by Julia Donner
“No, miss for each of them. I’ve only recently taken up the title. Will Wednesday next be convenient?”
She walked by him to the receiving room door. “Of course. I am eagerly looking forward to meeting them.”
He nodded his head in a bow. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Worth.”
For a long moment, she said nothing, caught in the intensity of his dark gaze. She vaguely marveled at her impression that he wanted to ask her about Mr. Worth. She forced her lips to move and hoped it looked like a smile. After he left, she lost track of time as she stared at the white-painted door panel.
What had stopped her from correcting him, telling him that she had never married and that the late Mr. Worth had been her uncle?
Chapter 2
Furious with himself, Carnall jammed his hands into gloves and strode toward his curricle. His groom, Patrick, who had been chatting with the lad holding the team’s heads, flung a pewter mug at the boy and leaped to find purchase on the back of the carriage as the horses lunged forward.
Humiliation made him heavy-handed with the team, behavior he despised. He was brought back to his senses by a hole that interrupted the rattling cadence of spinning wheels on dry, uneven road. He was lucky not to have broken a wheel or axle.
Overwrought emotions had led him to spring the horses and to race madly away from the academy, heedless of conditions and the groom clinging to the back of the carriage. He must slow down the pace before his lack of attention galloped the horses through Tunbridge Wells. There was also the small matter that he was heading in the wrong direction for London.
He’d seen Mrs. Worth once since the party, where and when this helpless obsession had begun. Frustrated and drained of patience, he’d driven down this way three times since that night, hoping for a glimpse of her. Today, seated only a few feet away, he learned the color of her eyes, smoky like a storm-clouded sky, big, direct and fearless.
Whenever he visited the Bainbridges, Letty talked at length about her dear school friend Ana, dubbed the warrior queen. How apt. Tall enough to look almost directly into his eyes, Tatiana Worth had the upright posture of a soldier and bearing of an empress. That regal air held—a wall not to be breached—when he’d tried to gain an introduction at the Goring party. She avoided every attempt, moving beyond his reach, slipping behind guests, and disappearing into rooms whenever he approached. She’d been as unassailable today, and he’d been as erudite and suave as the village twit. He, whose friends taunted him for his unbendable sangfroid, had disintegrated to tongue-tied idiot in her presence and utterly spellbound by her smile. And what a smile it had been, a smile that lit up the room and washed away the sadness in her eyes.
Carnall gently reined in the team, a fine pair of goers he’d purchased from Lady Ravenswold. He’d been staying at Stokebrook with the Bainbridge’s where he met Cassandra Ravenswold. He bought a pair of stunning bays from the countess sight-unseen.
People thought him a practical, quiet sort but he was actually spontaneous more often than not. Perhaps because it was some inner wish to belay the impression he gave as disinterested. He saw nothing wrong with being aloof. There were many hazards in this world. He preferred to be cautious, except when he wasn’t. He was cautious when it came to his sisters. Before coming to title, he’d not been able to care for them as he would have liked. A select seminary headed by a stickler would give his sister the polish needed to make a splash. If not that, then their dowries would.
Mrs. Worth’s smile blazed across his memory. Letty hadn’t warned him about that, nor had she mentioned a husband. She had assured him that her friend’s school would be the best thing for his sisters, to prepare them for the trial of a London Season, presentation at court, and create a favorable impression with the social arbiters.
Tatiana Worth was not the sort to be easily impressed by anything or anyone. He doubted she remembered him from the party at Lady Goring’s, even though he’d made a cake of himself staring. And throughout the interview, he’d sat like a lumpish schoolboy with barely two words to scrape together. In all of his life, he couldn’t recall a total lack of the ability to talk coherently. It was one thing for Mrs. Worth to see him as others did, taciturn and standoffish, but not graceless and stupid.
From the first sight of her at the party, he’d been intrigued. Men backed away when he asked for an introduction. Letty had never mentioned, nor had anyone ever seen Mr. Worth. Marriage hadn’t stopped men from wishing the woman would unbend enough to recognize attempts to engage her interest. Mrs. Worth would have none of it. She employed her basilisk glare whenever an upstart male made the mistake of asking her to stand up for a dance.
What had turned her against men? She’d married. Perhaps Mr. Worth was the reason for her aversion, but nothing was capable of dampening his interest. On Wednesday, when he brought the girls down to the school, he’d try to unravel the mystery that was the captivating Tatiana.