‘I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you go on ahead? I’m going to sit here and finish my coffee.’
‘Your coffee?’ That smile was back on Hart’s face. ‘I see. Well you wouldn’t want to leave any coffee in that cup of yours, now would you?’
‘No, I would not. And stop looking at me like that. I told you, I’m just finishing my coffee.’
‘If that’s what you want to call it, that is fine with me. I can’t imagine where you might find another cup of coffee in this town.’
‘You really should go. It would be a pity if you returned late to your wife and caused her to bar you from your bedchamber tonight.’
‘That is not likely to happen—however, I’ll let you enjoy your coffee in peace.’ He stood up and adjusted his cuffs. ‘I will stop by to see you before I leave for London.’
‘When do you expect to have an answer for me?’
‘Sarah and I had planned to leave on Friday. You’ll have your answer in about a week or so.’
A week of not knowing if they would be able to proceed was going to feel like an eternity. His grip tightened around the handle of his cup. One of the worst things about needing other people to help finance his business ventures was that it put him at someone else’s mercy. More than anything he hated having to depend on other people. After living the first sixteen years of his life in the Foundling Hospital, he had learned very early on to live his life without being dependent on anyone for anything. It took a great deal of effort to relinquish some of his control.
‘Do try not to be such a curmudgeon while I am gone. You wouldn’t want Mrs Sommersby to find out what a grump you can be.’
It was very tempting to trip Hart on his way past him and as his friend walked towards Mrs Sommersby’s table he almost wished he had done it. In true Hart fashion, he looked back at Lane with a smile before he altered his course slightly, missing the table where she sat.
Every nerve in his body was strung tight. Relying on others was not something he was comfortable with, but unfortunately it was part of doing business. And now he would have to wait a week before he knew if they could move forward with their plans.
As his vision began to clear, Mrs Sommersby came into focus. How long he had been staring sightlessly at her, he had no idea. She was listening intently to what her companion was saying. What did women talk about when they weren’t in the company of men? The question had never occurred to him until now. Once more, Lane tried to read lips and once more he failed miserably.
She had this way of gracefully moving her fingers as she continually spun her cup in her saucer. It was distinctly possible that she wasn’t even aware she was doing it, but oddly enough watching her movement was easing his agitation. Suddenly she looked his way and, as their eyes met, a slow smile spread across her face. Something inside him shifted and it felt as if the sun had come out for the first time during this very gloomy day.
Chapter Seven
Spotting Mr Lane sitting approximately four tables away from her in the bustling Lower Assembly Room had made a fine morning even better. It had been quite some time since Clara had captured the attention of an attractive man in his thirties—at least one that was unaware of her lofty family connections or her very comfortable financial position. And even though she knew his attention had more to do with the fact she was probably one of the only people he recognised in the room, it still was a wonderful feeling.
When she dipped her head as a silent greeting, he returned the gesture with the smallest of smiles.
‘I would so love to see The Rivals,’ Miss Harriet Collingswood said, drawing Clara’s attention away from Mr Lane and back to the conversation she had been having with her new friend. Harriet was the older daughter of her neighbour; the one the Dowager had suggested might be in need of their help finding a husband. ‘My mother doesn’t like Mr Sheridan’s work and has refused to take us to see the play,’ she continued. ‘She had seen two of his plays in the past and found little humour in them. However, I heard they are quite amusing and I do so love to laugh.’
Giving Harriet a sympathetic smile, Clara resisted the urge to see if Mr Lane was still watching her. With a concerted effort, she focused all of her attention on the woman sitting across the small round table from her.
The more time Clara spent with the young woman, the more she discovered she liked her. Taking her to the spa this morning to drink the waters with her and then bringing her here to the Lower Assembly Room for breakfast had proved to be a wise decision. It had become apparent that spending time with her while Clara searched for potential husbands for the woman would be rather enjoyable.
Although, currently, it was proving to be impossible to keep her attention on her for very long. The urge to glance over at Mr Lane was too great and her gaze slid over to him once more.
His eyes were still on her.
She needed to appear composed and unaffected by his attention. She was a middle-aged woman. His attention shouldn’t make her want to smile, yet it was taking great effort on her part to keep her expression neutral as she quickly looked back at Harriet. ‘And your sister? Does Ann have a desire to see the play?’
‘No. Ann prefers operas. She tends to favour whatever is considered the height of fashion at the moment and has heard that many women of the ton favour it. Have you seen any of Mr Sheridan’s plays?’
‘I have seen all of his work and every production.’ This might be just the opportunity Clara was looking for to remove Harriet from her family long enough to introduce her to potential suitors. ‘Do you think your mother will be willing to spare you for one evening? If she would, I’d be happy to take you to see it at the Theatre Royal. I have a box there.’
The invitation appeared to embarrass Harriet, who lowered her eyes to the table. ‘That is very generous of you, but I don’t want to impose on your time that way. Please do not think it was my intention to try to garner an invitation from you.’
‘The thought never occurred to me and it would be no imposition at all. I’d enjoy your company.’ She fiddled with her cup in its saucer, trying to decide how to best ask the question that sprang out of her curiosity about the sisters. While she was thinking how to tactfully phrase her question, Harriet took matters into her own hands.
‘Might I ask you a question, Mrs Sommersby?’
‘Of course, my dear.’
‘I am very grateful that you invited me out this morning, but I am curious as to why you singled me out with this favour? Most people, you see, tend to pay more attention to my sister Ann.’
And with that brief declaration, Clara was saved from finding a way to delicately bring up Harriet’s sister. ‘I noticed as much the times I have been in your family’s company. I, too, had a sister who garnered all the attention while I was of a quieter nature. Although, I confess, I thought you were far quieter than you truly are.’
Her observation appeared to have embarrassed Harriet again. When she placed her hand gently over the young woman’s as a comforting gesture, Harriet seemed surprised. Clara had always been a person who drew comfort from a touch. She had to remind herself once more that not everyone felt that way.
‘I did not say that to censure your behaviour. It was simply an observation. I believe people can shine brightest when they step out of the shadows of others. I just wanted to give you a place to take that step.’ She removed her hand with a pat and took a sip of her tea.
Harriet was an attractive girl with warm brown eyes and hair the colour of the setting sun. Clara knew men well enough to know that they would find her rather full lips a seductive feature, even though the young woman herself was probably unaware of the allure. Could Mr Lane have been staring at her in hopes of garnering an introduction? She already knew he wasn’t married. Peering over her teacup, she moved her gaze in his direction and became disappointed when she found that he was no longer there.
Howe
ver, her disappointment was short-lived when he suddenly approached her side from behind.
‘Good morning, Mrs Sommersby,’ he said over the sounds of the conversations going on around them.
‘Mr Lane, I see you have taken my advice and come here to have breakfast.’ She gave him a bright smile to show she appreciated that he had followed her recommendation.
He took a quick glance around. ‘I actually accompanied a friend here. He had suggested this establishment. I stayed after he left to finish my coffee.’
There was nothing quite like humiliating yourself in front of a new friend. The man had probably forgotten all about her recommendation of this place the moment she’d left him in the park.
‘Forgive me for imposing on your time,’ he said with a slight hesitation, ‘but you dropped this.’
When he held out her white napkin, Clara was reminded yet again that she had been a fool for thinking even for a minute that he had fancied her. As she took the napkin from him, she was careful not to brush her fingers against his so he would not assume that she might be attempting to flirt with him in any way. It was bad enough that she found his appearance and mannerisms striking. She didn’t need him to sense that she did.
‘Thank you.’ Out of the corner of her eye she could see Harriet looking down at the table. Now was the perfect opportunity to start introducing her to eligible gentlemen. ‘Miss Collingswood, may I introduce you to Mr Lane. Mr Lane, this is Miss Collingswood. She is a visitor to Bath, like yourself.’
He executed a bow in the limited space that was available. ‘A pleasure.’
‘It’s nice to make your acquaintance. I hope I’m not overstepping when I say that you look rather familiar, Mr Lane. Do you mind if I ask where you are from?’
‘London.’ For a man who moments before appeared to be leisurely sipping his coffee, a sudden sense of unease settled over his demeanour.
Perhaps he was unsure where to direct the conversation. The woman herself was not offering him any further words of encouragement after his one-word response. This wouldn’t be the first time Clara had found herself helping a couple along. It was what she normally enjoyed doing.
‘I realise that you were just leaving, but would you care to join us for a bit?’
‘No.’
The response was abrupt and his tone caused her to start.
‘Forgive me, ladies. I really must be going.’
She had thought he had enjoyed speaking with her in the past. Now, it was apparent, he had no desire to hold a conversation and was counting the seconds before he could leave.
Wanting to save them all from the awkwardness of the situation, she turned away from him and signalled her waiter with the tilt of her head. ‘Do enjoy the rest of your day, Mr Lane, and the remainder of your time in Bath.’
‘Mrs Sommersby. Miss Collingswood.’
She felt, rather than saw, when he walked away from their table. How was she to bolster the confidence of Harriet with men like Mr Lane around? His demeanour just now was best described as gruff. For a man who had been staring at her minutes earlier to behave in such a manner when they had an opportunity to converse was puzzling.
* * *
It wasn’t long before she had the chance to confront him on his behaviour when she stepped outside the Assembly Room and spotted him not far from the entrance with his hands in the pockets of his long green coat, presumably waiting for his carriage or a sedan chair.
Early on in her marriage to Robert, Clara’s husband had tried to shield her when the state of their finances became grim. The dire truth during those times would often surface unexpectedly when she was in one of the shops in town. The mortification she would feel at those moments led her to understand the value of open and honest communication. And now the truth she wished she could uncover was why Mr Lane had been watching her so intently during breakfast, only to practically run from her once they spoke.
She looked over at him and adjusted the brim of her bonnet to shield her eyes from the sun that was shining high in the bright blue sky. The movement must have caught his attention, since their eyes met immediately after she lowered her gloved hands. He gave her an almost apologetic smile, as if he knew his behaviour had been rude. At least the man was conscious of his actions. She gave him a playful chastising shake of her head and was about to turn back to Harriet when he took a single step towards her.
Chapter Eight
Lane knew he had behaved horribly with Mrs Sommersby, but the minute Miss Collingswood asked where he was from that defensive instinct inside him kicked in and he wanted to do whatever he could to avoid talking about himself. Miss Collingswood was much too young to have remembered him from the Foundling Hospital. It wasn’t possible she was recalling the time he spent growing up there. However, whenever someone said he looked familiar, a prickling sensation would run along his skin and his instinct was to run.
He had faced many disgusted looks and received the cut from people in respectable levels of Society once they were made aware of his origins. Most of the children abandoned and left in the care of the Foundling Hospital were there because they were by-blows whose fathers would not or could not marry their mothers. This was common knowledge and it changed how many people treated you when they found out you were raised there. From the time that he was a young child, Lane had formed a hard shell around his emotions. But today, that shell had a crack in it and deep down he knew for some reason he didn’t want Mrs Sommersby to treat him that way.
When their eyes met just now, he wanted to apologise to her for his behaviour. But after taking a step closer, he realised he had no idea how to explain his actions. There wasn’t anything he could say that would make sense.
And now thanks to his decision to find a hack or one of those sedan chairs to get back to the coffee house, he wasn’t going to escape having to explain himself because she was walking his way.
She strolled towards him with a teasing smile, leaving her friend behind. It wasn’t until she stopped in front of him and looked up into his eyes that he was once again aware of how petite she was.
‘Would you care to explain your abrupt nature just now, or would you prefer I draw my own conclusions on the matter?’
Bracing himself for this discussion, he crossed his arms. ‘And what conclusions might you draw?’
‘Indigestion.’ Her voice was low, as if she was sharing her darkest secret with him.
‘No,’ he replied with a trace of laughter.
‘Back to one-word replies, I see. Then it must be that you find my company dull. However, it was unkind of you to be so sharp with Miss Collingswood. You had not been in her presence long enough to form a poor opinion of her.’ She would make a very good governess since she had the ability to chastise him while appearing to simply offer him some helpful advice.
‘I assure you that I do not find you dull nor do I have a poor opinion of Miss Collingswood. And I do apologise for my behaviour.’
Wisps of brown hair framed her face under her bonnet and with the sun shining on them he could see streaks of mahogany mixed in. As she tilted her head, some of that hair slid across her cheek. ‘I accept your apology and I am sorry I placed you in an awkward position. I assumed you were in a better disposition and even thought you might have actually smiled at me while you were drinking your coffee.’
Had he smiled at her? It had brightened his day when he had spotted her...but shortly afterwards he remembered his discussion with Lyonsdale and knew his time was better spent attending to business. ‘I had received some disappointing news this morning. My friend thought having breakfast here would improve my disposition. I believe you would say that it has not.’
‘I hope it was not bad news from home. Your family is well?’ Concern was etched on her face and shone in her amber-coloured eyes.
‘It was nothing like that. It was a business matter.’ That was one m
ore reminder today that, unlike most people, he had no family.
‘I see. Well I am sorry none the less.’
A shiny black-lacquered carriage pulled up and she held up her finger to the driver, indicating she would be a moment longer. She bit her lip and appeared to be deciding if she should say something else to him. He arched his brow in encouragement and waited.
‘Would you consider allowing me to try to improve your current grumpy state?’
‘I don’t believe we agreed I was exactly grumpy, but tell me what you had in mind.’
‘Tomorrow night I will be attending a performance of The Rivals at the Theatre Royal, not far from here. It’s a wonderful play by Mr Sheridan and one that I believe might lift your spirits. If you are still in town, would you like to join me at the theatre to see it?’
Lane couldn’t remember the last time he was in a theatre. There was no sense in attending plays when he preferred to stay home in the evenings creating spreadsheets of profit and loss statements, or analysing a new potential investment. Lately he had been researching the way water was piped into the various bathhouses in town.
‘It will do you good to see more of what Bath has to offer. You are always in a hurry. You need to slow your pace and enjoy the moment you are in.’
He had enjoyed every moment he was with her in the park and standing this close to her once again and breathing in the faint scent of roses that perfumed the air around her was more than a pleasant experience. Spending an evening in her company would not be a hardship. And Hart would be getting ready to go to London anyway. There wasn’t more that Lane could do at the moment to further things along. His friend had been telling him to stop devoting all his attention to work. Hart’s parting words to him had been ‘go and find a woman.’ He had never listened to that advice in the past. However, right now he was finding it hard to come up with a reason not to.
Mrs Sommersby's Second Chance Page 6