Page 19 of Under the Champagne Moon
She raised her eyebrows and looked down her nose at him, rather like Wellington the one time he’d been in his lordship’s lofty presence.
“You have my full attention, my lady.”
“Fleur means to marry.”
“So she has told me.”
“And you, Captain? Do you mean to marry?”
“Do I mean to marry?” Irritation had crept into his voice. He cleared his throat. He was usually better at concealing his feelings. “I fear my income?—”
“Is small.” She waved a hand. “But you have a profession. And if there are no wars for you to fight, you are healthy and have a good head on your shoulders. You can find a position. Sherington speaks highly of you.” She pursed her lips. “My gel isn’t entirely penniless, you know. She has a pittance of an income her guardian preserved for her.”
Fleur had more than that. She had a family in France well on their way to wealth, a family that wanted to reclaim her. He stood and paced to the fireplace.
He’d planned to write to Marceau the previous evening, but when he returned to Sherington Manor, a letter from Marceau had awaited him. Fleur’s cousin would arrive in Reabridge in time for the harvest festival.
He needed to speak with Fleur before then, and before he shared her secrets with anyone else, even this lady who cared so much for her.
A rap on his arm brought his gaze back to Lady Ixworth. “Since you’re being intentionally obtuse today, let me be direct: you’re showing my gel a great deal of attention. Do you intend to offer for her?”
A bead of perspiration crept under his neckcloth. He returned to his seat on the sofa.
“Fleur has prospects beyond an impoverished soldier. I’ve just come from France and… I must speak to her first about the matter.”
“Prospects? In France?” She shook her head. “I doubt her practical notions about marriage will cross the English Channel. Especially not when her heart is engaged here.”
“With whom?”
The lady raised an eyebrow.
With himself? Could that possibly be true?
“If you mean me, you’re mistaken. She’s never expressed any, er, interest. In fact, she’s often sniping at me.”
“Would Fleur wear her heart on her sleeve?”
“Where you are concerned, ma’am, she certainly does.”
“Hah.” She shook her head. “It’s because I love her as she is. I know not to expect sweetness and light in my gel’s words. But her actions? Ah. Look to her actions, sir.”
“She’s proclaimed an intention to marry an older, well-established man. And I am neither of those. She doesn’t want me. In fact, she’s avoiding me.”
Lady Ixworth shook her head. “You are acting the dolt. Of course, she’s avoiding you. She finds you too tempting, and she’s taking the easy way out.” She stood and made a shooing motion. “Now get you gone. Find her and tell her about these prospects in France. And then be prepared to duck when she boxes your ears.”
“She hates France that much?”
“So she says. Claims she doesn’t remember the language, though her mother certainly must have spoken it to her, and she’s refused to be fashionable and learn it.”
The Veuve Hardouin was another strong-willed lady. He’d recalled her pleasure at his own fluent French. For her granddaughter not to speak it? She’d tolerate the insult to her country, but she’d hate the snub to the mother tongue.
As it happened,he didn’t have far to go to find Fleur, but encountered her and the housekeeper in their gig returning to the Grange.
Mr. Farnham rode alongside, escorting them.
“Captain Ardleigh, well met,” he called.
Gareth reined up and lifted his hat.
