Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Who was that lovely young woman you were just playing cards with?” Frances asked, catching Hugo alone by the liquor table, where he had spent far too long trying to decide on a beverage.
What did one drink when one was trying to get rid of unexpected feelings of admiration?
He truly did not know what had come over him at the card table, but he had willed Evelyn’s triumph into existence, wanting her to win with every fiber of his being.
As an occasional gambling man, it made no sense to him at all.
“Miss Parsons?” Hugo replied. “You know her. She is the one who won the auction.”
Frances laughed awkwardly, her hand covering her mouth: an old habit. “Not her, you dolt. The other one. The one you were smiling at.”
“I was not smiling. I was smirking because I thought I was about to trounce everyone at cards,” he insisted, a note too quickly. “She is Lady Evelyn Bartlett. Daughter to the Earl of… I forget.”
“Townshend,” Frances said, tilting her head to one side.
“Yes, perhaps that is it,” he said, though he had truly forgotten.
Frances reached for the port and poured herself a small measure.
“She is very beautiful. Are you quite certain you were not smiling at her? It would be no terrible thing if you were.” She paused, looking over to where Selina now stood, speaking with two other ladies.
“Miss Parsons is an exquisite beauty, there can be no denying that, but I have often found that the prettiest among society are not always the most interesting. They have never had to be.”
“She is… interesting enough,” Hugo said, though he could not recall the last time his thoughts had wandered to her instead of Evelyn. “And we still have three outings. That is ample time to get to know her better.”
Frances frowned. “You believe there could be an attachment there? A prospect?”
“I do not see why not.” Hugo took the port from Frances and poured some for himself. “She is beautiful, as you said, she has plenty of character, she is skilled at navigating society events, she has reasonable manners, and she is the diamond of the Season. There is nothing wrong with her.”
“But is she right for you?” Frances asked, with a sneaky little smile, as if she knew something that Hugo did not.
Hugo downed his port in one go, then refilled his glass. “I suppose I shall find out over the course of our next three encounters. And it helps somewhat that we shall be in the same place for the next week.” He took a sip of the second drink. “Ask me that again when we are about to depart.”
“I shall,” Frances said, and as she wandered off to join her husband, Dominic, Hugo had no doubt that she would.
The question was, after a week in Selina’s company, what would his answer be?
Could she be what he had been missing? Could she be the Frances to his Dominic, the Joan to his Laurence?
The only reason he was finally considering marriage was because of the happiness of his friends, but was Selina the one to bring him that same happiness?
He guessed he had a week to find out.
The following afternoon, the sun high and bright in a cloudless sky, a warm breeze drifting through the oaks and the emerald grasses, Hugo found himself on an impromptu third outing with Selina.
He had not woken up with the intention of striking off one of the owed excursions, but the day had been so beautiful and held such promise that he had asked her at breakfast if she would care to walk with him.
She had hesitated at first, as he had partially expected her to, but in the end, she had agreed.
“After all, I do like the outdoors,” she had said with a casual shrug, as though it was of no importance to her.
Now, they found themselves walking side-by-side through a shady woodland, a stream babbling merrily alongside them, while blackbirds chirped and rabbits darted for the cover of dark-leafed bushes.
A polite distance behind, Evelyn and Selina’s chaperone walked in quiet conversation. Hugo strained his ears to try and hear what they were talking about, but he could only catch a snippet or two about some bird or other.
He was so invested in what Evelyn was doing and what she was saying that he had neglected to tend to Selina at all.
They were walking in complete silence, and he had no immediate desire to remedy that, for he was rather enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, peppered here and there by the soft sound of Evelyn’s voice, piquing his curiosity.
“What were you like when you were at school?” Selina asked him suddenly, at a rather inopportune moment, for he had just heard Evelyn saying something about her brothers.
“I was like any other boy,” he said, more curtly than he had intended.
“I do not know,” he heard Evelyn say, cursing silently that he had missed the first part of the conversation, so that he might have some context.
Selina seemed surprised by his dismissal of her question. “I have no brothers, Your Grace, so I have no notion of what boys are like at such an age. Was it terribly frightening, to have to leave home and live somewhere else? Were the tutors as dreadful as I have heard?”
He glanced at her in confusion. Why was she suddenly so interested in his past? There had been ample time and opportunity for her to ask him such things, yet she had chosen to speak at the very moment when all he wanted to do was listen.
“It was… fine,” he replied with a shrug.
After all, he was not going to spill the harsh truth that being away at school was vastly preferable to being at home with his father.
And that the only fear he had felt while he was at Eton was for his sister, hoping that she was not suffering under their father’s wrath while he was away.
That was not something he told anyone, though Laurence and Dominic were aware, for they had been there at the time.
A makeshift bridge provided a crossing over the stream to where the path continued.
Hugo came to a halt and offered his hand to Selina, though his eyes sought out Evelyn.
The former took his hand willingly and shrieked as she leaped across the narrow stream, her touch lingering longer than necessary, which prompted him to withdraw his hand rather sharply.
It was not done out of dismissal, but because he worried that he was the one holding on for too long.
Next, he offered his hand to Selina’s chaperone… and ended with Evelyn, who had refused to meet his gaze since last night. Even as she took his hand, she did not look at him, though he saw the faint flush of pink in her cheeks as she jumped across the stream without incident.
She looks very pretty today, he mused, though he could not pinpoint what was different about her.
Had she done her hair in a different style?
It was impossible to tell with her bonnet in the way.
Had she slept particularly well, the night of good rest brightening her complexion?
No, he did not think that was it either.
Giving up on trying to figure out what had changed in Evelyn that day, he pressed on through the towering oaks and ash trees, marveling at how the hazy sunlight streamed in through the full canopy, dappling the forest floor beneath.
There was something magical about forests and, for a moment, he missed the grounds of Ravenvale.
It was not often that he thought that for, even though it had been many years since his father’s death, the man’s ghost still haunted that place. Only around the estate, in the wildest and quietest corners, could peace be found, far enough away from the memories of that wretched man.
Selina caught up to him a few moments later, a hastiness in her steps that had not been there before. “It is beautiful here, is it not?”
“It is,” he replied, drawing in a deep lungful of the earthy, fresh air.
He assumed that would be the end of the conversation, his gaze flitting down in mild astonishment as he felt Selina bump into his arm. She was very close to him now and showed no sign of putting a more formal distance between them.
“This is much better than Hyde Park, is it not?” she said, her tone sweet and light… and utterly baffling.
It was like she had been transformed, and he could not understand why.
“Both have their merits,” he replied vaguely.
“This is what I meant about the artifice of London’s parks.
There is none of that here. Everything grows as it pleases, everything is as it should be, and nothing is forced to behave purely for the pleasure of the masses,” she said with a contented sigh.
“This is the wildness that I love so much. This is why I could spend hours outdoors and never grow tired, even in bad weather.”
It was probably the most she had said to him ever since she had won the auction. Continuing to walk and puzzling over what might have caused the sudden shift, he remembered what Evelyn had told him that night at the opera.
She does not like gentlemen who act too attainable. She prefers gentlemen who seem disinterested.
He could have laughed; it was so obvious to him now.
By ignoring Selina and giving her short answers, he had clearly ignited some manner of curiosity that she was now compelled to pursue.
Indeed, she was behaving like a different woman entirely…
more like the young ladies he was used to flirting with in his unrulier years.
Evelyn was right, and I did not listen.
He was not sure he liked that feeling, considering what he had done to try and prove to her that he did not need any assistance. As it turned out, with someone like Selina, he had required that knowledgeable advice.
Although he could not say that he regretted dancing with Evelyn.
Whatever the pretense for it, he had enjoyed his dance with her very much.
Truly, it did not seem like there was anything that Evelyn could not do, whether it was dancing, playing cards, regaling someone with knowledge about birds, or reading people in detail.
I suppose she cannot pick up a toad, he mused with a sad smile.
“It is pleasant,” he said, remembering that he had not yet replied to Selina.
She peered up at him, her long, dark eyelashes fluttering in a sultry manner. “You have fascinating eyes, Your Grace. Has anyone told you that they are slightly different shades of blue?”
“Evelyn did, last night,” he answered.
“Of course she did. Silly me.” Selina laughed, but it was an odd, strangled sound. “I suppose no eyes are exactly the same color. Why, if you were to look into mine, they would likely be different. A fleck of something in one that is not in the other.”
He understood it perfectly well as an invitation for him to gaze into her eyes, but he ignored it, sticking to Evelyn’s advice.
“Most assuredly,” he replied, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.
It was not just Evelyn’s advice that made him reluctant, however, for he was never comfortable when it came to talking about his eyes.
He had learned how to adjust his vision over the years, and wore spectacles to help when no one was around, but he did not want anyone to figure out that he was mostly blind in his left eye.
He could see light and shadow, but it was like seeing things through a slick of oil, all of the details cloudy and blurred.
Selina made a little noise of irritation, yet her eyes glittered with something like excitement. “You should look for yourself,” she urged, moving in front of him so he had no choice but to stop. “Are they different from each other?”
She looked up at him and, with a frown, he dutifully assessed the color of her eyes.
They were striking, such a dark shade of brown that they appeared almost black.
Paired with her pale skin and dark hair, it was no wonder she had such an ethereal beauty that drew every gentleman’s attention.
It was a commanding beauty, though not quite as special as he had first thought, now that he was looking at her more closely.
“They seem to be the same color,” he said coolly, as he stepped around her and pressed on.
A pleased smile graced his lips as he heard her hurry after him, appearing at his side once more, her arm discreetly slipping through his so she might walk even closer to him. Her chaperone probably should have coughed or intervened at that, but Hugo could hear her speaking to Evelyn.
Indeed, whatever Evelyn had to say was surely more interesting.
Are her eyes slightly different to each other? he found himself wondering as the path began to circle back toward the manor.