Page 17 of Courting Miss Lancaster
Adam was married to his lady love. Harry was, apparently, in trouble with his.
Chapter Seven
VW
Laws! She was a vision.There was something almost painful about seeing Athena, the glow from the windows turning her golden halo of curls molten in the early evening sunlight. She possessed a figure any woman would envy and a breathtakingly beautiful countenance. Harry was certain she’d received compliments from more men than she could even remember. He couldn’t help wondering what her impression was of him. He didn’t consider himself anything out of the ordinary. His hair was neither light nor dark, his eyes an indifferent shade of blue. While a penchant for riding Adam’s vast assortment of horses and the necessity of walking whenever his friend’s stables were not convenient kept Harry in good physical shape, he doubted his build inspired any of the sighs and longing looks he’d seen directed toward the more sporting members of the Corinthian set.
He must have made some noise passing through the threshold to the drawing room. Athena spun around, her gaze pulled from the scene outside the windows and resting on him. Only a moment was required to register the fact that he had, indeed, found himself in the suds with the usually affable light of his life. The look on her face was decidedly laced with pique. But what on earth had he done?
“Good afternoon, Athena,” he greeted warily, approaching slowly and watching her expression for any indication of the reason she was upset with him. No clues were forthcoming.
“Is it?” she asked peevishly.
“A good afternoon?”
She crossed her arms in front of her and watched him, lips pursed. Harry found it necessary to clear his throat. Even his cravat had grown uncomfortably snug. Lud, he needed to find out what he’d done to warrant such a look of reproach. He was discovering that having Athena upset with him was remarkably distressing.
“It is certainly not a good afternoon if you are upset with me,” he admitted, moving closer to where she stood glaring at him. Some of Athena’s aggravation seemed to slip from her posture, though she did not yet look happy with him. He’d much rather see Athena smile at him than scowl. “Dare I ask what infraction I find myself guilty of committing, or have I further condemned myself by admitting that I do not know the reason for the black looks I am receiving?”
The slightest twitch of a smile tugged at Athena’s mouth, and Harry felt himself truly breathing for the first time since entering the room. Perhaps he was to be forgiven, after all.
“I have just endured the most horrendous drive through Hyde Park imaginable,” Athena said and gave him a look so pointed that it was obviously meant to be a thorough enough explanation.
“And I am in trouble becauseIwas not the one driving you?” Harry asked, using a teasing tone to cover the fact that he genuinely hoped that was the reason.
“I would have far preferred being with you,” she confessed, looking as though she was reluctant to say something flattering while she was determined to be upset with him.
“Do you wish to talk about it?” Harry asked. “I have been told I am a remarkably good listener.”
He heard Athena sigh and watched as her shoulders slumped. Harry held his hand out to indicate she should sit on the sofa. He felt his lungs catch in his chest when she slipped herhand in his as she came to his side. Harry wrapped his fingers around hers and walked with her to the sofa. He breathed in the scent of her, the familiar aroma of violets, as he waited for her to speak. He allowed her to sit before reluctantly releasing her hand and sitting in a nearby chair. As much as he would have preferred to sit beside her on the sofa, he knew he did not have that right. He was pushing the bounds of propriety as it was, being alone with her in the drawing room, never mind that the door was left quite widely ajar.
“It was essentially torturous,” Athena said with a shrug that wasn’t nearly as unconcerned as she probably hoped it to appear.
“With whom did you drive out?” That proved to be the wrong question. Athena pierced him with another look of frustration.
“Mr. Peterbrook,” she replied, words tight and accusatory.
“I can certainly understand your displeasure at spending the length of a drive with him,” Harry answered, not bothering to hide his confusion. “But how is it that I have earned your wrath over Mr. Peterbrook’s obvious lack of address?”
“You introduced him to me,” she replied, her tone suggesting such a connection should have been obvious.
“I also introduced you to Mr. Howard,” Harry pointed out with a chuckle.
“I know,” she replied. “Do you not know any gentlemen who are desirable companions?”
None that you are going to meet.“Perhaps you should tell me precisely what Mr. Peterbrook did that was so distressing so I can be sure to introduce you to gentlemen in the future who are unlikely to commit those same infractions.”They will simply do other obnoxious things.
“Did you know that Mr. Peterbrook owns twenty-three different Weston coats?” Athena asked, her tone of excitement theatrical in its exaggeration. “Five of them are black. Six areblue, but, apparently, vastly different shades of blue. Would you like to know about his footwear?”
“Did you discuss anything other than his wardrobe?” Harry asked.
Finally a smile broke through Athena’s stormy countenance but not broadly enough for that devastating dimple to make an appearance. “He did eventually veer into the myriad compliments paid to him by arbiters of fashion, as well as the precise mixture his valet uses to achieve the enviable shine to the boots that Mr. Peterbrook is, apparently, quite well-known for.”
“Did he discuss anything other than himself?”
“At one point he informed me that my pale blue carriage dress was not overly offensive to his aesthetic sensibilities,” Athena replied, shaking her head in apparent disbelief but still smiling. “Though he could not understand why I had agreed to drive out with him if I did not, in fact, have a green carriage dress as he required.”
“How insufferably pompous.”
