by Fanny Finch
James knew a little of Mr. Carson’s younger sister. He suspected that she was being taken away from London to prevent her reputation as a flirt from getting any worse.
His own brother had been just as bad before he had joined the Navy. James was sure that his brother’s behavior had not changed overmuch. But at least now it was in good company with like-minded men. And he could get on with his flirtations far away from society where he might damage himself and his family.
“How old is Miss Carson now?” James asked.
“Oh, she has just turned eighteen,” Mr. Carson said. “You know how girls may become at that age. She is quite intoxicated with her first season. I think that she has let it all go to her head.”
“Simply because one can flirt does not mean that one should,” James observed.
“Precisely. I have tried to tell her so myself but you know as well as I do that wise counsel is not always welcome.”
“Wise or not, the fact that it is counsel at all grates upon a young temperament. I was rather the same, I’m afraid.”
There came the sound of Miss Weston’s gay laughter, and James had to work hard to suppress the fond smile that wanted to grace his lips.
“Now, there is a young lady who knows how to walk that line quite well,” Mr. Carson observed. “Miss Weston has turned into a wit and a beauty when we were otherwise occupied.
“One moment she was merely the daughter of our tutor. The next she is this wonderful lady. I feel as though I have turned my head away for but a moment only to look round again and find her transformed.”
James viciously shoved down the awful, hot mixture of jealousy and envy that stirred up inside of him. Mr. Carson had every right to think of Miss Weston as a fine and lovely lady. That was what she was, after all.
James certainly had no hold on her. And Mr. Carson might not even have any kind of romantic designs on Miss Weston. He could simply be complimenting a woman that he admired. Admiration and romantic endeavors did not always go hand in hand. One might have one without the other.
“Yes,” James said. He forced his voice to stay pleasant. “I have found her to be an excellent dinner companion. She is learned, of course. What else could one expect from a father such as hers.”
“Well, not all fathers would care to educate their daughter. Even if she was his only child.”
“Ah, but you know Mr. Weston. Who could he converse with when he was in between pupils? It must needs be his daughter. And we know how he does so hate a boring conversation.”
Mr. Carson laughed. “Yes. I was hoping that he would be here, but it seems he is in London.”
“You will have to make do with the daughter then.”
“I shall do more than simply make do. Tell me, do you know if she has a particular suitor? I know that she must have a few. But is there one that she seems to favor above the others?”
“Why, are you suggesting a duel at dawn?”
“I could never duel at dawn, my good man. First of all, it is far too early in the morning for such a thing.” Mr. Carson laughed.
“But secondly, I would not wish to step upon the toes of any man who already has a place in her heart. If I am too late, then I am too late. But otherwise she seems a delightful creature. It is high time that I am to be married. Or so my father says.”
“Ah, fathers. Always looking out for our best interests. Whether we want them to be or not.”
Mr. Carson laughed again. “Precisely. I shall have to get to know her better, of course. But would she not make a fine wife? You know her well, or so you said?”
“I like to think that I am someone the lady may call a friend,” James replied. He struggled to keep his tone light and even. “And we can agree that she is a fine woman. Very much like her mother.”
“You mean that she has a sharp tongue.” Mr. Carson chuckled. “That is of no never mind to me, as you know.”
James nodded, trying not to look or sound as distracted as he felt. “She would make anybody a fine wife so long as her intellect is respected.”
“And there is no one man that she favors? Nobody upon whose toes I would be stepping?”
“None so far as I know.”
He couldn’t very well tell the man that he had been corresponding secretly with Miss Weston. And he did not even know if he was favored by her. He was throwing his hat in the ring, that was all. Doing it in an unconventional way, but still.
Miss Weston’s replies to his letters spoke more to her curiosity than to any form of favoritism. He would have to keep working to earn that.
And now it seemed that he would not be alone in his efforts.
James honestly did not know how he could compete with Mr. Carson. The man was set to inherit a larger estate and a better title than James was, for one thing.
Not that title and rank were all that Miss Weston cared for. But one had to be sensible in marriage. What young lady would not be somewhat captivated by the idea of becoming a marchioness?
If she had to choose between two men that she liked equally, why would she not go with the one who would bring her better fortune and a greater title?
And for another, Mr. Carson was clearly more at home in himself than James was. He had taken one look at the young lady and was set to woo. And he would not need to hide behind letters in order to do so.
James felt a great wave of shame wash over him. He was truly a coward compared to this man. He dared to think that he had a right to woo Miss Weston through letters? He could not even declare himself to her in person?
He ought to step back. To not reply to whatever letter she sent him next. To vanish as the letter writer if he could not court her as himself.
But then Miss Weston walked over to them, smiling—and smiling primarily at him.
“Mr. Norwich,” she said eagerly. “You have no idea how eager I am to see you this evening. You must prepare yourself for a proper interrogation. Are you ready?”
“As ready, I imagine, as I shall ever be when it comes to you,” he replied.
In that moment he knew that his weakness was not confined to his cowardice with courting. It was also in her. Her shining smile. The way that her eyes danced with mirth. How she sought him out so easily and readily.
He was a selfish man. He could not give her up.
But how could he compete with a man such as Mr. Carson?
Speaking of which…
“Mr. Carson!” Miss Weston smiled at him and curtsied. “I was quite pleased to hear from Mother that you were in town. Thank you for accepting our humble invitation.”
“I should not have missed it for the world,” Mr. Carson replied. “I was only just telling Mr. Norwich here how unfortunate it is that your father is not in attendance. But I hear that you are to be commended for replacing him. You are certainly easier upon the eyes than he is.”
Miss Weston laughed, and James privately cursed his inability to compliment her so easily. Why was it that he could playfully insinuate insults but could not compliment her the way that he wished? The way that she deserved?
“I shall be sure to tell him so when I next see him,” she informed Mr. Carson. “Won’t you please come in and meet the others? I am not sure if you already know some of them.”
She led Mr. Carson away and James prepared himself for another dinner party without Miss Weston’s company.
It was no less than he deserved for his behavior, of course. And Miss Weston could hardly be blamed for it.
She was supposed to be looking for suitors. Her courtship with the letter writer had only barely begun. Why should she not speak with the charming and titled gentleman who seemed so eager to compliment her?
He had only just begun to give sway to such depressing thoughts, however, when Miss Weston returned.
“Another one of my father’s former pupils,” she said. “What an evening it shall be. He will be sad to have missed Mr. Carson. He was one of Father’s favorites. Not that any of them were so dear in his affections as you, of course.”
James bowed politely in acknowledgment of the compliment. “Should you not be entertaining him, then? You have the luck and pleasure of seeing me frequently. I doubt that you have seen him for some time.”
“It has been a year, I should think,” Miss Weston mused. “But no matter. I shall speak with him in due course. First, I must ask some advice from you.”
“Do you ever speak to me for any other reason?” James replied.
“Why, of course I do. I also speak to you in order for you to compliment my choice of dress. And so that you might criticize my life choices and my past times and my thoughts on opera.”
“Ah, and here I thought that you spoke to me so that you might continue to press in vain for me to change my mind on opera. And so that you might criticize my wit and choice of dress at every turn.”
“You wound me so, sir. I have nothing but the highest opinion of your wit.” Miss Weston gave a falsely put-upon sigh. “If only your compassion for my poor nerves was as great.”
“Your nerves, I have come to believe, Miss Weston, are made of steel.”
She smiled fondly at him. “I am pleased to hear you say so. I shall remember that the next time you accuse me of being too dramatic.”
“But what is it that you must consult me on?”
His heart hammered in his chest as he asked the question. Could it be that she was going to confide in him about the letter writer? Would he have to deflect or find some way to lie convincingly?
Perhaps she was having second thoughts about the whole thing and wished to know if he thought she ought to back out. That was the sort of thing that you asked a man you considered to be a brother, was it not?
To his surprise, however, Miss Weston replied:
“I was hoping that I might pick your brain, a little, on what it is like to be a man inheriting a title. What is your estate like?”
“Those are rather businesslike questions for a young lady to be asking,” James replied. “You are lucky that we are so close in our friendship. And that I have such a respect for your intellect.”
“I knew that you would not object,” Miss Weston replied knowingly. “And besides, it is only so that I will be prepared. You know that I must choose a husband. If I am to pick a titled man I should wish to know what I am getting into.”
“You could very well ask your dear friend Miss Reginald. She helped her brother the duke to run his estate until his marriage.”
“But she is far away and a letter would take some time. I wish to hear it from you.”
Miss Weston smiled at him prettily, and James was helpless to resist her. He supposed that it was his own fault that he could not seem to say no to her on anything.
He sighed. “Very well. You may ask away.”
Miss Weston immediately began to pepper him with questions. He answered them readily and as best he could.
It did not fail to escape his notice that they were still talking alone. Not that there was anything improper in that. It was only that Miss Weston ought to have been talking to all of her guests.
He could not help but hope that perhaps it meant that she did care for him a bit more than for the others?
She is literally pumping you for information, good God man, he thought to himself. There is nothing special in it.
Others would come up and speak to them from time to time. He could see Mr. Carson watching them from the sidelines.
He hoped that Mr. Carson did not think that James had been lying when he had said there was no man that Miss Weston favored.
Miss Weston was plainly speaking to him only for the information that he could provide. And of course because she trusted him. He would not underestimate that and was grateful for it.
But Mr. Carson might not see it that way. He might even think that James had lied in order to see Mr. Carson make a fool of himself.
He hoped that Mr. Carson would not think so. But to be certain, he would have to compliment the man or instruct Miss Weston to let Mr. Carson sit next to her at dinner or something of that manner.
It grated at him to give the man another shot at wooing Miss Weston. But if the man was determined, there was little that James could do to stop him. And besides, a little kindness could go a long way.
Above all, he did not want to be seen as a liar or someone who set up a cruel jest.
And besides, it was not ultimately his choice who Miss Weston married. Nor was it Mr. Carson’s choice. It was nobody’s choice except for Miss Weston’s.
She plied him for quite some time about his business. All while they were waiting for dinner, in fact.
James could not help but worry that this was because she was looking for a titled man to marry and wanted to be prepared. He knew that it would make her father happy.
And Miss Weston, although she pretended otherwise, wanted quite a lot to make her parents happy.
Her father had taught the sons of titled men. He had been a surrogate father to many of them. It made sense that she would want to make him happy by marrying one of them. Giving her father the pride that he had to swallow when he had been tutoring them.
James was aware that not all boys were gracious about being sent away from home to live in a smaller house with fewer servants. To be taught by a man who was below them in station.
Mr. Weston had borne it all with a patient and understanding air. To give him a chance to finally stand tall among them and say that his daughter was a titled lady… James could understand Miss Weston wanting to give her father that.
Some might call it mercenary. But James thought that it was only fair. Men sought to be the most successful in business and to possibly even gain a knighthood. Why should a lady not try and be successful at her own career, such as it were?
Well, that already put Mr. Carson in the running. He had a title, and a better one than what James stood to inherit.
He was also much more at ease and better able to compliment and charm. James could tell already that he stood no chance against the other gentleman. At least, not in person.
He must do better in complimenting Miss Weston in his letters. It was only that he did not wish to appear too flowery or to cross any boundaries.
But if he was to have competition, then he had to raise the level of his wooing.
When dinner was finally called, Miss Weston thanked him for the information.
“I would not repeat it to anyone,” he told her. “Many people would think it improper that a lady is showing such an interest.”
“How fortunate then, that you are not one of those people.”
“Quite fortunate for you. But you must assure me that you will not go around spouting off your newfound knowledge. Especially to gentlemen. They will be insulted and think that you are being impertinent.”
“I am always impertinent,” Miss Weston replied. She smiled at him cheekily.
“I mean in a way that is not viewed as endearing,” he replied, making his voice grave so that she might understand. “Sometimes I wonder if you truly understand all the rules that you skirt.”
“I do not need to know them, do I?” Miss Weston asked. “Not when I have you here to constantly remind me.”
James swallowed down the urge to beg her to trust him more. To trust him with her heart as well as her reputation. She leaned on him for everything. And she seemed completely unaware of it.
It was frustrating, to say the least. To know that she was trusting him and turning to him. Wishing that he could give her more. Knowing that he could if she asked. Wondering if she would want that.
“You are fortunate then,” he replied instead. “I am a patient person, though goodness knows why. Perhaps it is that after so many years I have built up a tolerance for you.”
Miss Weston laughed. She doubtless would have said more, but then they were all going in to dinner and she needed to lead the others in.
Mr. Carson had a seat near her, James saw. He was near Mrs. Weston again. The evening was pleasant enough. But he could not help bu
t see how Mr. Carson was charming Miss Weston.
James reminded himself to keep his cool. He could not control either Miss Weston or Mr. Carson. He would simply have to court her on his own merit.
When he received her letter he would be sure to write one in return that was so full of affection she could not help but feel flattered. He would find a way to be charming. She would forget all about Mr. Carson and indeed any other possible suitor in the wake of such a letter. He would make sure of it.
James was aware that he was now resolved to do the very thing that he had recently sworn he would cease doing. But he could not find it in him, not yet, to court Miss Weston in person.