Page 20 of Miss Hawthorne’s Unlikely Husband (The Troublemakers Trilogy #3)

Starkley House, Mayfair, London

S mile, Elodia. It was a constant reminder lately.

It wasn’t so much that she wasn’t interested in the conversation of the person across from her.

Regina knew how to host a party, and tonight was no different.

All of the guests were interesting in one way or another, or at the very least capable of maintaining a conversation.

Any other time, Elodia would have found herself thoroughly diverted.

And Regina, dear Regina was holding court while being visibly pregnant, draped in gold and silks.

She reveled in her new position, basking in her authority and her husband’s obvious regard.

It was only that Richard was also present and her concentration was still suffering.

Despite her determination to ignore his presence as much as possible, she couldn’t help but pick out his voice among the hum of chatter and listen for every word.

Her one victory for the night was that she had no idea what color waistcoat he was wearing tonight.

It was a positively minute victory, but she was clinging to it with both hands.

She shifted in her chair, smiled and leaned forward slightly.

There, now poor Mr. Lewis would be assured of her attention and interest.

One week. It had been one week since she’d lost her mind and kissed Richard.

Or rather, he’d allowed her to kiss him.

Once. Lord knew she could never force Richard to do anything he didn’t want to do.

Now he sat beside a debutante, a Miss Fiest, who was no doubt invited to be a prospect for him.

She was pretty, if a bit quiet. Elodia had never imagined he would be interested in someone like that, but perhaps he would enjoy the quiet in his wife.

Perhaps he would value someone who was steadier and more sensible.

Someone who didn’t run around propositioning gentlemen in their studies and libraries.

Every time she thought about that day, her face grew hot.

She still didn’t know what had possessed her.

It could have been curiosity after spending so long wondering, or it could have been pride over his smug confidence that she would back down.

It could even have been one last attempt to change his mind.

In the end, it had served as a sweet and heady close to a chapter of her life.

Unsatisfying, but definite. If he’d wanted to stop her from leaving, he would have.

If he’d had a change of heart, she was sure that would have been the moment.

He was kind so he’d allowed her a moment of madness set within walls of iron, indulging her without allowing herself to lose herself.

She still remembered his steady controlled voice telling her their business was over.

That they were now both free and clear. Reminding her of the terms. At the time, she had been embarrassed and even hurt, but in the days since, she’d come to appreciate his firmness.

That kiss had left her floundering, aching for more.

If he hadn’t forced her to stop, who knows what she would have done.

But Richard had proven himself a consummate businessman.

He stated the parameters clearly and maintained the original terms ruthlessly.

Now it was over, and she still had her dignity and her pride. All that was left was the future.

She would always want him, would always dream of him and ache for what might have been, but now perhaps it would be easier to keep it to herself as she no longer felt so unfulfilled.

In the days since she’d spent her time doing what she probably should have been doing since she left Miss Pollitt’s.

She danced often, smiled widely and charmed anyone in the room.

If Richard happened to be there, she still mostly maintained her distance.

She wouldn’t keep hoping things would change. There was no point.

But after a week of dancing, smiling and flirting, Elodia didn’t appear to be any better off prospect wise than when the season began.

Now she was wondering if every man in London felt the same as Richard.

They danced with her, smiled and chatted with her, but for all her charm, money, social connections, and supposed beauty, she had no callers. Not one. How was that possible?

“Miss Hawthorne?”

She blinked at Mr. Lewis. Blast, had she been ignoring him again? “I’m sorry?”

“They are arranging for some young ladies to entertain us. I wondered if you would be playing for us tonight.”

She gave him her most winning smile. “Certainly, Mr. Lewis, if you will turn the pages for me.”

“I cannot promise a duet but I can manage that.” He turned to Lady Gebling, “I believe we have another, my lady.”

Lady Gebling clapped excitedly, “Oh, how lovely, Miss Hawthorne has agreed to play.”

“Very kind of her,” Richard commented from somewhere in the room. “Miss Hawthorne is a rare talent.”

“I agree,” Lady Sterling replied.

“Then she must go first,” Lady Gebling said.

Elodia smiled and rose to her feet. She strode to the piano, brushing past a chair that smelled suspiciously like Richard, careful not to breathe in his scent.

Mr. Lewis followed her eagerly, but she couldn’t take much encouragement from it.

He was a perfect example of her quandary.

A second son of a baron, educated, kind and lively enough if a bit plain looking.

He would have made a fine prospect. He’d danced with Elodia no less than three times in the past week, to say nothing of the attention he’d paid her at two other soirees including this one.

But that was all. No calls, no flowers, no conversations with her father.

Mr. Lewis handed her three pieces: Mozart’s Turkish March, Beethoven’s Tempest in D minor and Schubert’s Serenade.

Typically she preferred Schubert, although his Serenade wasn’t her favorite to play.

But tonight she wanted something to exorcise her inner confusion and allow her to bang on a few keys.

For that, the best candidate was Beethoven.

She began the fiery and complicated piece, making sure to keep her eyes fixed on the pages, instead of allowing them to wander to a certain gentleman.

A certain gentleman with an uncanny ear for music and an appreciation equal to her own.

Mr. Lewis was a good sort but he couldn’t read music worth a damn and she would need to give him the cues.

He was attentive, however, never letting his attention waver from her.

So she made sure to give him a big smile whenever he turned the page at the right moment.

He always smiled back, perfectly doting, and rather pleased with himself.

He was perfectly acceptable if only he would take the next step and propose.

The forced passivity had to be the most infuriating part of being a woman.

Here she was preening and fawning over a perfectly average man in the hope that if he memorized her teeth, he would pluck up the courage to do something .

Or perhaps much like Richard, he simply wasn’t that interested.

Perhaps it was her own arrogance, assuming that any man who smiled at her was surely half in love.

It was a fact that no matter how many virtues one possessed, love was another matter, to say nothing of marriage.

She was more than pretty enough. Was it her lack of a figure?

What else was she meant to do to encourage him?

When she concluded the piece, pounding out the final notes, he clapped so exuberantly she couldn’t help but laugh.

“It is always such a delight to listen to you play, Miss Hawthorne,” he said, nearly bouncing on his toes.

“Thank you, Mr. Lewis.”

He looked over to her father who was watching her with his usual fondness and pride. “I confess I quite envy you, my lord,” he continued. “To be able to hear such lovely music at any given moment.”

“Indeed, only her husband will share that privilege.” Lady Sterling commented.

“Enticement enough, I say, eh Lewis?” Cousin Albert commented.

“Yes, almost,” Mr. Lewis replied with a laugh.

Almost? “Meaning?” The word slipped past her lips even as a chill went up her spine.

Mr. Lewis looked down at her, his eyes blinking a mile a minute while he no doubt found a way to save himself. Almost. To be rejected by Richard was one thing, but this little boy had no business pretending he could do better.

“Well, musical ability alone is not enough for a sensible man, but alongside a host of other virtues as you have cultivated, Miss Hawthorne, it is a boon indeed.”

Her face was on fire, but thankfully, between her complexion and the dim lighting of the room, she could bluff her way out of this situation.

“Ah.” Of course. In theory it was true enough, but she was certain he was hiding something.

A kind liar. How utterly unattractive. If he was going to lie, he might as well pay her the compliment of being at least half competent at it.

Did he really think anyone was convinced by his nonsense?

Richard may not have been easily persuaded or agreeable, but at least he spoke the truth.

“Surely such talent could hardly count against you,” he joked, but no one laughed.

She smiled again and cast her eyes over the room.

Everyone was smiling nervously, with a few half-hearted chuckles scattered through the room.

Regina looked annoyed, but Richard… his face was carved out of stone, his eyes ready to stare a hole through Mr. Lewis’s head.

As if it mattered. How perfectly humiliating.

She stood and stared at Regina and gestured to the piano. “This exceptional instrument is now free for your next talent, Lady Starkley.”