Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Lord Ashington gave my aunt a smile that was sure to have her swooning out loud as he took half of the hyacinths from his hand, and I realized, at that moment, it was not one large bouquet but two bouquets. He’d brought my aunt one too. Something Mr. Fletcher hadn’t done. Poor Mr. Fletcher, I thought as I saw his cheeks turn a bright pink.
“For you, my lady,” Lord Ashington said as he handed my aunt the flowers meant for her. It was very thoughtful of him to think of her. Admittedly, a good deal of my dislike from our encounter last night faded but not entirely.
“Oh, these are stunning, Lord Ashington. Thank you for such a lovely gift.”
I watched as my aunt gushed over her flowers before turning my attention to the Earl of Ashington. “Hello again, Lord Ashington,” I said, smiling sincerely. He had just made my aunt quite giddy and that deserved a proper greeting.
“Miss Bathurst,” he replied with a tilt of his head in my direction. “I fear the flowers pale in comparison to your beauty this morning. I should have chosen a more exotic flower although I chose these for their color. They reminded me of your eyes.”
Very well said, Lord Ashington, I thought. He was indeed charming when he chose to be. It made last night’s encounter less… important.
“The flowers are stunning. I do not believe a more exotic flower could compare to their beauty.”
He closed the distance between us and held the remaining bouquet out for me to take. “I’m happy they please you,” he replied and held my gaze a moment longer than proper. “I was told this particular flower would be the most appealing.”
Unable not to smile at the flowers in my hand, I lifted my gaze back to his. “Your informant was very right. Tis a beautiful flower indeed.”
The genuine look of pleasure on his face intrigued me. He appeared almost proud of whoever suggested the flowers. I wanted very much to ask him who had been his informant, but I bit my tongue. It would appear rude and I feared many of my aunt’s American traits were beginning to rub off on me already. Being overtly inquisitive was one of them.
“Mr. Fletcher,” Lord Ashington said then, as he directed his gaze to the other guest in the room, who had remained silent since the arrival of Lord Ashington.
“Lord Ashington,” he replied with a nod then stood, twisting his hands rather nervously. “I must be on my way. It was as always lovely to see you, Miss Bathurst. I look forward to our next meeting. Perhaps at the Gallagher ball.” He spoke so quickly that his sentences ran together, but the slight tremble of nerves in his tone was still noticeable.
“Yes, I shall see you there. Thank you again for the lovely flowers and visit,” I said, feeling sorry for him but knowing he must not be so hasty to flee any small obstacle. It made him appear weak.
I watched him nod his head again at Lord Ashington before he scurried for the door. He mustn’t scurry either. It was not at all an attractive trait. Someone needed to take him under their wing and teach him how to be more assured or at least how to act as if he were. He was a nice man and could make a fine match if he would simply show more backbone.
The butler stepped into the door just before Mr. Fletcher could exit.
“A Mr. Nicholas Compton here to see Miss Bathurst,” he announced.
I could have sworn I heard Mr. Fletcher gasp then cough as if strangled before making his way past the butler with great haste. Apparently, Mr. Fletcher didn’t care for Mr. Compton any more than he did the Earl of Ashington.
“Oh my,” I heard Aunt Harriet whisper entirely too loudly to truly be a whisper and that was when I remembered the gossip she had shared with me at the ball just before I encountered Mr. Compton on the balcony.
Oh my, indeed…
Chapter Seven
Mr. Nicholas Compton
One could argue that I wasn’t expecting my brother to be at 18 Mayfair but that wasn’t entirely true. It had been a gamble of sorts and I was talented in that regard. Ashington should have been at Miss Ramsbury’s home at 7 Grosvenor; however, he was weak when it came to beauty and Miss Bathurst did make Miss Ramsbury appear rather pale in comparison. I asked myself who I would pay a visit to this morning if I were to truly be in search of a wife. The answer was easy enough and although we shared a hatred for one another, we oft thought alike. Perhaps our father shone through in me more than I cared to admit. My mother had believed it to be true as well; she had surely said so throughout my life.