The Lady Seals Her Fate Page 5

  “I said that in regards to people’s bottoms, not Pumpkin’s.”

  “I really don’t think you should discuss anyone’s bottom in public,” Alex said, taking the kite string from Bridgette and winding it up. He had not spent a great deal of time with the Wooller sisters, yet when he had, there was no mistaking the love they shared, even though they teased each other constantly.

  “Society is a silly thing, don’t you think, Alex? All the rules and carry-on, it quite makes one’s head hurt,” Bridgette said.

  “Oh quite,” Hannah mocked her sister, which made Bridgette poke out her tongue.

  “If you children are now quite finished, we need to get back, as I am taking your sister driving in the park.”

  “All right.” Bridgette took Pumpkin’s lead and headed for the gate.

  “She wouldn’t have conceded so easily for me,” Hannah muttered, moving to his side. “And do not call me ‘my sweet’ again in public. This will be hard enough to end without you making it worse, although I must admit it was a relief when Lord McDonald left.”

  “I live to serve.” He bowed deeply. “What did he say to you?”

  “That he felt he rushed his proposal last night and requested I give him time to get to know me better, and then if I still have no wish to marry him, he would respect my wishes.”

  “Did you feel threatened by him, Hannah?”

  She hesitated before speaking. “No, of course not.”

  “I can tell when you are being untruthful.”

  “How?” She shot him a look.

  “You either stutter, or pause before speaking.”

  “N-no I don’t.”

  He didn’t say anything, just raised a brow, which made her huff out a breath.

  “Alex, I’m sorry for implicating you in this mess.”

  “As you should be, but now it is done we will make the best of it, so no more need be said on the matter.”

  They walked back to the house with Bridgette chatting the entire way and Hannah deep in contemplation.

  “Are you really going driving in the park, Alex?” Bridgette said when they had entered the house.

  “Yes, I am, and I am taking your sister with me.”

  “Then you can take me also.”

  “Not today, Bridgette,” Hannah intervened. “Now, go and take tea with Alex while I change.”

  “Very well, but I get first pick of the cakes. Come along, Alex.” She summoned him to follow her just as her sister would.

  “Do you want to arm wrestle, Alex, while we await the tea tray?”

  “No, and young ladies do not arm wrestle.” Alex watched the youngest Wooller huff out a breath then flounce to a chair and throw herself into it. She looked nothing like her sister, except perhaps in the tilt of that defiant chin.

  “Hannah told me I needed to start acting more ladylike, and now you.”

  “I don’t remember saying that,” Alex said, wondering how relations between Hannah and her father were and how Woolly would react to him now that he knew Alex was supposed to have a tendre for her.

  “No you didn’t, but it was inferred,” Bridgette said, looking despondent.

  “You can still be a child, Bridgette, no one is trying to change that, but you also need to be a young lady at times. The trick is to understand when you can be each.”

  The girl gave him a steady look not unlike her sister often did. “I shall think on that, Alex, because surprisingly you make sense.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That sounds like something your sister would say.”

  Bridgette smiled. “Excellent. I want to be like her, only don’t tell her that.”

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Alex said, getting to his feet as the door opened. Hannah entered first, and the serious expression on her face told him she had yet to make amends with her father. Woolly looked sad, his eyes resting on his eldest daughter.

  “Woolly.” Alex held out his hand to the man, and was relieved when he took it.

  “Alex, I couldn’t be happier with what Hannah told me.” He meant it, Alex was relieved and guilty to note. He did not like deceiving people, even if the man had done something extremely foolish and caused his daughter a great deal of angst.

  “What has made you happier, Papa?” Bridgette was looking at the adults.

  “Alex and Hannah are—”

  “Friends.” Hannah jumped into the conversation.

  “Well, I knew that.”

  “Possibly more than friends,” Woolly said, which made Bridgette’s brow wrinkle.

  “Good friends then?”

  “Very good friends.” Alex kissed Hannah’s cheek again.

  “Alex, you kissed Hannah!”

  “That I did, Bridgette.” He took one of Hannah’s hands in his, and rested it on his arm. Her nails dug into his flesh through his clothing, but he refused to wince.

  “But why?”

  “Because we are very, very good friends,” Hannah said, looking a bit panicky. Good. She’d started this, and it was wrong of him, but he would not mind if she suffered a bit. In fact, now he thought about it, he may actually enjoy tormenting her upon occasion.

  “And now we are to go driving in the park, if you will both excuse us,” Alex said, pulling Hannah from the room. She didn’t say good-bye to her father, and Alex realized that something must be done about the division that had arisen between them.

  He handed her and her maid up into his carriage, before climbing into the driver seat. Taking the reins, he was soon rolling through the London streets toward the park. Hannah sat quietly beside him staring straight ahead. He knew her well enough to know she was consumed with thoughts of her father and the situation she had placed Alex in.

  “You will have to forgive your father at some stage, Hannah.”

  “He betrayed me.” Her voice was flat and cold. “And in doing so forced us into this ridiculous charade.”

  “No one forced you into that, you came up with it all by yourself, so do not include me.”

  “I know.” Hannah sighed. “And I am aware of the inconvenience I am putting you to.”

  “Getting back to forgiving your father,” Alex said. “If Bridgette came to you tomorrow and said she was in trouble, that she had done something extremely foolish, but saw no way to extricate herself from the situation, would you do whatever was in your power to help her?”

  “That is not the same.”

  Alex tipped his hat to a lady walking down the street.

  “Answer the question please, Hannah.”

  “Knowing Bridgette, I imagine that it is something that is likely to happen in the future.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Yes!” He didn’t smile at her tone. “I would do whatever I could to help her, and am taking whatever steps are necessary to keep her safe.”

  “What do you mean, you are taking whatever steps are necessary to keep Bridgette safe?” Alex looked at Hannah, but she had turned away.

  “I misspoke, Alex, I mean I would do whatever was necessary.”

  Alex wasn’t entirely sure she was telling the truth, but dismissed the thought. Woolly would never allow anything to threaten his daughters.

  “And do you think it is any different for your father, Hannah? No matter how misguided, he loves you and believed he was doing the right thing on your behalf.”

  She looked at a flower seller, and then raised her eyes to the tall buildings they passed. Her sigh told him he was right.

  “It hurts because usually he would listen to me, Alex, but in this he would not see reason. He thought increasing my dowry meant every eligible man would be at my door, not all the poor ones.”

  “You did not believe him capable of doing what he believed was the right thing for the daughter he loves very much? Did not believe him capable of making a mistake when your interests are concerned? He is worried about his heart, and this, as far as he is concerned, is reason enough to push you into marriage.” Alex knew this because his eldest b
rother had told him after he questioned Woolly over Hannah’s increased dowry.

  She was silent as he turned into the park. Her beauty shone in the sunshine, the deep emerald bonnet and pelisse made her skin seem almost alabaster, and the simple white dress finished the picture of exquisite beauty. Slender, elegant, she was a lady to her toes.

  “Yes.” She sighed again. “I know what you say is true, and know that his intentions were probably good, now that my spleen has cooled slightly. But I am still not ready to forgive him.”

  “I know.” He squeezed her hand then concentrated on maneuvering around a few carriages.

  “Alex, I want you to know that I am very sorry for what I have done to you. I had no right to embroil you in my problems.”

  He looked at her briefly. “Why did you?”

  “I don’t know, you just popped into my head and then your name was on my lips.”

  “At least you are honest, and after giving the matter a great deal of thought, I’ve come to the realization that this situation may help me also.”

  He saw a group of young women walking with an older lady, the Countess of Sinclair. She had four daughters, all of marriageable age. They waved to him, hoping he would stop, and then lowered their hands when they saw Hannah seated at his side. Yes, Alex thought, this may well work in his favor.

  “How so?” Hannah had been watching the women also.

  “I am a hunted species, Hannah; it will be quite nice to enjoy the remainder of the season without having young women fired into my path whenever I enter a ballroom.”

  “Yes, I can see that would be hard,” she drawled. “Adoration and compliments. Being popular must be extremely difficult.”

  “No need to be nasty, especially as I am saving your elegant neck.”

  “True,” she sighed.

  “And for your information I have no wish to have women fall all over themselves for my attentions. I would much rather seek a woman out myself. Do you know that two weeks ago I was lured on false pretenses into a room at the Hatton Ball? I heard a giggle and realized it was a setup and ran, but had I entered I have no doubt that a young lady would have been in that room, and behind me would have been her father or mother.”

  “Good Lord, it seems a great deal of trouble to go to, just to wed you.” Hannah wrinkled her nose.

  “Some would say I’m quite a catch,” he snapped.

  “Really? Well there is no accounting for taste.”

  “For someone who is now reliant on my goodwill to carry out her charade, I would suggest you make more of an effort at being nice.” Alex threw her a look, but she was turned away, watching the carriages. He wanted to touch the soft ringlet bouncing on her shoulder.

  “Yes.” Her sigh was theatrical. “Forgive me, old habits die hard.”

  “Vixen. Now be alert, the Dowager Duchess of Stratton has signaled for us to pull alongside that monstrosity she calls a carriage,” Alex said.

  “Must we?”

  Ignoring Hannah’s frantic plea, Alex drew his horses to a halt. The Dowager Duchess had an open carriage, so they were able to converse with ease.

  “Hetherington!” the old lady barked.

  “I see you have yet to update your equipage, Your Grace, and still insist on driving about in that monstrosity.” Hannah inhaled heavily at his words, throwing him a panicked look. One did not insult the Dowager Duchess of Stratton.

  “You have no notion of comfort and style, boy. Gadding about in that thing would be bad for my digestion.”

  “Your sour disposition would suggest you left the house in an ill humor, Your Grace. Care to tell me which of your minions has been insubordinate today?”

  “Alex!” Hannah whispered urgently. “You should not speak that way.”

  “Impudent whelp!” the Dowager said. “Where are my books?” she added. “I want to read the works of Seneca the Younger, as I have told you many times, yet still you have not given them to me.”

  Alex felt Hannah release the breath she had been holding when the Dowager Duchess did not take him to task over the way he had spoken to her.

  “I do have them, and would be more than happy to lend them to you. However, I must insist you not eat or drink tea over them, as they are expensive copies and highly sought.”

  The old woman sucked in her lips until they disappeared. She was one of the older members of society, and had known him since his first season. Many were scared of her, but not he. They had discovered a mutual love of Roman literature at a house party, when he was hiding in the library from Lady Littlejohn, whose intention had been to take him to her bed, as to her mind there was no substitute for the stamina of youth to pleasure a woman. He and the Dowager had struck up a conversation and stayed in that room for over an hour discussing their favorite subject.

  “May I remind you it was you who tore the corner of my copy of Catullus.” The Dowager loved debating with him, because not many people would argue with the old bat.

  “And may I remind you that it was I who read to you, day upon day, when you lost your voice, and while the rest of London rejoiced in your condition, it was I who suffered alongside you.”

  She blew out a loud breath and then reached across the carriage with her walking stick and jabbed him. She was remarkably agile for an old woman.

  “Well?” The Dowager glared at Hannah, who was obviously speechless, as at least forty seconds had passed without her saying a word.

  “Pardon?” She looked at Alex and then the Dowager, but he didn’t come to her rescue. She’d certainly made his life uncomfortable of late, so he considered this a small measure of atonement.

  “What are you doing driving about with this man?” The Dowager waved her walking stick about, narrowly missing her companion, a small, neatly dressed young woman, whom Alex had never heard utter a word.

  “Ah… well, we are friends, Your Grace.”

  “Friends? I’m sure there’s more to it than that!” the Dowager roared. “Good choice, Hetherington, this one at least has a brain.”

  “Does she?” Alex took his time studying Hannah, enjoying her bafflement. “If you say so, Your Grace; after all, you are never wrong.”

  “Impudent is what you are, Hetherington. I expect you for tea tomorrow and in your arms will be my books or don’t bother turning up!” The Dowager Duchess then slammed her walking stick into the floor of the carriage, which had it moving immediately.

  “What just happened, Alex?”

  “We had an interlude with the Dowager Duchess of awkward, Hannah.”

  “Did you… Do you really read Roman literature, and did you do so to her?”

  “I do and I did.” Alex nodded to Sir Godfrey, enjoying the man’s obvious frustration over the fact that Hannah was seated beside him. The man didn’t have two farthings to rub together because of his gambling habit, but he would not be replenishing his coffers using Hannah’s dowry, Alex would make sure of that. “Beautiful day, Godfrey.”

  “The world has gone mad,” Hannah said, looking about to confirm her suspicions. “Roman literature… really, Alex?”

  “Do you not think I am capable of such weighty prose, Hannah? Perhaps you believe my morning newspaper taxes me?” Alex shouldn’t be hurt by her words, after all, many thought him a devil-may-care man with little to recommend him but his family’s fortunes and tolerable looks, but he was.

  “Don’t be foolish, of course I know you could read it, I’m just not sure why anyone would want to.”

  He smiled at her, because she didn’t believe him incapable after all. “Have you read Roman literature?” His smile turned to laughter as she shuddered.

  “Thankfully, no. Father hired a tutor who attempted to ‘better me;’ those were his words.” She literally robbed the breath from his body when she smiled like that. It lit her entire face from within and her eyes sparkled, and its rarity made it all the more precious to Alex. “I tried to read something from one of those old works; Vergil, if memory serves. Hideous.” She shuddered aga
in. “I was asleep before the end of the first page.”

  She wasn’t the kind of woman to pander to a man’s ego. If she loathed something then she said so, and was equally passionate about what she did love. To his shame, he had never asked what that was.

  “Do you read?” Alex asked her.

  “Of course I read!”

  “Very amusing, but you know that I am asking you what it is you do read,” Alex said, sending her a mock scowl. They were actually enjoying each other’s company for a few sweet minutes, and he had to admit she was a surprisingly comfortable person to spend time with, when they were not arguing over the cut of a dress.

  “Poetry, and I shall thank you not to make any derogative comments.”

  “Which poet?”

  “John Keats.” She sighed the name.

  “Which poem?” Alex navigated around a carriage before looking at her. “Hannah, which poem of his do you like best?”

  “‘To Hope,’” she whispered.

  “When by my solitary hearth I sit, / And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; / When no fair dreams before my ‘mind’s eye’ flit, / And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; / Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, / And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head.” When he finished, Alex smiled and Hannah smiled back, and for that brief moment he felt as if they completely understood each other, which of course they did not. But he felt it just the same, almost as if something unspoken had passed between them.

  “You have hidden depths, Mr. Hetherington.” Her voice was soft.

  “Yes, Miss Wooller, I do.” Alex pulled the carriage to a halt and then jumped down. He went around to Hannah’s side and held up his hands to her.

  “Why are we getting down?”

  “It’s called promenading, and you wanted this, so we are doing it correctly. No half measures.”

  Her green eyes looked down at him, then she blinked, those long lashes hiding her expression briefly.

  “Your lashes really are ridiculously long.”

  “I believe you wanted them singed?” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and letting him lift her down.

  She was light, his hands nearly spanning her waist, and smelt of something sweetly alluring. He held out his arm and she placed her fingers in the crook, and they started walking.