Chapter Two
Oliver had been ready to vanish for the evening before Aunt Fulbourn materialized and insisted on making a few introductions.
After meeting four different “dear friends” and their marriageable daughters, Oliver suspected a conspiracy.
His aunt had not failed to mention her social plans; she had arranged them after receiving his letter.
With such blatant matchmaking, could there be any doubt?
“I’m rather worn out from traveling, Aunt.
I hope you’ll forgive me if I bid you goodnight,” Oliver spoke after meeting a Mrs. Miller and her daughter.
Or was it Morris? They all seemed to blend together.
The same stylish dresses, the same polite manners.
Nothing that even remotely caught his attention.
“Just one more, and I promise I will let you escape without another word.” His aunt then set off through the crowd, as though expecting them to follow without instruction.
“Shall we?” Nat gestured towards their vanishing hostess.
Oliver let out a soft sigh and headed in the same direction, at a decidedly slower pace.
When Oliver caught up to Aunt Fulbourn, he found himself facing yet another middle-aged mother and her young daughter.
But then he looked again, and recognition struck.
The petite woman with dark curls was none other than the young lady he’d met earlier that evening.
Well, not exactly met. But interacted with.
And now he would know her name. His pulse quickened with anticipation.
But then Oliver’s aunt began the introduction. When he heard the names “Mrs. Childs and Miss Childs,” he resisted the urge to curse. Nat must have recognized them as well, because he stiffened beside him.
Why would Aunt Fulbourn introduce him to the most notorious matchmaking mama in London?
Even Oliver, who rarely left Hampshire and abhorred gossip, had heard tales of a woman who arrived in Town the previous year with a single-minded goal of connecting her family to a title.
In any way necessary. Even a nephew with no chance of inheriting the said title would do.
Mrs. Child’s smile widened as Aunt Fulbourn spoke Oliver’s name. Something about the way she appraised him made him feel as though she thought of him as a prized stallion on display at Tattersalls. Some gentlemen might have appreciated such attention, but he found it demeaning.
When he turned his attention to Miss Childs, he found a very different reaction.
If the mother thought of him as a prized stallion, the daughter appeared to consider him the most uninteresting of donkeys.
He was not sure whether he should be relieved or disappointed.
He looked back at Mrs. Childs and her obvious interest. Definitely relieved.
When it came his time to respond, Oliver bowed in a manner that was perfectly polite but not even remotely friendly. When he lifted his head to look at Miss Childs, she’d narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.
“It was a pleasure to meet both of you, but we just arrived this afternoon and I believe it is time to retire,” Nat spoke from beside him.
Oliver bowed again and bid all three ladies farewell before following his brother-in-law out the door and up the stairs.
“Thank you,” Oliver said when he reached his borrowed bedchamber.
Nat eyed him as if wanting to ask a question, but instead bid him goodnight and crossed the hall to his own room.
As Oliver unbuttoned his waistcoat and prepared himself for bed, he thought about his introduction to Miss Childs. Rather than being offended by her blatant lack of interest, he found her reaction amusing. Refreshing even.
As the heir and then master of one of the finest estates in his corner of Hampshire, Oliver had dealt with more than his fair share of matchmaking mamas.
They’d started the moment he finished at Cambridge, and only gotten worse since his father passed.
Some of the more tenacious examples had not even waited until he removed his black armband before pouncing.
Mrs. Childs might have designs on Oliver, but her daughter did not appear to agree. Or perhaps it was part of the game. Some men would find her aloofness a challenge, but Oliver was not one of them. He preferred ladies who were open and friendly. Like the woman behind the pot.
Oliver shook the thought away as he dropped onto the end of the bed to remove his boots. Miss Childs seemed to have two faces, something he could never abide. Or, he laughed at the idea; perhaps she had an identical twin. After all, he did.
Not that it mattered. He intended to spend only two days in London before returning to Hampshire. With any luck, their paths would not cross again.
Mrs. Barlow’s garden party was Kitty’s third social event in as many days, and she needed a moment to herself.
Unfortunately, hiding outright was not an option.
Her mother had still not forgiven her for disappearing during Lady Fulbourn’s musical evening two days prior, and she dared not risk another infraction so soon.
Instead, she accepted a glass of lemonade from a passing footman while maintaining her inconspicuous spot near a large hedge.
Much to her delight, it was not her mother who noticed her discreet location, but a far more pleasant option. A baroness with a fair amount of silver woven through her dark hair approached. “Lady Sampson, so lovely to see you.”
“And you, Miss Childs.” The good-natured matron came to stand beside her. “How have you been? I have not seen you since Mrs. Gibb’s card party more than a week ago.”
“Very well,” Kitty replied politely. “I had hoped to see you the other night at Lady Fulbourn’s soiree.”
“I received an invitation, but had a conflict, ”Lady Sampson explained. Instead of moving on, the baroness kept by Kitty’s side and made a few comments about the guests before adding, “You seem to have found the perfect spot for people-watching.”
“That was my intention, my lady,” Kitty admitted. She used to enjoy socializing, but after two years in London she preferred to watch rather than take part.
Lady Sampson turned and raised an inquisitive brow. “To observe, but not to be observed yourself?”
“Precisely,” Kitty confirmed. If the comment had come from another society matron, she might be concerned. But she’d spent enough time with Lady Sampson to know that the affable woman was more likely to tease gently than to censure.
“There are some fine specimens to observe, to be sure,” the lady agreed lightly as three young gentlemen walked past in their superfine coats.
Kitty smiled at the baroness’s comments, as was expected.
But she felt no genuine humor in the observation.
While some young women found great enjoyment in watching handsome gentlemen, Kitty watched them for other reasons.
It helped her feel prepared when her mother inevitably appeared with the worst specimen available.
As if summoned by Kitty’s thoughts, her mother arrived on the arm of a slender gentleman with thinning brown hair and an ungentlemanly gleam in his eye.
Suppressing a groan, Kitty stepped forward at their arrival.
Lady Sampson, however, took a step to the side and turned towards another guest, positioning herself where an introduction would not be necessary. Brilliant.
“Catherine, may I introduce Mr. Percival Hicks?” Her mother turned to the man at her side. “Mr. Hicks, my daughter, Miss Catherine Childs.”
The introduction continued as so many before.
Kitty went through the steps with no obvious interest or disinterest, while her mother gushed over the noble connections of the man next to her.
In this case, Mr. Hicks was evidently the grandson of a baron.
Kitty had met several grandsons of barons in the previous two years, as well as nephews of earls, and cousins of viscounts.
“How nice,” Kitty replied politely as Mr. Hicks told them about attending a house party in Derbyshire. In truth, escaping London for a few weeks sounded pleasant. But only if it meant also escaping supposed gentlemen who could not keep their eyes on her face.
The odious man continued with several more stories before finally taking the hint. “I believe I’ve taken enough of your time.” He turned to Kitty’s mother, who had turned an unattractive shade of puce during the exchange. “Mrs. Childs.” He then nodded to Kitty and vanished into the throng.
Kitty watched the reprobate walk away before her mother leaned in and hissed softly.
“What am I to do with you?” When Kitty did not respond promptly, her mother continued, “He is an unattached gentleman of consequence. You are two and twenty, three years older than I was when I married your father.”
“But nowhere near what society would consider a spinster,” Kitty retorted before biting her tongue. Snapping back rarely turned out well. Her most successful tactic was usually avoidance.
Her mother narrowed her eyes and muttered, “Unless you change your attitude, that will likely change.” With one last scoff, the matron turned on her heel and returned to the party.
Spinsterhood was exactly Kitty’s goal. If things were different, she might dream of a husband and children.
But as it was, a life of solitude was far preferable to marriage to anyone desperate enough to fall prey to her mother’s schemes.
Kitty just had to somehow remain unmarried for five more years. Then she would receive full control over her dowry and could set up a household of her own. Somewhere quaint, and far from London and her only living parent.
“Your mother considers Mr. Hicks a fit introduction for her daughter?” Kitty jumped as Lady Sampson reappeared at her side.