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A Most Unconventional Match

Page 17

by Julia Justiss


  As the baronet had said, surely Mr Waterman, little as he went about in society, would know these truths too. So why had he cruelly raised hopes he must have known could never be realised?

  She stood there mutely, angry with him, with herself, her confidence shredded as effectively as Max had the household linens. Her vision of an exciting, productive future snuffed out before she had barely begun to formulate it, by the time Sir Gregory fell silent, Elizabeth was biting her lip to keep the tears from falling. It needed only this to put a cap on her day.

  ‘Ah, Lizbet, my dear, you mustn’t cry,’ he said gently, taking on his fingertip one of the tears that, despite her best efforts, had welled up at the corners of her eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly. But you can’t imagine how surprised and distressed your pronouncement made me. I’m so sorry to have been the one who had to destroy your illusions.’

  Still fighting the urge to weep, Elizabeth shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she managed after a moment.

  ‘Poor dear, what a morning you have had! First the household imbroglio and now me scolding you. I know just the thing to help lift your spirits. Why not go for a drive with me this afternoon? Let the soothing vistas and fresh air of the park erase from your mind the upsetting circumstances of the day.’

  Her mind still roiling with distress and grief for a dream she’d not until this moment realised meant so much to her, Elizabeth had no interest in driving. All she wanted to do was go up to her chamber and weep.

  But as she shook her head, Sir Gregory said, ‘Now I know you are angry with me. Won’t you allow me to make amends? We could stop for ices. I’d even gird myself to escort you past the shops so you might look at bonnets and such. My mama always said there was nothing that raised a lady’s spirits faster than the purchase of a smart new bonnet. Come now, say you will go.’

  Though Elizabeth had no interest at any time in purchasing finery, at the moment she felt too dispirited to contest his mama’s assessment. The baronet was so insistently eager to make amends she simply couldn’t summon the energy to resist. ‘As long as we are back in time for tea with Miss Lowery,’ she agreed. Having been sufficiently abused already today, Elizabeth didn’t wish to earn another chiding from that lady.

  ‘Of course. I stopped briefly to pay my compliments to Miss Lowery before Sands announced me. She expressed concern about your health and spirits after having been immured in the house for so long and urged me to see that you get out more. An admonition I am delighted to heed. Shall I call for you at three?’

  So Miss Lowery, like Sands, had no objection to her being escorted by Sir Gregory, a gentleman well known to them. Apparently it was just the company of a relative stranger like Mr Waterman that excited their disapproval, Elizabeth thought dully.

  It was nice of Sir Gregory to want to make up for upsetting her by telling her what was only the truth. And he had been amazingly efficient in settling the business with Sands. Since there was no chance that driving this afternoon would make her miss a visit from Hal Waterman—and at the moment, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see him again—she might as well go to the park.

  ‘Thank you, you are most kind.’

  Sir Gregory bowed. ‘Excellent! I’ll look forward to seeing you this afternoon, then.’

  Nuncheon with David, who required reassurance that Max would not be banished to Lowery Hall for his misdeeds in the laundry yard, distracted her for a while, but the lead weight of discouragement had settled upon her once again by the time Sir Gregory returned for their drive.

  Mechanically repeating the deeply ingrained formulas of politeness got her through the greetings and up into his curricle. As they tooled along, she allowed him to carry on the conversation, feeling too lethargic to contribute more than an occasional murmur to his monologue.

  What could she say that would be of any interest to a socially polished gentleman like Sir Gregory anyway? The only purpose that had excited her interest since Everitt’s death, the tantalising possibility of becoming a working artist, he’d told her to abandon. Nor did she wish to broach the topic of David, whom the baronet felt she should be readying to go off to school, or Hal Waterman, of whom he thoroughly disapproved.

  Soon, Miss Lowery would recover enough to resume control of the household, so those tasks would no longer occupy her. Without Everitt to talk to and walk with, her mornings in her workroom would be of no more significance than the time spent by other genteel ladies painting upon china or dabbling in pastels—the only thing she could look forward to was spending time with David. With a tutor joining the household, he would soon have less and less need of his mama’s companionship.

  What was she to do with herself?

  ‘I see that a turn about the park has not yet managed to raise your spirits.’ Sir Gregory’s voice broke into her gloomy thoughts. ‘Nor have my attempts at conversation managed to penetrate your melancholy reflection.’

  It was a measure of her lassitude that this mild reproach, which under other circumstances would have prompted an immediate, guilty demurral, generated no reaction at all. She didn’t even bother to apologise for her inattention. My, how unmannerly she was becoming!

  ‘How solemn those lovely lips look,’ Sir Gregory said. ‘Perhaps something sweet will bring back their smile. Could I tempt you to some ices at Gunter’s?’

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘Thank you, Sir Gregory, but I don’t care for any now.’

  ‘You force me to more desperate measures. It shall have to be a stroll past the shops after all.’

  Elizabeth thought about declining, but it seemed too much effort. If it amused him to look at slippers and bonnets, she supposed a walk would do her no harm. She had nothing more important to accomplish, after all.

  ‘If you wish,’ she said.

  ‘My wish is to make you happy,’ he said, looking at her with concern in his eyes.

  At last a niggle of guilt penetrated her depressed spirits. Sir Gregory was doing his best to entertain her. She was being self-indulgent and churlish, acting in this foolishly taciturn, ungrateful manner simply because, like a child whose favourite sweet has been denied him, she would not be able to have what she most desired. Vowing to do better, when he tossed the reins to his tiger and handed her down before one of the ton’s leading haberdashers, she managed a smile.

  ‘Ah, that is better!’ he exclaimed. ‘I knew Mama’s bonnets would do the trick!’

  Barely refraining from rolling her eyes, Elizabeth forced herself to turn her artist’s eye to the colour combinations and designs of the headgear in the shop window. They walked on, lingering next before the shop of the renowned couturière Madame Bissot.

  But when Sir Gregory urged her to consider purchasing something, she protested, ‘No, I cannot. Apparently Everitt borrowed a large amount to fund his antiquities purchases. Until the estate is settled and those debts repaid, I must economise. Nor do I really require any new garments.’

  ‘If it raises your spirits, a new gown or bonnet is the best of economies,’ Sir Gregory countered. ‘Although I am shocked to hear Everitt was so careless about finances.’

  ‘I’m sure he thought he had plenty of time to repay the loans and return the estate to a firm footing,’ Elizabeth said, compelled to defend her late husband, despite her own misgivings over his poor management.

  ‘I meant no disparagement,’ Sir Gregory replied. ‘Only…’ He paused, pointing out a necklace in the window of the jewellery shop next door. ‘How lovely that circlet of diamonds and aquamarines would look about your neck! I never understood why Everitt always sought new items to add to his collection…when he already possessed the finest and most beautiful ornament he could ever hope to acquire.’

  He opened his lips, closed them, then shook his head. ‘I know it is far too early to speak of this,’ he began again. ‘But the…the violence of my feelings compels me to say it!’

  A little taken aback by the intensity of his voice and gaze, Elizabeth could only st
are as he continued, ‘Surely you know how much I admire you! How much, though he was my dearest friend, I envied Everitt—because he had you, the most beautiful, gentle, gracious lady I’ve ever known. Had Everitt lived, I would have kept my feelings hidden, but now…I just want you to know that it would be my dearest wish some day to treat you like the treasure you are. To shower you with beautiful things—gowns, bonnets, jewels, this necklace—to set off your loveliness. To take care of you and smooth—’ he stroked a finger over her forehead ‘—every worry from your brow.’

  Though she was too shocked to utter a word, he exclaimed, ‘Nay, do not reproach me! I shall speak no more now. I only ask, dear Lizbet, that when your mourning is over, you’ll consider what I’ve said today.’

  Still silent, Elizabeth studied him. She’d known he admired her, of course, but never imagined he might cherish any stronger feelings. The idea made her a bit uncomfortable…Yet having a mature, capable gentleman to defend and cherish her, with whom she could recapture the quiet peacefulness of the life she’d led before Everitt’s death, seemed suddenly vastly appealing.

  Sir Gregory was quite wealthy as well. There would be no worries about school fees or tradesmen or the cost of new linens. No wrangling over domestic disputes.

  Or euphoric flights of fancy about a future that turned out to be unattainable.

  Though David would not like the idea…

  No matter. As the baronet had just assured her, it was far too early to contemplate such an offer. Though, of course, she had to feel gratified that the baronet, whom she’d long assumed to be a confirmed bachelor firmly set against marriage, had abjured wedlock all these years because he’d been pining for her.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she replied haltingly. ‘I had no idea.’

  He clasped her hand. ‘I made sure you did not—and you need say nothing now. Only promise to consider the possibility later.’

  She nodded. ‘I suppose I can do that.’

  ‘Good.’ He gave her fingers a squeeze. ‘Now I expect I must get you home, or Miss Lowery will scold me for making you late for tea!’

  He gestured to his tiger to bring the carriage, then assisted her in. Taking up the reins, he began a light conversation about the current offerings at the Theatre Royal to which she once again needed to contribute nothing.

  Then they were back at Green Street. ‘I shall call again soon, dear Lizbet,’ Sir Gregory said as he escorted her up the stairs. Kissing her hand once more, he set off.

  Elizabeth watched his curricle disappear down the busy London street. If she could not be an artist, would she like to be wife to such a man? He dabbled in politics, attended the best ton parties, and knew everyone of importance. She would have to mingle more in society than she ever had. Perhaps such business would fill the sense of emptiness she’d not until today knew existed in the depths of her soul.

  He would cherish her, remove all the burdens from her shoulders. And never inspire her to reach for goals that could not be achieved or fill her with the dangerous, stormy gusts of desire and emotion she felt around Hal Waterman.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next evening, Hal Waterman sat in his club over a glass of fine burgundy, idly considering finding a congenial gentleman to challenge to a game of whist. Mayhap the game would take his mind off the turbulent emotions still roiling within him—and the image of Elizabeth Lowery that filled his head.

  Though he doubted it. Probably he’d just play in a fog of inattention that would enrich some other fortunate friend, as he had Ned Greaves the other night.

  He wished Ned hadn’t left London before Hal had sorted through all the dramatic revelations of his visit with Sally. He could have sought his friend’s thoughts on how to proceed with his suspicions about Sir Gregory. He might even have dared ask Ned his assessment of the likelihood of Hal’s inspiring tender emotions in the heart of the lady his observant friend would probably quickly realise had captured Hal’s heart.

  Ah, Elizabeth, he thought, a wistful tenderness welling up in him. How he missed her after just two days. A hastily called meeting of potential investors had forced him to cancel his plans to work in the Lowery library yesterday. He’d actually felt angry and impatient at having to attend the gathering—an unprecedented reaction for one who normally found the exploration of a potential new venture invigorating and fascinating.

  Instead, he’d tapped his fingers on the table while the engineer detailed his plans and the investors debated their merit, wishing for the first time in such a meeting that they might finish the business early enough for him to stop by Green Street after all. He could have justified an unprecedented afternoon call with the excuse of discussing her artistic prospects, since two of the attendees were deep-pocketed bankers with young children. Once shown Elizabeth’s sketches of David, Hal felt certain the two would be eager to engage her talents to have their own offspring so vividly immortalised.

  However, the meeting had dragged on until dinnertime, frustrating his desire to see her again.

  Hal smiled as he remembered their time together at the Royal Academy. Excitement had made her incandescent beauty glow brighter, her avid eyes darting here and there as she took in every detail of the masterworks, her fingers clenched as if she yearned for her brush. The fire did not dim until later, when shyly she showed him her own work.

  Until, surprised and inspired by the excellence of her paintings, he suggested she consider showing them in public. Joy and excitement once again illuminating her face, she gazed at him with awe, as if he had just offered her the most precious of gifts.

  Simply recalling the moment made happiness surge in his own chest. He’d not witnessed such an expression of gratitude on a lady’s face since, after the large return on his first investment project, he’d tried to mollify Mama’s dismay over his ungentlemanly foray into finance by giving her a complete new wardrobe.

  Elizabeth’s joy had cost him not a penny.

  He hoped, after considering the possibility, she would decide to make her work publicly available. There would be social repercussions to such a move, of course, of which she might not be aware. Nothing that could not be circumvented or overcome, he felt confident, but if she did favour embarking upon an artistic career, he meant to spell out all the drawbacks plainly before she made any move.

  His smile lingered as he recalled the camaraderie that had linked them as they talked about art in her studio. She saw him as a friend now, he believed, one who admired her for more than just her beauty, one who was genuinely concerned about the welfare of both her and her son. Which made it more important than ever to ascertain Sir Gregory’s intentions, so that he might protect her from them…if she wanted protection.

  That lowering thought banished his smile and revived the vague sense of unease remaining after his visit to the Lowery house today. Brimming with ideas and plans, desperately impatient to see Elizabeth, he’d arrived early. He’d spent some time with David, heard about Max’s iniquity in destroying sheets in the laundry yard and had a word with the groom, whose inattention had allowed the dog to escape his quarters in the stable. Then he’d worked in the library, every minute straining his ears to catch the soft tread of Elizabeth’s step in the hall.

  A step that never sounded. After lingering as long as he could over his work, he’d summoned Sands and asked to consult her on some non-existent matter of paperwork. Sands frostily replied that the mistress was in her studio and had instructed that she was not to be disturbed.

  He’d been severely disappointed…and a bit worried. Was it merely that, buoyed by the prospect of beginning her career and alight with inspiration, she wished to work uninterrupted on her current project? Or might she be angry with him over Max’s disruption of the household?

  Then Sands, always distant, had seemed particularly cool today. It was more, Hal suspected, bending all his intuitive powers on analysing the butler, than the man’s probable upset over Max’s transgressions. Sands seemed to resent Hal’s
very presence in the house.

  Did the butler suspect Hal of wanting to fill his late master’s shoes? Though he was nearly certain he had not yet betrayed by speech or manner how much he longed to do just that, Hal felt his face redden.

  Not that Sands’s disapproval meant he would give up his visits. See Elizabeth he must, but he was prepared to wait patiently, his love unspoken, and be no more than a concerned friend to her for as long as it took her to recover from her grief.

  Despite the growl of protest from his frustrated body, the notion of remaining just a friend was comforting, even. It allowed him to put off the terrifying moment when he must reveal his true feelings and put himself in contention with all the others who would doubtless wish to lay claim to the lovely Elizabeth Lowery.

  Unless she chose the artist’s path. That decision would severely restrict her chances of remarriage to a ton gentleman, unless her prospective spouse was as supportive of her talent—and as indifferent to the opinion of fashionable society—as Hal was himself. It was a measure of idiocy of the ton, he thought with disgust, that a lady who embraced such an occupation would be damned as a disgrace to her birth while Society leaders like his mama, who did little more than plan soirées and destroy reputations, were said to embody feminine gentility.

  No wonder he eschewed society as much as possible!

  As he finished his glass, a party of gentlemen entered. Having nothing in common with Montclare, Fitzhugh and Carleton—Corinthians of the first stare primarily interested in drinking, enriching their tailors and pursuing loose women—Hal merely nodded as they passed.

  They were also boisterous, Hal thought with annoyance. He was trying to shut out their overloud conversation when the mention of Sir Gregory’s name seized his attention.

  ‘What interesting news about Holburn?’ Montclare was asking.

 

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