Courting Miss Lancaster (16 page)

Chapter 18

“If he were still in London, I’d kill him,” Adam grumbled. He’d uttered myriad variations on that threat over the week since Harry had left London.

There were moments when Athena wholeheartedly agreed. Those moments, however, were invariably followed by the realization that she missed Harry almost desperately despite the fact that she was hurt and angry with him. Mr. Howard had launched into one of his rambling discourses on trees of northern England only the evening before at a soiree. Athena had, out of habit, turned to smile at Harry, but he hadn’t been beside her as he’d once always been. A moment before she’d been entirely downtrodden with wishing Harry hadn’t left, Athena had reminded herself that Harry had introduced her to Mr. Howard in the first place.

“Harry is certainly entitled to visit his sister, Adam,” Persephone said.

“He has a ridiculous sense of timing,” Adam said, his eyes turned to the dark street outside their moving carriage. “A few more weeks and this abysmal Little Season will be over with. The man couldn’t have waited that long?”

“He probably wanted to make the journey before the roads up north are all but impassable,” Persephone pointed out.

“We are going to have to leave in a fortnight or so as it is,” Adam agreed, “or we’ll never make it to Falstone Castle.”

“Can you endure another two weeks of society?” Persephone asked, an obvious smile in her tone, though the carriage interior was too dark for Athena to see her clearly.

“Barely.” He sounded like he was holding back a laugh.

The rest of the ride was silent. It was not the most promising beginning to the night’s festivities. Adam tolerated the theater more than any other activity, probably owing to the fact that there was little, if any, need to interact with anyone beyond his own group. Persephone had begun to look a bit pulled over the past week, no doubt the constant activity of the months she’d spent in London having worn her to a thread.

Athena, for her part, felt mostly anxious. She had known the Little Season was nearly at a close. Until Adam had declared they would remain in London for not more than another fortnight, she had been planning on another month. How could she possibly fall in love in two weeks?

In her mind, it had all seemed so simple. The gentleman of her dreams would find her, and she would know he was exactly the companion she had been waiting for. She spent most of the opening act of whichever performance they were watching reflecting on her expectations. The scenario had replayed in her mind so many times over the course of her life that she had it memorized. But every ball came and went without the heart-pounding moment of seeing her heart’s desire across the ballroom, without watching him slowly make his way to where she stood, without the tingling touch of hands.

She was running out of time. Adam would not wish to spend another Season sponsoring her, and she had no wish to be alone all her life. Without Harry to help her . . . But Athena didn’t allow the thought to continue. Harry, apparently, had
not
helped her.

“You appear to be rather deep in thought.” Mr. Dalforth’s voice snapped Athena from her state of reflection. Around her, the audience was loudly conversing—even more loudly than they generally did
during
the performance—indicating that Athena’s inattention had been so complete she had not even noticed the start of the first intermission.

“I suppose I was wool gathering,” Athena acknowledged, trying to keep her tone light.

“You have seemed a bit distracted the last few days.” His words were hesitant and his look a little wary, almost as if he was unsure he wanted to hear her reasons.

Had Harry been asking, Athena would have told him everything. Confiding in Harry came easily, naturally. There was never any worry of censure or dismissal from him. Not that Mr. Dalforth was ever unkind. He simply didn’t inspire the same level of trust that Harry did, or
had.
She was so confused. Trust had always been the feeling she’d associated most with Harry, and he had betrayed her, had deceived her for weeks. But—drat the man—despite it all, she wished he was there.

“The general consensus seems to be that it will snow by morning,” Mr. Dalforth said as if he were continuing some previous thread of conversation. Athena realized she hadn’t really been listening and devoted herself to paying closer attention. “So perhaps tea would be the better option after all.”

Her confusion must have shown. Mr. Dalforth smiled at her, perhaps a little chagrined. “As the weather is likely to be uncooperative tomorrow, I was suggesting we forgo our scheduled ride in the park and remain at Falstone House to take tea with your sister, should she agree.”

“That is probably wise,” Athena acknowledged.

Mr. Dalforth had driven her out thrice since Harry had left London and a handful of times before then. He danced with her at each ball, though never more than once. As he was at that moment, Mr. Dalforth was also certain to pay his respects whenever they were in attendance at the same function. “Pointed” she had overheard a dowager refer to the attention Athena was receiving from Mr. Dalforth. “Promising” was another descriptor used.

Based on the evaluation of curious onlookers, there was a very real possibility that Mr. Dalforth was courting her. Indeed, the more she thought on it, the more certain Athena became. Shouldn’t a young lady who is being courted realize as much? It certainly ought not to come as an epiphanic insight several weeks after the fact.

Athena looked more closely at Mr. Dalforth as he consulted Persephone on the change of plans for the next afternoon. Somehow she had imagined a far more noticeable reaction to a gentleman who was courting her. She had fully believed that her heart would warm at the sight of her would-be suitor, that she would be inexplicably pleased to have him nearby, would perhaps even feel a flip of her heart upon seeing him after even a short separation. She hadn’t even noticed when he’d come into their box. And, at the moment, she had absolutely no idea what he was saying.

Athena paid more attention the rest of the evening. Mr. Dalforth remained in their box until the second intermission. Her heart did not misbehave, and she found she was not overly disappointed when he took his leave. Mr. Dalforth was a very kind, intelligent, and conversant gentleman. He was not ridiculously conceited nor did he possess a dragon of a mother. He had all the qualities she had already decided she desired in a future husband, including those she had added after Harry’s eventually disastrous involvement in her Little Season.

But it did not feel like enough. There was no spark, no rush of emotion between them. A gentleman did not pay a lady so much obvious and public attention as she had been receiving from Mr. Dalforth unless he was either a relative or intending to marry her. When she had made her bows to society, Athena had hoped she would receive an offer before her Season was over. That outcome suddenly seemed imminent. But rather than feeling relieved or excited or happy, Athena felt very nearly panicked.

* * *

“Hiding in the rhododendrons, Harry?” Jane was laughing, probably
at
him.

Harry looked up from his seat on a bench in the garden and smiled at his sister. She had the same blue eyes he did, eyes that, at that moment, appeared to be full of amusement. “I was hoping to avoid my gossip-loving sister,” Harry answered, shifting his look into one of feigned worry. “I have feared for my constitution from the moment I arrived, knowing she would harangue me for all the latest
on dits
and that the undertaking would require several hours at the least. I am not certain I have the stamina.” Harry managed an exaggerated sigh.

“
That
sister will catch up with you eventually,” Jane replied.

“And which sister has cornered me just now?” Harry asked, laughing a little.

“The one who is wondering what brought her usually cheerful brother up from Town when the Duke of Kielder is still in London,” Jane answered. “That has not happened since Claudius was born.”

“Well, the
rest
of your children had the decency to make their debut when I was at Falstone Castle,” Harry answered. “Perhaps I came in anticipation of
this
one,” Harry motioned slightly with his head toward the very obvious roundness of his sister’s figure.

Jane shook her head, still smiling in amusement. “You know very well this child will not arrive until the new year. No, it is not that which has brought you to Lincolnshire.” She looked at him speculatively. Harry attempted to look entirely at his ease. “Has His Grace finally decided to do away with you?”

Harry had to laugh, just as Jane did. She had been frightened beyond bearing when she’d first met Adam. He had been ten years old at the time. Jane had been twelve. Adam had already gained a reputation for being fearsome, and he had long since perfected his ducal air. Adam had spent the Christmas holiday with Harry’s aunt and uncle in Scotland. By the end of the visit, Jane was referring to Adam—though not in his presence—as a “tortured soul,” and while she was certainly not
un
intimidated by him, she had decided Adam was not on the verge of murdering her brother. After a few more years passed without word of Harry’s untimely death, Jane became less concerned, even joking about the potential for a violent end to Harry and Adam’s unexpected friendship.

“Did you . . .” Jane looked a little uncomfortable but, being the unsympathetic sister she often was, pressed on regardless. “Did you run out of money? You were in Town longer than usual, and I know how expensive London can be.”

“No,” Harry reassured her, squeezing her hand where it rested on the bench. Jane knew better than anyone, except perhaps for Adam, how dire Harry’s circumstances really were. If Jane’s husband hadn’t fallen top-over-tail in love with Harry’s sometimes-flighty sister after a nearly disastrous courtship the summer Jane had spent in Bath as a hired companion, Jane would yet be fetching wraps and tea for some curmudgeonly old lady or another. The estate could not support one gentleman, let alone a lady in addition. “I was particularly careful.” He knew Jane needed to have her mind set at ease on that score. She often expressed a wish to help, an impossible thing, considering the ever-increasing size of their family coupled with her husband’s modest income contrasted against the enormity of the Windover estate’s needs. “And Adam saw to it that I ate regularly.”

“You know, for an ogre, he is remarkably thoughtful,” Jane replied, the twinkle in her eyes evident once again.

“Yes, he is a very well-mannered monster.”

“So if the Dastardly Duke didn’t drive you from London and your creditors aren’t up in arms, that leaves only one possibility.” Jane shrugged dramatically.

“And what is that?” Harry asked with a grin.

She lowered her voice to a whisper, her eyes growing wide. Jane was nothing if not theatrical. “You have run afoul of the most viciously vengeful of all the gods.”

Harry matched her dramatic whisper. “Is that not a rather pagan thing to say within throwing distance of a church?”

“It is not throwing distance if one is throwing something heavy enough,” she answered.

“Ah. Proceed.”

They had ever been like that, playing off each other and going to great lengths to try to get the other to laugh.

“I don’t remember what I was saying,” Jane answered in her unwaveringly serious whisper.

“The god I have offended,” Harry hinted.

“Ah, yes. The god of—” She looked around, darting her eyes as if searching for an enemy army about to descend upon them. “Love.”

“You believe a lady has driven me from London?” Harry managed to smile as if it were humorous.

“Ah!” It was a look of epiphany if Harry had ever seen one. “I believe I have hit upon it.”

Jane knew him too well. Harry sighed and shook his head in defeat, though with a smile. One couldn’t help smiling with Jane. Athena had the same effect on him, though Harry appreciated that she had a more serious side. He often wondered how Jane’s husband put up with her constant teasing and joking. Harry was not so lacking in self-awareness not to realize he was a great deal like his sister. He also understood that he would never endure being married to someone precisely like himself.

“What is the lady’s name?” Jane asked, far too much excitement in her voice.

“Apparently you believe I left my wits in London as well as my heart.” Harry chuckled. He would
never
tell his sister the source of his heartache. She would most likely do something entirely disastrous, like write to Athena directly. Jane was enthusiastic but did not always think things through very well.

“You don’t wish to tell me?” Jane asked. “Why ever not? She’s not married is she?”

“Of course she’s not married.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Thank the heavens!” But Jane’s tone was so exaggerated that Harry did not take her seriously for one moment. “For then I would have been forced to preach to you—we are within throwing distance of a church, after all—and I do not enjoy moralizing to my brother.”

Harry laughed again. “So now that the subject of my moral fortitude has been put to rest, might we move on?”

“Oh, but we have not at all settled the issue of your bleeding heart.”

“Very dramatically put, sister,” Harry said.

“Thank you.” She offered something of a curtsy, which was impressive considering she was both sitting and largely expectant. “Was the lady not interested then? Or ineligible?”

“I do not know that she was interested,” Harry answered, the admission painful. “It hardly mattered, however, as
I
was considered extremely ineligible.”

“Ineligible how?” Jane demanded. She ever had been extremely protective of Harry, much like a mother hen with her chick.

“Her guardian is quite specifically opposed to fortune hunters,” Harry admitted.

“You would never marry someone simply for her dowry,” Jane defended.

“But the fact remains, Jane, that I have a dilapidated estate and almost no income. And she—”