Page 7 of The Spinster’s Stolen Heart (Willenshires #5)

Nathan blinked down at the young woman who had just walked into him.

She was yet another unfamiliar face at the wretched party, the one his mother had strong-armed him into attending.

“What are you going to do, Nathan, sit at home and work all day? You must socialise . ”

He felt as though he’d socialised quite enough. More than enough, in point of fact.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, at the same moment he said, “I do beg your pardon.”

“I only wanted some air,” the woman continued, nodding towards the French doors behind him. “It’s far too hot in here. Not,” she added hastily, “that I am not enjoying myself. It is a very nice party.”

Nathan chuckled faintly. “I’m not sure that’s the fashionable opinion. It’s the end of the Season, so you should be saying that everything is dull, and everybody is tired, and there is hardly anybody left in London.”

Perhaps that was a trifle too acerbic for small talk, and certainly not appropriate for conversation with a stranger he had only just met. He was fairly sure he had been saying inappropriate things to people all night, earning himself disapproving stares and curious glances.

The girl, however, only chuckled, shaking her head.

“I know you are being ironic,” she said with a sigh, “but I am a country girl, and to me, this room is positively full of people. I can scarcely breathe. They are all very pleasant people, naturally, but there are so many of them. Oh, dear, you’re laughing. Have I said something else wrong?”

“Not at all. I have never seen someone so determined to enjoy themselves, that’s all. Uh, I don’t believe we have been introduced?”

It was a not-so-subtle hint for them to be officially introduced, as it really was not proper for them to have a conversation otherwise. The lady, however, did not seem to notice.

“No, no, I don’t think so. We never troubled ourselves greatly with such concerns in the countryside, you know.”

She reached past him and edged open the French doors, and Nathan felt obliged to clear his throat.

“I hate to say it, but it might not be considered proper for you to go out onto the terrace by yourself,” he said carefully. “Ladies don’t, you know.”

She paused, frowning. “Yet the doors are fashioned of glass, transparent to the eye, and all are present within.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Forgive me for saying it, but you really have not been much in Society, have you?”

She wilted a little. “Oh, is it so very obvious? I thought I was doing well. Thank you for telling me, good sir.”

“Lord Whitmore,” Nathan supplied helpfully.

“It’s a pleasure,” she said, distracted by a high-tiered cake being carefully carried through the crowds by a trio of footmen, towering above them all.

Nathan took the opportunity to eye the woman carefully. She was not familiar, and with her charmingly oblivious manners, he was willing to guess that this was her first real entrance into Society. She was old enough to be a debutante, at about twenty-two or twenty-three years old, and he would have bet money that she had not had an official come-out.

She was remarkably pretty. Her gown, for a start, was not suited to a debutante or a shrinking violet. No, it was a rich, sumptuous thing, made of expensive, well-cut silk and trimmed with fine lace. She had brown hair and clear blue eyes, set in a heart-shaped face that was open and entirely at ease.

Nathan had seen many young men and women with the infamous ‘Society Manners’. It was a way of appearing confident, open, and at ease with oneself, without actually risking a word out of place or revealing a single thing by accident. It was a rather artful set of manners, producing gentlemen who were loud and haranguing, and ladies who were falsely modest and coy.

Either way, the whole business was false, and it grated on Nathan. Why could people not be themselves, instead of leaving everybody to try and work out whether they meant a thing or not?

This young woman did not seem to be afflicted by these manners. No doubt the more spiteful of gossips would mock her innocence, claiming that she was too old for such naivety, but Nathan did not believe that she was naive.

She was simply herself.

She glanced up at him, catching him looking at her, and he felt heat spreading across his cheeks.

Why haven’t I bowed and made my excuses? Why do I want to remain with her?

“I do find these events rather taxing,” he found himself saying. “I often wish I was more social. I try, believe it or not, but I find that after no more than an hour, all I can think about is going home.”

The woman chuckled. “As I said, I lived in the country for my whole life, so this is the largest gathering I think I have ever attended. London is… well, it is interesting. I am enjoying my stay, so far.”

“I hope you continue to enjoy it,” he responded, making a short bow. “Tell me, who…”

“Pippa!”

A sharp voice cut across the ballroom, making the woman and Nathan jump almost out of their skins. He glanced over to find an older woman, tight-lipped, striding towards them. She was tall and beautiful, although more than a little fearsome. The lady – Pippa – seemed to shrink a little.

“My mother,” she whispered.

The woman reached them, shooting Nathan a quick, incisive glare. “Who is this, Pippa? You told me you wanted a breath of fresh air. I expected you to come back directly afterwards. There are people you must meet.”

“This is Lord Whitmore, Mama.”

Lord Whitmore bowed. “Charmed, madam.

“I am Lady Randall,” the older woman responded tartly. “Why are you standing here by yourself, Lord Whitmore? It’s rather singular.”

Now, that was particularly rude. Nathan felt a flare of annoyance at the woman’s tone. The name Randall did not spark any memories, but no doubt he could find out easily enough. He was willing to bet that they were not rich and well-known enough o be anywhere near as haughty as this woman.

“Your daughter mentioned that you have just come from the country,” he found himself saying. “I suggested that she should not go out onto the terrace by herself. It is generally thought to be improper.”

Colour spread over Lady Randall’s face, and her jaw tightened.

“Yes, indeed, I recall that,” she muttered. “I have been in London myself, you know. I had a Season, like everybody else.”

“Mama…” Pippa said, her voice a touch pleading.

“Do excuse us, Lord Whitmore,” Lady Randall said, pasting an insincere smile on her face. “Somebody is waiting to meet my daughter and myself. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

He didn’t particularly believe that. Nathan said nothing, only making a neat bow. He watched them scurry away, with Lady Randall gripping her daughter’s arm a little too tightly. At that moment, a pause in the music and a lull in conversation allowed him to hear a few snippets of their conversation.

“What are you thinking , telling our business to strangers like that?” Lady Randall hissed. “Mind your tongue in future, my girl. I won’t’ tell you again. Nobody forgets anything in Society, and once you’ve said a word, you can’t take it back.”

Pippa sighed mournfully. “I never did get any fresh air, Mama.”

“Oh, let us not dwell on that now. We have tasks to attend to before we take our supper. Now, put on a pleasant smile and think about some interesting things to say.”

Nathan watched them disappear into the crowd.

Why do I feel unsettled all of a sudden?

What has changed?

***

“Nathan! There you are! Kat told me you’d be here, but I wasn’t sure if you’d try to withdraw.”

Nathan paused, in the process of swigging back another glass of champagne.

“Henry,” he said, grinning. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Lord Henry Willenshire had been a friend to Nathan for many years. When the Whitmores’ fortunes dropped, the old duke – Henry’s father – had forbidden him from seeing Nathan. He had been quite open about it, too, writing to Nathan to inform him that his friendship with his sons was at an end, and he should not contact them again.

Henry, never one to quietly submit, had done his best to see Nathan now and then, and their friendship had thrived. Nathan knew, more than many people, how cruel and spiteful the old duke had been. It was a sad thing to admit, but the Willenshire children were much happier now that their father was gone.

Henry clapped Nathan on the shoulder. “I believe Eleanor wanted to speak to you before the night was out, some business matter or another. Did you see how well our new tea set designs have sold? I cannot take a scrap of credit for their design – it was all her. My wife is a business genius, I think.”

Nathan smiled. “I’m happy for you, Henry.”

Everybody in Society knew that Henry and his wife, Eleanor, were perfectly matched. They were both outspoken, fiercely intelligent, with a hunger for challenges and a knack for business matters. At their wedding, Nathan remembered feeling a sudden, unforeseen pang of jealousy. Why was it so hard for him to meet somebody who suited him so well? Eleanor and Henry seemed to be made for each other.

Stop it, he told himself. Marriage is a tricky business and you ought to approach it like a business merger, not a romance novel.

Henry paused, squinting at his friend. “You seem a little off tonight. Is everything all right?”

“Me? Oh, fine, fine. I just…” Nathan sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Mother wants me to marry, and insists upon me attending the Season. Really, I could do without all the parties and outings. I have so much work to do.”

Henry nodded slowly, pursing his lips. “You have a decent steward, though, don’t you? And your man at the bank? In fact, you have quite a few reliable clerks and whatnot who could take some of the work off your shoulders.”

Nathan shook his head. “No, I feel better doing it all myself. You can’t be too careful, after all.”

“Indeed,” Henry agreed. “But you do trust them, don’t you?”

He paused. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point, is it? I don’t like to delegate.”

“Slippery slope, old friend. If you don’t delegate anything , then where draw the line? You don’t want to wake up one morning and find that life has passed you by, do you?”

Nathan flinched at that. He bit the inside of his cheek, looking away.

“That’s the sort of thing my mother would say,” he muttered, “as a way to convince me to marry Miss Davenport.”

Henry shrugged. “Perhaps you should listen to her. About not letting your life pass you by, that is not marrying Miss Davenport. I’m not sure you’d be a match.”

“No, nor I.”

“Let’s talk of happier things,” Henry said, after a while. “Have you made any new acquaintances tonight?”

Nathan perked up a little. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

“Oh, do tell?”

“She didn’t properly introduce herself.”

Henry grinned. “Ahh, a she ? How thrilling. Pray, continue.”

“I think she’s quite an original. Pippa Randall, I believe. That is, her mother is Lady Randall, so I assume…” he broke off as Henry gave a bark of laughter.

“Oh, what a coincidence!” he chuckled. “Nathan, Pippa Randall – she’s a plain miss – is my cousin.”

“What? You are jesting.”

“I am not. Lady Randall is Aunt Bridget, and they came up from the countryside only a few days ago. They stayed with William for a while, but of course Will and Lavinia aren’t socialising much, so they’ve come to Kat. We plan to spring her on Society for the rest of the Season.” Henry paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You like her, do you not?”

Nathan felt himself flushing like a schoolboy.

“I… I hardly know,” he confessed. “I enjoyed our conversation. Generally, I find idle conversation to be an ordeal – you know my disposition – yet she was… she was unlike any other. It is difficult to articulate the reason. I should not be reluctant to encounter her again.”

Henry shot him a shrewd glance. “Well, I can vouch for it, my cousin is a likeable sort of girl. I should warn you, before things go much further, that she has no money and nobody beside us to protect her. Her mother is widowed, and her father was not a rich man at the best of times. Aunt Bridget was cut off when she married him. You know what father was like.”

There was no mistaking the way Henry’s voice hardened when he said father , spitting out the word like a curse.

Nathan nodded slowly, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Indeed, I know.”

“Anyway,” Henry continued, “Will might settle something on her, but then again, he might not.”

“I don’t care about that,” Nathan continued honestly. “I… I just think I would like to see her again.”

“In that case, I shall have you two sitting together,” Henry announced, grinning.

“Is that allowed?”

He leaned closer, nudging Nathan’s shoulder. “The hostess is rather fond of me. I shall flutter my eyelashes and request it as a favour, and I bet she’ll oblige.”

Nathan rolled his eyes, chuckling. “The hostess is your sister. If anything, that would make her less likely to oblige you, not more so.”

“Wretch. Just wait and see, eh? Wait and see.”