Chapter 8
The next morning, Maria had meant to stay on the terrace with Prudence and a dish of strawberries. Instead, as often happened of late, she found herself looking for Stephen against her will.
Not to speak, only to know where he was, the way one likes to know where the door is. She told herself it was practical.
She told herself many things, of course. But this was one of them.
“Miss Havenford.” Owen Rondell appeared at her side with that well-fed smile of his. “You have deprived the stables of their usual audience.”
“I have brought my admiration to them,” Maria said, as if she had meant to stand precisely here all along. “You are riding today?”
“I am,” he said. “If only to give the hounds a handsome view. It is much needed when the weather is as cold as it is now, don’t you think?” He laughed at himself easily.
She only nodded, smiling to herself.
“Do you bless me with a favor for luck?” Owen continued on.
“I hardly know what counts as a favor,” she said, looking at her glove.
“Choose a color,” he said, pointing with his chin toward the flowerbeds. “I shall make it my talisman and swear it worked.”
“Blue,” she said before she could stop herself, and he looked delighted, which was generous of him, as if she had bestowed more than a word.
But even as she said blue, it was Stephen whom she was really thinking about.
When they parted, her cheeks were strangely warm. She waited until he had turned his back, then went looking for the one person she’d told herself not to tell.
Stephen found her first. Of course, he did.
“You are not meant to look as if you’ve misplaced your own name,” he said, stopping just near enough. “What has Mr. Balcony given you to fret over?”
She nearly said nothing, then swallowed the lie.
“He mentioned a proposal,” she blurted, “Not in so many words, but… we spoke at breakfast this morning, he asked so many of the right questions and said so much that was… nice. He teased about how quickly gossip would tire of us if we were usefully married.”
Stephen’s face did not change, which was instructive.
“Usefully married,” he repeated in a mild tone, “And what did you say to that comment?”
“That I must consult my… my own thoughts,” she said with mortifying honesty. But in earnest, she had to consult Stephen. “But I think he means to offer very soon. He has such good manners.”
She realized she had begun to defend a case no one had yet argued.
“Yes,” Stephen said. “But he sounds a bit too keen.”
“I believe that you are being too quick to judge,” she said. “Is that not a good thing, being keen?”
“I am being cautious,” he said. “Keenness might also hint at desperation, and it would be in your favor to avoid that sentiment altogether.”
“Or it might not,” she argued, “perhaps it would do us well to consider the bright side.”
“There is no consideration of a bright side if it is one that is based in delusion,” he said simply. She knew that in his mind, he must be right. But just the way that he delivered the words to her made her second-guess herself as well.
“So you think that my judgment on him is one that is based on delusion?” she questioned, trying to understand him better.
“I am merely saying that you need more information in order to make a better decision,” he replied. “Tell me, does he speak of his family with ease?”
“We have not gotten the chance to discuss his family much,” Maria replied.
“And what of past obligations?” Stephen continued on. “Has he ever mentioned anything of debts?”
Maria only shook her head.
“And what do you know of his friends?” Stephen’s questions were growing more and more pointed. “Did he tell you the name of the man who would stand up with him if he ran to Scotland at a foolish hour?”
“Why would we discuss Scotland?” She had to let out a laugh at that. “Surely, you must also realize that your questions are rather specific. Besides, I trust that he shall reveal all of this to me in time.”
“In time?” Stephen raised a brow. “And what is your plan when you find out that he is entirely the wrong man, but you are already attached to him in marriage?”
“Well, I should hope that such a thing does not happen,” she said, dreading the possibility. “Why must you sow the seed of doubt in my mind?”
“I am only trying to reason some sense into you,” Stephen replied. “It has occurred to me that you may require it in these scenarios, where you might not be able to see things clearly for yourself, Maria.”
“Huh,” her back straightened at the use of her name. She realized that it sounded quite nice when he referred to her by her name. He had never used it before, and it was a nice sound coming from him. “Well, then, to answer your question fully, I do not think that I am making any sort of mistake.”
“You do not know if you are,” he corrected. “There is a difference, and I would urge you to learn it.”
“He said his mother is fond of apricot tarts,” she said after a moment’s rummaging, feeling suddenly foolish.
“And what else?”
“And he did not say anything that I would find alarming otherwise,” she noted. “I suppose that is a good sign?”
Stephen shot her a look that could only be categorized as disappointed.
“It’s not?” she asked, feeling lost.
“Some men,” Stephen said, “learn to hide precisely what would not charm.”
“So, you believe that he is lying to me about himself?” she said, surprise coloring his tone.
“I am saying that it is not outside the realm of possibility.”
“But based on this, anything could be in the realm of possibility.” Her tone was growing frustrated now, and Stephen smiled in her direction.
“Leave this with me,” he said.
“Leave you to make the decision?” she raised an eyebrow.
“The week is not over yet,” he reminded her. “If he means well, he will continue to mean it by dinner. If he does not, he will not. And it will all be revealed in due time.”
“That is not reassuring,” she bit down on her lip. “Rather, it is quite nerve-wracking. How am I supposed to go on with all this newly found uncertainty that you have planted in my mind?”
He smiled at her again.
“I think you will go on just fine,” he said. “It is good to have some uncertainty. Otherwise, we are at risk of being too na?ve.”
“Or too cynical,” she countered. “Have you considered that?”
But Stephen had already begun to take his leave now.
“I am obliged to kill birds now,” he announced. “If a gentleman who is practically a stranger asks you to walk again before I return, you will decline and ask for lemonade. If he insists, send him to me.”
“Send him to… You cannot possibly be serious,” she was shaking her head now.
“I am never more,” he said, and left her there, outraged and strangely relieved, which had become his specialty.
But somehow, as infuriating as this was, Maria did not mind it. Stephen was only looking out for her, she told herself. And she only wanted a man for her who had the right intentions.
That had to mean something, especially when he had no need to do any of this for her. It signaled good intentions on his part, even though she sometimes failed to understand them.
Stephen found himself on a hunt with Owen later in the evening. He was fond of hunting, but more so, he thought it was a good opportunity to get to know the gentleman.
A part of him had begun to grow suspicious of him. It was not a certainty yet in his mind, but a hunch was enough to make him wonder.
And Maria is far too simple for this, he thought to himself. It would infuriate him greatly if someone was to take advantage of her.
“Your Grace,” Owen said, grateful in the way of men who cannot believe their luck when rank lowers its head within speaking distance. Stephen was used to such treatment, of course, and did not feel flattered by it. “An honor to ride beside you.”
“Mr. Rondell,” Stephen kept his horse at an even pace. “How are you this evening?”
Owen began to laugh delightedly, “Well, I must say that I am quite well. It has been an eventful few days, and much has happened for me to be excited about.”
Stephen tried to hide the curiosity in his expression. If he were to get the whole truth from him, he would have to assume a certain kind of nonchalance.
“I imagine that must be delightful, then,” he replied without giving anything away.
“Oh, it was. I admired Miss Havenford last night,” Owen volunteered without even being asked.
That was the first warning for Stephen. No gentleman should be discussing his prospects so candidly like this without being asked.
“You have had the good sense to notice her as well. Unusual creature, but in a lovely sort of way.”
Stephen wanted to ward him off and tell him that she is his friend. But he was not going to do such a thing. He had the sense that Owen would amend his own narrative if Stephen were to reveal this information to him.
So, instead, he simply faked a genuine interest in the thing that Owen had to tell him.
“I see. What about her?”
Owen seemed like a perfectly behaved man on the surface. But then there was so much to him that remained to be seen and to be judged.
And after all, Stephen had made Maria a promise that he would find her a worthy person. He was a man who took his promises seriously, so that is what he must do. Not because he had any personal interest in ensuring the match, no. It was merely a sense of duty that he must oblige.
“Would you really wish to know?” Owen was laughing now. Something about his tone was already making Stephen’s blood boil.
“Well, what’s not about her is the question that should be asked instead,” Owen went on, believing himself liked.
“Do you have a lot of thoughts on the matter?” Stephen asked. It was a test again, of course. If he were an honorable gentleman, then he would decline to dish out the details of anything. He would only speak of her briefly and with high regard. The rest would not be up for discussion.
“I do, I do,” Owen lowered his voice. “Your Grace, I hope that this is not me overstepping, but I really must admit to you that I had thought you more severe.”