"I must make an attempt, since that is why I am here. However, despite what I told the Dowager..." She glanced quickly from side to side, then lowered her voice. "I do not yet have anyone selected for you."
Miles could not contain his surprise. He wanted to hope it was because she wished to keep him to herself, but that was no doubt a foolhardy desire. "I realize I am a challenge for even the most experienced of matchmakers—"
"Perhaps you could tell me some of the qualities you prefer in a potential bride, and I can see how to fit them to the women in attendance."
"It makes sense to approach it in this fashion." He tapped a finger to his lips, his gaze tilted upward, as if he was pondering his ideal woman. "I do prefer a quick wit."
"Naturally. No one would wish to be paired with a lackwit for the rest of their born days." Her eyes twinkled. "I know I would not."
He managed to keep his laugh at bay. "And of course she must enjoy the warmer climes, for I am always traipsing off to that portion of the world."
"Hmm, that could prove difficult. What if she stayed behind, reclined on her fainting couch?" Her lips twitched. "Waiting breathlessly for your return."
"It does not appeal quite as much as having her accompany me." He glanced around the room. "Is there anyone that comes to mind so far?"
"I am compiling a list of candidates as we speak."
He returned his gaze to hers, and found himself captivated by the mischief in her expression. "I hope the list is not extensive, for if I am required to dance attendance on multiple females this week—"
"We should narrow it down a bit further then. To spare you from such an onerous task."
This time he barked out a laugh. "She must be compassionate, of course. And tenderhearted. A quality you have just demonstrated for this poor bachelor."
She nodded regally. "Thank you."
"And gracious, generous, and helpful. Those are necessities as well."
"You are describing a paragon now. I wonder if you are doing so on purpose, until there is no one I can add to my list. The Dowager will believe I am incapable of performing this task and I shall be sent home in disgrace."
"We cannot have that. Let me see what else there might be... Of course. How could I have forgotten the most important thing? A cat! She must have a cat. I could never consider anyone who did not have an animal she adored above all else."
Her laughter was genuinely delighted. "Mr. Colborne, you have been most helpful. I must thank you for your assistance."
"No, you have assisted me, Mrs. Seton. I have never attempted such a list before. It has proved most instructive."
She opened her mouth to answer, but they were joined by a pair of giggling debutantes. She shrugged slightly, and then welcomed the young misses, drawing them into the conversation as if she had been eagerly awaiting their arrival.
She was utterly delightful, the sort of woman he had never expected to meet at his aunt's event. Now he could do nothing but anticipate meeting up with her again and again, all while withstanding her attempts to pair him with someone else.
She turned and bestowed a bright smile on him, and his heart began an incessant pounding, quite unlike anything he had ever experienced.
He could only hope he was causing a similar riot in Mrs. Seton's heart.
***
Gemma did her best to attend to the debutantes' conversation, but her heart was pounding in her ears. She continued to smile, hoping it would fool everyone into believing she was listening to each giggling pronouncement. Instead, her mind kept going over her conversation with Mr. Colborne. He had deliberately described her, she was sure of it. Yet she did not know if it was merely for his own entertainment or to inform her he was interested in pursuing her.
She had never been so confused, yet elated, in her entire life. She would allow herself to enjoy their brief moments together, but only because it would assist in finding him a suitable match. There was little point pondering anything else. Even a short liaison with this charmer would be folly, for he was a wandering soul who could easily make her forget her purpose at this house party.
"Mrs. Seton?"
She blinked, trying to bring herself back to the conversation she was pretending to be a part of.
"Yes?"
The debutantes peered at her with obvious curiosity, but then their excitement got the best of them, and she was not forced to explain her behavior. "Mr. Travers is doing portraits of everyone."
"How can he do a portrait so quickly?" Gemma asked.
Mr. Colborne smiled. "They are sketches, with humorous bits about a person thrown in. Really quite amusing."
When he stood and offered her a hand, she took it without hesitation. "I suppose he has sketched you previously," she commented.
He pretended to groan. "There is likely enough to fill a museum."
"I cannot wait to see what humorous bits about you he might add."
"I shall have to make it worth his while never to show them to you."
By then they had joined the rest of the assembly gathered around Mr. Travers. Mrs. Beaumont sat at his side, her expression almost wistful as she watched his quick strokes with the charcoal bring the Dowager to life.
William paused, sat back for a moment, and studied the sketch. "There is something missing." He glanced around the room, presumably to find his aunt, but she had apparently left.
"Here." Mrs. Beaumont leaned forward, pointing to the paper. "If you add a bit more shading here—"
He grinned at her and then with a few additional scratches had made a perfect likeness, her lorgnette prominently displayed. "Thank you, Mrs. Beaumont. You have a genuine talent for this."
"I have spent a great deal of time with the Dowager," she demurred. "That is all."
"You are too modest," Gemma declared. "Now, who shall be next?" She pinned Miles with her gaze. "I suggest Mr. Colborne."
He began to protest, but William's lips lifted in a slow smile. It made her heart flutter a bit—he was a very handsome man, after all. No wonder Mrs. Beaumont seemed disconcerted whenever he turned his smiling face in her direction. She would be, too, if she were not so inconveniently attracted to Mr. Colborne.
"Miles," his cousin said in a teasing voice, "surely you are not afraid of my humble pencil."
He laughed. "Of course not. It is not as though you are sketching me whilst I commit a crime."
There was a burst of coughing from across the room, and Gemma could swear the two men shared a conspiratorial grin.
"I would prefer you draw Mrs. Seton instead," Mr. Colborne said.
"Oh, no, I cannot," she began. Gemma knew she should be insisting on one of the debutantes taking her place, but there was a chorus of voices agreeing that she should go first. She could not deny she was quite intrigued by what he might draw. She sat down in a nearby chair. "Shall I look at you, or away from you?"
William tilted his head as he considered her from a variety of angles. "Gaze in that direction," he said, pointing with the pencil.
She turned so that she was looking directly at Mr. Colborne. Why did her heart flutter so? She would be the next one needing Miss Lockhart's medical services. She placed a hand on her chest, to settle her excitable reaction, but it seemed to make Mr. Colborne's eyes flash with interest.
She dropped her hand to her lap. "Is there anything I should do?"
The question was meant for Mr. Travers, but since she was facing Miles, it appeared as though she were seeking advice from him.
He winked. "William is rather adept at this, so all you must do is wait for him to decide how he shall portray you."
She spun around to look at William. "You do not merely capture my likeness?"
"There is more to capturing a likeness than simply drawing a person's features."
Gemma noticed Mrs. Beaumont listening very intently, as if she were a student of the arts soaking in the wisdom of a master. "What is the most telling?" the woman asked with genuine interest.
William turn
ed his gaze away from Gemma to answer Mrs. Beaumont's question. "It is hard to describe." He picked up the sketch he had done of the Dowager. "For instance, this was quickly done because I know my aunt very well, and have drawn her many times."
"You could do it while you slept," Miles teased. "In truth, I have no artistic skills and I could draw her while I slumbered."
There was a ripple of laughter throughout the room, and then William continued, his eyes twinkling for some reason. "Miles, as you have spent more time with Mrs. Seton, perhaps you could assist me."
"I would be delighted."
Gemma's heart sped up once more as Miles drew closer, seating himself across from her, so that she was still in profile. She heard some scratching sounds which she assumed were from William beginning to draw. For some reason it made her nervous. She brushed back a curl that was not even there, and then laughed self-consciously.
"What are we to do?" she asked.
"Simply have a conversation," William answered.
"That will be enough to know me better?"
She heard him chuckle. "More than enough."
"Mrs. Seton," Miles said. "Perhaps you could tell us more about your previous excursions to Egypt."
"It was so long ago," she demurred, until she saw the look of disappointment on his face. "But in some ways, it seems quite recently. My father is just now staging an exhibition from his last venture there."
"You mentioned an exhibition earlier, but I did not realize—who is your father?"
"You may have heard of him. Professor Montague Hensley."
"Heard of him?" His expression went from shock to something close to awe. "I have admired him, and his work, for many years. Everyone with any interest in antiquities aspires to be him. I can only imagine what he will have in his exhibit. Do you have any information you can share?"
"I have only heard a small portion of his finds. He is rather secretive."
"Quite understandable," Miles added sympathetically. "It can inspire a great deal of jealousy on the part of less successful adventurers."
"That is precisely what he says!"
"I have an alabaster bowl, rather exquisite, and quite valuable, although I treasured it more for its beauty. Naturally there was quite a stir when I found it, and I had to carry it with me at all times to ensure it did not disappear." He grinned. "It is a wonder I slept a wink until I returned home with it."
She found herself so lost in their conversation about a topic she loved, and with someone who enjoyed it as much as she did, she completely forgot she was being sketched. In truth, she saw only Miles, and his animated expressions and delighted laughter, not the people who surrounded them in the parlor. When had she ever lost herself in such a fashion?
The answer was never.
The realization startled her. She sat back a moment, desperate to catch her breath. Sorting out her jumbled emotions would have to wait until she was alone. Only then would she be able to ponder how in such a short time she had become so enraptured of someone—especially one she was supposed to deliver into the waiting arms of another.
"Mrs. Seton?"
She snapped back to attention and saw Miles nodding towards William, who was fighting off a smile as he put some finishing touches to his portrait of her. Mrs. Beaumont gave the paper an admiring glance, matched only by the one she gave William.
"Do not keep us in suspense," Miles teased. "We are all agog to see your creation."
"Is it a good likeness?" Gemma asked. "Did you learn what you needed to make your sketch?"
"Yes," William said. "I would say it is an excellent likeness. Tell me what you think."
He turned the paper around for everyone to view. There was a collective gasp, along with a muttered oath nearby.
It was a picture-perfect likeness...of Mr. Miles Colborne.
There were identifiable Egyptian artifacts in the background, matching some of those Miles had just discussed with such animation. Somehow William had managed to catch that excitement, along with an unmistakable sparkle in his eyes, but Gemma knew that was not what was causing Miles to frown rather fiercely at his cousin.
No, that was most likely due to the unmistakable heart Mr. Travers had added to Miles's sleeve in the portrait. At least he had refrained from penciling Gemma's name to it.
She did her best to hide a smile. What an intriguing evening this had turned out to be. The remaining days were bound to be even more interesting.
Unfortunately, the remaining days were also bound to be frustrating, since she could not permit Miles Colborne to even consider losing his heart.
At least not to her.
Chapter 4
Miles ran a hand through his hair, grateful for the slight breeze where he stood on the terrace. He had stepped outside a few moments after Mrs. Seton had bid him goodnight. Much as he wanted to continue conversation with her, he needed a moment to clear his head, to contemplate how the irrepressibly delightful woman had so quickly invaded his thoughts.
It had only been a few hours since he had first stumbled across her, when she had been trying so valiantly to rescue her errant cat. "Snowball," he said with a laugh. It was so fitting that she would see things in the best light.
"There is not likely to be a snowball in this heat," Richard quipped.
Miles turned, not at all surprised that his cousin had managed to approach without him hearing. It was a skill Richard had developed when they were young, and they had managed to put it to good use many times.
"No," Miles said. "Snowball is Mrs. Seton's cat. A rather pesky creature, too, since she leads her mistress into some troublesome situations."
"Ahh, then you must prove yourself a hero. Again, unless I miss my guess."
"I find I'm rather enjoying that role." Miles grinned. "Just as you are enjoying tormenting all the young misses who wish to gain your attentions."
Richard feigned shock. "How could I possibly narrow my focus to just one young female?"
"It is a requirement for marriage," Miles said with a snort.
William walked onto the terrace, joining them by the stone railing overlooking the gardens. "He is intent on finding an exemption to that rule."
Richard laughed. "How can I be blamed for that? Although—" He shook his head, turning away from them.
"Oh no," Miles said. "You cannot tease us in that fashion. Is there someone else who has caught your eye?"
"He had to seek out someone new." William chuckled. "After the doctor's daughter gave him that set-down this afternoon."
"That is the problem with you artist types," Richard grumbled. "You're always poking yourselves into situations where you shouldn't be. Just as you did with Miles earlier."
"Yes, I meant to mention that. The heart business was a bit much—"
But William had no interest in Miles's displeasure, or Richard's attempted deflection. "So you have no interest in Miss Lockhart?"
"Not any more interest than you have in our aunt's companion!"
Both of them took a step forward, glaring at each other, their noses almost touching. Miles nearly doubled over with laughter.
"Come now, cousins, before one of you calls out the other. It would break our aunt's heart if one of you were to succumb in a duel—mainly because the scandal would reduce her chances of marrying off the one who survived."
"I will not be the one to lose," Richard stated.
"Nor will I."
Before Miles could do anything else, he heard Gemma's voice, calling for Snowball. Was she alone in the dark, looking for that unruly cat of hers?
"You will have to settle your differences on your own. Mrs. Seton is out there alone in the dark, searching for Snowball."
Richard chuckled at William's confused expression. "I shall explain later. Give our regards to your lady love."
Miles heard both of them laughing, their conflict clearly over. He merely waved an impatient hand at them, intent on another delightful rescue. He grabbed one of the nearby lanterns and headed into t
he gardens, towards the sound of Mrs. Seton's voice.
"Mrs. Seton?"
Miles held the lantern aloft so that she might see his face. She smiled, clearly gratified to see him.
"Mr. Colborne. I am desperate to find Snowball. I cannot imagine where she might have gone."
"Does Snowball usually go out on midnight ramblings?" He was at her side in an instant. "I know she has a fondness for daylight strolls."
"No, she does not usually go out of doors once it has grown dark. But she has been acting a bit strange lately."
He could detect the worry in her voice, and he rushed to reassure her. "Snowball is quite the fighter, so I would not worry overmuch about her. I cannot imagine she would ever meet a foe that she could not best."
"Do you think so?" She sniffed as if fighting off some tears, and then smiled up at him. "I have always believed so, but then I am rather partial to her."
"Who could not be partial to such a creature? Come, I am sure she is enjoying the fact that we are out searching for her." He paused as he thought where to look next. "How do you usually seek her out? I mean, it is not quite as easy as locating a wandering dog. Cats are not likely to return with a happy face and wagging tail when their name is shouted."
"No, they are not." She bit her lip while she glanced about, pondering where to search. "She is rather enamored of confined spaces. As you saw with the rosebushes this afternoon."
Miles did his best not to think about his encounter at the rosebushes with Mrs. Seton's lovely behind, and the delightful conversation he'd had with it—er, with her. But the more time he spent with the woman, the more his thoughts strayed in a direction they probably should not. When she gazed at him so hopefully, though, he had that same strange notion of wanting to live up to her heroic expectations.
He placed her hand on his forearm and began to lead her toward the stables, just visible in the distance. "Perhaps one of the grooms has seen her, and can send us in her direction."
Her smile was worth every bit of trouble Snowball was causing the young miss. "That is an excellent idea. Let us see what we can find."
***
Gemma felt her worry fade as soon as Mr. Colborne offered to assist her in finding Snowball. She wanted to scold the errant cat, yet at the same time, she had to admit enjoying that Snowball's disappearance had given them another opportunity to speak.
Where Have All the Scoundrels Gone? Page 3