Chapter 5 #2
He was about to reply vaguely about mutual friends, but at the sound of her name, Lady Sophia looked up. “He came to my rescue when I was a girl and diverted the attention of a gentleman who was harassing me.”
Felix blinked. After her show of reserve at Lord Chawleigh’s dinner, he wondered if she had remembered their encounter. He turned to their hosts.
“Young men are not always the most sensitive, and my friend is no exception. It was a trifling service I offered her, and I am astonished she remembers it.” He smiled at her as warmly as he dared, then turned back to Mrs. Mowbray.
“We met again in London this month, when Lord Chawleigh invited us both to dine. His son boarded for a time with my family so that my father might prepare him for Eton. And Lady Sophia”—he gestured to her—“is Lord Chawleigh’s neighbor. ”
“Why, that is astonishing, for we are also within ten miles of Chawleigh Manor, and even less to Chesmere Park, although it is through Marie’s friendship with Lady Sophia that we know the two families at all.
Lady Sophia and Marie met at the reverend’s house as girls to sew clothing for the poor, and they became inseparable.
” Mrs. Mowbray smiled at the two ladies.
“Mr. Harwood, I had no idea you had such connections in our neighborhood.”
“I am also surprised at your knowing Mr. Cunningworth,” Miss Mowbray said before turning to Lady Sophia. “I suppose that is my own fault, for I did not ask you how it came to be that Mr. Harwood was at Chawleigh Manor when you first met him.”
Lady Sophia did not offer up anything more of herself, but she had already surprised Felix by giving such a personal explanation for their initial meeting.
Dinner was announced, and they moved into the dining room, where they sat informally around the table.
Lady Sophia was once again seated across from Felix, depriving him of a chance to know her better.
It began to frustrate him that this seemed always to be the case, although reason reminded him that it was only their second dinner together.
He had never been so bent on seeking conversation with a woman before—even one he had no intention of pursuing.
Sophia had known in advance that Mr. Harwood would come to dine at Marie’s house, but it had still been difficult to breathe when he walked in.
She was quickly discovering that when it came to social discourse, her usual nerves and anxious heart flutterings were nothing compared to how she felt when in Mr. Harwood’s presence.
Somehow, it was more comfortable having him remain in the pages of her memento book, where she could allow him the space to be perfect while keeping her own heart safe from risk.
It was more difficult to meet him in the flesh and expose herself to the constant threat of appearing ridiculous in his eyes.
Not that he seemed to view her that way.
On the contrary, he was the one who appeared nervous this evening.
Although she supposed that was normal after making her friend’s acquaintance.
Marie was everything a man like Mr. Harwood could hope to meet.
She mixed freely in all types of company, and her conversation was peppered with humorous quips and easy discourse.
It must be Marie who had set him off-kilter, for it was when he met her that he appeared to be the most overset, fumbling with his greeting.
Following that, he had fallen silent until he finally gathered the courage to speak to Marie—although she must not imagine he needed such courage.
She was merely projecting her own weaknesses on him.
In the limited time she had spent with Mr. Harwood, he had shown himself remarkably able to handle all circumstances and all nature of people. Tonight’s greeting was the exception.
He had asked whether Marie had been to Brighton to visit her father, and she assumed he regretted not having made her acquaintance earlier.
With her ears tuned to everything that concerned Mr. Harwood, she had also heard Mrs. Mowbray’s question of how she and Mr. Harwood were acquainted and spoke up to answer it for herself.
It was a desperate attempt to let Mr. Harwood know that she had seen him in the light of rescuer that day in Chawleigh Manor.
Now she was seated at dinner beside Mr. Edwards, who made himself agreeable and required little more from her than a simple murmur of encouragement as he spoke.
She thought she was acquitting herself well in the conversation, but she could not be perfectly at ease in his presence, for his conversation was so lively, he scarcely waited for her tiny contribution before moving on to something else.
He was able to eat at steady intervals while he spoke, but she was forced to leave her dinner almost completely untouched.
What if he should require her assent while her mouth was full?
The conversation between the Mowbrays and Mr. Harwood appeared to be more interesting than her own, and Marie’s laughter was so infectious that he had grown at ease and was responding naturally.
“How came you to sponsor Mr. Harwood?” Marie asked her father. “I am now learning he was not in the navy, but in the army, so I cannot fathom how your paths crossed.”
Mr. Harwood raised his eyes to the admiral’s, smiling but giving no answer.
Admiral Mowbray returned the look, took a sip of his wine, and set down his glass.
“I discovered Mr. Harwood’s extraordinary diplomatic skills through a chance encounter while my officers were on shore leave. Is that not so, Edwards?”
Mr. Edwards returned a wry smile. “Indeed it is, and I can only thank the heavens I was not there that day, for I might have lost my position—and your good esteem.”
“What happened?” Marie asked, turning to Mr. Harwood with great interest. He met her look with humorous eyes, but shook his head. It seemed he was too modest, and the admiral answered in his stead.
“My officers were on leave and were meant to keep the sailors under their regard, so that the good innkeepers, townspeople, and local society would not wish us to Jericho. This was of particular necessity, since Prince George was reputed to be in residence in Brighton Palace—or would be arriving at any moment.”
Marie’s quick wit caused her to say, “You might stop the story here, Papa, for I know that even if the naval officers had behaved with the utmost correctness, the sailors were probably ripe for mischief.”
The admiral chuckled as he shared an enigmatic look with both Mr. Harwood and Mr. Edwards. “Well, there you would be wrong, my dear. It was the naval officers who started the brawl with the local yeomanry in the pub that night. Mr. Harwood, would you care to tell your part?”
Mr. Harwood cleared his throat and offered a weak smile.
“I would rather let such a thing be forgotten, but of course I do not wish to disoblige you.” He turned to Marie and included Sophia in his look.
“The soldiers were being fractious that night and wished to have the pub all to themselves, which was not a reasonable thing to expect.”
“Because the sailors were engaging in coarse behavior, I am ashamed to say. Flirting with the barmaids and innkeepers’ daughters in plain sight of the militia, who were used to that privilege.” The admiral’s lips turned up and he gestured to Mr. Harwood. “Go on.”
He paused before continuing. “A physical fight began, and some of us were in a timely position to encourage the parties involved to cease before things got out of hand.”
It seemed the admiral could not let Mr. Harwood continue without including what he considered to be essential facts, for he took over the narrative again.
“Mr. Harwood is too modest. A naval officer was about to throw a punch at an enlisted soldier, and Mr. Harwood stepped between them and took the blow himself. Instead of reacting to the slight and allowing a brawl to occur, he reminded the officer of how important the navy’s contribution was in defending the crown. ”
The admiral’s eyes twinkled with approval.
“Mr. Harwood went on to say that he was quite sure the navy was as devoted to keeping the shores protected as the army, and that the officer would not want to give Napoleon the satisfaction of internal altercations occurring within the British men-at-arms. He then proceeded to buy drinks for all of the naval officers, thereby winning peace for the night and my admiration for his diplomacy once I’d heard of it. ”
Mr. Harwood said nothing, and the admiral urged Mr. Edwards to confirm the story, which he did.
“And so, Mr. Edwards brought the matter to my attention as soon as he had learned of it, and I recommended Mr. Harwood for an assistant secretary position at the Admiralty, which he was pleased to accept.”
Sophia guessed that Mr. Harwood was uncomfortable with such praise, for he gave another feeble smile and did not seek anyone’s regard.
However, the story could only provoke her to greater admiration.
It perfectly accorded with what she had seen of him that day in Chawleigh Manor when he had simultaneously defended her and smoothed over the incident with Robert, someone known for being difficult to please.
The conversation moved on to other subjects, and Mr. Harwood asked Marie what it was like to be daughter to an admiral.
She laughed and launched into a diverting list of what it meant to be his daughter for good or for ill.
It made Sophia’s heart ache to be in the presence of such an outstanding gentleman as Mr. Harwood, and to know that, unlike Marie, nothing about her could inspire him to return the admiration.
At the end of the evening, the guests gathered in the hall, ready to depart. Sophia was given an unlooked-for opportunity to speak to Mr. Harwood, for Mr. Edwards had stopped the Mowbrays with an interesting piece of Admiralty gossip that he promised even the ladies would wish to know.
With firm resolve, she touched him on his sleeve. “Mr. Harwood, may I speak to you?”
There was a look of surprise in his eyes, followed by an instant attentiveness. “Yes, of course.”
It was hard to push past her breathlessness, but the matter was so important she would not permit her shyness to steal her words.
“I have not seen you since the day we met at St. James’s Palace, and I have wished these two weeks past to thank you for your willingness to render me a service—and to offer my apologies that I was not there to receive it. ”
His expression eased. “I saw that you had found a gentleman willing to lend his carriage, for I returned with one just as you were leaving. Please do not think anything more of it. I was glad that you were able to receive assistance so quickly.”
She nodded, knowing she should respond to this but was unsure of what to say. It was still distressing to think that he had gone to all that trouble only for it to come to nothing.
“I could see how affected you were by your sister’s indisposition,” he said after a brief pause.
She looked up and was once again touched by those eyes that seemed to see right into her. There was kindness there, and time. As though he had hours to spare for her and would wait until she was able to form words that did not come readily.
“I was. It is unlike her to faint. And Dorothea is with child, so I was worried.”
His brows furrowed in concern. “May I ask how she is now?”
“She is well.” Sophia managed to smile at him in her pleasure of maintaining a proper conversation with a man she esteemed and her relief at remembering the happy outcome. “The baby seems to be unharmed, and apart from resting, she is going along as well as usual.”
“I am happy to hear it.” Mr. Harwood’s eyes remained on her, and it caused a warm fluttering somewhere between her belly and her heart.
She could almost fool herself into believing he was interested in her, and his next words strengthened the impulse.
“My lady, please do not ever hesitate to request anything of me that you might need. I will happily carry it out.” This coaxed a greater smile from her, for it seemed he meant it. He was such a kind, obliging gentleman.
But then, she reminded herself severely, it was likely just that. He was kind and obliging—to all. She had certainly not displayed any remarkable quality that would attract his interest, and she must not deceive herself by thinking he felt anything toward her but charitable disinterest.
Mr. Edwards had finished his conversation, and Marie moved forward, holding out her hand to Mr. Harwood. “I shall hope to see more of you, sir.”
An easy smile lit his face as he bowed over her hand. “And I you, Miss Mowbray. Delighted to have made your acquaintance at last.”
Sophia’s coach was announced, and her footman and maid waited for her outdoors as she bid farewell to her hosts and the other guests and stepped outdoors.
The evening had held many pleasures, and she should have been satisfied, but her spirits had plunged once again.
She had carried on a natural conversation with Mr. Harwood that went beyond commonplaces, which was a signal victory for her.
But she had also witnessed how enchanting Marie was in his company, and how easily they conversed throughout the evening.
How could he not find her friend all that was perfect?