Page 14 of A Meddlesome Match (The Vaughns #3)

Weaving around the other guests, Dora didn’t bother searching the dancers for her quarry and made her way to the other entertainments. The drawing room was filled with tables and seats as ladies and gentlemen gathered for rounds of whist, faro, cribbage, speculation, and commerce, and in the heart of it, she found Howard with a glass of punch beside him.

The fool.

“May I have a word?”

she asked.

“I am almost finished with this hand.”

Dora tapped her fan against her skirts as she watched the cards being cast out, and though she was a grown woman with some eight and fifty years to her credit, patience wasn’t one of her talents. She cleared her throat, and Howard nodded whilst playing another card. The others at the table glanced at the pair with varying degrees of amusement, though Howard seemed oblivious to it all.

“I hear Miss Murray has left the area,”

said Mr. Adkins, tossing out a card, which drew groans from the other players. “In quite a hurry, it seems.”

Straightening, Dora narrowed her eyes on the gentleman, though Howard merely took a drink from his glass with a scoff.

“Makes one wonder about the reason behind such a hasty departure,”

added Mr. Adkins with a barely contained chuckle. “Especially when her life in Danthorpe was so comfortable.”

Dora’s lip curled as she let out a considering hum. “And your comment makes one wonder if you are simply ill-mannered or were thrown from your horse one too many times as a child.”

Mrs. Burnham coughed, her hand flying to her chest as she choked on her drink, and out of her line of sight, Dora heard several chuckles from different corners of the room. Mr. Adkins’ complexion reddened, and his eyes darted to Dora, but the flame died the moment he met her gaze. The lad was hot-tempered, to be certain, but he demonstrated a modicum of good sense and manners by returning his attention to the cards in his hand, studying them with great intensity.

It took an age for the round to finish, and Dora snatched her son by the arm the moment it did, dragging him away from eavesdropping ears.

“What are you doing here? You need to dance with Miss Vaughn,” she said.

With a furrowed brow, Howard huffed a laugh. “I don’t know why it matters to you so very much, Mother, but I plan to. I always do.”

“You need to do so now,”

she said, nudging him toward the door. “Mr. Reed is getting too cozy with our Miss Vaughn.”

“Walter Reed?”

asked Howard, his brows rising in speculation. “Good for him. He’s a fine man and would suit her.”

Dora’s breath fled her as she stared at her son. “You cannot be serious.”

“Completely,”

he replied with a shrug. Howard moved as though to return to his game, and Dora grabbed him by the elbow.

“How can you be so apathetic?”

she demanded.

Frowning, Howard stared right back at her. “My intentions towards Miss Vaughn have been clear from the very first, so why would I kick up a fuss when she’s caught the eye of a fine match?”

And with that, he turned to leave, and Dora’s mind flew through arguments, weighing each quickly before tossing them aside and landing on the one most likely to inspire action.

“Do you wish to lose her as a friend, Howard? Even if she desires to maintain a relationship with you—which her husband is unlikely to support—she will be far too occupied with her new family to pay her old friend any mind.”

That stopped the boy in his tracks, and he peered over his shoulder at his mother. “Miss Vaughn has made her feelings clear and doesn’t wish to continue our friendship.”

“Nonsense. That little disagreement can be gotten over easily enough if you make an effort,”

replied Dora, waving that objection away with a flick of her fan. But when Howard eyed the card table, she hurried to add, “Do you truly think Mr. Reed is in earnest? He’s hardly shown an interest in any young lady, but you know our Miss Vaughn gives her heart away so easily and will be crushed when he casts her aside.”

Howard’s brows rose at that as he considered her words, and Dora nudged him toward the door once more.

“Go, make amends, set your friendship to rights again, and protect our Miss Vaughn from those who will break her heart.”

*

Life often changed without warning, shifting the world on its axis. A small thing—a single decision or chance encounter—could alter the course of everything that followed, and afterward, one was left to wonder how something so insignificant could transform so much. Everyone knew that such was the way of things and the future wasn’t set in stone, yet still, such disruptions never failed to shock.

Had anyone suggested two weeks ago that Sadie Vaughn would find Mr. Walter Reed’s company enjoyable, she would’ve balked. Yet now, his companionship was turning the evening into something even better than she had hoped.

Better even than if Joanna were here.

It wasn’t as though the gentleman had undergone some grand transformation. Just the opposite, in fact. He was the same as he always was. Simply more. In many ways, she didn’t understand how she had believed him to be so cold and aloof, as it was easy to see the warm glow in his gaze and the kindness with which he spoke to everyone. Yes, his expression was unyielding and his words were a bit curt at times, but the more she came to know him, the more Sadie recognized that it was due to discomfort and not dislike.

And every time she thought he would leave for greener pastures, Mr. Reed remained at her side. She couldn’t help smiling as she considered that, though she forced the expression to remain within normal parameters, as it wouldn’t do to go about grinning like a fool—

“Miss Vaughn.”

That joyful expression dropped the minute she heard Howard Gibson’s voice. Turning, Sadie found the fellow standing behind her, and she fought against the frown that threatened to darken the evening.

“Mr. Gibson,”

she said with only the barest chill to her tone, though the gentleman seemed to hear it well enough and gave her that chagrined expression he always donned when caught doing something mischievous.

“Am I to assume you are still sore with me?”

he asked in a light tone, as though a bit of teasing was all that was required for her to overlook the rudeness he’d heaped upon her before.

But then, such tactics had worked before.

Sadie forced herself not to look at Mr. Reed, but she felt his attention. How could she shake Howard loose without looking like a cold-hearted shrew? Mr. Reed didn’t know the extent of this blackguard’s offenses, and Sadie didn’t wish to revisit them at present. It was painful enough to recall the humiliation the Gibsons heaped upon her at the church; there was no need to bring up that which happened in private as well.

“Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

asked Howard before Sadie stopped him. Glaring, her eyes burned with a promise of retribution to come.

And the rapscallion had the gall to wink at that!

There were polite rejections, of course—delicate excuses for why she was unable to dance at present. However, that required her to sit out for several sets (lest the snub become apparent), which brought a slew of unwanted consequences. First and foremost being that she couldn’t stand up with Mr. Reed.

Of course, he hadn’t asked her to dance yet, but better not ensure it couldn’t happen.

Sadie was left with only one option: accept Howard’s offer. The opening strains of the music began, and she held back a sigh. Why couldn’t it be a polka or something more diverting? The old country tune was pleasant in its own way, but it guaranteed that this set would be tedious. And long. Curse Howard!

“I would be delighted,”

she said in a clipped tone, her eyes still boring into his, though the rascal looked entirely unrepentant as he offered his hand. Glancing at Mr. Reed, she sighed. “Please excuse me.”

“Of course,”

he replied, giving her a slight bow, and Sadie wished she could tell him to wait in that exact spot so she could find him afterward. She only hoped he understood this separation wasn’t her choice.

Gracious. She was halfway to making a ninny of herself. That she liked Mr. Reed had been established, but there was no reason to rush headlong into anything further. They were friends. That was a good beginning.

But then Howard was tugging on her hand, dragging her and her thoughts back to the ordeal before her.

The country dance had already begun when they entered the fray, and for several figures, Sadie kept her attention on the steps—and only the steps. Managing some of the tight turns was difficult in the bell-shaped ballgowns that were favored nowadays, but Mrs. Overton insisted on keeping those old traditions alive for one dance every ball.

Fate seemed doubly determined to curse Sadie, for the hostess had chosen one that required far too much ducking under the others’ arms, which never failed to make tall ladies feel exceptionally clumsy and graceless. And Howard found her struggle all too amusing.

With her skirts gathered close, Sadie scowled at him, but that made him laugh all the more—as if it were a jest they were sharing together. Which they would have. Before. Did he truly think he could ignore what had happened and pretend nothing had altered?

When the dance finally granted them a respite, he leaned over to her and whispered, “Come now, you aren’t still angry, are you?”

“Are you still a fool?”

she retorted with narrowed eyes. To which he replied with another wink, and Sadie muttered, “Then yes.”

“In truth, I am not even certain why we are arguing, but if you wish for an apology, I will gladly give it.”

Holding a hand to his heart, he added, “Dear Miss Vaughn, I apologize for being an utter fool.”

Those words, so cheekily given, would’ve held sway only a fortnight ago, allowing Sadie to ignore the past and embrace the sweetness of the moment without a second thought as she clung to the hope that he was in earnest. But standing here, now, she was struck by a stark realization: Howard Gibson was never sorry. Not truly.

Again and again, he was thoughtless and dismissed it with a quick acknowledgment but no real awareness of the harm he’d caused nor any intention of altering his behavior. And that was an unappealing quality for either friend or beau.

Far too many girls spoke of their future husbands in terms of physical characteristics and interests, as though possessing curly hair and a love of hunting were of the utmost concern for a successful marriage. But with age, Sadie had come to realize a different truth: one ought to focus more on what imperfections one was willing to bear in a spouse.

After all, flaws were the source of all discord.

As no man was perfect, the question better asked was, “What shortcomings can you not abide?”

And for Sadie, the sin of obtuseness was foremost on the list. Any weakness could be made a strength if one were willing to address it, but how can one address something one cannot see?

“Mr. Gibson, have you finally traded up from Miss Murray?”

asked Mrs. Monson, punctuating that question with an arched brow. “You have my congratulations.”

Sadie’s insides knotted, and she tried to keep her expression impassive, but it was doubly difficult when Howard’s eyes widened as he stared at the lady. And then Mrs. Monson’s partner stifled a cough that sounded more like a scoff, and the gentlemen exchanged a look, the silent surprise evident in both expressions.

“I have no idea what you mean, Mrs. Monson,”

said Howard as he cleared his throat and shifted in place. But he couldn’t hide the embarrassed red tinge in his cheeks nor the determined manner in which he avoided Sadie’s eyes.

For her part, she could hardly look up from the ground, but when she did, she found Mrs. Monson’s gaze pleading for forgiveness. And Sadie silently offered it up. Foolhardy and embarrassing though the interruption may have been, the lady hadn’t intended to vex.

Sadie moved through the dance in a trance, her feet carrying her along. Though she refused to compound her embarrassment by departing early, she withdrew the moment the final note faded. Whether Howard followed mattered not, nor could Sadie spare a thought to wonder if others noticed they had danced only the first of their set (such fashions were shifting at any rate). She simply needed a moment to herself.

A bit of night air would do her good, but she didn’t know how to access the Overtons’ garden, and unless she wished to loiter on the front drive, remaining indoors was her only choice. There was, however, one place where she was certain to be left in peace.