Chapter Six
Edward was ready to revise his previous statement. Worse than Mrs. MacLaren running off at the sight of him was her avoiding him altogether.
He had seen her about town and at various societal functions no less than five times, and each time she had made sure to disappear before he could make his way to her.
Quite impressively at times. At the FitzDowells’ soiree, there had been only one exit to the room in which he’d spied her.
An exit he’d had eyes on as he’d made his way into the room.
Yet by the time he’d entered, she had disappeared. Unless she’d been hiding in the drape—
He stopped dead in his tracks, causing Anthony to nearly run into him.
She must have been hiding in the drapes; he was sure of it. There was no other explanation. And then she’d probably slipped out when he was on the far side of the room searching for her.
He shook his head with an amused smile, not sure if he should be insulted or impressed at the lengths she was apparently willing to go to avoid him.
He should doubtless leave her be. And would if he hadn’t caught her staring at him with the same captivated interest he felt when he caught sight of her.
What did that mean? Was she just as wary of her growing interest in him as he was of his in her?
It was enough to make a man’s head spin.
It would be easier to ascertain the correct course of action if her feelings toward him were more apparent. The few times they had met, she seemed to enjoy his company. Before fleeing it, of course. Yet even that fascinated him instead of wounding him as it likely should.
His reactions to this woman were simply something he had never experienced before, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. There was something about her that refused to release him. He could not get her out of his mind. And he had tried. None of his usual amusements helped.
Instead, he found himself looking for her everywhere.
Wanting to share everything with her. Whenever he saw something particularly beautiful or interesting, he found himself wishing she were there so he could discover her thoughts and feelings on it.
Did she enjoy the vibrant sunsets? Or did she prefer watching the sun rise?
When Anthony had told a particularly raucous joke a few days past, Edward’s first thought was to wonder if she would have found it amusing.
Would she have laughed? Been scandalized?
What were her thoughts about the vicar’s sermon this Sunday past?
Was her favorite color the shade of green she had worn that day or the deep blue she had worn at the FitzDowells’?
He wanted to know everything with a desire that was beginning to make him feel quite unhinged. Perhaps he should not be so eager to share her company again. It could prove detrimental to his health. Yet his morbid curiosity couldn’t wait to see what else the woman would do.
“Remind me, why we are here?” Anthony huffed, his eyes glazing over as he viewed one of the masterpieces hanging before them.
“It’s the Royal Academy’s annual exhibition, Anthony.
We always attend. It makes a nice change from the usual soirees, does it not?
And with the Prince Regent unveiling the new statue he commissioned, everyone who is anyone is here this evening.
And therefore, we must be in the thick of it,” Edward explained, though truly no explanation should be required.
They had always flocked to the biggest crowds like kittens to cream. How else could they see and be seen? Really, it were as if Anthony didn’t even know him sometimes.
Plus, in addition to Edward’s usual social tendencies, there was a very good chance of happening upon the elusive Mrs. MacLaren again.
It had been far too many days since that brief glimpse he’d had of her at the FitzDowells’, and his mind had dwelled upon nothing else since the moment she’d turned tail and run from him. Fascinating woman.
Not that he’d admit any of that to Anthony.
“Besides,” he continued with a laugh, “a little culture and sophistication wouldn’t hurt you, you know.”
Anthony was many things, but a connoisseur of art, he was not.
“I’m sufficiently sophisticated, I’ll have you know,” Anthony argued.
“I just do not see the point in standing about staring at paintings all night when there is fun to be had out there.” He pointed in the direction of the door, no doubt thinking of his favorite gentlemen’s club that wasn’t too far from the gallery.
He dropped his arm abruptly, a delighted grin breaking out over his face. “I retract my objection. I think this evening is about to become very entertaining indeed.”
The absolute glee in Anthony’s voice made Edward frown in concern. Nothing Anthony anticipated that much could be goo—
Oh.
Down the long hall, Edward caught sight of what had given Anthony such a change of mind.
Mrs. MacLaren. Selena. Standing in front of a painting, mesmerized, while the throngs of people parted around her like a river around a stone.
Oh yes. This evening had just grown tantalizingly more interesting. At least for him. He frowned at Anthony.
“I know why I am happy to see her, but I fail to see why you are so. As far as I am aware, you have no interest in the lady.” He hoped, in any case.
The both of them hadn’t been interested in the same woman since they were twelve, and they had nearly come to blows over it.
Until they’d realized the lady in question didn’t know either of them existed and had no inclination to change that state of affairs.
Anthony smirked. “Only insomuch as pertains to you.”
“Me?”
He nodded sharply, his amused gaze still bouncing back and forth between Mrs. MacLaren and Edward.
“I have never, in all the years I’ve known you, seen a woman reject you so quickly.
Not only once, but twice. Literally running from your presence.
And she’s done all in her power to avoid your company since then.
Yet, you still crave the lady’s attentions.
And from the look on your face, you’re about to return for a third helping, which will amuse me very much, indeed.
In fact, I find this entire situation utterly riveting. ”
Edward glared at him through narrowed eyes and opened his mouth to respond and then thought better of it.
For one, his friend wasn’t wrong, as aggravating an admission as that was.
For another, he had much more delightful plans for entertainment for the evening than arguing with Anthony.
He’d leave his old friend to his own devices.
And would try to ignore the fact that he was Anthony’s entertainment.
He flashed Anthony one last scowl and then made his way through the crowd, nodding to people here and there but not pausing until he came to stand beside Mrs. MacLaren.
He didn’t say a word, and she made no acknowledgment of his presence aside from a slight stiffening of her posture. At least she wasn’t running away or hiding behind columns. Instead, she just continued to stare at the painting.
He turned to peruse it with her, glancing at the gold placard beneath it.
“Ah. The Grand Canal in Venice, as I thought. By Francesco Fiorentino. Talented chap, wasn’t he?
” He took in the scene, the boats floating in the canal overlooked by the grand Basilica of Santa Maria della Salute with its beautiful blue-domed roof.
“It’s lovely. Doesn’t quite capture the vibrancy of the place,” he said, his eyes shifting to her. “But it’s quite a beautiful rendering.”
She nodded, almost absentmindedly. “I miss it.” Her words were so softly spoken that he might have missed them had he not been looking directly at her.
“You have been to Venice?” he asked, delighted to have discovered even this slight morsel of her life.
She raised startled eyes to him, staring at him for a moment before glancing back at the painting. “I…yes, I have been there.”
There was more to that answer lingering in her eyes but before he could ask anything further, she abruptly straightened and moved to the next painting, pausing briefly before moving to the next.
And the next. He had no choice but to follow or lose his place at her side.
Though he couldn’t help but notice the small bubble of space around her.
People didn’t hesitate to stare. Some deigned to nod or otherwise greet her.
But most seemed to give her a wide and wary berth, all the while gazing at her with rampant curiosity.
His eyes narrowed at a particularly rude woman who stared at Mrs. MacLaren with open interest before whispering furiously into the ear of another woman whose mouth had dropped open with a scandalized gasp.
That they would conduct themselves so toward a woman who had done nothing to harm them set a fire in his gut that he had to grit his teeth to quell.
How often, he wondered, must she suffer such behavior?
Too often, he feared. Yet from everything he’d seen, she remained respectful and kind to everyone.
She didn’t need his protection, but it made him want to offer it all the same.
He would protect her from any unpleasantness that came her way if she would let him.
The moment the women caught sight of him and noted his disapproval they bobbed a tiny curtsy and moved along.
The soft touch of a hand on his arm brought his attention back to Mrs. MacLaren.
“I appreciate the gallantry,” she said, dropping her hand, “but it’s not needed. I am well accustomed to the stares and whispers.”
He frowned again. “So you have said. That does not excuse their behavior. In fact, your very graciousness about it makes their comportment all the worse. Honestly, it’s as if they have never seen a young widow before.”