Page 9 of A Winter’s Romance
It is of the utmost import that the target of your ambition does not discover this book of hints. Allowing him to discover that you have used any arts at all to further your enterprise will be detrimental to your chances of success—may, indeed be fatal.
—Advice to Young Ladies
B en rose early on the day the guests were due to leave, half-wishing that there had been an overnight downpour that would keep them here another day. He had spent most of the intervening time with the other young ladies Mother had invited, or playing billiards with the two fathers who had accompanied them. Miss Ardley seemed happy enough installed in the library reading books about fossils or travel, and doing a little more painting. Although he missed her company, he found it strangely comforting to walk into the library and find her there, as if she belonged in this house.
Perhaps she did. He would go to Town with Mother in a few weeks, and he could further their acquaintance. The idea gave him a pleasant feeling of anticipation.
He was first down to breakfast—even before Arthur—and once he had eaten, he took a cup of coffee to the library and stood by the window, as he often did. He looked at the path to the stables that had caused her first mishap, spilling her and her sketches into the snow.
Sketches and other things. Foster had given him a small bag that same day, and Ben had told him to leave it in the library. And then forgotten about it.
Setting his cup down, he crossed to the desk. Foster had not left it anywhere visible, or he would have found it before now, so he looked in the drawers. There it was, in the drawer he opened every time he had business matters to deal with, but Mother’s guests had put paid to that these last few days.
The bag rattled as he lifted it out and, as he expected, he found a selection of pencils and broken sticks of charcoal. But there was also a small book, bound in cheap brown cloth. He flicked it open, assuming it might be a sketchbook, but the pages inside were printed. Curious, he turned to the title page.
Advice to Young Ladies on the matter of Husband Hunting
Someone had written a book about how to get a husband? Good heavens.
Well, there were plenty of books of advice to be had on all sorts of matters, and young ladies did need husbands. But ‘hunting’? That was a very direct way of putting it. What he found more surprising was the book’s owner. He could imagine Miss Farrell, with her calculating glances, having one, but not Miss Ardley.
He rubbed a hand over his face. Thinking back, one of the reasons he’d first been attracted to Miss Ardley was because he thought she wasn’t intent on securing him as a husband. But there had been that initial, assessing glance around the parlour when he first met her; he’d assumed at the time that she was like Miss Farrell, wanting to get an idea of his wealth.
He flicked through the pages, reading snippets here and there.
It goes without saying that both rank and wealth are desirable…
Of course she had been assessing his wealth.
Some feign a stumble or fall to attract the attention of their target.
Had her fall into the snow that first morning really been an accident?
If your target has interests beyond the usual manly sports and gambling, the ability to converse on these topics, even if only to a limited degree, will stand you well in maintaining his interest once you have attracted his attention.
She had managed a sensible conversation about architecture, and hidden her boredom well. How had he let himself think she’d really been interested in such things? She was no better than the woman he’d almost married last year. And just as careless—letting him find this book was as fatal to her ambitions as the baron’s daughter confiding her true feelings where she could be overheard.
Most people enjoy talking about themselves, so be sure to allow your target the chance to do so, and sympathise with what he perceives as his own troubles .
Ben flung the book down and put one hand over his face, recalling their conversation about his architectural ambitions. What a fool she must have thought him, even while she was pretending to commiserate with him.
Someone knocked on the door, and entered without waiting for a reply. Ben spun around, about to berate whoever it was, but held his tongue as his brother limped in. “What do you want?”
Arthur’s brows rose. “Good morning to you, too, brother. I came only to let you know the Ardleys are about to leave. I thought you might wish to bid them farewell.”
“So early?”
Arthur shrugged. “Lady Ardley said something about an appointment this afternoon that she wanted to keep.”
Ben was tempted to ignore their departure, but Arthur and Mother would want an explanation of such discourtesy. He picked up the book and put it into his pocket. He would say his goodbyes politely, if he could.
In the entrance hall, Lady Ardley and Miss Cecelia were already standing by the door with Mother. Arthur went to join them. Miss Ardley was slowly descending the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister. Ben didn’t trust himself to pretend nothing was wrong in front of other people, so he went to meet her at the foot of the stairs.
“Goodbye, Miss Ardley,” he said, bowing over her hand. He couldn’t manage a smile.
“I hope it is farewell, rather.” A small crease formed between her brows. “You will be in Town for part of the season, will you not?”
It would be best to make things clear now, rather than risk a confrontation in public. “I will be, but our association ends here. ”
The crease deepened, and he saw her swallow hard before she replied. “Have I done something to displease you, Mr Paynton?”
He took the book from his pocket and held it out. “It is time I returned this to you. I have never liked deceit, although I have to say these last few days have been entertaining.” More than entertaining—he thought he’d found a friend.
With a dawning sense of horror, Kate recognised the little book she thought she’d left at home.
“You have done your best to follow its precepts,” he went on, his voice hard and eyes narrowed. “Apart from the one about not letting your quarry discover you have the book. That was your crucial mistake, Miss Ardley. You may be pleased to know that your techniques were working very well until I read this. One of the grooms found it where you fell in the snow.” He thrust it towards her. “I want a wife who wishes to marry me , not my future title or estates.”
Kate took the book, blinking as she felt tears pricking her eyes. I won’t cry, I won’t let him make me cry .
If he really thought that of her, why wait until now to say so? Her dismay began to turn to anger. He’d had it for days, but instead of just giving it back, he’d assumed she had set out to entrap him and then led her on and… and been entertained . He’d been laughing at her behind her back the whole time.
“Perhaps I should write a similar thing for gentlemen,” he went on, the sneer in his voice becoming more apparent. “On how to defend oneself from such machinations.”
She had been judged without a chance to explain. How idiotic of her to think he’d been sincere in his attentions .
Kate drew a deep breath—she didn’t want her voice to wobble now. “Goodbye, then, Mr Paynton. Please do avoid me should we encounter each other during the season.” Then she turned on her heel and hobbled towards the door. Just in time, she recalled that her anger was only towards Mr Paynton, not the rest of his family, and attempted to smooth her expression. She managed to smile and say her thanks without making it too obvious to Lady Paynton and the major that she was distressed, and took her seat in the coach. Mama and Cecy climbed in and they set off down the drive.
To think she had been seriously considering Mr Paynton as a potential husband! She still had the book in her hand. Horrid thing.
Would he have paid her the same attention if he had not been entertaining himself at her expense? Possibly it had led to a lucky escape—who would wish to be tied to a man who leapt to conclusions like that?
With a muttered imprecation, she let down the window and flung the book out onto the drive. Madame Garnier’s gift had been a curse, not a blessing.
“Kate, what are you doing?”
Throwing away foolish dreams . Kate took a deep breath. “Nothing.”
Mama gave her a searching look, but asked no further questions. Kate kept her gaze on the passing bare hedges and grey skies, gloomily contemplating the forthcoming season. She could have kept the book and done the opposite of what it suggested in every case—used it as advice for repelling a man.
But that would be deceitful, too. There might be some men who would like her for herself, if only she could find them.