Page 6 of Visiting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #2)

Mr Hart strolled directly to us after bidding his mousy-haired partner a polite, but disinterested nod after the cotillion. The young woman looked none too pleased to be dismissed so soon and scurried across to her two friends, the ones who had been whispering and peeking at us from behind their fans .

‘How lovely to see you again, Miss Fitzroy,’ said Mr Hart, directing his full attention to Lucinda, who stiffened under his intense gaze. Indeed, as well as being extremely handsome, he possessed a commanding presence that was difficult to ignore.

‘Good evening, Mr Hart,’ replied Lucinda, continuing to fan herself. But the poor girl’s cheeks were fiery, and the fan wielding was doing nothing whatsoever to cool them.

‘Who are your friends?’ he enquired with a tilt of his head. ‘I did not have the pleasure of meeting them at the pump room this morning.’

‘This is my aunt, Mrs Felicity Fitzroy, and her friend Miss Jane Austen. ’

‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ said Mr Hart, bowing to Jane and me. When his eyes met mine, a small bird fluttered in my chest, and my own cheeks heated imperceptibly. But I refused to simper and gave him a polite nod. He was sightly to behold and had pretty manners, but we still did not know anything about him.

‘Would you care to stand up with me for the next dance, Miss Fitzroy? I believe it is a minuet,’ he said to Lucinda, smiling amiably and waiting for her reply.

Lucinda agreed but seemed unable to stand, being struck by something like stage fright.

‘Go on, dear,’ I whispered encouragingly. ‘Everyone is taking their places.’

Slowly, Lucinda rose and took Mr Hart’s arm, and he led her to the dance floor. She looked like a doll next to him.

‘Gracious,’ I said to Jane when they were out of earshot. ‘I hope she manages to dance all right.’

‘He seems to be giving her words of encouragement,’ said Jane.

We watched as Lucinda stood a little taller and seemed more at ease. By the second promenade, her face had relaxed, and she even smiled as Mr Hart spoke to her, and she replied with a comment.

‘What are they saying? Can you tell?’ I asked Jane (she was good at reading people’s lips).

‘I am not entirely sure, but I think that he asked about her day, and she said, “We went to the library.”’

I warmed to him then. It was kind that he was conversing with her and making her feel comfortable. I could not stand men who refused to talk while dancing. It always made things so awkward. What was the point if you could not get to know your partner?

I’d enjoyed the conversation Max and I had on our first dance at Ashbury, even though we mostly spoke about him collecting his hat. But it was then that I realised I had feelings for him as he had looked so vulnerable when he’d asked to call on me and was awaiting my reply. He’d looked terrified that I would say no!

In thinking of it, I began to miss him terribly and wished he was here to dance with me. Max was an excellent dancer and would not have hesitated to whisk me onto the floor (well, he would do so as soon as I had given him encouragement). I would be up there doing the minuet myself rather than sitting here, getting a sore bottom.

And Jane, being single, should really be up dancing! I looked around, attempting to subtly catch the eye of an agreeable gentleman for her.

But in doing so, I was surprised to see Elizabeth conversing with a woman who seemed to have waylaid her. She looked familiar, and I realised it was the mother of the pretty blonde girl at the pump room, the one who had made the gagging motion. Whatever it was the woman was saying, Elizabeth did not seem to be pleased by it as she made several attempts to leave and join us but was prevented from doing so by the woman holding tightly on to her arm and talking intently.

Eventually, Elizabeth extracted herself from the woman’s grip and came over, looking very stern.

‘What was that all about?’ asked Jane, who had seen the performance as well as I.

Elizabeth sat down, breathing heavily and looking disconcerted. ‘Well, I never!’ she said. ‘I did not expect to be accosted at a ball, but there is a first time for everything.’

She told us how the woman had introduced herself as Mrs Spencer and that their conversation had at first been of the usual ‘Who are you here with?’ kind. But when Elizabeth had indicated Jane and me and then pointed out Lucinda on the dance floor with Mr Hart, the woman’s lips had tightened, and she had remarked that Elizabeth should pay heed to the company Lucinda was keeping.

‘I said, “Whatever do you mean, Mrs Spencer? Lucinda is dancing with that nice gentleman, Mr Hart, and having a splendid time by the looks of it.” But the woman said that he was not a nice gentleman at all. She then proceeded to tell me about how Mr Hart had made the acquaintance of her elder daughter, Cecilia, at the Season last year, and ...’ Elizabeth paused and lowered her voice. ‘She said she could not reveal exactly what he did as we were in the midst of polite society, but that his conduct was very bad. She strongly recommended that we sever Lucinda’s acquaintance with him immediately and pronounced him—and, my dears, this is distressing—a most appalling scoundrel .’

‘Oh no,’ said Jane worriedly. ‘We must rescue her at once when they have finished dancing.’

We looked over at Lucinda and Mr Hart. They looked to be getting along wonderfully, with much talking and smiling taking place .

‘But look at how happy she is,’ said Elizabeth mournfully. ‘Should we really be so hasty to separate them? What if Mrs Spencer is a spiteful mama whose daughter had gained, then lost Mr Hart’s attention, but through no fault of his own? She may be trying to interfere for her own gain. What do you say, Felicity?’

I took a deep breath, not knowing what to think. ‘Painting him as a reprobate is quite harsh, and we only have her opinion to go by. Still, perhaps it is better to err on the side of caution until we have more information about his character.’

‘Then it is settled,’ Jane said firmly. ‘Elizabeth and I will escort Lucinda to the tea room. And, Flissy, you can make sure that Mr Hart does not follow us.’

‘An excellent plan,’ I said. ‘But how am I supposed to carry out my part?’

‘Distract him by talking about the weather or some such. He’ll get bored soon enough and find someone else to dance with. Look out, here they come.’

Sure enough, the pair had finished the dance and were coming over to us, cheerfully ignorant of all that we had been planning to break up their acquaintance.

‘Here she is, safe and sound,’ said Mr Hart, presenting Lucinda to us with a flourish.

Before Lucinda knew what was happening, she was told that tea was now on the agenda. Jane and Elizabeth firmly grasped an elbow each, and she was whisked off, leaving me alone on the bench to deal with a surprised-looking Mr Hart .

‘Ah, dancing is thirsty work,’ I said hastily. ‘They thought Lucinda would be parched.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘How discerning of them. But I take it you are not parched since you are still here?’

‘No, I am well ... hydrated,’ I said ineffectually.

‘In that case’, he said, flashing me a smile, ‘you can dance the next with me since I am now without a partner.’

‘Oh no, I cannot ... I am married.’

Mr Hart looked around. ‘Pray, where is your husband? Hiding in the tea room?’

‘He is in Derbyshire,’ I said, stifling a giggle. Max would very likely be hiding in the tea room if he was here.

Mr Hart raised an eyebrow. ‘Derbyshire! Then he will not mind if I steal you for one dance. If he is not here to witness it, there is no impropriety.’

I swallowed. What Mr Hart was saying made logical sense. But still, I knew I shouldn’t.

‘Thank you, but I can’t leave my ... er ... belongings.’

Mr Hart eyed my bulging reticule. ‘I should think it should be quite safe, unless you have brought a kitten to the ball? If so, it might be best in the cloakroom as it may get squashed.’

I laughed at that. ‘A kitten? ’

‘You may be surprised at the things the young ladies of Bath stow in their reticules.’

‘Well, if I had been silly enough to do so, I’m sure it would be quite suffocated by now.’

‘Indeed. So there is no need to stay here and look after an expired kitten. You may as well dance with me,’ he said with a grin.

I got the impression from this ridiculous conversation that he was determined to persuade me and would not take no for an answer.

‘All right,’ I said, giving in.

Well, I was itching to dance.

And it was just one.

Plus I could be of use to Lucinda because I did have some skills in discerning men’s characters.

Satisfied that I was doing the right thing, I took his arm, and he led me to the floor.

‘Which dance is this one?’ I asked .

‘If I remember correctly from the programme, it is the waltz,’ Mr Hart replied. ‘Are you familiar with it?’

I gulped. I had never waltzed with anyone, not even Max. But I knew it involved more proximity to one’s partner than the minuet. ‘I am afraid not. Perhaps I should sit ...’

Mr Hart stepped into the space between us and grasped my gloved hands. ‘It is very easy. I will show you the steps quickly now before it starts. See, your hands go on my shoulders, here.’ He placed them so. ‘And mine go on your waist.’ He settled his hands, and I felt the heat of them sear through my muslin and onto my flesh. He was directly in front of me, and I would have no choice but to look at him and be held by him. Oh Lord. I glanced at the doorway, praying that the others did not choose that moment to reappear.

‘Now we move in a circle. One, two, three. One, two, three. Then we greet the partner of the couple next to us, and ladies do an underarm turn. Then we all join hands and meet in the middle. Then we are back to each other for more waltzing. See? Simple.’

‘I suppose so,’ I replied hesitantly.

‘I think you’ll find it an excellent dance for getting to know one’s partner. That is, if you like to converse while dancing?’

A friendly smile played on Mr Hart’s lips, and I softened. ‘ I do, indeed,’ I replied.

‘Then we shall have a pleasant time of it, for I do as well.’

The music began, and it was as he had said. The dance itself was not hard, and Mr Hart was a strong partner, so all I had to do was follow his lead.

The only difficulty lay in the intimacy the dance required. As we were facing each other, I had ample time to look at him and him at me. And the experience was distracting, to say the least.

Mr Hart was even more striking up close. He possessed deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, along with a superior nose and an appealing pair of lips. He also had the most impossibly perfect complexion—apart from one tiny mole underneath his left eye, which acted like a beauty spot, drawing one’s attention fully to his countenance.

Feeling a bit overcome by him, I decided the best thing to do was to imagine that I was dancing with Max. Conjuring up his dear gruff face, I plopped it on top of Mr Hart’s own visage. Then I was free to glance at him now and then without feeling uncomfortable.

But he, of course, noticed this.

‘Do I have something on my nose, Mrs Fitzroy?’ he enquired.

‘P-pardon?’

‘You keep looking at me most intently. I can only assume that it is because I have inadvertently smeared myself with jam or perhaps honey?’

A blush hit my cheeks. Blast, he was too perceptive for his own good.

‘N-not at all,’ I stuttered. ‘I was simply imagining you as my husband.’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘After only half a waltz? That is quick work. Most of the ladies here would not be thinking of me like that after so short an acquaintance. And didn’t you mention you already had a husband?’

‘I do!’ I exclaimed, annoyed that I had been flustered and not clearly explained myself. ‘What I meant is that I had replaced your head with my husband’s own for the sake of propriety ... Oh, I see. You are making fun of me.’

His lips were pressed together, as if trying hard not to laugh. Mr Hart’s propensity for teasing and his enjoyment in doing so were becoming quite apparent.

‘Let us talk about something else,’ I said hastily, not wanting to give him the chance to tease me again. ‘Do you reside in Bath?’

He glanced over at the other dancers as we waltzed. ‘Yes, for the present.’

‘Where do you usually reside?’

He looked back at me and said with apparent seriousness, ‘In a castle.’

I laughed at that. ‘I can see you like to joke, Mr Hart ...’

He shrugged his shoulders under my hands. ‘I’m telling you the truth, Mrs Fitzroy. I live in Hartmoor Castle when I am not in Bath or London for the Season. It is a hulking draughty pile of stones, but it is home.’

‘Gracious,’ I said, a bit awestruck in spite of myself. ‘I’ve never met anyone who lived in a castle before.’

We transitioned into circling then, so he could not reply but did so when we were back together.

‘And how long are you staying in Bath for, Mrs Fitzroy?’ he enquired.

I had wished to hear more about the castle, but it seemed he did not wish to speak of that any longer. Very well.

‘Six weeks,’ I replied.

‘Marvellous. Then I hope we will meet again.’

I gave a polite nod, unsure if I should agree to this or not.

The dance ended. Mr Hart removed his hands from my waist, and I from his shoulders, and we clapped politely. I thought he would bow as was expected, but he held out his hand for me to shake.

Bemused, I placed my gloved hand in his own.

‘It was most enjoyable to meet you, Mrs Fitzroy,’ he murmured, gazing at me.

Before I knew what was happening, he drew my hand up to his lips and placed a quick kiss on my fingers. It was unexpected, and I snatched my hand out of his grasp immediately. Even though his lips had not touched my skin, a thrum of traitorous desire reverberated in my stomach.

‘Good evening, Mr Hart.’ Without looking at him, I hurried to the bench, collected my reticule, and headed in the direction of the tea room. I resisted the temptation to look round as I was sure the man would be watching me with laughter in his eyes.

Oh, Mr Hart was trouble with a capital T , and Lucinda was not the only one who should stay away from him!

Feeling hot and flustered, I entered the tea room, which was situated next door to where the dancing was held. This room was cooler, and the array of tables neatly laid with white linen tablecloths and the people decorously drinking tea calmed me considerably.

In saying that, there was no tea drinking at the table Elizabeth, Jane, and Lucinda were ensconced at, although there was a teapot and cups. They all looked rather disgruntled, in fact.

‘Flissy, there you are,’ said Jane upon seeing me. I pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Is everything all right?’ she enquired curiously when I extracted my scented handkerchief from my reticule to dab my perspiring forehead. I considered using my fan to cool down as well, but that might look suspicious.

‘Yes, quite,’ I said. ‘It was rather warm in the dance room. What is happening here?’

‘We were discussing if we should collect Edward and leave shortly as we are all rather tired. It has been a busy day.’

‘I am not tired, though,’ said Lucinda somewhat petulantly, folding her arms.

‘We have been explaining to Lucy about Mr Hart,’ said Elizabeth carefully. ‘And that it may not be wise to associate with him based on what Mrs Spencer has said.’

‘Forgive me, but I think that is most unfair,’ said Lucinda stiffly. ‘Mr Hart has been a perfect gentleman to me, both at the pump room and just now when I was dancing with him. You have taken one spiteful mother’s opinion and believed it wholly without even giving him the chance to defend himself!’

Elizabeth and Jane looked at me expectantly, and I knew that they had tried their best to make her see reason, but she was resisting it because she liked him a lot and did not want to hear a bad word said about him. So now I had to try.

‘That is true, Lucy,’ I said gently. ‘But in this case, where there is smoke, there is usually fire.’ (Heat was still emanating from where his hands had touched my waist, so I certainly knew what I was talking about.) ‘I am sure there are numerous other young gentlemen who would be more than happy to make your acquaintance. Besides, your mama would want you to get to know as many gentlemen as possible in the time we are here rather than narrow your focus to one so soon in the piece, as then you will be able to compare them more objectively. Someone who appears to be a perfect match on the first or second meeting may on the third show a deplorable tendency to let off wind.’

I thought this was rather a good speech and light-hearted too as Jane giggled. But Lucinda only scowled. She opened her mouth to say more on the subject. But at that moment, Edward came hobbling into the tea room on his crutches, looking for us. Elizabeth told him we were more than ready to take our leave. With that, we exited the rooms and flagged a hackney to take us the three minutes back to Queen Square, whereupon Lucinda flounced to her room in a huff. Jane and I retired to our room silently after bidding the others good night.

I was a touch concerned about Lucinda’s behaviour but hoped she was just tired and would be back to her sweet self tomorrow. As for myself, I felt I had done what I had been asked to do—namely prevent Mr Hart from entering the tea room. But in doing so, I had somehow caught his attention.

All I could do was hope that he would forget our meeting and not pursue any further acquaintance with myself or any of our party .