A Provision For Love (Entangled Inheritance Book 1) Page 8

  Henry fiddled with his gloves. “How have you liked London?”

  “It seems every person I meet asks me that. You must know, considering my current predicament of fulfilling Percival’s provision, that enjoyment is not my chief objective.”

  “A pity.” Henry offered his arm. “I am not surprised, though. I asked only as a courtesy.”

  “A courtesy—my entire world, it seems.” I sighed, not bothering to explain myself. “What was it that was so important?”

  “A review of sorts.” Henry lifted a brow. “As my duty in overseeing your provisionary clause, I thought a review to be in order—before you proceed in considering any of the men at Almack’s.”

  I gasped. “A review? You think that necessary?”

  His lips pulled, and I fixated on his charming dimples. Henry continued to find amusement in my situation. “Wholly so. Now, shall we begin with Lord St. Vincent?”

  I shook my head. “I cannot stand the man. I do not believe he will call on me again.”

  “Very well.” Henry tapped a finger to his jaw. “Then Lord Egerton—shall we move on to him?”

  My throat ran dry, and I almost choked on a cough. “If we must. Lord Egerton has not contradicted a single requirement, as of yet. He even brought me a gift without occasion yesterday.”

  Henry’s jaw jutted forward. The outer corners of his eyes narrowed, and I noticed a freckle beneath his left eye. “The marquess is rumored to be quite the catch, especially with his pending title as duke. I should think he may be a top contender, if he is truly as interested as he appeared at the ball on Wednesday. Do you think you would be happy with a man like that?”

  My mind spun. “I do not think I can ascertain such a thing after only two meetings.”

  “But you must try. If you spend too long acquainting yourself with options, you may entangle yourself with the wrong man.” Henry’s eyes twitched. “That is, I do not wish to see you lose Bridgestone because of a poor choice.”

  I scoffed, and the sound grated on my ears, for I recognized my grandmother’s likeness in the act. I pulled at my bonnet strap. “You suppose the future duke to be a poor choice? Bridgestone or not, Lord Egerton is an excellent catch.”

  Henry halted and studied my expression for a long moment. His mouth puckered as if he had swallowed sour milk. “Very well, then. Let us discuss Mr. Perry.”

  “I only spoke to him briefly.”

  “Ivy, you cannot be blind to your situation. You have become a prize to the bachelors of the ton. Word of your inheritance spread before your arrival. I have heard the gossip myself. The display at Almack’s is only the first. There will be more.” Henry offered a weak smile. “Can you see that you must proceed with caution? People talk.”

  London gossip was like noxious hogweed, planting roots and spreading at a rate that was impossible to counter. Irritation brewed in my stomach, threatening to climb my throat. Of course I understood my situation. However, if Henry thought the display at Almack’s was my doing, he was sorely mistaken. “I cannot help whom Lady Sefton introduces me to. I cannot help it if a gentleman speaks to me at a ball or a party or a walk in Hyde Park. What will you have me do, Henry—notify you if a man so much as looks my way?”

  “Ivy—”

  I shook my head. I was surprised—and grateful even—that my arms were no longer the least cold. “No, Henry, you need not explain. Reviews are necessary but only in the future.”

  He frowned, and the lines between his brows deepened. “I want to help.”

  I could not contain my annoyance. I fluttered my lashes in irritation. “Please.”

  He released my hand, and I was startled to realize he had returned me to my grandmother’s side. “Until next review. Perhaps I will even join you in your hunt for Bridgestone’s new master.”

  “No.” The word came out as a whisper.

  He folded his arms across his broad chest, and a hint of a smile graced his lips. “You cannot prevent me from my preferred acquaintances. If I wish to befriend Lord Egerton or Mr. Perry or any other gentleman, you cannot stop me. Not only are you young and inexperienced with the ton, but you are a touch weaker.”

  He looked down at me, as if to accentuate our difference in stature.

  I pressed my lips together. Arguing with Henry in front of Grandmother and Lady Sefton—or anyone—was pointless. However, I was beginning to think my assessment at Almack’s a mistake; Henry deserved the entirety of my resentment.

  “What is this?” Grandmother said, interjecting. “Is Henry bothering you?”

  “Not at all,” I lied, casting a dark glance his way. “He is only jesting. He does not understand that I am much fiercer than I let on.”

  Grandmother’s haggard laughter cut through the tension.

  “I believe I will take my leave, ladies—Lady Sefton, Lady Barrington, Ivy.” Henry paused. “But I look forward to Tuesday and conversing then.”

  My stomach churned. I recognized the challenge in his words, and I wondered at his meaning. Tuesday’s dinner was starting to spoil already.

  Chapter 11

  Guns he should feel at home with, and he must have a way with dogs. The sight of a horse with breed lines should bring a glint of heaven to his eyes. He should like the feel of leather and the smell of new hay in a field.

  Lady Sefton’s dining table seemed to reach as far as her influence. The tabletop extended the length of the long hall. The room, lit by ornate chandeliers and tabletop candles, was papered in a deep red and held the twenty guests with ease. Every part of the meal, from the white soup to the roasted duck and fruit and cheese, proved first rate.

  Grandmother seemed to no longer feel the least self-conscious of her abrupt change to half-mourning. I had questioned her decision to attend the dinner party so soon after changing from her blacks, but she insisted; Lady Sefton was more like family, and customs had no power to keep my grandmother home.

  In truth, I welcomed my grandmother’s presence. She served to distract Lady Sefton from meddling in my social affairs any more than she had already. Despite my pleas, Lady Sefton had invited five eligible bachelors to dinner—six if I included Henry in the count—and only two other single young ladies. The rest of the party was full of married couples and a clergyman.

  Lord Egerton and Mr. Perry attended, and Lady Sefton insisted on seating me between them, which made for an uncomfortable dinner. I spent the entire meal craning my neck from side to side in an effort to offer equal attention, but I failed miserably to give either sufficient. My only solace was that Henry was seated by neither and thereby unable to further investigate the men.

  I was relieved when the party migrated to the oversized drawing room.

  “Have you ever seen this room’s equal?” Miss Hawkins, one of the single young ladies, squealed upon entering the extravagant room.

  The plum-colored rug was first to catch my eyes, and then the bright tapestries on one wall. Floor-to-ceiling portraits lined the opposite wall, each picture framed in an ornate gold-leafed wood.

  “Never,” I said, stopping to survey each ornately carved furnishing.

  How strange that some found sanctuary in such lifelessness. For all its beauty, Lady Sefton’s drawing room was nothing more than fabric and paint, furnishings and candlelight. I brushed my fingers across the back of the velvet sofa; it was nothing to the texture of a tree or a grassy field.

  “Do you play or sing, Miss Linfield?” Miss Hawkins motioned to the pianoforte in the corner of the room.

  I nodded. “Enough to pass, I think.”

  She smiled, and I noticed how very pretty she was. Miss Hawkins’s brown hair shimmered in the dim light, and excessively long lashes framed her dark eyes. “I suppose that is how I should answer too. Enough to pass, perhaps to carry on as an accomplished young lady and marry well.”

  I gasped, laughing in disbelief. “That is the truest statement of the night.”

  She took my arm. The gesture, intimate on such short acquaintance, mig
ht have bothered me moments earlier. But after her comment and our shared laughter, I felt quite at ease. Miss Worthington had warned me of befriending other ladies in London; the marriage market was full of competition. Yet, in that moment, nothing felt more natural than linking arms and understanding with a lady in a similar circumstance—a fellow soldier of sorts, ordered by a familial commander to marry.

  “Now, you must sit by me. Lady Sefton has assured me that I will not find better company than at your side, Miss Linfield.” Miss Hawkins led me toward a sofa, and her lips curved once again. “In fact, I saw you at Almack’s last week. You caused quite a scene with your admirers.”

  I cringed. “You noticed?”

  Her soft laughter was response enough. “You were the envy of all, Miss Linfield. The ladies wished to be you, while the men wished to dance with you. And all the while, I kept thinking ‘I must become acquainted with Miss Linfield’.”

  “I am inclined to believe any interest in me, at the hand of a gentleman, is based solely on gossip…”

  She tilted her head. “You mean your supposed fortune?”

  I leaned back against the sofa. “Precisely.”

  Miss Hawkins poked me in the ribs with her fan, catching me completely by surprise. “I would not be so sure. Lord Egerton and Mr. Perry have fortune enough, and Mr. Thorne—”

  “Henry?” My eyes rounded. “I can attest to Mr. Thorne’s indifference. In fact, I think he means to undercut my efforts.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I cannot claim to know Mr. Thorne’s manners better than you. I will, however, attest to his obvious attention to you.” She paused, turning at the sound of the drawing-room doors opening. “I suppose I will have to keep an eye on him.”

  I doubted tracking Henry would be difficult. He meant to torment me by befriending the very men I hoped to know. Not surprisingly, he was one of the first men to enter the drawing room. He caught my glance from the entrance, his eyes brimming with mischief.

  He acknowledged me with a dip of the chin and took the seat directly opposite me. “Ivy, you will never guess what has happened. Lord Egerton has extended an invitation.”

  I swallowed. By that look alone, Henry had not—and would not—surrender his cause for Bridgestone. He was set at ruining my chances, one suitor at a time. Lord Egerton was the first at the block. “Oh, and what kind of invitation is that?”

  “A small gathering,” came a deep voice from behind. “And I hoped to invite you and Miss Hawkins too.”

  I clutched my fan to my chest. “Lord Egerton, you startled me.”

  His laughter did little to ease my nerves. I could feel the heat of Henry’s scrutiny, the way he examined my every move. My discomfort had to be apparent, but I tried to disguise it by fanning my cheeks.

  Lord Egerton navigated around the sofa and sat in the chair next to Henry. His eyes glistened, and I wondered if it was the result of port. “Yes, I thought dinner and evening entertainment, perhaps one with more equal pairings, should be in order. My mother is, after all, hounding me to introduce her to the young ladies of my acquaintance.”

  Mr. Perry and another gentleman, Mr. Hugh Knight, stood behind the other gentlemen.

  At their arrival, Henry flashed me a smile. “Miss Linfield does enjoy parties. Perhaps she can provide the marquess with a list of reputable young ladies?”

  I dropped my fan to my lap. Henry knew full well that I had few friends in London. My two weeks had been spent in the company of Grandmother, Lady Sefton, and the very few recently introduced gentlemen.

  “An excellent motion,” Lord Egerton said, clapping his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I imagine Miss Linfield, Miss Hawkins…do you have other suggestions, Miss Linfield?”

  “Yes,” I lied, shaking my head at Henry. “I will compile a list, Lord Egerton. How many do you wish to invite?”

  The marquess looked to the single men in the room. “Equal pairings would be preferred, but I suppose a few baronesses and marchionesses will have to be invited too. Perhaps two other young ladies besides you and Miss Hawkins?”

  I smiled. Two names would not be difficult to produce. Lady Sefton would assist me. “Consider it done.”

  From my peripheral, I caught Henry’s smirk. He crossed his legs, and he spoke just loud enough for me to hear. “Men, I should have asked earlier when we shared a round of port, but what is your opinion of guns, dogs, and horses?”

  I hung my head. His probing question was tactless, obvious, and tasteless—in front of Miss Hawkins and me.

  “Guns, dogs, and horses?” Mr. Knight asked, chuckling. “I doubt I have been posed a stranger question, Thorne. Yet, I will give you my answer. I enjoy all three, excessively.”

  “An inappropriate discussion,” I added.

  Henry’s eyes flickered with excitement. “Ivy, how can you say that when I know how you like to hunt?”

  I gritted my teeth. I had never been on a hunt in my life.

  “Do you, Miss Linfield?” Mr. Perry asked, scratching his chin. “I had not thought you the sporting type.”

  I shook my head. Perhaps I could use Henry’s ridiculousness to my advantage. “Henry is teasing, but I suppose his asking has pricked my curiosity. Do you enjoy the sport, Mr. Perry?”

  He shrugged. “I hunt little, but I enjoy my dogs.”

  Lord Egerton shifted his weight. “You say you enjoy dogs, but you do not hunt? Perry, is hunting not what dogs are made for?”

  Miss Hawkins sighed. “This is the last topic I ever thought to discuss in Lady Sefton’s drawing room. Shall we talk of something more pleasing?”

  “Yes,” Henry said, scooting to the edge of his seat. “When I was riding at the outskirts of town, I saw a hay field being planted. Oh, how I ‘like the feel of leather and the smell of new hay in a field’.”

  I groaned. Henry had memorized Grandmother’s letter to a surprising degree. My chest hitched in mortification. I doubted a man had ever put his social reputation in such jeopardy by choice. “Henry,” I said, shaking my head.

  Henry’s lips trembled, but he pressed onward. “Have you ever smelled anything as sweet as freshly cut hay? Nay, new leather gloves beside a field of cut hay?”

  My nervousness sought to betray me, and my body convulsed in attempts to push away the thought of humor. How could he tease me so shamelessly?

  “Miss Linfield?” Henry asked, seeming to sense my distress.

  My voice cracked. “No.”

  “No?”

  I busied my hands with the fan in my lap, folding and unfolding it. The fact that I tried to stay my giggles only made matters worse. I managed a short response. “I have not smelled a hay field.”

  To my surprise, Miss Hawkins beamed up at Henry. “I do love the smell of hay.”

  “I have yet to smell a freshly cut hayfield,” Lord Egerton said, “but I imagine I would enjoy it, as I do fresh leather gloves. There is something comforting about leather, something akin to strength and comfort.”

  I arched a brow at Henry. “My sentiments exactly, Lord Egerton.”

  “Hmm,” Mr. Perry said, pulling out a pair of gloves from his coat pockets. “I suppose I shall test my opinion right now.” He rubbed the leather gloves between his fingers, and his brows drew together.

  “Well?” Henry asked, staring back at me with pretended seriousness.

  “Pleasant enough,” Mr. Perry said, passing the gloves to Mr. Knight.

  Mr. Knight sniffed the leather, jerking backward. His nose pinched at the brim. “Not at all my cup of tea, Thorne. I prefer forest musk. I cannot abide the smell, let alone the texture.”

  “No? A shame…” Henry’s lips pulled into a frown, and he used his finger to strike through an imaginary book in his hand. He winked at me.

  My mouth parted for a brief moment. I quite wondered at my ability to make a match with Henry’s determined absurdity.

  I almost admired Henry’s disregard for his own ridiculousness. In my experience, Henry cared little what others thought of h
im—even the future Duke of Pemberton. The image of his flailing arms and the petrified turkeys, from weeks previous, sprung to mind once more.

  A smile crept over my lips.

  From the front of the room, Lady Sefton clapped her hands together, interrupting all conversation. The company fell silent. “Shall we have entertainment? Miss Hawkins, will you favor us with a piece on the pianoforte?”

  “Certainly,” she said, brushing her hands over the front of her dress. She whispered in my direction before standing. “And so begins the exhibition of accomplishments, Miss Linfield.”

  I gave a stiff nod. “Best of luck, soldier.”

  Her lips trembled, and she gave the smallest of sighs.

  Watching Miss Hawkins take her place at the pianoforte filled me with dread. No matter how many times Miss Worthington or Grandmother had shoved my responsibilities down my throat, I struggled to swallow them. I would not shirk my obligation to marry well, but in a few moments, I’d be in Miss Hawkins’s place at the piano, forced to showcase my best self to the company in the room. That company would report to other members of the ton, and for good or ill of my performance, the news would travel ahead of my presence, until my next performance took over news of the last.

  Like lace gloves displayed in a shop-front window, young ladies were made to endure the scrutiny of their looks and accomplishments, their manners and their wealth. My grandmother’s list for my future husband was nothing in comparison to my own plight, for women were held to even stranger and stricter requirements that signified little of our character aside from a willingness to be obedient.

  Far before I was prepared, Miss Hawkins stood from the piano and gave me a smile—nearly as filled with mischief as Henry’s. My thoughts had taken me so far from the room, that I had no idea what type of performance I was about to follow. Perhaps it was better that I began playing unaware of how grandly, or poorly, Miss Hawkins played. We passed one another as we exchanged places in the room.

  I sat and stared at the keys for a moment, far too aware that every set of eyes and ears were trained on me. As ridiculous as Grandmother’s list was, her words of wisdom—and perhaps wit—might serve me well in unveiling the character of my future husband.