“You are a talented young woman and?—”
Miss Alden interrupted him with another sneeze, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “My apologies, my lord. It is the pollen, you see. Once it is in the room I will continue to sneeze.”
Felix glanced outside to the beds of hollyhocks he had seen Victoria and Miss Alden gathering flowers from last night. She had not sneezed then, or while she sat in the gardens after supper with Hyacinth and Evangeline and braided floral crowns for each other.
She was a deceiver in this regard, but he had yet to determine her motive if it was beyond a determination not to marry.
How someone so blunt and honest could lie so well was beyond him.
Lord Westshire was not to be deterred. “I do not recall seeing any other rosettes quite so perfect.”
Miss Alden’s eyebrows climbed higher. “I can assure you that I most certainly have.”
Edith looked as if she were about to combust. “Lord Westshire, that is exceedingly kind of you. Miss Alden is also quite a talented artist. Her charcoal drawings are to be admired. Since arriving she has sketched several views of Windham Castle.”
Felix hadn’t seen Miss Alden pick up a single piece of charcoal since she’d stepped out of the carriage yesterday morning.
Lord Westshire leaned closer and accepted a cup of tea one of the maids had brought him. Victoria shied away from him with a smile and resumed her needlework. Stanton hid a smirk behind his book, casually flipping through its pages, although Felix was sure the novel was upside down.
This wasn’t the help Felix had pictured when he enlisted his friend’s aid in husband hunting for Miss Alden.
“You must show me your drawings, Miss Alden.” Lord Westshire sipped his tea, resting the floral cup on the little saucer with an air that could only be described as relentlessly practiced. “Mysisters also draw, although I suspect you are far superior based on?—”
Miss Alden sneezed. “I’m so sorry, my lord, perhaps I should take my leave, and we can meet again when I do not feel so poorly?”
She stood with an apologetic smile, making a show of touching her hand to her flushed cheek.
Lord Westshire stood as Miss Alden offered a curtsy before scurrying from the room as though hounds were snapping at her heels. Felix sighed and turned to the lord, wishing that he would depart as well.
“I am sorry for her abrupt nature.”
“She is a fine woman. Pretty too.” Lord Westshire stared after Miss Alden. “I am certain that after we share a dance at the upcoming ball our families could soon be united.”
Felix forced a tight smile. “We shall soon find out. Stanton, would you escort Lord Westshire to his horse?”
It was a thinly veiled snub, and Edith was the first to make a disapproving noise in the back of her throat. Still, Stanton was altogether too happy to stand and show Lord Westshire the door.
Edith stood once the men had departed, her face a mask over the irritation Felix knew she felt at the first meeting. “That could have gone far better.”
Victoria laughed and stood, taking one of the little pastries and nibbling around the edges. “It could have gone far worse, Mama. Be grateful that she did not tell Lord Westshire how dull he truly is.”
“Victoria!” Edith scolded, her hands on her hips as she looked at her eldest daughter. “I will not have you losing all sense of your good manners simply because there is an American in the house.”
Felix sighed, leaving the room and his mother to her chiding. She would see to it that Victoria was on her best behavior upon the arrival of the next suitor.
However, before that happened, he had to track down the imp.
He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his breeches and left the drawing room. As he peered down the hall, a flash of blue skirts disappeared around a corner.
Catching up to Miss Alden would have been an impossible task had it not been for a small dog that had stopped in the middle of the hallway just around the corner. Felix would have to have a word with the kennel master about the escape artist puppy.
She knelt on the ground, her skirts billowing out around her. The puppy wagged until its entire body shook. A little pink tongue lolled out of the side of the dog’s mouth.
“Miss Alden,” Felix said, his tone stern as she stood with the puppy in her arms. At the sight of her cuddling the little creature, he knew he didn’t have the heart to send it back to the kennel. She deserved at least one source of comfort in a foreign land. “You are not allergic to hollyhocks.”
“But I am allergic to dreadfully boring men. Especially ones with no interest in me who appear to practice their platitudes in the looking glass each morning.”
“You are here to get married, Miss Alden. That will not happen if you continue to do your best to scare men away.”
