Hammerton glanced over the pages, a look of satisfaction spreading over his features “Aye, these will do.”
He pushed a leather purse across the scarred table It disappeared into the Ferret’s pocket within the blink of an eye. The second glass of gin was gulped down nearly as quickly.
But Hammerton was gone before the glass hit the table
Alex straightenedthe folds of her gown as her aunt’s maid began styling her hair, suddenly wishing it were made of a finer silk and fashioned with a little more elegance— perhaps showing a bit of …
She caught herself and quirked a self-deprecating grimace.Good heavens, what silly thoughts.Was she in danger of becoming the type of flighty female she abhorred, caring only about superficial nonsense like how her hair was coiffed or whether her gowns were a la mode?
Heaven forfend.
Heaving an inward sigh, Alex told herself that she would be very glad when the Season was over and she could return to the country and her comfortable routine. Then she could throw herself into her work undisturbed, with none of the recent distractions of Polite Society.
Or would life seem sadly flat without the stimulating company of the new friends she had made?
She truly enjoyed the camaraderie and conversations with the other members of the Botanical Society. She could, of course, continue to correspond with them, but it wouldn’t be quite the same.
And if she were truly honest with herself, she would miss the company of … someone else.
Alex admitted that she had come to look forward to her verbal sparrings with Branford. The fact that he never seemed shocked by her opinions or dismissed them out of hand because she was a lady was something very rare in a gentleman.
Another whispery sigh slipped from her lips.
“Is something wrong, Miss Alex?”
She forced a smile. “Sorry, I was woolgathering.”
Her aunt’s maid deftly twisted her hair into an artful mass of curls pinned at the nape of her neck, then picked out a few soft ringlets to frame her face. “You look lovely. I daresay you’ll have a bevy of gentlemen admirers competing for the honor of dancing with you.”
Alex glanced at her reflection in the looking glass—and saw the sensible, practical person she had always seen. She cautioned herself not to suddenly fall prey to unrealistic emotions.
It would only lead to trouble.
“Thank you, Maggie,” she replied, though dancing was the furthest thing from her mind. And after a moment, she tried to banish Branford from her thoughts, for it was eminently clear that dwelling on the earl was dangerous to her equilibrium. Most likely he had sought out her company merely to relieve his boredom during the tedious balls and soirees until it was time for … other activities.
Maggie finished with the last of the pins and stepped back to admire her handiwork.
Alex was sorely tempted to pull them all out, put on her spattered smock and retreat to the safety of her palette and paints. However, she pushed such mutinous thoughts aside. Duty called, and so after thanking the maid for her efforts, she rose and headed downstairs.
Lady Beckworth smiled as Alex joined her in the drawing room. “I’m very grateful that you don’t mind attending Lady Hopkinton’s ball without me.”
“But of course,” she responded. Her aunt had been feeling a trifle unwell in the morning, and after a slight cough had developed during the afternoon, it had been agreed by all that she ought to remain in her bed.”
“You know how dreadfully put out she would be if neither of us put in an appearance,” continued Lady Beckworth. “I promise you, I would never hear the end of it.”
“Don’t fret,” said Alex. “Though I admit I would much rather spend the evening at home with my work, I shall endeavor to soothe Lady Hopkinton’s feelings with profound expressions of regret from you.”
Lady Beckworth muffled an unladylike snort. “Oh, dear, that is a scene I should very much like to witness. Do try to be tactful, my dear.”
Alex grinned. “She couldn’t recognize sarcasm if I brushed it on with linseed oil. But never fear, I can be civilized if I apply myself.” She reached down to plump the pillow behind her aunt’s head. “I’ve given Cook a new recipe for an herb tisane that I found in one of Papa’s books. It should help ease your sore throat and allow you to sleep through the night. And don’t wait up for me. You need your rest.”
“Will Justin put in an appearance?”
“He doubts he’ll be free,” she answered. “Apparently he and Charles are engaged to escort Charles’s cousins to the theatre. But don’t worry about me. Mr. Simpson and his wife have kindly offered to bring me home in their carriage, so I’ll have no need to keep John out half the night. I know his rheumatism is acting up.”
She smiled. “You may also tell Givens to retire at a decent hour. I will let myself in by the scullery door, just as Justin does.”
Lady Beckworth patted Alex’s arm. “Do try to have a good time.”
