Chapter Five #2
Athena held back a laugh. Harry had found a hole in Mr. Peterbrook’s reasoning quite immediately. Ladies did not, after all, wear the formal jackets that men did.
“But the fit of our jackets would, most certainly, be taken into consideration by ladies of taste and refinement,” Mr. Peterbrook replied.
“An ill-fitting jacket or a poorly tied cravat or a inferiorly shod foot could spell social disaster for one less well-versed in such things as I.” He smiled that devastating smile Athena had first noticed as he’d taken his seat at their table.
“You are considered something of a leader in the world of gentlemen’s fashions,” Harry acknowledged.
“Quite right,” Mr. Peterbrook answered. “It is one of the few distinctions of which a gentleman may be truly proud.”
“Indeed?” Athena replied, unable to entirely hide the disbelief in her voice.
Mr. Peterbrook smiled at her as if she had wholeheartedly concurred with him.
“I believe the Duke of Kielder is considered to be a gentleman of significant influence in Parliament,” Athena said. “Do you not consider that a distinction of which he might be proud?”
Athena thought she saw Harry force back a smile but did not look away from Mr. Peterbrook long enough to know for sure.
“As His Grace is always quite well-togged, being influential in the government while impressively attired could, I suppose, be considered an accomplishment worth noting. Though, one cannot overlook the fact that he could never be considered handsome.”
“You place a great deal of importance upon appearances, Mr. Peterbrook.” Anyone who truly knew Persephone would have recognized the ice in her tone.
Adam’s face was badly scarred during his childhood, which was, no doubt, the reason behind Mr. Peterbrook’s declaration of Adam as not handsome.
Persephone would never take such a comment lightly.
But Mr. Peterbrook, as Athena was coming to expect was usual for him, took Persephone’s words as a compliment.
“What could possibly be more important, Your Grace?” he asked with a broad and probably well-rehearsed smile.
The man was as shallow as a puddle. What could be more important than appearances? Could he actually believe that? It very much seemed he did.
“And I further feel,” Mr. Peterbrook continued, oblivious to the lack of enthusiasm among his companions, “that when one is blessed with excessively good looks”—another flashing white smile—“one is, not to put it too lightly, required to complement such physical beauty with those things that will enhance the nearly flawless handiwork of nature.”
“Nearly flawless?” Persephone repeated, the ice in her tone joined by a hint of barely repressed laughter.
“So I have been told.” Mr. Peterbrook straightened his unwrinkled sleeve.
Athena spoke, almost as if she could not help herself, as if the absurdity of what Mr. Peterbrook was saying absolutely forced her to seek some degree of understanding. “You must have an opinion, then, of who shares with you the distinction of being ‘nearly flawless.’”
“There are many,” he replied, “who come close.”
“But do not equal your level of . . .” Athena searched for the right word.
“Perfection,” Mr. Peterbrook supplied without a hint of hesitation.
“Is there no one, sir, who can equal you, then?” Athena asked, beginning to feel her dislike of Mr. Peterbrook’s character surpassing her admiration for his very handsome countenance.
Mr. Peterbrook’s gaze turned speculative and evaluative.
Athena stiffened under his gaze, knowing she was being sized up.
“Miss Lancaster,” he said, approval in his tone, “should you acquire a carriage dress of green in a shade matching that of your eyes, I daresay I would not be at all ashamed to be seen riding out with you. Indeed, I do believe that should we be seen together—you in green and I in the deep blue that so complements my own peerless eyes—we should be considered quite a handsome couple. And being in my company could only raise your appeal in the eyes of all who see us together.”
Athena had no idea whether to thank the man or to be affronted. As it was, she simply sat, mute and confused, as Mr. Peterbrook smiled approvingly.
“You certainly have a very unique way of bestowing a compliment, Mr. Peterbrook,” Persephone observed in a tone that was not at all complimentary.
“I have often been told so,” Mr. Peterbrook replied, his smile never slipping.
“Knowing your penchant for maintaining a flawless appearance,” Harry entered the conversation for the first time in some minutes, “I feel it imperative that I inform you that you seem to have acquired a small dollop of some sauce or another on your cuff.”
A look of horror passed over Mr. Peterbrook’s face as he searched his cuff and found the offending spot. With speed that bordered on incivility, Mr. Peterbrook rose, offered the expected bows, and excused himself.
After a moment of stunned silence had passed, Persephone spoke. “Adam will be so pleased to know he is considered ‘well-togged.’”
Her tone was perfectly serious, but Athena and Harry both laughed out loud. Adam could care less what any person thought of his clothing.
“Come to think of it, though, I had best not mention the rest of Mr. Peterbrook’s evaluation to my tempestuous husband,” Persephone added. “He is not likely to appreciate being told he could never be considered handsome, however untrue such an evaluation might be.”
“It is, apparently, entirely true in Mr. Peterbrook’s estimable opinion,” Harry replied.
“Estimable?” Athena objected, though she kept her voice too low to carry beyond their small group.
“I do not care how well his tailor turns him out, I do not place any confidence in that man’s evaluation of any person.
Mr. Peterbrook is without a doubt the most shallow, self-absorbed individual I have ever had the misfortune to meet. ”
“Am I to assume he will not be in the running for your hand, Athena?” Harry asked, leaning closer to her and speaking so softly she could barely make out his words.
“How could you think otherwise?” Athena replied, matching his volume.
“He is a gentleman, I assure you, and entirely eligible. And, you must admit, has the ability to hold up his end of a conversation. He is also not overly somber.” Harry shrugged slightly. “Those were, I understood, your only specific requirements in a suitor.”
“Well, you may add ‘some depth of character’ and ‘a healthy dose of humility’ to that list, Mr. Windover,” Athena answered, pursing her lips. Drat the man, he was practically forcing an unromantic list-making on her.
“Mr. Windover?” Harry repeated. “Are you upset with me?”
She sighed. “No. I simply find I do not very much care for your friends,” Athena answered, thinking of Mr. Howard as well as Mr. Peterbrook.
“Howard and Peterbrook are more acquaintances than friends,” Harry said as if reading her thoughts. “Of course, if you would prefer I not introduce you to the gentlemen I know . . .”
“No,” Athena reassured him. How was she ever to find the man of her dreams if she never met anyone? “I appreciate your helping Adam and Persephone with my Season, truly I do.”
“It is my pleasure,” he replied, but something in his tone sounded almost regretful.
“Dare I hope you will eventually introduce me to a gentleman who doesn’t have a glaringly lacking character?”
His reply sounded almost like “Don’t hold your breath.” But such a response would not make sense, so Athena dismissed the possibility.
A gentleman who is eligible, conversant, lighthearted, possessing some depth of character, and who is not self-absorbed and conceited.
Surely that was not too much to ask for.
The romantic in her still objected to the cold and calculating nature of a list, but Athena’s logical side was finding it remarkably beneficial.