Part 5 (1/2)
Ava Fairchild, deep in conversation with her companions, glanced briefly at him, then jerked her gaze up again, the surprise of recognition glimmering in her eyes. He was instantly and rather warmly reminded of those lovely green eyes in far more intimate circ.u.mstances.
That sultry, seductive kiss in his carriage-what had it been, almost a year ago?-had been an impetuous act just like dozens before it, nothing more than a bit of harmless flirtation. But looking at her now-the faint blush in her cheeks, the clear green eyes, the blond hair peeking out from beneath her black bonnet, he recalled that the kiss had stayed with him well into the next day because she'd been so...delightfully fervent about it.
He bowed. She blinked and looked nervously about. He lifted a quizzical brow as he put his hand out to receive hers. She managed to gather her wits and stepped forward to give him her hand.
”Good afternoon, my lord,” she said, curtsying.
”It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Ava,” he said, and noted that her companions looked at her with great astonishment as he bowed over her hand. He deduced, judging by the way she closely watched him as if she expected him to confess how he'd made her acquaintance, that she had not told anyone about their carriage ride together-an encounter that was now playing itself out in his mind's eye.
When he let go of her hand, she gave him a brief and anxious smile. ”I, ah...may I introduce you to my sister, Phoebe, and my cousin, Greer?” she asked, gesturing to each companion in turn, her eyes never leaving him.
The two curtsied politely but peered at him suspiciously.
”How do you do,” he said, and turned back to Ava. ”I offer you my condolences for the loss of your mother.”
”Oh,” Lady Ava said, her lovely face falling. ”Thank you. It's been almost a year since she left us, yet she is still greatly missed.”
”Lady Ava.” Harrison had come down off his horse and stepped up to greet her. ”How do you do?”
”Lord Harrison,” she said, smiling warmly. ”So good to see you again.”
”Is Lord Downey still in France?” he asked. ”When we last spoke, you rather thought he'd return for the Season.”
”At present, he is still in France, but we do expect him in the near future.”Not thinking clearly and terribly uncertain what he was about, Jared asked, ”Will you attend the Season'sevents?”
Ava Fairchild blinked. ”We are in mourning.”
”For one month more,” her cousin hastily interjected. ”When we come out of mourning, we shall bepleased to accept invitations.”Lady Ava jerked her gaze to her cousin.”Then I shall very much look forward to seeing you again in a ballroom, Lady Ava,” he said with a smile.
”I recall that you enjoy dancing.”Her eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. ”I do indeed, my lord-particularly a waltz.”He almost laughed. ”Then perhaps you will allow me the honor of reserving a waltz now?””How very kind of you to ask,” she said, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a beguiling little smile.
He understood, of course, that she did not necessarily agree to his request. He smiled with amus.e.m.e.nt,
and noticed that she was indeed quite fair. He hadn't really recalled just how fair.Lady Ava's cheeks flushed an appealing shade of pink at his scrutiny; she glanced at the timepiecepinned to her breast. ”Oh dear, we really must be on our way.” She lifted her gaze to him, her green eyess.h.i.+ning with some delight. ”If you will pardon us?”
”Of course,” Jared said, stepping back to allow them room to pa.s.s. ”I look forward to seeing you during
the course of the Season-and to the dance you have promised me.””Good day, my lord,” she said, smiling coyly. She s.h.i.+fted her gaze to Harrison and curtsied, as did hersister and cousin. ”Good day.”
”Good day, ladies,” Harrison said, lifting his hat. He and Jared watched as the three of them walked on,
their heads together, their arms linked.
Jared's mind was whirling around the improbable, inconceivable idea that had popped into his head without warning and now refused to dislodge itself.
As if he were reading Jared's mind, Harrison sighed playfully. ”Well,” he said, glancing sidelong at Jared.”She is an earl's daughter. I suppose you could do worse.”Jared smiled.
”Have you considered, old chum, what a certain widow will make of it?””I've not considered a blessed thing,” he said truthfully. But as he admired Lady Ava's derriere as shemoved away, he was struck by the peculiar feeling of being particularly intrigued, just as he had been thefirst time he'd met her. He glanced at Harrison and winked. ”Miranda...” He shook his head, reachingfor his horse. ”I will speak with Miranda.”
Five.
”B ut how did you meet him?” Phoebe demanded for the hundredth time since they'd arrived homeyesterday afternoon. ”I don't recall your being introduced.”
”Don't you? I suppose it happened before Mother died,” Ava said as she quickly dressed to go out, her mind on an extremely urgent matter.
”No, I don't,” Phoebe insisted. ”I am certain I would have recalled it. And why should he ask for a place on your dance card now? It's not as if you are out in society, and even if you were, he rarely attends the b.a.l.l.s. I don't quite understand it.”
”There is nothing to understand,” Ava said. ”He was just being kind. And really, we have far more important things to think about than that.”
”Perhaps you do, but I am rather curious,” Phoebe said, and looked up from her sewing. ”It seemed as if he knew you.”
”Dear lord, will you please think of something else?” Ava said. ”Think of a butler. We must have a butler if we are to reenter society.”
No one argued, for the three of them were perfectly aware that every fine house in Mayfair had a full coterie of servants, and if a house did not have them, it was a foregone conclusion that the house no longer had its fortune. And if the poor souls of a house were thought to be without fortune, they were thought to be without prospects.
As it happened, they had reached the most desperate of moments several months ago, one that called for the most unthinkable actions, but nevertheless, Ava and Greer had begun to slowly and steadily fill the house with servants. They had done it by joining the Ladies' Beneficent Society, their only escape during their long months of mourning suffered under Lucy Pennebacker's watchful eye. She was never far from their side, hovering about them like a vulture, taking her charge to look after them very much to heart- she was fiercely determined to see after them and their virtues.
Their only way out was through charitable works, for even Lucy couldn't object to that. The society was a group of women formed under the auspices of St. George's parish church, whose function was to help those less fortunate than themselves. Each week, the ladies a.s.sembled to visit a small parish workhouse, where they took fruit and sweetmeats to the poor souls who had come from what the ladies a.s.sumed were wretched dens of iniquity. In exchange for the fruit and sweetmeats, the parish wards were asked to listen to the ladies' recitation of select Bible verses, and at the conclusion of the readings, to affirm that they had dedicated themselves to leading proper, G.o.d-fearing lives.
Lady Downey used to laughingly say that this practice was the least the good church ladies could ask, being so astoundingly free of sin and poverty themselves.
The members of the Ladies' Beneficent Society were delighted to see Ava and Greer among their number, and spoke fondly of Lady Downey and her wonderful sense of charity. It was something the girls had never really known about their mother. Honestly, Ava had believed it to be a social club.
At the parish workhouse-which was, surprisingly, situated behind the public stables on Portland Street, near the fas.h.i.+onable Regent Street-Ava and Greer handed fruit to the residents, read aloud the Bible verses, and shrewdly studied the inhabitants when they weren't working to appear very pious.
Through a series of visits to the parish poorhouse, they managed to convince a few carefully chosen inhabitants to come to the Downey house on Clifford Street, where they would be given food and shelter in exchange for their service.
The lack of wages, however, made it a difficult proposition to even the poorest of the workhouse'sdenizens. Ava and Greer had managed to coax only three into their home. Sally Pierce, a reformedharlot, had become their lady's maid.
”But what if she is not entirely reformed?” Phoebe had fretted the first night Sally was in their employ.
”Best hope that she is, darling, for we shall all be completely ruined if she is not,” Ava had whispered.