Page 41 of Snapdragons
He was so close. There were brown flecks in his blue eyes. And a slight crookedness to his nose. And one side of his mouth seemed to sit higher than the other. She had the oddest, strongest urge to trace her finger from one corner to the other, to test what she was seeing.
Good heavens, she needed to get her thoughts sorted out. She looked forward once more. “Best list those glorious counties, Liam,” she said. “My heart longs to hear them.”
With the eyes of the gathering on him once more, Liam seemed to find his footing, abandoning his obvious struggle between scolding his sister and impressing their companions. “Antrim,” he began. “Armagh. Carlow. Cavan. Clare. Cork. Donegal.”
Niles looked at her a couple of times as the list continued. He likely was checking to see if her brother had made any errors. But meeting his eye on the second glance, she saw a little surprise in the moment before he returned his gaze forward. Had something of her thoughts regarding his lips shown on her face? She’d not thought so.
Was he studying her, noticing the color ofhereyes or the tilt ofhermouth?
Could it be that her efforts at courting him had begun to bear fruit? That he’d started taking note of her, started feeling at least some interest? The possibility ought to have rested on her mind as relief. But where she felt it most acutely was in her heart. That organ pounded harder, beat faster.
Liam finished his list with Wexford and Wicklow. Applause and congratulations were offered as the two gentlemen endedtheir performance. Lord Aldric returned to his seat with unwavering nonchalance. Liam took a moment to soak in the approval he was receiving. He wasn’t exactly subtle about it.
Penelope took a few deep breaths. She needed to keep her head, not lose her heart.
Violet and Nicolette sang a song in French—the only French song Violet knew, by her own admission.
Mr. Fortier and Lord Jonquil recited a poem they had composed during the extremely brief preparation period, one that was both ridiculous and, Penelope had to acknowledge, a little impressive.
Mr. Barrington and Mr. Layton ended this round of performances with the former untying his cravat and the latter retying it with his eyes closed. When pressed on what exact skill Mr. Barrington was demonstrating, Mr. Layton insisted his partner’s offering was “the rare ability to admit when one’s cravat knot is a travesty.”
The group agreed to a second round of impromptu performances. Even Lord Aldric seemed not displeased to continue. He was an intriguing mystery, in neither a romantic nor dangerous way. He was, more than anything, confusing.
Penelope’s name was drawn with his.
“Ialsoknow all the counties of Ireland,” she told him as they settled into a corner of the music room to discuss what they would offer when their turn arrived. “In case you fancy an encore.”
“I suspect we can think of something else.” Lord Aldric still didn’t sound displeased, but the indifference he had displayed with Liam had been exchanged for subtle misgiving. She didn’t openly acknowledge it, but she was entirely aware that it was there.
“How is it you know so much about France?” Penelope asked.
“My mother was French. We often visited France while she wasstill living. During those years, France felt almost as much my homeland as England.”
“I am sorry you lost your mother,” she said.
A look of unmistakable sorrow passed very quickly through his eyes. In a quieter voice than she’d heard him yet use, he said, “It has been a very long time since anyone has said that to me. I think people forget that such a loss doesn’t stop aching.”
More than three years had passed since Penelope had lost her father. She missed him, and that often ached.
“MayIaskyoua question now?” Lord Aldric requested.
She nodded, attempting to predict in her mind what he might ask.
“Why do you want to marry Niles?”
She could not have predicted that.
“Before you answer,” Lord Aldric said, “I should warn you I will not be satisfied by variations on ‘because it is all arranged.’ You would have beenlessinconvenienced had you abandoned the arrangements upon realizing he had defected, and you could have found someone else. Traveling this far, making efforts to convince him to change his mind back, doesn’t make sense if you were simply looking for any husband. So, my question, in reality, is why do you want to marryNiles?”
“You are very direct, Lord Aldric.”
“You will find, Miss Seymour”—his tone was solemn but without anger—“that in the matter of my friends’ happiness, I do not shrink when I feel something needs to be understood or addressed.”
“You’ve said that you consider ‘because everything has been arranged’ to be an insufficient reason, but ’tis a significant part of it. My circumstances are odd, and I’d very little hope of finding a gentleman who would agree to a marriage contract that took those circumstances into consideration. That he did, that he agreed to terms that would help my otherwise very difficultsituation, was something of a miracle. I’ll not find that again, I’m all but certain.”
He was listening, but he offered no indication of what he thought of her admittedly vague explanation.
“Ladies have little power over our own futures, Lord Aldric. And marriage agreements more often than not take away even that. I found myself one of those rare lucky few who had a chance of a marriage on footing closer to equal than is ever seen or heard of.” She was keeping her voice low, knowing she didn’t dare allow this to be overheard. Lord Aldric gave her no reason to believe he would be satisfied with an incomplete or less-than-honest answer. “I wanted to meet the gentleman who’d agree to allow his arranged-for bride to have a say in her own future and afford her a bit of hope to cling to. And I wanted to see if there was a way to get that back.”
