Page 9 of The Viscount's Forgery
Nicholas’ eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“To a very respectable viscount,” Lord Bothwell continued. “So you need not be afraid of your friendship with Lord Marchfield any longer, given that his sister is now spoken for.”
“I will not pretend that is not a relief,” Nicholas answered, as his friend continued to look around the park. “Lord Marchfield always did want me to consider his sister.”
Lord Bothwell sighed heavily. “Mayhap Polly will not come to the fashionable hour at all. There are so many occasions for young ladies to attend that – ”
The short, sudden stop and the swift intake of breath told Nicholas that there was, in fact, a sighting of this particular young lady. Coming to a stop right beside his friend, he let his gaze drift in the very same direction, seeing so many young ladies that it was hard to discern who precisely his friend was looking at. A young lady suddenly captured his attention, her familiar features bringing an awareness to him but all the same, he could not quite place her. She had dark curls that framed her face, her bonnet hiding the rest of her hair from him. Blue eyes were laughing up at something the gentleman beside her was saying, a warm, welcoming smile on her lips. Surely he was acquainted with her already, given the sense of recognition? But why could he not remember her name?
“You are already acquainted with her, yes?”
Nicholas looked across at his friend. “What do you mean?”
“The way you are gazing at her,” Lord Bothwell said quietly. “You must know her already, yes? Mayhap you were acquainted before I told you about my connection to her?”
Blinking, Nicholas returned his gaze to the lady in question. “Her?” he asked, not lifting his hand but his chin in her direction. “With the dark curls and blue eyes?”
Lord Bothwell frowned. “No, she has light brown curls and dark blue eyes,” he said, as Nicholas continued to gaze at the lady who had caught his attention. “I thought you were looking in her direction.” He paused, then let out a snort. “Ah, I see now. You are looking at her sister. Are you already acquainted with her? I was so caught up with Polly that I did not even see Eugenia beside her until this moment!”
“Her sister?” Nicholas repeated, finally pulling his gaze away from the lady and looking to her left, seeing the light brown curls of the lady next to her. “Yes, I think I must be though I do not remember how.”
“Then mayhap we shall have to go to ask to find out,” his friend suggested, drawing in a long breath that seemed to push him upwards a few inches. “Are you quite ready?”
“Are you?” Nicholas asked, as Lord Bothwell strode forward, taking such long and hurried strides that Nicholas had to quicken his steps to keep up. It was as if Lord Bothwell was afraid that, if he did not walk as quickly as this, he would lose his courage and turn back. Nicholas watched as the first lady, Polly, lifted her gaze and caught the Marquess approaching. Her expression changed in an instant, her eyes widening, her hand reaching out to find that of her sister’s. There came a paleness into her cheeks as she turned away directly from the lady she had been speaking with and made her way directly towards Lord Bothwell, leaving her sister to scramble for an apology and an excuse to those they had been talking to before she was dragged away.
“Polly.” Lord Bothwell closed his eyes, then inclined his head. “I mean, Miss Sherwood. Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” she breathed, as Nicholas looked into the eyes of the second young lady, trying to recall her still. “Oh, Bothwell, I have been hoping and praying that you might come and speak with me.”
Lord Bothwell coughed and then cleared his throat in a somewhat abrupt manner. “I should introduce you to my dear friend.” He gestured to Nicholas, a look of panic in his eyes that were slightly flared at the edges. “This is the Viscount Bothwell. I mean, the Viscount Suffolk.” He muttered something under his breath, dropping his head for a moment in clear embarrassment at his mistake. “Lord Suffolk, might I present Miss Polly Sherwood and Miss Eugenia Sherwood, daughters of Viscount of Derbyshire.”
Nicholas bowed low. “My very great pleasure to be introduced to you both.”
“Though we have already been introduced, in a way,” came the response from the younger Miss Sherwood, her head tipped to one side, her eyes assessing him. “Though mayhap you do not recall, Lord Suffolk?”
It irritated him that she had been able to discern that from a mere look on his face. “You are quite correct, Miss Sherwood. I do not recall.”
“I see.” She offered him a smile but nothing more, did not give him an explanation as to who she was or why he already knew her face, turning her attention to the Marquess instead. This only added to Nicholas’ frustration, his jaw jutting forward as he took her in again, trying to discern her face from the many others he was acquainted with, but nothing came.
“It is good to see you again, Bothwell.” Miss Polly Sherwood dropped her head. “I mean,LordBothwell.”
“Yes, we must be careful to use the correct terms now, must we not?” Lord Bothwell said, though his tone was gentle. “Miss Sherwood, might you be willing to walk with me for a fewminutes? I can see your father standing there and your mother nearby, and I shall not take you far from them.” He looked to the younger Miss Sherwood. “Might you wish to accompany us also, Miss Sherwood? It would be helpful to have you present.”
Miss Sherwood nodded, glancing at Nicholas but then pulling her gaze away. “But of course.”
“I will join you, shall I?” The words were out of his mouth before he could prevent them, aware that his frustration with the younger Miss Sherwood was what had pushed him into that decision. “I am not acquainted with your father or mother, but if Lord Bothwell is already, then I am sure that will not matter.”
Lord Bothwell smiled with clear relief in his eyes, whilst the elder Miss Sherwood only glanced at her sister. There was something in her expression that Nicholas could not quite make out, but the younger Miss Sherwood seemed to understand it, given the way she sighed.
“Very well,” she answered, as her sister’s face split with a smile. “Let me just go now and speak to mother so she knows where we are going.”
As she stepped away, Nicholas continued to regard her, deeply confused and irritated as to why he could not remember being introduced to her. There was nothing particularly special about the lady, nothing remarkable about either her face or her character- such as he knew it as yet – that stood out to him. So why had his attention been so caught?
“You are already acquainted with the younger Miss Sherwood, then?” Lord Bothwell asked quietly, as Miss Polly Sherwood took a few steps after her sister, perhaps a trifle concerned that their mother would refuse her such a thing. “I did not know.”
“Neither did I,” Nicholas answered, as his friend frowned. “She states that we are already acquainted, but I cannotremember when it took place nor what it is that we spoke of! She appears to know of it but I do not think she will tell me plainly.”
Lord Bothwell frowned. “I found her a very considerate young lady when she came to speak with me about her sister,” he said, as Nicholas’ eyebrows lifted. “It may be that she is a little hurt that you do not recall meeting her. Recall, you are a very eligible gentleman with a vast fortune. Little wonder that she is upset you do not remember her!”
