Miss Dower's Paragon (4 page)

“My cousin goes in abject terror of your frowns, ma’am,” assured Mr. Hawkins.

“Does he, indeed.” Lady Pomerancy was openly pleased. “Percy has a degree of intelligence I had not heretofore suspected. Of course you must have him here, my dear. I will not have it said that I turned away any member of my family out of sheer prejudice, however justifiable.”

Mr. Hawkins rose to his feet. He bent to kiss her ladyship’s cheek. “I shall write Percy at once and relay your kind forbearance, my lady.”

“Rogue.” Lady Pomerancy waved him away, hiding the pleasure that she took in his fond salute. “I cannot conceive what it is that you have found in Percy besides an amusing rattle-pate.”

“No, I do not suppose that you do,” said Mr. Hawkins, declining to enlighten her, just as he had chosen not to do years before.

He would never tell her of the misery he had endured at Oxford before he had been befriended by his cousin, Viscount Waithe.

Awkward and shy when he found himself in the company of his contemporaries for the first time in his sheltered existence, his exceptional reserve had marked him as an outcast amongst his youthful peers. He had excelled from the first in his studies, which had but further served to alienate him from less intellectually minded young gentlemen, and made him the object of cruel ridicule. Even now, it would have wounded his grandmother to know of it, or that she had erred in keeping him so close as she had.

It had been Percy who had broken the near-unbearable misery of his existence. They had found common ground on the cricket field. Peter had never played the game before, but he was quick and strong and before the game was done he and Percy had discovered in one another a mutual love of athletics.

The fact that they were cousins was a minor revelation. Viscount Waithe, the elder by two years and an upperclassman, did not usually mingle with those in a lower form. However, he made an exception with Peter Hawkins, and fairly soon his patronage served to ease his cousin’s life. For that careless gesture of friendship, Peter had always been grateful.

Their meeting was not such a coincidence as might have been supposed, for all the aristocracy sent their sons to either Cambridge or Oxford. What had been amazing was that they had not recognized one another before. However, the explanation lay in Lady Pomerancy’s having chosen to remove herself and her small grandson from the evil influences pervading London, most specifically the wayward sway of certain members in her own family. As a consequence, Peter had grown up with very little contact with any of his relations. After leaving Oxford he had made a conscious effort to meet each member and come to know something about them.

Lady Pomerancy knew well the expression in her grandson’s eyes. He would reveal no more than he wished. She sighed. “Very well, then. I shall continue to accept your cousin Percy on that much alone, for I know you to be an excellent judge of character. I shall even be pleasant toward him, so he need not stand in terror of my disapproval.”

“Thank you, Grandmama. It is all that I ask, and more,” said Mr. Hawkins.

He would have left her then, but she stayed him a moment longer. “Shall you press your suit with the Dower chit?”

Mr. Hawkins smiled at Lady Pomerancy. The twinkle in his eyes became once more pronounced. “You have taught me that a gentleman is true to himself, my lady. Can I do aught else?”

Lady Pomerancy hid her smile behind her hand, before saying, “I am well answered, indeed. Go away now and send my maid in, for I wish to rest. Later I shall talk with you more on the subject and you may tell me what you wish me to do, for you know that I will assist your cause in whatever capacity that is within my power.”

“I do know it.” Mr. Hawkins smiled and exited the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He conveyed her ladyship’s message to the maid, who had been waiting for just such a summons.

As he traversed the hall and returned downstairs, a frown knit his well-formed brows. He knew what he desired. He also knew that Lady Pomerancy was as good as her word. Her ladyship would help him attain the connection that he wished above all others.

However, what he did not know was how to impress a sensitive and innocent young lady’s heart so that she returned his own reverential love for her in fullest measure.

Peter was uncertain whether he was capable of launching the sort of flirtation or courtship that seemed now to be required of him. He was under no misconceptions as to how Miss Dower’s advent upon Bath society would affect his chances with her. The young lady was a beauty and she was of good family, besides being known to be well dowered. She would have enough admirers of adroit address that must surely throw his own poor talents into sharp relief.

He had never been one to ‘dabble in the petticoat line,’ as some of his acquaintances referred to the art of flirtation and conquest. The thought of a casual relationship had always been repugnant to him. His upbringing had imbued him with a reverence and respect for the feminine sex that had become an ingrained part of his character. He could no more have brought himself to basely seduce a woman than he could have committed an act of immolation upon himself.

There had been opportunities, of course, and he had not always refrained. Even now, the memory of a certain lady had the power to bring the burn of shame to him. He had met the lady in Italy while on the grand tour. She was older and more worldly-wise, and he had been dazzled as much by her beauty as by her sharp wit.

At the time he had no notion how he had come to share her bed, but now in retrospect he recognized that she had been the seducer and he the seduced. However, to his mind that neither expiated him nor excused his gross misconduct. He at least had the satisfaction of knowing that he had not been entirely lost to his own ideals. He had made an honorable offer for her. It had been received with sheer amazement, and then was gently rejected. The lady had regretfully pronounced their idyll at an end, and he had never spent another moment in her company.

The experience of his grand tour had tempered his naiveté and had made him more comfortable in society, as well. When he returned to England, he took apartments in London so that he could mix with those friends he had made at Oxford and afterward.

Yet still, he never forgot the roof that had sheltered him, nor the redoubtable lady who had so clearly seen her duty toward him, and so he spent much of his time in Bath.

For Peter Hawkins, his real home was at Lady Pomerancy’s place in Bath. Even though she had made over the town house and estate to him upon his majority, so that in reality it was his own roof, he still thought of it as first and foremost to be her home, and so he phrased his courteous inquiry whether she would mind having company that was more of his liking than hers.

Recalled to thoughts of his cousin, a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Mr. Hawkins went into his study to dash off a note assuring Viscount Waithe of his welcome.

Chapter Four

Evelyn did not anticipate that Mr. Hawkins would come to call again very soon after the freezing manner with which she had treated him. Nor did she believe, after reviewing their interview over and over in her mind, that, however much her heart had led her to soften the blow, any gentleman could actually take her rejection in other than final terms.

The thought was not altogether a satisfying one. Despite the wound to her pride and her indignation over the origin of the offer for her hand, she discovered to her dismay that Mr. Hawkins was still set firmly enough in her affections that she almost wished that he was too dense to have taken affront at her rebuff.

However, she had intended to offend him so greatly that he would refuse to accede to his grandmother’s wishes, and she could not imagine how her purpose could possibly have been overlooked by any gentleman that had the least amount of wit.

Evelyn sighed, frowning a little as she went downstairs to join her mother at tea. She had thought of little else over the intervening day since the occasion of Mr. Hawkins’s visit. She still felt anger, but it was now tinged with regret for what might have been.

As she approached the drawing room, she gave a small shrug. It would certainly not do to brood overmuch about the matter, for it was done with and over. She was not likely to see Mr. Hawkins again except perhaps in passing at chapel or at a social function, she thought.

Evelyn was not well enough acquainted with Mr. Hawkins to have developed an appreciation of the hidden depths of his redoubtable character. Therefore, when she went into the drawing room and the gentleman who had occupied so much of her thoughts rose at her entrance, Evelyn was very much surprised. She stopped short, transfixed by amazement as her startled gaze met Mr. Hawkins’s slightly smiling eyes.

Evelyn recovered quickly, hiding the dismay that she felt. The smile she managed was polite and stiff. She went forward to greet him, extending her hand. “Mr. Hawkins. How unexpected.”

Mr. Hawkins briefly took her hand in his warm clasp. His vivid blue eyes smiled down at her in a friendly fashion. “I found Mrs. Dower’s previous kind invitation to take tea one that I could not for long resist.”

Mrs. Dower expressed more pleasure than Evelyn felt capable of summoning up for the occasion. “Isn’t it a lovely surprise, Evelyn? I must tell you, however, that I did not expect you just today, Mr. Hawkins. Otherwise I would have made certain that we had something more substantial than cake and biscuits, for I know that gentlemen, particularly large gentlemen, like to take their fill whatever the time of day.”

“Really, Mama,” murmured Evelyn, faintly embarrassed by what she perceived to be her mother’s unfortunate tendency to speak whatever was on her mind. She sat down beside her mother behind the table that held the tea tray, and Mr. Hawkins returned to the wingback chair which he had previously occupied.

Mr. Hawkins turned his attention to his hostess. His eyes twinkled. Without glancing in Miss Dower’s direction, as though he had not heard her interjection, he said gravely, “Indeed, ma’am, that is quite true. I have never known it to be otherwise.”

Mrs. Dower smiled on him. She privately thought that Mr. Hawkins was one of the handsomest gentlemen she had ever beheld, as well as one of the prettiest behaved. It was a pity that her daughter did not agree with her. “You shall not be made to suffer, Mr. Hawkins,” she said cordially. “I shall ring for sandwiches to be made up at once.”

“It is not necessary, ma’am. I shall be quite content with the cake, I assure you,” said Mr. Hawkins.

“But I insist, sir!”

“I do not wish to put you to such trouble, Mrs. Dower,” said Mr. Hawkins.

Evelyn allowed a small smile to curve her lips. It reassured her that her previous reading of Mr. Hawkins’s character had been accurate, after all. Naturally this most proper of gentlemen would do the polite thing, which was to aver his complete contentment with the tea already prepared.

With a shade of malice borne out of her pique and embarrassment, Evelyn added her own mite to the discourse. Tossing a glance in the gentleman’s direction, she said, “Mr. Hawkins is obviously unwilling to put out Cook, Mama.”

“No such thing! It will not put anyone out in the least. It is what we pay the woman for, after all,” said Mrs. Dower, rising. Instantly Mr. Hawkins leaped to his feet out of respect.

Mrs. Dower smiled approvingly at him as she crossed the room to give a vigorous tug to the bellpull. There was no answer to her summons, and with a frown, Mrs. Dower said, “How very odd! I wonder whether the bell is broken again. I shall just step out for a moment to relay my request. Mr. Hawkins, do pray excuse me. Evelyn, you must not wait to pour the tea. I shall be only a moment, I promise you.”

Mrs. Dower left the sitting room.

After a brief pause, during which his grave glance met Evelyn’s eyes, Mr. Hawkins resumed his seat. Evelyn quickly averted her eyes and instead turned her attention to her duty as hostess. “Tea, Mr. Hawkins?”

“Thank you, yes, Miss Dower.”

Mrs. Dower had left the door to the sitting room open, and Evelyn could hear her mother’s voice in the distance. Nonetheless, she felt distinctly uncomfortable to be left alone in the company of the gentleman whose suit she had rejected not twenty hours before. She occupied herself with the teapot to disguise her sudden attack of nerves. After pouring, she glanced at her silent guest. “How do you prefer to take your tea, Mr. Hawkins?”

She discovered that it was a mistake to meet his eyes. As Mr. Hawkins indicated his preference, he smiled at her. Her heart uncomfortably contracted and Evelyn quickly looked away. She added the small amount of milk to his tea that he had requested and offered the cup to him.

As he took it, their hands brushed, and the feathered touch of his fingers electrified her.

Evelyn felt the flush of heat in her face. Annoyed with herself, she poured her own tea in unseemly haste and splashed it. She snatched at a napkin to mop up the evidence of her discomfort, and in the process overset a small basket of fruit.

Evelyn was mortified. Angry tears came to her eyes. She would have given anything not to have made such a thorough idiot of herself in front of this particular gentleman. Surely he must be laughing under his breath at her expense. After the manner in which she had treated his suit, she could scarcely blame him if he should now enjoy her discomfiture.

The napkin was taken gently out of her hand.

“Allow me, Miss Dower.”

Evelyn looked up quickly. She met Mr. Hawkins’s eyes with defiance. “I am not generally so clumsy, sir,” she said, daring him by her tone and by her expression to contradict her.

“I am certain of it,” he said gravely. He made short work of setting the tray to rights.

Evelyn would have been astonished and not a little dismayed to have known how accurately he guessed the extent of her discomfort, and how well he judged her for what he assumed to be a manifestation of her sensitive nature. It was only natural that a well-bred young lady should feel uncomfortable at being left alone with a potential suitor, he thought.