Chapter 7
AFTER THE FIFTH time his heart lurched as he looked at the door to see who had entered the Spencers’ drawing room, James knew he was in trouble. “Absolutely ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath.
It had only been a day since his time with Miss Faircott at the haberdashery, and yet he was desperate to see her again.
“What has put you in such a foul mood?” Louisa asked, narrowing her eyes at him. There was enough bite to her words that James almost laughed; he was not the only one in a bad mood.
Checking to ensure his mother was deep in conversation with one of the other dinner guests, James debated the merits of confiding in Louisa.
She was the closest thing he had to a sibling and had shared her woes with him more times than he could count, but he didn’t often reciprocate.
And in this instance—talking about his attraction and interest in a woman he barely knew—Louisa would not be gentle with him.
But he had to talk to someone, and Everett was busy glowering at Louisa from the other side of the room.
James glanced at Louisa, frowning when he realized she was glaring right back at his friend. He had always thought Louisa was incapable of disliking anyone. “Did something happen between you and—”
“You are aware that your so-called friend is threatening my very future by trying to sell my home, yes?” Louisa tilted her head as if offering a challenge to Everett.
Everett’s scowl shifted into a smirk.
James sighed. “Even if he sells Bramblewood, your lease will simply transfer to the new owner,” he reminded her.
“Who will then throw me from the property when the lease is ended, so that solution is only temporary.” Harumphing, Louisa pulled her gaze from Everett to look at James, though she didn’t fully soften her glare.
“I want to know what problem you think you have, Sir James Hartwell, with your lands and your hordes of money.”
“I do not have hordes,” he argued, then looked at the door as a young woman who was not Miss Faircott entered with whom he assumed to be her parents. He shrank back in his seat, hoping that was not the woman Mother was eager for him to meet. “And I am allowed to have problems.”
Louisa rolled her eyes. “Then tell me what they are so I can stop thinking about the American usurper.”
“Usurper” was a bit strong of a descriptor for someone using his own assets to his advantage, but James kept that thought to himself. For once, he wanted someone to help him instead of the other way around.
“I…” He paused as nausea rolled his stomach. This was a bad idea. “Er, I met someone. At the harvest ball.”
Louisa gasped so loudly that several people looked their way and Everett lifted an eyebrow in interest, but her attention didn’t shift from James for even a moment. “Who is she?”
James shushed her and tried to turn attention away with an uncomfortable smile. As soon as he was sure everyone was focused on their own conversations again, he leaned closer to Louisa. “Someone who won’t be in Upper Lambourn for long.”
“Is she the reason you keep looking at the door?”
Movement pulled James’s gaze to the door again, but this time his disappointment was replaced with elation.
Miss Faircott. She looked tense as she clung to the arm of the woman beside her, her smile polite as she took in the room.
As soon as her eyes landed on James, her shoulders relaxed and her smile grew into something more natural.
James had never felt more important.
“Good gracious, that’s her, isn’t it?” Louisa bounced in her seat and likely would have jumped up to introduce herself to Miss Faircott if James hadn’t grabbed hold of her arm. “She’s beautiful.”
He wholeheartedly agreed. Miss Faircott wore a pale green gown this evening that complemented her coloring quite handsomely, but she could have been wearing the most drab costume and still sent his heart racing.
“You said you met her at the ball?” Louisa asked, glancing between the two of them. If she kept doing that, others were going to start making assumptions. “You couldn’t have spoken to her for long enough to have that moony look on your face.”
“I don’t have…” Deciding it wasn’t worth arguing, James tore his eyes from Miss Faircott and focused on Louisa again.
“No, I didn’t speak to her for long. We crossed paths in town yesterday”—no point in mentioning their meeting on the road a few days before—“and she is someone I would like to get to know better. Nothing more.”
Louisa scrunched up her face as she studied him. “Moony,” she whispered and smiled triumphantly. “I never thought I would see the day when James Hartwell took an interest in anyone. I thought for sure your mother would be the one to find you a wife.”
“She is certainly trying,” James grumbled. He looked over at Mother and flinched when he realized she was heading his way with an excited grin on her face.
“James,” Mother said when she arrived, “surely you can speak to more than Miss Denham this evening. What is the point of attending a dinner party if you are going to ignore everyone you aren’t already close to?”
If James had had his way, he wouldn’t have attended the party in the first place.
Or, he wouldn’t have before his encounter with Miss Faircott yesterday.
The thought of seeing her again—no matter how foolishly hopeful—had been what enticed him out of the house, and there she was.
She and her mother were speaking to the other young woman who arrived before them.
Though James didn’t answer her question, Mother continued talking. “That isn’t to say you are poor company, Miss Denham.”
Louisa smiled warmly and squeezed Mother’s hand as she stood. “I do believe I am excellent company, Lady Hartwell. Hopefully others would agree.” With that, she strode across the room to where Everett was standing.
Both of them looked ready for battle, which did not bode well.
“I understand that you prefer your own company, James,” Mother said gently, “but you cannot live that way forever. Tell me you do not want to be alone for the rest of your life.”
James sighed. “Of course I don’t want that, Mother, but I cannot in good conscience marry someone I do not love.”
“And how will you come to love someone if you never talk to anyone? Come meet my friend’s daughter and decide for yourself if avoiding her is the correct choice.”
When she gestured toward Miss Faircott, James’s heart flipped in his chest. Could she be the woman Mother was determined to introduce him to? It could just as easily be the other young lady, and he would not be able to hide his disappointment if that was the truth of things.
“I know I’ve promised not to sway your opinion of her until you have met her…” Mother left that sentence open-ended, and James furrowed his brow as he turned to her again.
“But?” he prompted.
Mother pursed her lips. “But her situation is not ideal. She needs someone to care for her and give her a good life, and she does not have many prospects. You could be that for her.”
Why did she have to tell him that? Biting back a curse, James studied the woman next to Miss Faircott, trying to discern any hints of her circumstances.
She didn’t look any worse off than Miss Faircott, but he could hardly judge based on appearance alone.
Miss Faircott had told him that she lost her father, but she had said nothing about her situation beyond that.
She had funds enough to stay at the Rose and Boar for a few weeks, but that meant little.
Mother hadn’t meant her comment to be condemning—James certainly hoped she hadn’t—but now James felt like something had taken hold of his heart and was squeezing.
He liked Miss Faircott. More than he ought to. But if pursuing her meant abandoning someone who needed his help…
Suddenly dizzy, James lurched to his feet and headed for the nearest door, not caring where it took him. He needed a moment to think. To breathe.