Chapter 4
Chapter Four
It was odd, the way a man’s heart worked.
So certain had Richard been that he would abandon his suit for Miss Pershing after the lady’s aunt had maneuvered him into driving her that he’d treated the favor as a sort of farewell.
He’d been drawn in by a familiar resemblance, and the truth of Miss Adelaide not being Catherine Pershing would sober his senses and allow him the ability to move forward from his obsession.
And yet, those quiet moments, those sparse private admissions and soft looks while weaving through the streets of London, lingered in Richard’s mind for the remainder of the week.
Miss Adelaide didn’t pretend to be Catherine, going so far as to acknowledge freely that she had little in common with her cousins apart from genetic coincidence.
And perhaps it was that candidness, plus the allure of her natural charm, that had Richard calling regularly on Miss Ravenstone’s designated address for the rest of the month, even if the old aunt sent him grimacing more than anything.
Then tonight, of all nights, to Richard’s own wonder, he found himself walking up the steps to a London assembly. It was not a particularly fashionable one, nor a private event like the ones the Pershings he used to know attended.
This one was decidedly less formal and less polished. But he knew a few of the officers attending. And, perhaps most importantly, he knew Miss Adelaide Pershing.
His eyes sought her out readily from the moment he entered the crowded space. Even across the collection of people, and positioned beside her towering, ruthless aunt, Miss Pershing shone—the soft yellow of Adelaide’s dress glinting like gold in Richard’s eyes.
He barely knew her, if he were honest with himself. General conversations in a parlor, with an intrusive chaperone, along with a private promenade or two, weren’t enough to make a man acquainted with a person’s character.
He didn’t know Adelaide Pershing, just like he’d barely known Catherine Pershing also, once upon a time. But whereas his brief months paying court to Catherine had been filled with the awe of a fresh young suitor, Richard now possessed the benefits of a soldier’s hindsight.
And while he didn’t think he was ready to tie himself to a woman for life merely because she seemed serene and loosely resembled a long-lost love, Richard couldn’t deny the surge of protectiveness that seemed to expand throughout his chest at every sight of the young lady.
Perhaps, having served his way in His Majesty’s army for too long, life itself didn’t feel particularly right unless there was someone who needed his care.
“Ah, Colonel Avington. What a delight!” Miss Ravenstone greeted him first, loudly, no doubt hoping to declare their acquaintance to everyone within earshot, when Richard approached the pair of women.
Richard bowed, out of mere politeness to Miss Ravenstone, and then with greater personal intent to her niece.
Miss Pershing, as usual, appeared enchanting, her delicate features framed prettily by her deep brown hair.
At a glance, she looked entirely the part of the submissive, demure, innocent debutante, although Richard liked to think that he caught the hint of a deeper soul in her gaze.
Just because a person was young did not mean he or she did not understand the profundity and complexities of life. Conversely, just because a person had existed three or four decades on God’s good earth did not mean he or she had necessarily gained a heart of wisdom.
Mr. Bamburst, Miss Pershing’s brusque other suitor, whom Richard had the misfortune to meet a few days ago, burst into their party, as if eager to prove true Richard’s thoughts about men’s ability to be much older without being much wiser.
He greeted Miss Ravenstone with a distinct, communicative nod before turning to face her niece.
“Ah, Miss Pershing, how splendid you look! A positive morsel, I tell you.” The man slathered a kiss onto Miss Pershing’s hand with ill-concealed lasciviousness. Richard wanted to pull him aside and send a fist up his jaw.
He refrained, of course, at least outwardly.
Miss Pershing was quick to retract her hand after, although Richard did not miss the stern look her aunt sent her for the gesture.
What exactly was in Miss Ravenstone’s playbook?
She clearly encouraged Richard’s suit, and yet she seemed to equally encourage everyone else’s.
Did she fear her beautiful niece not eligible enough to choose a good man?
Must she subject Adelaide to the horrors of the Mr. Bambursts of the world simply as a potential second choice?
Their London address was fashionable enough. Surely, there must be no reason to rush. Unless—
Richard frowned at the recollection of an allusion or two, dropped here and there, of the house being leased. And while there was nothing extraordinary about leasing a residence for the Season, there had been nothing said about where the funds for leasing such a place had come from.
Was Miss Ravenstone poor? Was that it?
Richard took a moment to catalogue the older woman’s attire.
Indeed, there was no hint of fashion to her.
Adelaide’s clothes were pretty enough, but Richard could swear the jewels in her hair and around her neck were all paste.
Why else would the gold of her gown outshine the supposed precious stones?
“Very well,” a soft female voice penetrated Richard’s mental exercises.
He looked up just in time to see Mr. Bamburst leading a resigned-looking Adelaide Pershing towards the line of dancing couples.
Had he just managed to miss his chance to dance with the young lady?
There was always the next set, of course, but standing there without offering had to have made Richard look very much the cad.
Miss Ravenstone cleared her throat beside him. Richard turned his head. The smirk on her face left no doubt that she knew exactly what Richard was thinking.
“You honor us with your presence, Colonel Avington,” she said, her voice as shrill as her pointed facial features. “But I fear my niece cannot wait forever as a veritable swarm of suitors surround her. If a man cannot come up to scratch, despite his fortune—”
She let her words dwindle off, her eyes knowing.
Richard set his jaw. He was generally an amiable fellow—perhaps not as much as some of his brothers—but he’d always been the cooperative sort. Some of his brothers might bristle instantly at being told what to do, but Richard never had that sort of aversion to people making requests of him.
Miss Ravenstone was making him re-evaluate his own character.
“I fear my distraction has cost me a good opportunity to spend time with Miss Pershing,” he said honestly.
“It is important to seize the day when one must.”
“Indeed, the frailty of life is well apparent to a soldier.”
“And yet I see little urgency in your manners. How fascinating, my dear colonel.”
Richard frowned. Where was the fawning woman who had been pushing Adelaide towards him all these weeks? It was clear now that Miss Ravenstone was playing her niece, and perhaps her niece’s suitors, like pieces on a chessboard. But what exactly was the woman after?
As a soldier, as an officer, Richard did not like being caught unawares. And as much as he acknowledged Adelaide Pershing’s attractiveness, the complicated interactions between aunt and niece gave Richard pause, preventing him from fully committing to his suit.
“I believe rashness rarely serves a man well,” Richard said diplomatically.
Miss Ravenstone shrugged her shoulders. “If you must.”
She turned away to talk to another acquaintance, leaving Richard feeling even more unsettled than he had upon first arriving tonight.
The cold air rushed into her lungs the moment Adelaide flung herself out into the small side garden.
She inhaled eagerly, embracing the respite from the crush of the assembly.
It had required a large degree of creativity to free herself from Mr. Bamburst’s attentions after the conclusion of their set.
Even her detour to the ladies retiring room had done little to deter him, as he’d kept watch at the corridor the entire time.
It was almost as if the colonel’s newfound presence in her life made the man panic, rushing him into a possessive state he had no right to claim. And yet, Aunt Dinah encouraged both men’s suits, even as she seemed to hold out for something more.
If only she were of age, Adelaide would have taken Macy and made their way out of London on the very next stagecoach—if, of course, she could manage to fund the trip.
Adelaide groaned as she dropped onto an old bench, its sides twisted and one leg missing.
This particular side of the building was quiet, isolated from the grander, broader entryway.
The lack of windows, save for a small one at the corner, cast the area in dark shadows.
For a moment, with the finite candlelight seeping through, Adelaide almost felt as if she were alone under the stars.
She cast a desperate look up to the sky. Why did society refuse to engage women in the sciences the way they did men? If she were given the education men were, she might be able to follow the stars to her freedom.
But that still left Macy—her last true family member, trapped under Aunt Dinah’s iron grip, living the life of a scullery maid.
Adelaide swiped angrily at a stray tear.
In an ideal world, her beauty wouldn’t be a curse, nor her youth a hindrance. If life were fair, Macy would live the life of a gentlewoman, not be tucked away like a shameful secret, punished for crimes that were not of her own making.
But life was neither ideal nor fair. And the only thing an unprotected young woman like Adelaide could do was to strive to keep the worst of her suitors at bay while she tried to maintain her aunt’s favor until she turned one and twenty.