Chapter 7
The Earl of Drexel’s thumb slid over the back of Hermia’s hand, and she had to suppress a gasp. She had not expected his touch to evoke such intimate sensations in her. Oh, the dance they had shared the night before had been quite alarming in the way he had brought her body to life, but here in the theater, surely a simple touch should not cause her to suddenly wish for so much more.
She was no sheltered girl.
She knew the ways of the world. Her mother made it so because her mother had seen girls taken advantage of in the theater. Her mother wanted her to understand the ways of the world and be prepared in case some old lout or silly young rake tried something he should not.
Hermia was exceptionally glad of her mother’s view. The education of the female species, in her mind, was very wise. Ignorance never led to good things. Only danger.
So she should have been inoculated to such feelings, or at least prepared for them. But she was not.
The slow, fanning heat that came up her body and through her cheeks had no doubt turned her skin an apple-red and stolen her wits away.
She stared at him, aghast, because she did not wish to seem vulnerable before him. Surely, ladies fell over themselves before him all of the time. She did not want to fall in with the many. She preferred to remain a part of the few. And yet, as if acting without command, her body leaned ever so slightly toward his. His own eyes widened at that, his pupils darkening, and his gaze dropped to the curve of her bosom. She bit her lower lip.
What she had said was the truth. She certainly could want him. Could? Ha! She did want him.
That question had surprised her. In her opinion, as far as she could see, many of the ton matches did not bring want or desire into the equation. Money, land, power, prestige, titles—those were the things that most considered. And she thought it rather interesting that he did care about her feelings. Perhaps he didn’t wish to have a cold or unpleasant marriage bed. And for that, she admired him.
Just as he was clearly about to let his fingertips trail upward towards her exposed wrist, her mama bustled into the box.
“My dears, my dears,” she trilled. “You two must not be together a moment longer unless you wish to wed tomorrow. The ton does like to wag their tongues, don’t they?”
“Forgive me, Duchess,” the earl said, standing. “I did not mean to give prologue to a scandal.”
“Oh, not a bit of it, my dear. Not a bit of it,” her mother said, snapping her fan open and waving it vigorously. “A gentleman of your youth and vigor is expected to have a bit of passion in his person. Within reason, of course. And it is clear to me that you two have hit it off remarkably. How wonderful. You enjoyed this moment alone? Anything interesting said?”
Her mother gazed back and forth between them expectantly.
“Mama,” Hermia began.
“If you must know,” the earl said swiftly, “I have asked your daughter to consider giving me the honor of her hand in marriage.”
Her mother beamed. “I thought such a thing might be on your mind, though you do act with great rapidity, my lord. Are you in any difficulty to wish to be married in such haste?” Her mother teased, “You have only known my daughter for moments, really.”
“Duchess, I think you know that when a man makes up his mind to marry, there is little that will stand in his way. I have been meaning to do it and seeking a partner. The first person I have found who might plausibly be able to fulfill the role of my countess is your daughter, Lady Hermia.”
“I am so glad you think so too.” Her mother’s joviality dimmed, and she became all business. “However, I would not let my treasure marry just anyone. I, of course, feel instinctively that you would be a good match or I never would’ve invited you to the theater. However, I think it’s important that we see you are a good fit for our family and converse further.”
Lady Hermia felt a wave of dread pull through her. Of course her mother was about to create an interview! It made absolute sense. And yet she felt a moment’s terror for the Earl of Drexel.
“Mama, don’t be—”
“Oh no, no!” Her mother protested, gesturing with her fan. “The earl is a formidable fellow. I can see it. He shall not wilt under our family’s sun, my dear. Nor do I think a few questions shall intimidate him.”
Hermia cleared her throat. “I agree with you, Mama, but must we shine quite so brightly when he is not accustomed it?”
The earl smiled, seeming rather amused by the conversation. “I promise that whatever you are about to suggest, I am more than capable of enduring it.”
“Good,” her mother declared, tapping her fan along her resplendent gown. Her mother always wore the best fashions, the most expensive, the latest up from Paris. And the gown shimmered in the candlelight. “I invite you to Heron House along the river. I host a salon there almost daily. And I only invite my most esteemed friends and the family. The duke shall be in attendance. And we shall see how you do. If you do well, then we shall consider you as one with the family, dear boy. And nothing shall impede the progress of your nuptials. That is, if Hermia is amenable.”
“But, Mother,” Hermia all but ground out, wishing all could be done quietly and easily. “I did say that I would consider it.”
“Then a visit is absolutely necessary,” her mother said simply.
“Heron House,” he said pleasantly. “I am honored.”
“Of course you are, my dear boy,” her mother enthused. “It’s on the tip of everyone’s tongues. Most people long for an invitation, but they never get one.”
“It is not far?” he queried.
“Not at all,” her mother assured. “Like all grand families, the house was designed to travel in London via the most efficient method from the past. Along the Thames. So many tried to convince me to build a new house near the parks. But I love the old place. It’s like a retreat from the bustle of the city whilst still being part of it all.”
He folded a hand behind his back. “When shall I attend?”
“You must come tomorrow. I will make certain that your butler is given our direction for your coachman.”
He swallowed visibly, and his eyes darted across the theater towards his mother, who had made a surprise appearance.
Hermia’s mother’s eyes danced with amusement. “Oh, yes. And of course, you must invite your lady mother if you wish,” the duchess said. “If we are to be a merry family, then we should begin at once. Don’t you think?”
He winced. “I think that we may have to learn to negotiate without my mother present. It is, after all, the hope of mine to go forward as an independent family.”
“You may wish it, my dear,” the duchess informed kindly, “but knowing your mother, I cannot imagine that she will be happy to retreat.”
“I am the earl,” he pointed out.
The duchess smiled indulgently. “So you are. So you are. But now, I must take Hermia away from you. We mustn’t cause a scandal, must we? At least not till after the wedding.”
He grinned at that. “I understand you, Duchess. Good evening.”
Taking her cue for him to leave, he strode to the edge of the box but paused at the curtains. He looked back over his shoulder.
“I look forward to this,” he said, “and getting what we all want.”
Then he turned to the hall and departed.
“Oh, Mama,” Hermia groaned, “this is all absolutely absurd.”
“It is not absurd,” her mother countered, delighted. “It is clearly meant to happen, my dear. You two were meant to meet. You two were meant to dance. You two are meant to marry.”
“Mama, you cannot possibly think such a thing,” she gasped.
“Oh, but I do,” her mother enthused. “I believe in the way of the universe putting us on the paths that we’re supposed to be on. And I think that a marriage to him will do you good. He will not put undue burdens upon you. He clearly is not interested in such a thing.”
“Is it so very obvious?” she asked, feeling a note of sadness, which was positively ridiculous because she did not wish him to want her to be someone that she was not. There were simply moments, moments like this, when she wished she was a little bit more capable of enduring society. But she was not. That’s what the rest of her family was for.
Her mother tucked her arm in the crook of Hermia’s. “Come along, come along. Your brothers and your sister are waiting to go, and of course your younger sister is at home, and the house might be in shreds. We must check on Perdita. She refused to leave the house because of that silly new animal,” her mother said with exaggerated woe when, in fact, she was clearly very proud of her youngest child. “And now we must make certain that it hasn’t eaten her alive.”
“Mama, I highly doubt that a hedgehog will eat her alive.”
“Drama, my dear. Drama. One must learn to live life with panache.”
Her mother lived life with great panache, and Hermia occasionally wished that she could do the same. She did not know why, exactly, that panache had been absent from her character. Her mother simply had a bit more shine, a bit more zest for life, a bit more zest for living, and she’d passed it on to most of her children.
Perhaps, one day, it would suddenly blossom in Hermia. Was it possible that it was a dormant seed? She sometimes hoped so. But then again, why would she wish herself to be anything different than she was? Was her nature what was attractive to the Earl of Drexel? Was that why he had proposed the arrangement of a marriage where each party could do exactly as they pleased? If so, she should not wish for things to be different. She should simply be pleased that things were turning out so well.
Except… She did feel for the Earl of Drexel. He was about to get a rather shocking tea time.
Not because her family would try to make his life difficult. Well, her brothers might. That was true.
Heron House was a place of excitement. Who knew who would be there?
On any given day, it could be a host of people, because that was what the Briarwoods did. They brought the world together. Philosophers, artists, mathematicians, scientists, politicians. Yes, the Briarwoods were notorious for their eccentricities in society, but in her mind, it was those very eccentricities which made her family so powerful.
And so impossible!