The Earl’s Bluestocking Bride (Unconventional Brides #2)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Andrew studied the strange woman, intrigued. She stared back at him with wide eyes the color of the sky on a clear summer’s day. He’d been looking for her ever since speaking with her mother, but securing an invitation to meet Miss Hart had proven much simpler than actually locating the chit.

He’d never expected to find her behind the shrubbery.

“S-sir.” She straightened and smoothed her free hand down the front of her dress. Something fascinating flashed through her eyes. “I was not hiding. I was merely… rearranging the greenery.”

He chuckled, enchanted by the little liar. “There are servants for that.”

Surely, she was used to having servants around. A man as rich as her father must have dozens of them.

Miss Hart raised her pert, slightly pointed nose. “I enjoy horticulture.”

“You do?” he asked, amused.

“Yes.” She sounded very uncertain. “It is a hobby of mine.”

Entertained as he was by her falsehoods, he needed to know what she was doing over here.

He took two steps toward her, ensuring that no one would be able to overhear their conversation. “Did someone upset you?”

She sighed and squeezed those bright eyes shut, only for them to flutter open a moment later. “This”—she gestured at their surroundings—“is quite a change of pace for me. I simply needed a moment alone to gather my thoughts.”

Guilt flashed through him. While he’d never been one to get overwhelmed by social events, Ashford was, so he was familiar with how debilitating it could be. She’d sought out a few seconds of peace, and he’d intruded like a clumsy oaf.

“My apologies for the interruption. If you need a while longer, I can stand guard and ensure no one approaches.” It was the best peace offering he could think of, especially considering that he didn’t wish to alienate Miss Hart.

It was refreshing to speak with a woman who wasn’t either simpering at everything he said or too intimidated to respond.

She cocked her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I do believe it would be most improper. After all, we haven’t even been introduced.”

“Ah, but I have met your mother, and I am certain I have her blessing to introduce myself to you.” Mrs. Hart had been practically gleeful when he’d asked her about her daughter. “I’m the Earl of Longley.”

To his surprise, she cringed. “I see.”

She didn’t say anything more, and he wasn’t sure why his identity caused her distress.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, to break the silence. “Assuming this dance is not promised to someone else.”

She laughed. “I am quite sure it is, but I’m avoiding taking part.”

He grinned, relieved she was conversing with him again. “Well, what about the next one, then? ”

“I suppose so.” She held out her hand for him to look at her card.

He hid his amusement as he did so. He wasn’t accustomed to young women being quite so unimpressed by him. He read the list of names on her card, his eyebrow rising. Mrs. Hart hadn’t wasted any time in thrusting her daughter at every available titled man in the room, and a few second sons as well.

The next dance already had a name scrawled beside it, but he crossed it out and added his own. Her lips parted, and a breath gusted between them.

He put a finger to his lips. “Our secret. Trust me, you don’t want to dance with Lord Brunner.”

He half expected her to protest, but instead, her mouth curved into a sly smile.

“In that case, I appreciate your assistance.”

The music ended, and he offered her his hand. “If we intend to dance, we must, unfortunately, leave the cover of your beloved shrubbery.”

She stifled a laugh. “You are absurd, my lord.”

He winked. “Better that than boring.”

He guided her into position. She moved with the effortless grace of someone who had been dancing for years. No doubt her mother harbored long-held aspirations of marriage into the aristocracy and had been preparing her daughter for such. Although the fact that he’d found Miss Hart behind the shrubbery told him she was cut from a different cloth than her mother.

She swept past him, the soft fabric of their gloves brushing as they moved through the steps of the dance. He wondered how her bare skin would feel against his.

It was odd, but for some reason she fascinated him. She wasn’t a great beauty by the ton’s standards. Slim without being waifish. Dark hair rather than the blond that was currently in favor. Slightly taller than was usual for a woman. Yet her eccentricities charmed him.

As she drew near, her remarkable eyes met his. Those were certainly noteworthy. As was the faint scent of peppermint that lingered on her skin.

“I appreciate you not treading on my feet,” she said, humor gleaming in her eyes.

“I aim to please.” The song rose to a crescendo. It would soon end, and a mild sense of panic rose within him at the thought of losing her company. “Tell me about yourself.”

He spun her, and as she returned, her eyebrows were furrowed.

“What would you like to know?” she asked.

“Anything you care to share.” They swayed past each other again, and he breathed in her minty aroma.

She considered this. “Very well. I enjoy learning about other places and civilizations.”

He shook his head, his grin widening. “Of course you do.”

A woman like Miss Hart would not be interested in ribbons or watercolors. She was of a different bent.

Her eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Only that you seem the type of person to be intrigued by the world around you.”

“Oh.” She clearly didn’t know what to make of that.

The song ended, and he bowed to her and took her hand. “Allow me to escort you back to your mother… unless you’d prefer to return to hiding behind the shrubbery?”

“I was not—” She broke off, huffing in indignation. She rather reminded him of a cat with its fur puffed up. He knew better than to verbalize that though.

Finding Mrs. Hart proved simple. She was hovering just beyond the dancers, her expression conflicted.

“You were supposed to dance with Lord Brunner,” she murmured, taking Miss Hart’s arm.

“Forgive me,” Andrew said, compelled to prevent Mrs. Hart from chiding her daughter. “I was so eager to dance that I ignored her obligation, even when she informed me of it.”

“Oh. Well.” Mrs. Hart seemed torn between continuing to reprimand Miss Hart and expressing her delight at his attention. “Next time, you will simply have to get in sooner to claim her first dance.”

He inclined his head. “Indeed.” He turned to Miss Hart. “May I call on you tomorrow?”

She stared at him, clearly baffled by his interest.

“Yes, my lord,” Mrs. Hart rushed to say, her eyes narrowed at her daughter meaningfully. “We would love to welcome you. We’ll be receiving callers tomorrow morning from 11:00 a.m.”

He nodded. “I shall be there with bells on. Please excuse me, ladies.”

With that, he bowed, pivoted, and strode away. Miss Hart was unlike any woman he’d ever met. He had a feeling he could grow to enjoy her company very much.

He made his way to the refreshments room and poured himself a glass of champagne. He dodged the Earl of Winn, who was swaying drunkenly toward him, and withdrew the list from his pocket. He’d made contact with four of the women tonight. Only two remained: Miss Carruthers and Miss Wentham.

He’d already crossed off one name. Miss Cahill, the first of the potential wives he’d encountered tonight, had been as shrewish as her reputation proclaimed. She’d made snide comments about the decor, other people’s attire, and his own dancing skills.

Andrew knew he couldn’t afford to be too selective, but he did not want an unkind wife. Thus, she was not an option.

Lady Esther Bowling had been reasonably pleasant, as he’d expected. Not much for chitchat, but she’d seemed good-natured. Lady Holden had been every bit as slippery as he’d anticipated. She was charming and beautiful, but aloof in a way that he expected meant she would not succumb easily to any man’s charm.

He finished his champagne and went in search of Miss Wentham. He’d been unable to approach her so far because she had been constantly on the dance floor. However, he had secured her mother’s word that she’d be available for this next dance.

Sure enough, Mrs. Wentham was standing next to the dance floor with her daughter beside her. Andrew had met Miss Wentham before but had not spent long in her acquaintance. She was a pretty blond girl with delicate features and a slightly hooked nose.

He circled around an arrangement of flowers, catching a faint floral scent, and stopped in front of them, sketching a quick bow. “Miss Wentham. Your mother advised me that you are available for the next dance. Is that so?”

“I am, my lord.”

She offered him her hand, and he drew her onto the dance floor, where the dancing had temporarily ceased. They stood opposite each other, waiting as other couples joined them.

“I am surprised to see you here. I understand that you usually prefer social events of a different caliber.”

Andrew wasn’t sure whether to grimace or smirk. It seemed his reputation as somewhat of a rake preceded him. That was unfortunate in that it may prejudice some mamas against him, but it also rendered him intriguing to curious misses—such as Miss Wentham, if he were reading her correctly.

“I’m in search of a wife this season.” He’d decided it was best not to play coy. He didn’t want to risk putting anyone off by allowing them to be uncertain of his motives.

A violin began to play.

Her eyebrows rose. “Are you, indeed? ”

Other instruments joined in, and the dancers started to move. As they circled around, Andrew spotted Miss Hart on the arm of Lord Brunner. Her mother must have pushed her to make up for the time she’d spent with him.

She looked most uncomfortable. Even from a distance, he could tell she didn’t like Brunner being near her. She kept their touches as brief as possible, and her eyes were fixed somewhere over his shoulder. He couldn’t help recalling how enjoyable their dance had been and feeling a flash of satisfaction that she so obviously preferred his company.

Miss Wentham followed his gaze as her feet moved effortlessly. She laughed, but rather than the sweet giggles of Lady Esther or the wry amusement of Miss Hart, hers was sharp enough to cut.

“What a joke that the Harts believe they can foist themselves onto polite society simply because they have money.” She shook her head, her upper lip curled in a sneer. “No matter how nicely they dress or how well they polish their manners, they’ll always have dirty roots.”

Well. Apparently, Miss Wentham had no trouble vocalizing her opinion, and she was quite a snob. Andrew mentally crossed her off the list too. It was a shame. She was attractive, and her family was well respected, but he could not possibly tie himself to someone so judgmental.

“Don’t you agree?” she asked as they separated and rejoined.

“No,” he said shortly.

He’d never been one of the aristocrats who looked down their nose at people who made something of themselves from humble beginnings. They certainly had more to be proud of than he did. He’d inherited all he had, and he hadn’t even been responsible enough to hold on to it.

The dance ended, and he escorted Miss Wentham back to her mother.

“Thank you for the lovely dance.” He kept his tone polite. It did no good to be abrupt with anyone.

“I hope we’ll see more of you soon.” Mrs. Wentham sounded optimistic, but her daughter seemed less so. Perhaps she realized she’d erred in expressing her snobbery so openly to him.

He excused himself, internally debating whether to seek out Miss Carruthers or help himself to another champagne first, and perhaps a piece of cake. The idea of a sweet treat and more alcohol appealed, but he decided it was best to get the last of his conversations with prospective wives out of the way.

He wandered the gathering. Unfortunately, he did not know what either Miss Carruthers or her parents looked like. However, his mother had informed him that they were cousins to the Earl of Wembley, so when he spotted Lady Wembley, he hoped she would be able to aid him.

He silently thanked his lucky stars that the Wembleys’ daughter had married last season. If not, he might find himself fending off Lady Wembley’s attempts at matchmaking with her own daughter.

Normally, he wouldn’t mind that, but from his understanding, the Carruthers were much wealthier than the Wembleys, and at the moment, unfortunate—and somewhat crass—though it may be, much depended on his ability to marry a fortune.

“Lady Wembley.” He took her hand and bowed. “Might I trouble you for an introduction to your lovely niece?”

The corner of Lady Wembley’s mouth hitched up. “It’s true, then? The illustrious Earl of Longley intends to settle down?”

He straightened. “In this, the gossip is correct.”

A dimple formed in one of her cheeks. “You are fortunate that I no longer have an unmarried daughter, Longley, or I might take offense at your interest in Miss Carruthers. As it happens, I am in a good mood, and she is a sweet girl. I shall be happy to make the introduction.”

“Thank you, my lady. I can’t imagine that you ever experience unpleasant moods. You are the height of graciousness.”

She laughed. “And you, my lord, are a dreadful flirt. Come. Last I saw her, Miss Carruthers was near the lemonade.”

She led him to the lemonade table tucked away in the corner of the ballroom. Hovering nearby was a relatively unremarkable girl with dark hair and a nice smile.

He assessed her quickly. Her dress was a pale shade of green that suited her well, and while she was not in anyone’s company, she didn’t seem to be attempting to disappear into the wallpaper.

She was, however, quite young. The youngest of the ladies he’d met tonight. His mother had promised him no schoolroom chits, but Miss Carruthers was surely not long past that age.

“Miss Carruthers,” Lady Wembley called.

The girl turned toward them and, seeing Longley, swept a neat curtsy. “Aunt.”

Lady Wembley drew up in front of her and gestured at Andrew. “This is the Earl of Longley. He wished to make your acquaintance.”

“Lovely to meet you, my lord.” Her voice was soft and cultured.

“The pleasure is all mine. I don’t suppose your dance card is empty for the next dance?”

“It is.” She held out her wrist and offered it to him.

He added his name, and they made polite small talk until the dance began.

When the dance was over, he returned her to the wall near the lemonade and parted with a few final words. He made his farewells and headed out of the building, taking the stairs down to where the carriages waited with a pep in his step.

Perhaps the evening had been exhausting, but he was in a good place to start planning. While both Miss Carruthers and Lady Esther remained valid options, neither had intrigued him as much as the woman he’d found hiding behind the shrubbery.

Miss Hart had been alternately awkward and witty. He suspected the awkwardness was a facade and that the witty, amusing woman was who she really was. Her, he wanted to know better. It didn’t hurt that her mother had made it obvious just how desperate she was to make a good match.

His carriage pulled up. He got in and called out to the driver that he was ready to depart. They trundled through the gate and onto the road. It was truly dark now and slightly chilly. Andrew drew his jacket tightly around himself and dipped his chin down to conserve warmth.

The drive home passed far more quickly than the ride in the other direction had taken because traffic was far sparser. When they stopped outside Longley House, he thanked the driver and glanced up. Light shone through his bedroom window and also the one farther along, where Kate slept. His mother’s room was dark.

Boden let him in and locked the door. Andrew bid him good night and climbed the stairs to his bedchamber. His eyes were heavy, but his mind was racing too much to be able to sleep soon, so he stopped by the library, found the book he’d been reading, and took it with him.

He opened his bedchamber and came up short, startled. “Kate.”

His sister looked up from the sketch pad resting on her knee. From the doorway, he could tell she’d been shading in the portrait of a person, but he couldn’t tell who. She closed the book and set it aside.

“Andrew. Mother said you wouldn’t mind if I waited for you here.”

“Of course not.” He entered the room and closed the door. “Is everything all right?”

She spun the pencil between her fingers. There were dark smudges along their length and on her palms. Hopefully she hadn’t smeared any of it on his bedding. “Did you meet anyone nice tonight?”

Ah. So she wanted to know how their prospects were looking.

“I did, actually.”

She smiled ever so slightly, relief evident in the expression. “Is she a diamond of the first water?”

He sat on the edge of the bed and bent to remove his boots. “Actually, no.”

“No?”

He didn’t say anything more, knowing it would drive her crazy.

“Tell me,” she whined. “Please, Andrew. I want to know.”

He slipped off one boot and started on the other. “She’s a merchant’s daughter, and I get the impression she’s rather unconventional.”

“A merchant’s daughter?” She sounded intrigued. “How is she unconventional?”

Smiling to himself, he removed the second boot, turned to face her, and recounted his first meeting with Miss Hart.

“I want to meet her,” Kate declared when he’d finished speaking.

He chuckled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’s every possibility that Miss Hart was not nearly as taken with me as I was with her.”

Kate scoffed. “Of course she was. All my friends say how handsome you are. I am certain she noticed too.”

“Yes,” he mused. “Perhaps. But there is much more to attraction than appearances. She strikes me as the type of woman who will have a firm idea of what she wants, and I’m not certain I fit the bill.”

She frowned. “When will you see her next?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good. We can plan out what you’re going to say to her together.”

Andrew glanced toward the window. Was he really willing to take advice from his baby sister?

He sighed. “What do you have in mind?”