion. “Whatever your own feelings, John, you should not have paraded them so emphatically. I do think that Maria is owed an apology.”
“Yes, of course,” he muttered. He jerkily excused himself, his thin face flushed, and went off.
Miss Woodthorpe coolly looked over at Evelyn and raised a slender brow. “Well, the sensitive topic of Mr. Hawkins was conveniently passed over, was it not?”
Evelyn spluttered on a laugh. “Yes, perhaps it was,” she owned. “But I shan’t say more than that, Pol.”
“I did not expect that you would,” said Miss Woodthorpe imperturbably.
Mr. Hawkins returned, accompanied by Viscount Waithe. Evelyn introduced the viscount to Miss Woodthorpe and explained the sudden lessening of numbers of their party. The remainder of dinner was very pleasant and uninterrupted except for Mr. Fiddle’s reappearance. Once apprised of the situation, however, that gentleman went off again in search of the Misses Sparrow.
Evelyn did not expect that Mr. Hawkins would claim her company further once dinner was done with, but he surprised her again by requesting her hand in a set.
“If you wish it, Mr. Hawkins,” she said.
“I wish for nothing else but this particular honor,” said Mr. Hawkins gravely.
Evelyn was aware at once of Miss Woodthorpe’s amusement and the viscount’s slight frown. She knew that Mr. Hawkins’s statement had fueled her friend’s speculations, but there was nothing that she could do to remedy the impression. As for Viscount Waithe, though his expression was pleasant and gave no further hint of his thoughts, Evelyn suspected that he felt somewhat abandoned. She was confident, however, that Miss Woodthorpe would keep Viscount Waithe sufficiently entertained, and she went away in good spirits with her hand laid on Mr. Hawkins’s elbow.
Evelyn discovered that Mr. Hawkins was a superb dancer. “You astound me, sir. Is there no end to your perfections?” she asked.
Mr. Hawkins looked down at her and gave her a smile of such dazzling charm that she blinked. “I do believe that is the first compliment that you have ever paid me, Miss Dower.”
“Oh no, surely not,” said Evelyn, her color heightening.
“I assure you that it is. I hope to elicit several more accolades from you before the Season is finished,” said Mr. Hawkins, still smiling.
There was a certain warm intensity in his gaze that made Evelyn’s heart flutter. “I believe it is the lady who is generally thought to harbor such hopes,” she said.
“But you are an unusual lady. Miss Dower, as I trust that you will acknowledge one day,” said Mr. Hawkins quietly. “I have never laid my heart at the feet of any other.”
Evelyn stiffened in his arms. Her eyes flashed at him. “Indeed, sir! I can well imagine that you have not, if her ladyship had anything to say of the matter.”
Mr. Hawkins appeared a good deal astonished. “What do you mean, Miss Dower?”
The music came to an end. Evelyn instantly moved apart from him. “I believe you know very well, Mr. Hawkins. And I assure you that I wish no part of such a scheme. I am sorry to wound you, Mr. Hawkins, but I could never accept your suit knowing what I know.”
She started to turn away, but she was caught fast by her elbow. She looked up, astonished that the correct Mr. Hawkins would so detain her. She was even more surprised by the grimness of his expression. “Sir!” she directed a meaningful glance down at his fingers clasped about her arm.
“I apologize for my heavy-handedness, Miss Dower. However, I should like to hear what it is that you say you know,” he said. He gestured courteously with his free hand, as though requesting her company, but the pressure of his fingers left little doubt in Evelyn’s mind that he was quite determined that she accompany him.
Evelyn threw another glance up at his profile when she realized that he was drawing her over to a settee against the wall. She could scarcely believe that this most proper of gentlemen would actually dare to defy convention in even such a small matter.
“Pray be seated, Miss Dower.”
Evelyn sat down, perforce because she did not wish to make a scene, but she sat bolt upright with her hands held tight in her lap. Her eyes lowered, she said, “I do not wish to discuss this matter with you, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Nevertheless, Miss Dower, you may begin with your reference to my grandmother. That is apparently the crux,” he said quietly.
Evelyn rounded on him, stung out of proportion by his reasonable tone. “How could it be otherwise, sir? I was never more insulted in my life. And that you fell in with her ladyship’s suggestion with the greatest of indifference—! I suppose it would not have mattered if I had been squint-eyed and possessed of a madwoman’s temperament, as long as I had Lady Pomerancy’s stamp of approval!”
Mr. Hawkins regarded her with the beginning dawn of understanding, which became swiftly intermingled with amusement. “My dear Miss Dower, I assure you that was not quite the way things proceeded.”
Evelyn was further incensed by the springing of laughter into his eyes. “Oh, naturally not! I imagine that her ladyship had only to present to you how very proper such a match would be,” she retorted.
Mr. Hawkins had the audacity to laugh.
She rose hastily from the settee. “Excuse me, Mr. Hawkins. I must not neglect my mother’s other guests.” She swept past him, her head held high.
Evelyn’s wrist was caught in a gentle yet commanding grasp. Evelyn was consternated as she turned to face the gentleman. More and more Mr. Hawkins was surprising her, throwing her increasingly off balance. “Unhand me!” she hissed softly.
“I do not think so, Miss Dower. You have thrown a hard accusation in my teeth. I ask that you do me the courtesy of finishing this conversation,” said Mr. Hawkins. “Pray sit down again, Miss Dower.”
Evelyn r
egarded him with some resentment. She glanced down at the imprisoning fingers about her wrist. “I have little choice but to do so, it seems.”
Mr. Hawkins smiled slightly, even regretfully. “Believe me, this is not my usual style.”
Evelyn resumed her place on the settee. She lifted a significant brow as he let go of her. She rubbed her wrist, though it felt not so much pained from his fingers as it did branded. “No, it is not, Mr. Hawkins. I am profoundly shocked, I assure you.”
“No more than I, Miss Dower. I was not aware of several things about myself until this evening,” said Mr. Hawkins reflectively. At her look of impatient confusion, he smiled. “Forgive me, ma’am. I digress to little purpose, it seems. Pray continue. You were on the point of explaining your aversion to my suit.”
“How could it be otherwise, Mr. Hawkins? A lady prefers to know that she is the gentleman’s choice, not the object of a proposed marriage of convenience,” said Evelyn tightly, not looking at his face.
There was a short silence. When she dared to glance up, it was to meet a contemplative regard from his blue eyes. Evelyn felt herself flush. “I am sorry to put it so baldly, sir.”
“I am glad that you did so, Miss Dower.” Mr. Hawkins was silent a moment, then sighed. “Miss Dower, I wish to assure you that it has ever been my choice to court you.”
Evelyn was discomfited. “I did not mean to imply that you did so under false pretenses, Mr. Hawkins.”
“No.”
She looked up quickly. The expression in his eyes was somber. The amazing thought came to her that she could have been mistaken. Perhaps he did care for her.
Evelyn bent her head, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had. Carefully she pleated her skirt. “I—I wanted only to be assured of your true regard.” With shortened breath she awaited his reply. Surely with such blatant encouragement he would declare himself.
“Quite.”
“Oh!” Bitter disappointment flooded her, dashing her trembling hopes. Evelyn sprang up. “You are utterly impossible!” She ran away across the dance floor, her progress noted by curious glances.