Page 37 of A Mismatch Made in London

I shoved the thoughts away. It hardly mattered, since I disliked him. It was Lord Gotthurst who paid me particular attention. He was young and handsome and agreeable, and I was determined only to think of him.

10

The evening of the dinner at Lady Snowden’s came. I was not anticipating a very entertaining or particularly pleasant evening, but when I realized I was being paired with a widower, a Mr. Watkins who looked to be almost sixty years old, my heart sank. This was worse than I’d imagined.

“My first marriage was happy,” Mr. Watkins told me during the first course of the meal. “And I cannot see any reason why my next marriage wouldn’t be just as happy.” He took another slurp of his leek and fennel soup.

I feigned great attention on my food.

“I have a large estate in Kent, and I would not be troubled if my next bride should be entirely without a dowry. I don’t desire such a thing, nor do I need it... and my children are all married and have homes of their own. I am quite lonely in that big house, with only the servants for company.

“I have a townhouse in London also, and I come here most summers,” he went on. “A good country house party is one thing, but there is nothing so interesting as attending several different parties a fortnight. Do you not agree, Miss Moore?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You are from Yorkshire?”

“No, sir. From Buckinghamshire.”

“Oh, that is very well, for Buckinghamshire is not so far from Kent, is it?”

“Not so far as it could be, I suppose.” I didn’t smile. Indeed, I was afraid of showing the wrong kind of interest.

The rest of my conversation with Mr. Watkins went on thusly, with him regaling me with his possessions and his pastimes. He barely mentioned his children, although he did speak fondly of his dead wife. I was glad he seemed to have had an affection for her, but if I’d been interested in becoming the next Mrs. Watkins, I might have grown tired of his mentioning her so often.

Jeremy had of course been paired with Miss Snowden, and Juliet was seated beside a Mr. Owens from Surrey. He was young and reasonably good-looking except for an unfortunate habit of grinning, showing all his teeth, and saying “isn’t it?” at the end of every sentence, even if it didn’t make sense.

“I do love a good fence to jump, isn’t it?” he said. “My mother doesn’t approve of my jumping, but a good horse is fond of jumping, isn’t it?”

Juliet seemed to put forth a valiant effort to ignore this habit, and she said, “I love to jump fences very much. My brother scolds me terribly when I do, so I must avoid letting him see me.”

“Isn’t it?” Mr. Owens grinned bigger than ever.

Jeremy, for his part, was smiling at something Miss Snowden was saying, and I suddenly felt an even worse sinking of my stomach than when I realized I must keep company with Mr. Watkins and his aspirations for a new wife.

Could Jeremy truly be forming an attachment to Miss Snowden? Could he not see that she had no very great feeling, nor was she likely to fall far from the tree of her mother, the self-righteous—

I needed to stop that train of thought. After all, why should I care who Jeremy Beaumont preferred? And I was not Miss Snowden’s judge. I knew very little of her, truthfully, and I must think kindly of others if I hoped to be thought kindly of myself.

After dinner I positioned myself so that Mr. Watkins wouldn’t be able to sit beside me when he and the other gentlemen joined us. Juliet seemed to be employing the same strategy, as she sat next to me but with Miss Snowden on her other side.

“You were very well-looking at the ball here the other night,” Miss Snowden said to Juliet. “Your blue gown was the perfect color for your eyes and complexion.”

“Thank you. I do love a ball. There is nothing more enjoyable than dancing.”

“I quite agree,” Miss Snowden said. “Although a brisk run on a good horse through the countryside is nearly as enjoyable, especially when one is tired of society and wishes to be alone with one’s horse.”

“Oh, yes, I know just what you mean.”

Lady Snowden was the only other person in the room, and she did not appear inclined to speak. So I said, “Miss Snowden, I have heard that you are very accomplished at playing and singing. I do hope to hear you tonight.”

“Well, I do not sing for everyone, but when the gentlemen have joined us, I may.” Her manner was chilly, and she immediately turned back to Juliet and smiled. “I daresay we should sing a duet. I have a lovely number that would do very well. Come and I will show it to you.”

Miss Snowden and Juliet moved to the pianoforte, which was in the far corner of the room, and soon they were sitting together on the bench and studying a sheet of music and talking.

Lady Snowden let out a very deep sigh, then cleared her throat loudly before taking a sip of tea. She leaned back against the armchair where she was sitting and closed her eyes. A few moments later, I heard a soft snore.

I sat listening to the bits of conversation I could hear coming from Juliet and Miss Snowden.