Chapter 2 - Dahlia
CHAPTER TWO- DAHLIA
After tea, Dahlia retrieved her parasol and bonnet from Lady Barnes’s butler and stepped onto the street, trailed by her lady's maid, Mara.
"Please tell Jensen I intend to walk home," Dahlia said.
Mara hurried to relay the message, which wasn't much of a surprise, as Dahlia preferred to walk every chance she got.
She would not become one of those London ladies who neglected their ability to convey their own person until they could barely ascend a staircase without assistance.
Besides, it was a beautiful day. Birds chirped from the treetops, and Dahlia was not the only one who thought the early afternoon a good chance to take in some fresh air.
Across the street from Lady Barnes’s house, a park with large shade trees and deep-green grass stood behind a proud cast-iron fence.
Dahlia aimed for one of the charming footpaths, which would deposit her closer to the Marquess of Salisbury's townhouse.
Walking was an excellent opportunity to have some time alone.
Not that she needed more of it. Her ostensible companion was the Dowager Marchioness Hughes, Percy's great-aunt.
However, the lady was so rarely at home, Dahlia doubted she could even claim the title of chaperone.
Not that Dahlia minded. Though Aunt Janie was a lovely person, Dahlia was quite fine on her own and wasn't the type to court any scandal.
Dahlia winced. That wasn’t precisely true—she’d had one momentary desire to court scandal and had failed so utterly that the memory of it still brought heat to her cheeks. Thankfully, that had been a single evening of insanity, which had never repeated itself.
Dahlia sighed in pleasure at the sight of the dozens of tulips bobbing in the breeze beneath the weight of their own beauty.
Dahlia couldn't help but nod back, as if the flowers were polite ladies of society. It was the same instinct that caused her to wink at dogs whenever they did, for what if they’d feel slighted if she didn't? There were a hundred people she'd rather offend before affronting a dog.
Footsteps sounded behind her quickly, far too loud and fast to be of Mara's making. Dahlia glanced over her shoulder. Behind Mara, a well-dressed young gentleman was approaching quickly. Dahlia couldn't help but shake her head a little, sending her purple ribbons fluttering.
"I'm sorry I’m late," Calvin huffed as he came abreast with her. His great chest worked like a bellows, pressing his paunch against his fine brocade waistcoat. He thrust a large bouquet at her. "Good afternoon, Dahlia. Here you go."
"Good afternoon, Calvin. You certainly don't have to apologize for being late, as I wasn't even aware we had plans to meet today."
"We didn't," he said quickly. "That is, I had planned to meet you, but you didn't know it."
A smile played upon her lips. She knew that many a lady would be alarmed at Lord Lawrence following them; however, she and Calvin had long ago come to an understanding. As far as over-eager gentlemen went, he was harmless.
"Remember," she said gently, "flowers should only be brought to a lady's house. For what am I to do with them out here?"
"Oh," he said, his eyes flicking from the unwieldy bouquet to Dahlia's hands, one of which clutched the grey lace parasol above her. "Right, I shall carry them."
He punctuated this offer with a smile, as if he was proud of his own generosity.
“Very kind of you.” She turned and began walking through the greenery once more.
Calvin followed, at first just to the back and behind her, until she turned and gave him a pointed look.
"Right, right. I am not a hound." He picked up the pace until he walked directly next to her. "And how are you this afternoon, Miss Warrington?"
His speaking cadence was slow and measured, as if he had put great thought into his question.
"Very well, thank you. I just finished a lovely tea with some ladies."
"And did you enjoy yourself?"
"It was diverting enough for the time being."
He nodded with a frown. "Indeed, indeed.”
“And what of you? Have you given any thought to the upcoming Season?"
"I've thought of little else. I’ve decided that this is the year I aim to truly court someone—other than yourself, I mean. I beg your pardon; no offense intended."
"Of course not."
She lifted her head and admired a blooming tree nearby. She examined the deep green of the leaves, the fragile pink blossoms cradled upon every branch.
"That is, I would court you and you alone if I thought there any chance…" Here, Calvin trailed off, his eyebrows raised in a hopeful expression.
"Apologies, but no, I am quite firmly set on us remaining friends."
He nodded. "I thought as much. It isn't as if you haven't told me so before."
Dahlia knew that there were very few ladies indeed who would be a good match for Lord Lawrence.
On the surface, Calvin was a catch—he was the first son of a wealthy, elderly earl.
He would inherit the title once his father passed.
However, Calvin was an odd sort of fellow.
Although he’d achieved the customary education expected of a young nobleman, many social conventions seemed just out of his grasp.
That wasn't to say that he wasn't kind, however.
He reminded Dahlia very strongly of a golden retriever puppy—so excited to be near people and so enthusiastic at the prospect of making friends that he very nearly tripped over himself in doing so.
He therefore unintentionally turned many people—especially ladies—against him.
Dahlia had immediately felt compassion for him when he’d initially pressed a very aggressive suit a couple of years ago.
She hadn’t told him in strident terms—as so many ladies had before—that he was no longer to follow her about, pestering her with questions and smiles.
Instead, Dahlia had taken him under her wing as a sort of project, which might have been offensive to some, but Calvin appreciated it and told her so repeatedly.
"Did you have a specific lady in mind?" she asked.
Dahlia stopped in the path and turned to face him.
The truth was, for the right lady, Calvin would make an excellent spouse.
He was unfailingly kind, even when others didn’t extend the same kindness to him.
He was loyal. In fact, the moment that Dahlia proclaimed them friends, he’d nodded with a fierce devotion in his eyes and vowed to stay true to their friendship always.
Calvin's mother had come to visit her the day after Dahlia had declared that she was Calvin's friend.
Dahlia thought the lady had come to sniff out whether this Miss Warrington planned to make sport of her son.
Dahlia had quickly put her mind at ease that she had neither the intention of marrying her son for wealth, which she already possessed, nor of playing a long joke on him with a painful conclusion.
It was quite the opposite. Dahlia wanted only the best for Calvin, as did his parents.
But time would steal his parents from his life eventually, and there were some things that a mother simply could not state plainly to her son, especially when it came to the courtship of young ladies.
His father and mother were intelligent people who had put excellent stewards in place in order to help Calvin when he came into his inheritance, however.
They had done everything possible to help him. Dahlia intended to do the same.
"I don't have anyone specific in mind yet," Calvin said, "but I was thinking that I am of the age where I ought to be more serious about this. I am twenty-six, after all."
Dahlia turned and nodded, satisfied that he hadn't declared his passionate love for one of the pernicious harpies that dotted London's social scene. Calvin was a special case. His wife would need to be as kind or kinder than he was—a high order indeed.
She would also need to be accustomed to running a large household, and she would need to give up the chance at being a social maven.
In fact, any young lady who accepted Calvin's hand would essentially be turning her back on status altogether.
After all, no one could claw their way up the social mountain with a man like Calvin in tow.
"I'll tell you what, Calvin." She watched a pair of birds wing their way through the blue sky. "If I meet a lady who’d make an excellent match for you, I’ll tell you when the moment is right."
"Will you?" He grinned. "That's wonderful news.”
“But you must be patient," she advised. "After all, you only get to choose one wife in your lifetime. She is the only family you get to pick. It’s the most important decision you will ever make in your life.
It will determine, in large part, all of your future happiness.
As well as the happiness of your future children. "
Calvin nodded solemnly. "Indeed, indeed. My mother says the same. In fact, one of the things that drew me to you is that you are so much like my mother."
Dahlia smiled. "That is an excellent compliment, and I take it as such. However, a suggestion for your future courtship…"
"Yes?"
"I would be more specific with your compliments in this regard. If a lady is like your mother, she might not like being told as much. Though you know that it’s a compliment, she may not think it so.
Instead of saying 'you remind me of my mother,' you should say, 'you are very kind' or 'you are very intelligent. ' That would be better."
"That’s excellent advice. Thank you. I will consider that further."
"How is your father's health?"
The earl had been sickly as of late. Dahlia was concerned as to what would happen after he passed; Calvin and his father were very close, and it would be difficult for Calvin when he died.
"He is well enough. Thank you for asking."
"Certainly.”
They walked in silence for several moments, until Calvin asked, “What do you think I should be looking for in a wife?"
"Kindness,” Dahlia answered promptly. “Also, intelligence."