A Most Unconventional Match

by Julia Justiss

  She gave him a wry smile. ‘I’m afraid I’m a terrible coward. I’d much rather retire to my studio, immerse myself in my paints and canvas and emerge only into the indulgent company of my family.’

  ‘Wrong, though,’ Hal said. ‘Society not censure. Society embrace you. Be Diamond.’

  ‘Sounds rather hard and cold,’ she said. ‘But, let us return to your dilemma. Not feeling you could reconcile it with your conscience to tell your mama a complete lie, you now feel compelled to tender me an invitation?’

  Hal’s trepidation returned. ‘Yes,’ he admitted.

  ‘I’ve scarcely left the house since Everitt died,’ she said, the amusement fading from her eyes. For a long moment she stared into the distance, sadness settling on her face. Then she shook her head and said briskly, ‘But I suppose it’s time I ventured forth. After all, it cannot be as bad as you enduring an evening upon the Marriage Mart with your mama’s protégée in tow. So, where was it that you had engaged to accompany me?’

  ‘You…you want to go?’ Hal asked incredulously.

  ‘I would be honoured to have your escort,’ she said softly, her blue gaze catching his and holding it.

  Hal’s chest expanded until wasn’t sure he’d be able to grab a breath. Of course, Elizabeth was merely grateful for his help, and kind enough to wish to assist him out of his difficulty with Mama. But the very thought of escorting her, of walking into some public place with her hand on his arm…

  Elizabeth Lowery beside him in a carriage, her rose scent wrapping around his head. Her golden curls brushing his shoulder, the warmth of her body radiating toward him, her lips, the delicious curves of her body but inches away…The rush of images made him dizzy with anticipation and desire.

  He tried to beat his thoughts back into order. She saw him not as a man, but as Nicky’s friend, that was all. Someone as safe and companionable as…as the elderly cousin who still lived with her. He mustn’t make of it any more than that.

  ‘Where…want to go?’ he asked at last.

  ‘Did you have no place in mind? I confess, I’ve gone abroad so seldom in London, I have no idea.’

  ‘Theatre? Go early. Take David.’ With the boy as chaperon, surely Hal would find it easier to control his riotous senses and rampaging imagination. Besides, he enjoyed the boy’s company and David was old enough that he ought to begin experiencing more of the city.

  ‘You wouldn’t mind?’ she asked, her face lighting. ‘That would be wonderful! I’m sure David would love such a treat. How very kind you are! So, when was this ball you couldn’t bear to attend?’

  ‘Next Friday.’

  ‘Then,’ she said, her eyes dancing, ‘David and I would be delighted to confirm our previous engagement to attend the theatre with you next Friday.’

  Still scarcely able to believe she’d accepted him, Hal nodded. ‘Next Friday. Good. Well, better get to work.’

  She stood, signalling Hal to rise as well. ‘I hope your task progresses. Perhaps I should go meet David’s newest best friend, don’t you think?’

  Shortly afterward, Hal found himself in the library, barely remembering how he’d got there, so filled with marvel was he that Elizabeth Lowery had agreed to ride out with him. He almost wished Mama could see them together. What a shock it would be to her to discover a woman of Mrs Lowery’s incomparable loveliness on the arm of her doltish son!

  Except that her seeing them together would be a very bad idea indeed. He’d deliberately encouraged his mama’s erroneous assumption that Mrs Lowery was a dowdy older lady of no social importance. If Mama ever discovered Elizabeth was, in fact, young, well bred and extremely beautiful, any number of unpleasant consequences might follow.

  She could be jealous, seeing Hal’s attendance on someone of Elizabeth’s youth and loveliness as a threat to her dominance over her son. She could resent Elizabeth for causing Hal to slight her current favourite. Worst of all, she might descend upon Green Street to conduct the inquisition Hal had previously imagined with dread.

  No, best that Mama be safely ensconced at her ton society ball while he squired Elizabeth Lowery.

  And despite the restraining effect David Lowery’s presence with them should have upon his desire, if Hal wanted to be assured of keeping his lustful urges under control, it would be advisable to pay a visit to sweet Sally the night before their excursion to the theatre.

  Chapter Ten

  Three days later, Elizabeth sat in the schoolroom, watching David with his puppy. Proud of the skills Mr Waterman had assisted him in training Max, David had persuaded her to let him bring the dog into the house just this once so he might demonstrate Max’s achievements.

  ‘Sit, Max,’ David was commanding. His tail wagging, the puppy settled his hindquarters on the floor and looked up at her son hopefully.

  ‘Good boy,’ David said and fed the dog a titbit. ‘Uncle Hal said I should reward Max each time he does what I tell him. He said after a while, Max will want to obey me even if I don’t give him treats.’

  ‘It seems to work,’ Elizabeth observed. ‘Should I lay in a stock of sweetmeats before your tutor arrives, to reward you for doing your lessons?’ she teased.

  ‘Of course not, Mama,’ he replied seriously. ‘I shall do my lessons because I am ’sponsible. Uncle Hal says I have to be strong and wise and learn to take care of what is mine, like you and Lowery Hall.’

  Though Elizabeth wasn’t sure she approved of the informality of her son calling Mr Waterman ‘Uncle Hal’, David had been so excited when he told her he’d been given permission to do so that she hadn’t had the heart to forbid it. Indeed, after years of secondhand acquaintance through Nicky and her sister, so well did she feel she knew the man that she herself often thought of him as simply ‘Hal’ and had to be careful not to slip up and address him so.

  Weaving himself around David’s ankles, Max barked, obviously wishing to recall his master’s attention. ‘Good boy,’ David said, dropping another treat into his mouth.

  Who was training whom? Elizabeth wondered with a chuckle. Then a knock sounded, followed by the entrance of the butler. Her momentary flare of excitement subsided when Sands announced, ‘Sir Gregory is below, ma’am. Shall I tell him you will receive him shortly?’

  Elizabeth glanced at her worn painting gown, now liberally adorned with puppy hair. ‘Yes, I’ll join him as soon as I change into something more suitable.’

  ‘Please, Mama, can Max stay here a little longer? I’ll take him back to the stable before nuncheon, I promise,’ David asked.

  ‘Since you are doing such a good job, I suppose he can remain a little longer. Just this once.’

  ‘Thank you, Mama! Uncle Hal says that in the city a dog should stay outside, but if he is well behaved he can come in the house sometimes.’

  ‘Well, if “Uncle Hal”, says so, then I suppose it must be true.’ Giving David a hug, she walked out.

  Her son had certainly taken to Mr Waterman, she mused as she crossed the hall to her chamber. His conversation now was frequently punctuated with ‘Uncle Hal said…’

  While her maid helped her change into a morning gown, Elizabeth let her thoughts wander around the fascinating topic of Hal Waterman.

  Chary of speech as he was, Mr Waterman seemed to have had no difficulty communicating a great deal of useful advice to her son. Though his kindness and the attention he showered on her son filled her with gratitude, Elizabeth hoped David wasn’t growing too attached to him.

  After all, Mr Waterman was merely discharging the obligation he felt he owed Nicky. Once her sister and brother-in-law returned, there would be no reason for him to continue his almost-daily visits. At that point, David would probably transfer his need for masculine attention to Nicky without missing too keenly the loss of Mr Waterman’s comforting presence.

  Not being a small boy who simply needed the guiding hand of any concerned gentleman to ease him through his grief for his late father, she wasn’t sure she would be equally successful at not missin
g Mr Waterman.

  Elizabeth dismissed her maid and sat at her dressing table. Not quite ready yet to meet the meticulous Sir Gregory, she studied her reflection, idly twisting one blonde curl around her finger.

  She had to admit she would have preferred that it were Mr Waterman who’d asked for her. She’d not seen much of that gentleman these last few days and had to confess herself a bit jealous that though he seemed always to find the time during his trips to Everitt’s library to stop and visit with David and Max, he did not always call upon her. Unfortunately his other obligations seemed to occupy his afternoons and evenings, so that he usually came by in the morning while she worked in her studio.

  She’d recently taken to beginning her painting sessions earlier, that she might finish in time to catch him for a brief conversation before he left.

  She always had a valid reason to stop by the library, of course. First it was to propose that, if Mr Waterman could reconcile it with his conscience, he escort them to an afternoon performance at Astley’s on the day of Lady Cowper’s ball rather than to the theatre, David being more apt to be awake and alert at that earlier hour. At his tender age, her son would likely find the equestrian displays more enthralling than the stage, and if they took David for ices after the performance and made a meandering journey home, they would still retain Hal late enough to provide him with an excuse to avoid his mama’s event.

  Another day she’d had a question about finances; on another she’d wished to inquire about his progress. Still, she had to admit to herself that it was more her desire to come into his presence for a few moments than a truly urgent need to consult him that led her to seek him out.

  No, Hal Waterman would certainly not miss her company as keenly as she would miss his. From what she gathered of the little he’d told her about his investments, he was a busy man who would probably be grateful to be relieved of the burden of tending the affairs of one modestly situated widow of no social importance.

  Though, sadly, somehow his mother had so mishandled her relationship with her son that he seemed to dread spending time with her, as a mother herself she could appreciate the woman’s apparent eagerness to see her son happily married and settled. Absurdly shy as he appeared to be with women, possessed as he was of wealth, an impressive lineage and a compelling personal presence, at whatever point he decided he was at last ready to marry, his mama would doubtless have no difficulty assembling a large selection of beautiful, charming, well-bred, rich heiresses to tempt him.

  Dismissing an unpleasant flash of what, she realised with some chagrin, had to be jealousy, she could only hope the lucky lady who eventually won his affections was intelligent enough to appreciate her good fortune.

  Judging by his panicked avoidance of his mother’s latest matrimonial candidate, however, Mr Waterman was nowhere near ready to step into the parson’s mousetrap. Indeed, she ought to be grateful to his mother for inspiring the desperation that had led to his invitation.

  Though at first the idea of appearing in public with anyone other than Everitt had seemed impossible, by the time Mr Waterman tendered his invitation, she was feeling more equal to the task. With Hal performing the role of escort, she was now quite looking forward to it.

  Though she told herself most of her pleasure was the delight of being able to watch David enjoy one of London’s most famous spectacles, she was honest enough to allow that the idea of spending time in close proximity to Mr Waterman also inspired an undercurrent of purely sensual anticipation. Her shattered heart still grieved for her dear Everitt, but as a young woman in her prime, surely she couldn’t be faulted for being susceptible to the pull of physical attraction.

  The idea of Mr Waterman’s broad shoulders pressed into the carriage seat beside her, his tall, commanding figure looming over her as he helped her in and out of the vehicle, his well-formed knee perhaps brushing hers in the small space of the Astley Amphitheatre’s benches caused a pleasant tremor deep within her. She imagined looking up at his handsome profile, outlined by the torches as the horsemen galloped across the arena. Watching the movement of those sculpted lips during his occasional comments…feeling the touch of those big hands stroking her cheek…

  Along with the loss of sharing everyday thoughts and experiences with her husband, she missed the whole range of physical tenderness. Everitt’s touch on her arm as he guided her through a doorway. The feel of his fingers tangling in her hair as he teasingly pulled on a curl. His arms around her, the warmth of him as he lay next to her in their bed.

  She smiled as she recalled how horribly anxious and embarrassed she’d been on their wedding night. Nervous, fearful, wondering if in marrying this kind man she’d always looked up to as the dearest of family friends, she’d made a terrible mistake. How gentle he had been with her that night, telling her she mustn’t worry, that he was still the Everitt who had always cherished her, that he did not mean to make her his wife until she felt quite ready.

  He’d proceeded to do nothing more alarming than hold her close all through the night. Honouring his promise, he’d delayed taking her body until she’d grown almost comfortable with the idea of being touched so intimately.

  His lovemaking had always been gentle, caring, reverent, even after he’d taught her how to experience pleasure in their union. In addition to the comfort their joining gave him, she missed that pleasure, too.

  Though there had been little enough of it their last months together. She frowned as she recalled how he had several times begun, and then ceased, to make love to her, his face growing pale and still as he leaned back upon the pillows, a hand at his chest. She’d urged him to visit a doctor, but he’d laughed at her fears and told her that it was some mild complaint that would pass, nothing which needed to concern her or cause him to visit a sawbones who would only dose him with some disgusting concoction and charge him a huge fee before sending him home.

  Why had she not insisted? How could she already be feeling lust—she might as well name the attraction for what it was—for another man when she’d failed her own husband so badly? Actually be imagining the touch of another man’s hands, with Everitt not even two months dead?

  Distressed and guilty, Elizabeth smoothed the mangled curl back into place with trembling fingers.

  Suddenly she was glad that Sir Gregory, not Hal Waterman, awaited her below. Thrusting her hands into the gloves Gibbons had set out for her, Elizabeth rose and went down to meet her caller.

  Sir Gregory rose as she entered the blue salon. The approval in his eyes as he bowed over her hand made her glad she’d taken the time to change and tidy her hair.

  ‘Lizbet, I’m delighted to see you looking so much more relaxed and refreshed than at our last meeting! By the way, I brought some flowers for Miss Lowery, which, with your approbation, I hope, I’ve already directed Sands to convey to the invalid’s room.’

  ‘How very kind! I am better, Sir Gregory. Just in these last few days, I’ve felt less anxious, almost able to believe there will some day be a future for me and David.’

  ‘Of course there will be, my dear!’ he said, patting her hand. ‘Though you cannot help but be low at times, Everitt would not want you to bury yourself away, for ever mourning him. He would urge you to seek a new path, new activities…and new companions to brighten your life, as soon as you felt able. Young David gets on well, too, I trust? And Miss Lowery continues to recover?’

  A guilty pang struck her at Sir Gregory’s innocuous words about moving on. Which led her to suddenly realise that David had yet to apologise to the baronet for his rudeness over the soldier. Best that she induce him to perform that unpleasant task as soon as possible.

  ‘Yes, Miss Lowery is improving and David is doing better as well. He much regrets his outburst and would like a chance to apologise.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it—and pleased that you are conscientiously instructing him in proper comportment.’

  As Everitt used to, she thought with another pang. ‘I do try. Shall I send for
him now?’

  As Sir Gregory nodded, she opened the hall door and summoned a footman to go fetch her son.

  ‘Though your family saw fit to call on someone else to assist with settling Everitt’s financial matters,’ Sir Gregory said when she returned to her seat, ‘I hope you’ll not forget that I would be honoured to assist you with anything else of which you may have need.’

  His avowal brought Elizabeth absurdly close to tears. Sir Gregory might be a bit pompous, but he was an accomplished gentleman of impeccably good ton, one whose shrewdness, efficient management of his property and broad influence in society Everitt had often praised. He might not be at ease with children, but he meant well, bringing a soldier for her grieving son and flowers for the recovering Miss Lowery.

  ‘Thank you, Sir Gregory,’ she said softly. ‘I shall certainly remember.’

  Would it not be a relief to turn to him about such problems that arose as she struggled to master all her new responsibilities? Sir Gregory, who treated her with genteel reverence, who like Everitt wished only to relieve her of any matter that distressed or concerned her.

  Sir Gregory, who did not arouse in this very new widow any disloyal thoughts or shameful desires.

  They had just finished sipping the wine Sands brought when David entered. To Elizabeth’s relief, he walked straight to Sir Gregory and bowed.

  ‘Good morning, sir. Please let me ’pologise for being rude during your previous visit. The soldier you brought me is very fine. Thank you for your thoughtful gift.’

  Though Elizabeth could tell the words were well rehearsed, the baronet seemed to perceive them as delivered with perhaps more contrition than they actually contained. ‘I accept your apology and you are welcome,’ he said approvingly. ‘Come sit for a minute with your mama and me.’

  Frowning, David said, ‘I should go back and study my letters. I shall have a tutor soon.’

  ‘Indeed, ’tis time that you begin formal schooling,’ Sir Gregory agreed.