Page 26 of A Secret Correspondence
He approached the women without hesitation, hoping to convey a measured level of confidence and intention. It was a calculated risk, as others in the room were sure to take notice as well. Samuel would not escape this evening without being the center of some gossip.
“Good evening, Miss Kimball.” He bowed low. “You look especially lovely this evening. That color is most becoming on you.”
“Thank you, sir.” She blushed prettily, bringing her fan up to flutter over her cheeks.
Samuel turned toward her cousin and waited expectantly. The silent pause lasted the breadth of four heart beats.
“Oh, forgive me! You must not be acquainted. Mr. Harding, allow me to introduce my cousin, Miss Farrow.”
The lady dipped in a shallow curtsy and lifted her gaze to meet Samuel’s with curiosity. He could see at once she possessed more intellect than her cousin, for he never would have connected Miss Kimball and wit.
“It is a pleasure,” Samuel said. “Are you visiting?”
“I live in Locksley,” she said. “And I am often with my cousin.”
Samuel wore a dashing smile. “That certainly explains why I believed I had seen you before. Now tell me, have either of you had the pleasure of traveling to France before this evening, or was this your first venture?”
They both laughed softly.
“No, we have not.”
Miss Farrow shook her head. “I’m afraid I’ve hardly left the county, let alone the country.”
“Never left the county?”
“We’ve been to London,” Miss Kimball said, “but only for the Season.”
Hmm. Samuel needed a better answer than that. His writing friend had lived in London during her youth for a time. “So you have lived in Hampshire all your lives?”
“Yes,” Miss Kimball said.
“Well, there was a short period of time where I went to live with my aunt in London, but I was very young. My mother was ill, and my parents feared I too would fall ill if I remained at home.”
“How terrible,” he said.
“She recovered,” Miss Kimball said quickly. “Everyone is well now.”
Samuel splayed a hand over his heart and found it beating rapidly. “What a relief.”
“I quite enjoyed living with my cousins,” Miss Farrow said. “Though I missed my family.”
“Understandable.” Samuel smiled. His friend had spent some of her childhood in London, but the large majority of it here in Hampshire. One question down, two more to ask. This one he did not need to be subtle about. Women loved to talk about their favorite things. “The flowers?—”
“Oh, dear,” Miss Kimball said, worrying her lip. “My mother is gesturing for me.”
“I will meet you shortly,” Miss Farrow said, giving Miss Kimball a look Samuel could not identify. Though, if he had to guess, he imagined it was something that fared well for him. Miss Farrow wanted to remain by his side.
“Of course.” Miss Kimball looked from her cousin to Samuel, then regretfully walked away.
“You were about to say something about flowers?” Miss Farrow prompted. She certainly was not the shy or retiring sort, was she?
He felt a fire take hold in his belly, igniting an eagerness that took great effort to control. “Lady Faversham has overdone herself in here.”
“And in the dining room,” Miss Farrow agreed. “The bouquets were so expansive one could hardly see across the table.”
“They were beautiful, though.”
“Some of my favorites.”
