Ivy didn’t gnash her teeth, but it was a close thing. Like most of society, Lord Seddon didn’t believe a woman could excel at anything but looking pretty and embroidery, which she was in fact hopeless at.
“Supercilious imbecile,” she heard someone mutter. Looking behind her, she found Mr. Nightingale.
His face was impassive, but she was sure it had been he who said the words. But there was a large man with him. Perhaps he had spoken?
“Lady Miller, Miss Wainwright, Miss Birdwhistle, and Miss Burrows will compete first. Please take your places, ladies,” Lord Seddon said.
Ivy kept her expression impassive as Miss Burrows walked past her, sneering.
A maid approached and handed Ivy her quiver. She wanted to tell her to return it to her room, but as that would cause a scene, she took it.
“You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind, next to honor, Miss Birdwhistle.”
The words were spoken in a deep, low voice, and she knew who they came from.
“Yes, well, I’m not sure even Aristotle was courageous enough to step into English society, Mr. Nightingale.”
Gripping her quiver, she stomped to where the other contestants were lined up, his laughter following her. Chin high, she prepared to compete. If she was to do this, she would do it well. Her uncle caught her eye and nodded.
He expected her to do better than well. He expected her to win.
CHAPTER7
Bram was still smiling minutes later from Miss Birdwhistle’s quip as he watched the women prepare for the archery competition.
“Bramstone Nightingale.” A large hand slapped him on the back. “We had given up hope of you ever returning.”
“Timms.” Bram bowed.
“Good Lord, man, you need to get out of the sun with that complexion.”
Bram had been like that once. Indolent and indulgent. Perhaps that was a bit unfair, as he hadn’t seen his old acquaintances in many years, but he had a feeling not much had changed with Nigel Timms. He did little but think himself a great deal better than those with the misfortune to be born below him.
“I quite like the outdoors,” Bram said.
“As do we all, but I have no wish to look as you do.”
He would have once been irritated, but no longer. In fact, he felt nothing but pity for Timms and his like. They had never experienced what the world had to offer like Bram had. Their existence was narrow. Yes, not everyone could simply walk away as he had, he also understood that. But every day he’d spent from England, he’d been grateful for it.
“I didn’t see you this morning?” Bram said, his eyes still on Ivy Birdwhistle as she went through the very methodical process of preparing herself to compete.
“Just arrived, and only because mother told me I had to attend. Apparently, I have tarried too long and need a wife. She has given me a few names, and they are here.”
Bram was not surprised by Timms’s words. Many chose a wife in society based on bloodlines and wealth. He had never really considered marrying, or love for that matter. He was quite happy with his life as it was.
Ivy Birdwhistle raised her bow. Her movements were confident and elegant.
“Hard to believe she’s the same woman, really.”
They were both looking at Miss Birdwhistle, which suggested Timms was discussing her.
“Same woman?”
“Miss Birdwhistle. Don’t you remember her from her first season? It was just before you left on your travels.”
Was that why she was familiar to him? Had he danced with her?
“Talked a great deal about many things.” Timms shuddered. “Women should not offer opinions as freely as she did. I once had a conversation with her about cow foot rot.”
