Page 13 of The Spinster’s Stolen Heart (Willenshires #5)

Rose had been staring thoughtfully at him over the breakfast crockery for the whole meal. Nathan had done his best to ignore it, but it was becoming impossible.

“Why do I feel that you have something to say, Mother?” he enquired, pouring himself another cup of coffee. He didn’t have long to sit over his breakfast today. Lord Davenport was expecting him to go over some documents. It shouldn’t be a long visit, barely an hour or so. He imagined that Amanda and Lady Davenport would be out paying calls. Or so he hoped.

“Oh, can’t a mother look at her son as he eats breakfast?” Rose responded, sounding a little annoyed.

“Not with such intensity, no.”

She sighed. “Very well. When we left the garden party yesterday, I rather felt that you were… well, that you were upset.”

Nathan ran his tongue around his teeth before he answered.

“I know we left… promptly , but I rather thought you’d had enough. You said that garden parties always leave you too cold.”

“And so they do,” Rose responded. “But do not attempt to deceive me, my dear. I saw you take Miss Randall off for a walk, only to be interrupted by that irritating marquess. He practically raced after you to split you apart, and the three of them guarded that poor girl as she were buried treasure.”

Nathan swallowed thickly. He could still remember the frustration and mortification of being left, standing alone in the middle of the lawn, partner-less, as Lord Barwick and Miss Randall hurried away.

Miss Randall had disappeared into the house with her escort, along with her mother and the Dowager Lady Barwick. They hadn’t reappeared. When Nathan had gone into the house later, he found the four of them huddled in the parlour, with Lord Barwick and Miss Randall playing a game of chess.

Miss Randall had looked entirely miserable, and thoroughly bored. Lord Barwick was clearly having an excellent time, with a collection of Miss Randall’s pieces taken off the board and sitting beside him, clearly trophies. Nathan had peeped in through the door, heart thumping. As he watched, Lord Barwick gave a squawk of delight, sweeping up another piece.

“Aha! And there goes your queen, Miss Randall. You’ll struggle to play on without her, I can promise you that. After this, we ought to play another game, and I’ll show you a few tricks, how about that?”

Nathan had withdrawn after that, and gone to find his mother, informing her that he would like to leave.

For once, Rose hadn’t argued.

No, apparently, she’s saved all her troublesomeness for now.

“I don’t have the time nor the inclination to discuss this, Mother,” Nathan said, trying to sound stern. It did not quite stick.

“You can’t fool me, Nathan,” Rose responded, waving a teaspoon at him. “I can tell that you like the girl. Why not admit it?”

“Because it is only a passing acquaintance. I barely get the chance to talk to her. Her mother clearly does not approve. It’s clear that the family have chosen Lord Barwick for her, and I am not confident enough in her affection to me to try and elbow my way between them.”

Rose narrowed her eyes. “So, you do admit that she has affection for you, then?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I wish I knew. She’s… clever, and eloquent, and charming, and most obliging. I feel that she likes me, and enjoys my company, but does she like me more than other men? I could hardly say so.”

Rose considered this, pursing her lips. “She certainly likes you more than Lord Barwick.”

“That is not hard. Many women marry without the safety of affection.”

“And you think that Miss Randall is among them?”

That gave him pause. Did he truly believe that Miss Randall would marry a man she did not love, did not even care for?

Careful, fool, warned a voice at the back of his head. You don’t know her. How can you say either way?

Of course, Nathan did not answer sensibly. He hadn’t answered anything sensibly in quite a while, now.

“No, I don’t.” he heard himself admit. “But she’s practical, I think. Or at least, she says that she’s trying to be.”

Rose nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “You discussed it, did you not?”

“Of course.”

“She seemed to enjoy spending time with you, Nathan.”

He flushed, looking away. “She’s pleasant company.”

“So are you.”

“That means nothing.”

There was a long pause, during which Rose sat back and folded her arms across her chest, eyeing him narrowly.

“You,” Rose said at last, with finality, “are lying to yourself. You care for her, and if you have any sense at all, you’ll pursue her. Nathan, darling, none of us have forever. Time passes by in a blink, and faster than you can imagine. Love is a rare thing, and…”

“Who spoke of love?” Nathan interrupted, getting to his feet. “I’m not in love, Mother. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so blunt, but really, you do not know what you are speaking of.”

“Well, I…”

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” he interrupted again, bending down to kiss his mother on the top of her head. “You know how Lord Davenport hates lateness. I really have to go, or else I shall be late, and he’ll have a good deal to say about that.”

Rose pouted, leaning back in her seat. “Oh, Nathan. I wish you would listen to me. I’m older than you, and a little wiser, and I have a good deal of wisdom to impart, if you would just listen!”

“When I get home, I shall listen to you at length,” Nathan promised, smiling faintly. “But for now, I really must go.”

She gave a sigh which he took as a dismissal and hurried out of the breakfast room and out to where his carriage waited in front of the house. The carriage jolted beneath his weight, the seats uncomfortably cool and unyielding.

The coachman clicked to the horses, and they pulled away. Nathan sat in cold silence, breathing deeply.

She’s wrong. I don’t have affection for Miss Randall. At least, no more than is natural. I promised myself I would keep a firm rein on my heart, and not let it slip away without my say-so.

Could I have broken my resolve already? I hope not.

He swallowed, adjusting his position. He wasn’t entirely sure when he would see Miss Randall next. Some party or other, no doubt.

It hardly matters; he scolded himself. I shall think only of my meeting with Lord Davenport on the journey, and I shall not think of wretched Miss Randall, not even once.

He suspected that he was destined to break this vow. Several times.

***

“Yes, indeed, all is in order,” Lord Davenport grunted, nodding approvingly. “Good work as always, Nathan.”

“That concludes our meeting, then,” Nathan responded, carefully replacing the documents in his leather messenger bag. He was already thinking of the work waiting at home. His mother would probably want a long conversation with him about something important, which he was not looking forward to. Still, if she promised not to mention Miss Davenport or Miss Randall, there was no reason that they could not have a pleasant, cosy evening together. For once, there was no social engagement arranged, and Nathan was determined to get on top of his paperwork. If there was time, he might even relax a little with a novel.

“You’ll stay for tea, won’t you?” Lord Davenport asked, glancing at him anxiously.

Nathan hesitated. He had no objection to tea, of course, but he did not want to run into Miss Davenport. As he’d suspected, she and her mother were out paying calls, but the longer he stayed here, the more chance it was that they would come back and catch him, and politeness would constrain him to stay a little longer.

“No, thank you, Lord Davenport,” he answered, rising to his feet. “My mother expects me at home.”

As he rose, however, Nathan heard the rattle of carriage wheels on gravel, and the familiar high-pitched tones of Miss Amanda Davenport herself. His heart sank.

“Ah, they’re back early,” Lord Davenport said, in a bland, off-hand way which informed Nathan that it had been arranged ahead of time. “Well, you must stay and have tea with us now. My wife will insist upon it. I insist upon it. And you must hear Amanda play, as well.”

Nathan swallowed reflexively, cursing his bad luck. Caught in the trap of politeness once again.

It was hard to say why he felt so uncomfortable in the Davenports’ music room. It was a large, well-appointed space, with a pianoforte on one platform and a harp on another, with dust-free bookshelves curling around the walls. It was an excessively pretty room, and exactly what a music room was supposed to look like.

Ah. That was it, then.

The room looked as though it had been chosen by somebody who wanted to impress visitors, rather than making a practical music room. All the music rooms that Nathan had visited tended to be something of a mess, with sheets of music piled up on the floor, on the instrument, on any and all available chairs. Any bookshelves were in a state of disarray, and one would never put a pianoforte in direct sunlight, no matter how pleasing it might make the player appear.

He noticed that chairs were placed casually in front of the pianoforte, as if waiting for an invisible audience.

“We’ll have tea in here immediately!” Lady Davenport ordered a footman, clicking her fingers. Miss Davenport threw Nathan a coy look over her shoulder and ascended the platform to the pianoforte.

“What a treat, eh?” Lord Davenport said, nudging Nathan and flashing him a wink. “I’m a little biased, to be sure, but my Amanda is the finest pianoforte player in Society this year. Pray, sit down.”

Nathan obeyed. There didn’t seem much else to do. Amanda rather grandly took her seat, fingers hovering over the keys. Lady Davenport stood beside her, careful not to get in the way of the idyllically golden light streaming through the window and bathing Amanda in a halo of glittering sunlight. Lord Davenport sat directly beside Nathan, leaning towards him.

“Have you considered the matter I mentioned to you, then?”

Nathan had known that this was coming. Of course it was coming. Lord Davenport was not the sort of man to bring something up only once and never push the issue. Clearing his throat, Nathan shifted in his seat.

Amanda began to play. It was a fashionable piece, light but complex. There was no denying that she had talent. Her fingers danced nimbly over the keys, her feet tap-tapping the pedals at just the right moments. She played well, very well, and judging by the quick, self-satisfied smiles she kept throwing towards Nathan, she knew it, too.

Lady Davenport kept glancing over at Nathan too, unashamed gauging the effect Amanda’s playing was having on him.

I should be enraptured, he thought, in a strange, dizzy moment of disconnect. And yet I don’t feel a thing. Not a thing.

In a flash, he found himself remembering Miss Randall’s music, that swooping, mesmerizing violin with its haunting strains, familiar yet unfamiliar. His chest ached at the memory.

Lord Davenport cleared his throat, and Nathan realised that he had not answered. An answer, of course, was more than necessary.

“It’s a serious matter,” Nathan answered, hating himself for taking the cowardly way out and all but avoiding the question. “I shouldn’t like to rush my decision.”

“No, no, of course not,” Lord Davenport grunted. “But come, the Season is almost over. What else is there to decide? Amanda is a perfect match for you, and you for her. Why bother to look elsewhere?”

Nathan did not respond, and Lord Davenport shot him a hard stare.

“There has been talk of you paying attention to Miss Randall,” he said, his voice heavy and stony. “Little things, here and there. Nothing that can’t be explained away as a kindly gentleman taking pains to make a woman feel at ease when she is so clearly out of her depth. Such efforts are often misinterpreted. You would not be the first man to fall victim to such a thing.”

Amanda’s music was reaching a crescendo. Lady Davenport was fixated on Nathan, and when it came time to turn the pages, did not budge an inch. Amanda faltered, playing wrong notes, and hissed up at her mother.

“Mama! The page!”

Poor Lady Davenport flinched, flustered, and knocked the music off the pianoforte and into Amanda’s lap.

“Heavens, what a mess,” Lord Davenport muttered, the music pausing while they recovered themselves. “It isn’t ordinarily this bad, you know.”

Nathan cleared his throat. “It isn’t bad at all. Miss Davenport’s playing is exceptionally good. I believe she’s renowned in Society for her talents on the instrument.”

“And the harp, too, don’t forget the harp,” Lord Davenport agreed. He shot another look at Nathan. “I hear that Miss Randall screeches about on violin. Not a ladylike instrument, in my opinion.”

He said it in such a way as to indicate that there could be no other opinion.

The playing resumed, with Amanda’s confidence visibly diminished, and her mother apologetic and flustered.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you sidestepping my question,” Lord Davenport spoke again, his eyes fixed on his daughter, his voice lowered so as to hide under the music. “I’m no fool, you know.”

“I never said that you were, Lord Davenport.”

“Mayhap I haven’t been clear enough, though. I shall remedy that now. You and Amanda have been all but betrothed for years. Your father and I always planned to make this match. Your mother had some foolish ideas about you choosing your own match, but I am a practical man and so was the late viscount. You can dither and delay all you want, but I shall expect you to offer for Amanda well before the end of the Season. I consider it a bargain struck between us.”

Nathan clenched his jaw, a muscle quivering in his cheek. “Oh? I wasn’t aware of such a bargain.”

Lord Davenport shot him a steely look out of the corner of his eyes. “Don’t play games with me, boy. I’m far too advanced in years for such frivolity. I have laid out my requirements of you, and now you must lay out yours. That’s how business is done. It’s how we have always transacted business. You and I, and your father and me before you. Let’s not make this more complicated than it must be.”

Nathan sighed, passing a hand over his hair. “I am still thinking about it, Lord Davenport. It’s no reflection on Amanda’s qualities. I should not be offended if, should she receive a better offer, she took it.”

“If she’d received one, I’d counsel her to take it,” Lord Davenport retorted. “But Amanda made a few crucial missteps this Season, and now she must fall back on the old ways of doing things. She’s happy for me to arrange this match, and so that is what I am doing. Arranging it.”

The music ended with a flourish, so of course all private conversation was at an end. Smiling faintly, Nathan rose to his feet, clapping. Amanda beamed, curtsying. Lord Davenport clapped too, his heavy palms ringing out.

“Tea, then?” Lady Davenport asked crisply, having recovered from her embarrassment earlier. Amanda came straight across to Nathan, smiling up at him.

“Think carefully about how your reputation might suffer, should you renege on any expectations you may have given rise to,” Lord Davenport muttered. “Think very carefully indeed, my boy.”