The Season
Page 30
Following her gaze, the baron shook his head to decline gracefully. “Thank you, no, my ladies. I fear I would ruin such a youthful outing.”
“Nonsense!” Alex’s unladylike outburst drew startled looks from all three of her companions. Looking at her friends, she lowered her voice defensively, “Well, it is.”
“What Lady Alexandra means to say, my lord,” Vivi offered, unable to hide a wide, amused grin, “is that you are more than welcome at our little gathering; we would very much enjoy your company.”
Laughter came to Alex’s eye and she interjected, “Isn’t that what I said?”
The baron laughed again and spoke warmly, “Certainly, my lady, that is what I heard.” Offering an arm, he continued, “May I escort you back to your party, although I regret I will not join you?”
Alex took the aging Frenchman’s arm and spoke in a conspiratorial tone, “Thank you, my lord—both for the escort and for your failure to mention my bad behavior. I assure you, my parents have done their best and all discernible flaws are entirely my own.”
“And I assure you, Lady Alexandra, I have seen none of these flaws that you speak of. Surely, they do not exist.”
Alex laughed. “My family—particularly my brothers—would disagree with you on that point, Baron.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “No matter what you say, you are a welcome addition to our little world—mine especially.”
“I shall happily defend you to your brothers, Lady Alexandra. Being a brother myself, I am sure I speak their language well. There are four, are there not?”
Alex shook her head with a quick laugh. “Thankfully, no. I’ve only three brothers—three too many, it seems some days.”
“Of course…I do not know why I thought there were four.”
“You are not alone. It sometimes feels that way. Lord Blackmoor and they are thick as thieves, which explains his constant presence and the confusion about the number of Stafford siblings.”
The baron stilled, looking at Alex quizzically. “Lord Blackmoor, you say—friends with your brothers?”
“That is correct.”
“Ah, that is interesting.”
“Is it? After seventeen years of their combined company, good sir, I’m afraid I find it rather more tiresome than interesting.”
He chuckled good-naturedly at her response and continued, more seriously, “If I may, how is the new, young earl faring with the loss of his father?”
It was a common enough question, one that Alex had heard a number of times. She answered without thinking, “Well enough, I think. He does not speak of it much, and he seems to have—matured—if that makes sense. Our families have always been very close and I was well aware of how important his relationship with his father was to Lord Blackmoor.” Alex’s voice had softened and her gaze, of its own accord, had moved to Gavin up on the knoll, smiling at something Kit was saying. She couldn’t help thinking that even his smile was subdued in comparison to that of a year ago. “I am filled with sorrow for the pain he must feel.”
She trailed off, realizing that Ella and Vivi were both looking at her with surprised expressions. She was sharing too much with this little-known companion—too much about Blackmoor, but more importantly, too much of her own emotions. Young English ladies were not supposed to have such opinions and thoughts. They were not supposed to speak so freely. Looking at the Frenchman, Alex couldn’t help but notice his obvious discomfort with the situation—he was looking slightly desperate to escape.
With an inner sigh, Alex changed tack, a wry smile on her face. “I fear, my lord, you are too easy to speak with. I should not share so much of my thinking. I must be boring you.”
“Not at all, my lady.” The Frenchman looked distractedly into the distance, lost in thought. “The elder earl was a fine man—a great hero. I’m sorry to hear of his loss.”
“You are not alone. He was much revered by those who knew him well.”
“May I ask…?” The question hung in the air between them, the normally poised baron seeming uncertain of the proper etiquette in this particular situation.
Alex took pity on him and did not wait for him to finish his query. She knew what he was asking. With a tiny nod, she spoke. “It was an accident—the earl was thrown from his horse at the Blackmoor estate. He fell to his death.” Without thinking, she continued, “One almost cannot believe that it was an accident.” She waved a hand in dismissal at his surprised look. “It’s silly, of course. The earl had few, if any, enemies.”
Alex couldn’t help but notice that the old man had gone white as a sheet. “Baron, are you all right?” She looked back with alarm toward Vivi and Ella.
“I am quite well, yes, my lady. Unfortunately, the hour grows late, and I must regretfully take my leave.” Bowing low to the trio of girls, he made quick work of his farewell and hurried off, as though he couldn’t get away fast enough.
His abrupt decision to depart underscored his obvious discomfort with Alex’s frank conversation. She watched his speedy exit across the greensward, feeling slightly sorry for herself and, with a sigh, turned back toward the little group on the hill.
Hearing Penelope’s giggles and the boys’ laughter, she had a sudden desire to be far away from there, far away from that place that required so much effort, so much thought. She found herself exhausted by the entire charade of this first week in society. She had always known it would be a struggle to be the perfect company—to say all the proper things without appearing too opinionated, too frank, too much herself—but now, watching her friends and her brothers laugh and joke together, all so seamlessly integrated into their roles as members of London society, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with her.
“Nonsense!” Alex’s unladylike outburst drew startled looks from all three of her companions. Looking at her friends, she lowered her voice defensively, “Well, it is.”
“What Lady Alexandra means to say, my lord,” Vivi offered, unable to hide a wide, amused grin, “is that you are more than welcome at our little gathering; we would very much enjoy your company.”
Laughter came to Alex’s eye and she interjected, “Isn’t that what I said?”
The baron laughed again and spoke warmly, “Certainly, my lady, that is what I heard.” Offering an arm, he continued, “May I escort you back to your party, although I regret I will not join you?”
Alex took the aging Frenchman’s arm and spoke in a conspiratorial tone, “Thank you, my lord—both for the escort and for your failure to mention my bad behavior. I assure you, my parents have done their best and all discernible flaws are entirely my own.”
“And I assure you, Lady Alexandra, I have seen none of these flaws that you speak of. Surely, they do not exist.”
Alex laughed. “My family—particularly my brothers—would disagree with you on that point, Baron.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “No matter what you say, you are a welcome addition to our little world—mine especially.”
“I shall happily defend you to your brothers, Lady Alexandra. Being a brother myself, I am sure I speak their language well. There are four, are there not?”
Alex shook her head with a quick laugh. “Thankfully, no. I’ve only three brothers—three too many, it seems some days.”
“Of course…I do not know why I thought there were four.”
“You are not alone. It sometimes feels that way. Lord Blackmoor and they are thick as thieves, which explains his constant presence and the confusion about the number of Stafford siblings.”
The baron stilled, looking at Alex quizzically. “Lord Blackmoor, you say—friends with your brothers?”
“That is correct.”
“Ah, that is interesting.”
“Is it? After seventeen years of their combined company, good sir, I’m afraid I find it rather more tiresome than interesting.”
He chuckled good-naturedly at her response and continued, more seriously, “If I may, how is the new, young earl faring with the loss of his father?”
It was a common enough question, one that Alex had heard a number of times. She answered without thinking, “Well enough, I think. He does not speak of it much, and he seems to have—matured—if that makes sense. Our families have always been very close and I was well aware of how important his relationship with his father was to Lord Blackmoor.” Alex’s voice had softened and her gaze, of its own accord, had moved to Gavin up on the knoll, smiling at something Kit was saying. She couldn’t help thinking that even his smile was subdued in comparison to that of a year ago. “I am filled with sorrow for the pain he must feel.”
She trailed off, realizing that Ella and Vivi were both looking at her with surprised expressions. She was sharing too much with this little-known companion—too much about Blackmoor, but more importantly, too much of her own emotions. Young English ladies were not supposed to have such opinions and thoughts. They were not supposed to speak so freely. Looking at the Frenchman, Alex couldn’t help but notice his obvious discomfort with the situation—he was looking slightly desperate to escape.
With an inner sigh, Alex changed tack, a wry smile on her face. “I fear, my lord, you are too easy to speak with. I should not share so much of my thinking. I must be boring you.”
“Not at all, my lady.” The Frenchman looked distractedly into the distance, lost in thought. “The elder earl was a fine man—a great hero. I’m sorry to hear of his loss.”
“You are not alone. He was much revered by those who knew him well.”
“May I ask…?” The question hung in the air between them, the normally poised baron seeming uncertain of the proper etiquette in this particular situation.
Alex took pity on him and did not wait for him to finish his query. She knew what he was asking. With a tiny nod, she spoke. “It was an accident—the earl was thrown from his horse at the Blackmoor estate. He fell to his death.” Without thinking, she continued, “One almost cannot believe that it was an accident.” She waved a hand in dismissal at his surprised look. “It’s silly, of course. The earl had few, if any, enemies.”
Alex couldn’t help but notice that the old man had gone white as a sheet. “Baron, are you all right?” She looked back with alarm toward Vivi and Ella.
“I am quite well, yes, my lady. Unfortunately, the hour grows late, and I must regretfully take my leave.” Bowing low to the trio of girls, he made quick work of his farewell and hurried off, as though he couldn’t get away fast enough.
His abrupt decision to depart underscored his obvious discomfort with Alex’s frank conversation. She watched his speedy exit across the greensward, feeling slightly sorry for herself and, with a sigh, turned back toward the little group on the hill.
Hearing Penelope’s giggles and the boys’ laughter, she had a sudden desire to be far away from there, far away from that place that required so much effort, so much thought. She found herself exhausted by the entire charade of this first week in society. She had always known it would be a struggle to be the perfect company—to say all the proper things without appearing too opinionated, too frank, too much herself—but now, watching her friends and her brothers laugh and joke together, all so seamlessly integrated into their roles as members of London society, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with her.
