This time he laughed. A full laugh as if it came from deep inside, which further encouraged Althea to describe the delights to be found in London, and entertainments to avoid.
By the time they reached the entrance to Hyde Park, she’d done most of the talking and entertaining. He’d laughed and asked few questions.
He turned to her when they paused at the entrance.
“Thank you, Miss Claywell, for walking with me.”
“It was my pleasure, Major Ambrose.”
Major Ambrose was everything she’d ever hoped to find in London. So different from all the others. Quiet, handsome, courteous and a simple glance or touch filled her with longing.
By the time they parted that day, Althea was in love. She knew it was silly as she couldn’t know him well enough to have developed such deep feelings so soon, yet she had. It was as if her soul had been waiting for him.
Then he was gone.
Althea never saw Major Ambrose again and she began to wonder if she’d imagined him.
She tried to tell herself that her attraction was because he was mysterious and so different from the others that called on her, but it wasn’t so simple.
The others flattered, flirted, complimented, and offered witty quips, but Althea barely paid them any mind when the silent Major Ambrose had been present. She had been drawn to him as if he belonged to her.
Major Ambrose was also the only reason she wanted to attend the next Season because she hoped to encounter him again. Otherwise, Althea could do without Society.
There had to be more to her life than hunting for a husband, and if Major Ambrose didn’t return to London, then she was going to put her mind to determining what she wanted and what would make her happy.
With a sigh, Althea rose and exited the chamber to join her uncle for tea. It was foolish and irrational to long for a gentleman she knew nothing about, yet that didn’t stop her from wishing to see him again, nor did it stop her from dreaming of those waltzes, his leaning toward her, lips nearly touching, and then she’d awaken, her body warm. She didn’t understand how so few encounters could cause so much turmoil within, but they did, and all she could hope was that Major Ambrose returned to London and pursued her in the spring, or she might have to be daring and pursue him.
As she navigated the stairs, the laughter of Uncle Clarence and his closest friend, Mr. Smith, drifted up to her from the entry and Althea smiled. Her uncle enjoyed Mr. Smith’s company and she assumed that it was because they were of a similar age and both widowers with grown sons. She also enjoyed the company of Mr. Smith and they’d played chess often these past few years.
“I’m certain Althea will have no objection,” her uncle was saying. “She isn’t getting any younger, and it is unlikely there will be other offers.”
At those words, her stomach tightened. Did her uncle see no hope for her future?
“She may not agree,” Mr. Smith said with concern.
“Nonsense. We’ve already signed the contracts. She must. We will then be family.”
Althea placed a hand on her stomach and edged her way back up the stairs hoping not to be seen.
We’ve signed the contracts.We will then be family.
“I never thought I’d find myself in this position again,” Mr. Smith chuckled. “Marriage contracts and whatnot.” He sighed. “She’ll make a lovely bride.”
“I’ve no doubt,” her uncle agreed. “And a happy groom waiting for her at the end of the aisle,” he chuckled.
“No more lonely evenings. Someone to share a life with.” Mr. Smith sighed. “But you will talk to her and explain?”
“Of course,” her uncle insisted.
Had her uncle agreed to marry her to Mr. Smith?
As much as she adored the older gentleman, and they got on quite well, she saw him as an uncle, grandfather even, not a potential husband.
Why did he even need to marry again? He had sons, and they had sons. It wasn’t as if he needed an heir to his wealth and lands.
She’d just tell them no and hope she didn’t hurt Mr. Smith in the process. When and if she did marry, she wanted it to be someone younger, virile, someone who made her pulse speed, her heart pound, and filled her body with excitement. Someone like Major Ambrose. The idea of sharing a bed with Mr. Smith brought on nausea.
“She should also have a say,” Mr. Smith pressed. “I’d not see her unhappy.”
