Page 9 of The Spinster’s Stolen Heart (Willenshires #5)

“Oh, hard luck, friend!”

Somehow, Nathan didn’t think that Lord Owen Barwick really did care that he’d missed his shot.

Sighing, Nathan straightened, and let the next player take their turn at the billiards table.

He was a little disappointed at having to play out the game. Some of the other gentlemen had already joined the ladies in the drawing room, but Timothy had been so insistent that Nathan play with them, at least for a little while.

The conversation he’d had with Miss Randall kept going through Nathan’s head. What he’d said, what she’d said, the way she laughed, the way she looked at him… he swallowed thickly.

I like her. I should not be averse to getting to know her better.

Of course, it was fairly plain that Miss Randall’s mother wanted her to make a match with Lord Barwick. The woman had hustled her daughter away from Nathan as if she were afraid, he might run after them, and it was plain that the girl was meant to sit next to Lord Barwick at dinner.

I’m surprised Lord Barwick isn’t pressing his advantage, making his excuses and hurrying to the drawing room to get a place by Miss Randall already.

Or perhaps he doesn’t see me as competition.

Owen took his shot, potting a ball neatly. He was already winning.

“I see you met Miss Randall earlier, Nathan,” Owen remarked, eyes focused on his next shot. “She’s making quite a stir, ain’t she?”

“She’s a very pleasant young woman,” Nathan responded, as vaguely as he dared.

“For a country girl, she has interesting manners. Very open. She had better be careful, though. What she sees as friendliness might be seen as flirting.”

A ball landed in a pocket. A cold feeling spread through Nathan.

“I’m sure she would not intentionally flirt with anyone,” he found himself saying.

“Perhaps not,” Owen conceded, straightening up. “But you know what Society is like. We’re all so focused on each other, at times we only see what we want to see. She’s a friendly little thing, very lively. She ought to take care, though. These things can be misinterpreted, as I said.”

It was a short conversation, and Owen moved away almost immediately. Nathan, however, stood in silence, his head swimming.

It was entirely possible that Miss Randall was only being friendly. How embarrassing would it be to have misinterpreted her kindness?

No, he scolded himself. Don’t doubt yourself. Owen clearly has an interest in her himself, so of course he wants to put you off.

Unless he knows something that you don’t. An affection, perhaps, or some attachment. It isn’t as if you are any good at interpreting social occasions.

He spent the rest of the game in gloomy self-doubt. By the time it ended, he had decided to start afresh, to let Miss Randall take the lead.

But he was one of the last gentlemen to enter the drawing room. All the seats were taken, and Owen was standing in front of Miss Randall, who was bracketed by her mother on one side and Lady Henrietta Barwick on the other. The girl looked rather subdued and not entirely happy. She did meet his eye, however, and gave a faint smile, but then Owen moved so as to block their outline.

Nathan had been standing in the corner for a few moments, debating his next course of action, when his mother approached.

Rose was pale, her eyes heavy, and he knew at once she had one of her ‘megrims’ coming.

“I hate to ask, darling,” she whispered, “but might you take me home? Miss Molyneaux started playing the pianoforte, you know how she loves to play, but she is so terribly heavy-handed, and all those discords and that thumping is giving me a megrim. Of course, if you are enjoying yourself, I can go home alone and send back the carriage?” she added hopefully, but Nathan shook his head.

“Certainly, I shall escort you home, Mother. Do fetch your shawl, and I shall bid farewell to our hosts.”

Rose nodded, looking undeniably relieved. Nathan tried to catch Miss Randall’s eye as he passed, but her trio of guards seemed to have edged even closer to her, and there was of course no hope of escape. He could, of course, have elbowed his way into the conversation and made a point of speaking to her, but that would have taken a more confident man than Nathan.

Since I’m going home early, I can get a good bit of work done, he thought, but the idea did not bring the wave of satisfaction that it usually did.

He left the party while it was in full swing, and nobody seemed to notice very much, except perhaps Henry. Nathan longed to turn around as he walked out of the room, to see if Miss Randall had noticed, but he was very much afraid that he would turn around and find that she had not noticed and did not care.

It seemed the safer option, then, not to turn around at all.

Ignorance is bliss, after all. Or so Nathan reminded himself, as he strode down the cool hallway towards the open door, through which he could see the blocky shadow of their carriage waiting.

It was a silly hope, anyway. In a week or two, I’ll hear that Miss Randall is engaged to Lord Owen Barwick, and that will be that.

He’s a marquess, after all. What woman wouldn’t prefer a marquess to a plain old viscount?

***

It was cold inside the carriage. Outside, rain had begun to fall, pattering gently against the roof. They made commendable progress, owing to the scant traffic upon the roads at that hour of the evening, though not as much as would ensue later, once the guests commenced their departure.

Nathan generally felt a rush of relief once he was safely on his way home again after a party. His study was safe, his work would always be waiting for him, and there were no fraught social interactions to navigate. His accounts and ledgers and paperwork were all things he could control, things that made sense .

People, on the other hand, were nonsensical, ridiculous creatures.

Take Miss Randall, for example. He’d been so sure that she liked him, that she was perhaps interested in him more than general friendliness required. Who knew where it would lead?

But now, however, he wasn’t sure she had meant anything at all. It seemed like there was no way of telling, and he might have simply seen what he wanted to see. He felt like a fool for having allowed Henry to move around the place-cards.

And yet I want to see her again, so desperately.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Nathan?”

He glanced across the carriage to where his mother sat, very straight and pale, eyes closed.

“It was a fairly pleasant party,” he heard himself say. “The Willenshires always throw good parties.”

“Mm-hm. I noticed you sitting by Miss Randall. She’s their cousin, you know.”

He swallowed. “I know, Mother.”

“A pleasant girl, everybody was saying. Her mother is a little too prideful for her station, and you can smell the ambition coming off her. Still, there are greater crimes in the world than wanting something good for one’s daughter,” Rose added, sighing. “I shouldn’t object to knowing that Randalls a little better.”

“Miss Randall is a pleasant girl,” Nathan murmured. “Do you not think… I mean, could she perhaps be a little flirtatious?”

Rose opened her eyes. “I know I raised you better than to accuse an innocent girl of fast behaviour, Nathan. I shall pretend I did not hear that.”

He flushed. “I am sorry, Mother. Too much champagne. I only say it because I felt… well, at one point I rather thought Miss Randall liked me, only later, Lord Owen Barwick hinted that she may have been toying with me. And, of course, she was sitting with him and his mother later, in the drawing room.”

Rose snorted. “Well, I don’t have the measure of Miss Randall yet, but I certainly know Lord Barwick. I shouldn’t pay any attention to him. I daresay he has ulterior motives.”

“Ulterior motives? I heard that Miss Randall has no money.”

Rose pursed her lips, staring out of the window. “The Barwicks have a good deal of money themselves,” she said thoughtfully. “He could have another motive in mind. Nevertheless, it hardly matters. Make your own mind up, my dear. I’m sure we’ll see Miss Randall again. If you like her, try and speak to her, won’t you?”

Nathan said nothing, fiddling with his cuffs. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say, or even whether he should trust his own memory. Perhaps he’d simply been blinded by a pretty face and a set of unusual manners.

He felt his mother’s eyes on him before too long.

“I heard that Lord Davenport paid you a visit recently,” she said simply.

Nathan sighed. “And I imagine you know exactly what was said. It all happened with your permission, I daresay.”

She chuckled. “Nathan, dear, you should know by now that nothing happens in this house without my knowing about it. I’ve known for a while that Lord and Lady Davenport would like to unite our families in one way or another. Since Amanda will be unmarried at the end of her Season, this will solve both problems nicely.”

“He should not think of his daughter as a problem to be solved. Anyway, I am sure Amanda will find somebody she truly cares about to marry.”

Rose didn’t answer for a long moment. Moonlight flashed through the window, bathing the inside of the carriage in a silvery-blue glow. Nathan smothered a yawn, horrified that he was beginning to feel tired. There was no time for that. He had work to do once he got home.

“I think Amanda would make you happy,” Rose said at last, voice quiet. “I think you would make her happy. But then, I believe that you would make any woman happy, because you are my son and I’m quite, quite prejudiced in your favour. But she would make an admirable daughter-in-law for me, and a good viscountess.”

He was silent for a moment. “I don’t believe that Amanda wants to be a viscountess.”

“Perhaps not, but Society is full of ladies and gentlemen who did not get what they wanted. Amanda is pretty, and reasonably rich, but she has relied on her looks this Season and did not apply herself to being interesting, kind, or pleasant. As a result, many gentlemen have turned to sweeter ladies, and she is left on the shelf. Of course, we all make mistakes when we are nineteen years old, but Amanda does not have much time to rectify this. Her parents were always set on her only having one Season, and assumed that she would marry in her first year. They are not happy at the prospect of paying more money for a second Season. The girl is getting nervous, I think. Her future is not as bright as she thought it would be.”

Nathan bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry for her,” he said, honestly enough. “But I don’t think I want to marry Amanda Davenport.”

Rose nodded slowly. “Well, you must make your own decision. But you will think about it, won’t you? Think about it seriously.”

Nathan sighed. “Very well, Mother. I shall think about it.”