Page 38 of A Mismatch Made in London

I turned my thoughts away from Lady Snowden’s snoring, Miss Snowden’s coldness, and my dread of Mr. Watkins’ unwelcomeattention, and I allowed myself to dwell on the letter I’d recently received from Mother. She said my brothers were getting along very well. She didn’t answer my question when I asked if Diana missed me and if she was calling for me. Sometimes I cried myself to sleep at night thinking of her wondering why I had left her. She was too young to understand that I would come back. She needed me, and I’d abandoned her.

I had to blink back tears just thinking about it.

And now that it was getting warmer, I missed the country. I missed having picnics under the trees, playing with the new kittens and puppies, and riding my horse just to get away from the noise of my brothers. I missed Lavinia, with her sensible attitude and her imperious way with our younger brothers, who pretended to behave in front of her, but made goofy faces when her back was turned. And I missed cuddling my baby sister.

My chest ached as I wished I could hold her and smell her freshly washed hair. How many times had I rocked her to sleep, singing soft lullabies and kissing her plump cheeks? I loved making her laugh. The sweet sound of baby laughter must be the best sound in the world.

“Miss Moore.”

The sound of Mr. Watkins’s voice instantly cleared the pleasant memories from my mind, and I nearly panicked. What excuse could I give for running from the room? Instead, I groaned inwardly, realizing he was going to sit beside me and talk to me the rest of the night.

Jeremy saw what was about to happen, which only made it humiliating as well as exasperating when Mr. Watkins plopped himself down beside me.

But I couldn’t be rude, so when Mr. Watkins said, “And here we are. There is nothing so agreeable as a dinner party. Are the ladies about to sing and display their talents?”

“I believe so.”

Lady Snowden roused herself, sitting up straight after her nap and clearing her throat.

Lady Snowden’s dinner partner had been a Mr. Greensleeves, and that gentleman, while staring at Juliet and Miss Snowden where they sat at the instrument, said, “Let the ladies play and sing! I haven’t heard a good song in over a fortnight.”

“Mr. Beaumont, you sit over there where you can better hear the music.” Lady Snowden nodded at the settee closest to the pianoforte.

He sat where she indicated.

As Mr. Watkins began telling me about his hunting dogs, I could feel Jeremy’s eyes on me. But I wouldn’t let him pity me. The trick was how to converse politely with Mr. Watkins while not giving him the impression that I could be interested in marrying him.

“My grandfather kept hunting dogs,” I said. “My father doesn’t care for hunting, but we always have a few dogs—”

“Where was your grandfather’s estate?”

“In Buckinghamshire.” I didn’t tell him that it was more of a large farm than an estate, but we did have tenants.

“And he hunted, did he? Foxes or pheasants?”

“Mostly pheasants.”

“And he kept dogs? What breed?”

The conversation continued until, thankfully, Miss Snowden began to play. She and Juliet sang a duet while the rest of us listened in silence. No one dared talk while Lady Snowden’s daughter was exhibiting her talent.

They both had good voices, although Miss Snowden hit a few wrong notes, and Juliet more than once sang on the wrong beat. But we all clapped politely when the song ended.

“Very lovely!” Lady Snowden called. “Play another one.”

Miss Snowden appeared to be trying to persuade Juliet to sing another with her, but she declined and came to sit near me while Miss Snowden began a second song.

Jeremy kept his eyes on Miss Snowden. I tried to judge his expression, but only seeing his profile, I couldn’t quite tell if he was expressing delight or simply polite attention. But I was glad of the break from talking about hunting dogs.

All too soon, Miss Snowden’s song ended. “That was splendid, my dear,” Lady Snowden was saying.

Miss Snowden stood and went to sit beside Jeremy.

I half expected someone to ask me if I’d like to play, but I was grateful no one did.

The rest of the evening dragged by very slowly. But finally, Jeremy and Juliet announced that it was time to take their leave. A jolt of relief went through me, and I stood to go.

“I shall call on you,” Mr. Watkins said. “You are staying with the Beaumonts, I understand?”