“Mrs. Courtney-Smith, how nice to see you.”
The politician’s wife was dressed in a plum silk gown, her pigeon breast adorned with several rows of Venetian glass beads. Her gaze swept over Laura’s disordered hair and down to the damp hem of herdress.
Mrs. Courtney-Smith made it her business to know everyone who might be of benefit to her husband. “I don’t believe I’ve met your escort?”
“Lord Lanyon, Mrs. Courtney-Smith.” Laura resisted explaining how they’d met. She was already aware of the necessity to avoid facing the lady’s censure. One word from her and her mother would clamp down on her activities with thesuffrage.
She raised her eyebrows. “The baron? I believe I read about him in the social column of theTimes. A widower. But not for long I suspect.”
He was a widower? Laura wondered what the article had said about him, as Mrs. Courtney-Smith launched into a potted version of her day. As soon as she could extricate herself politely, Laura made for the door. Fortunately, no one else sought to detain her. Her father invited many new acquaintances to their home. He worked hard and was an ambitious member of the government who hoped to become prime minister. Father had always encouraged Laura to pursue her dreams. His support had allowed her to sit in on lectures at the university while accompanied by her maid. But although she finished the degree, she could not claim it ashers.
Laura returned after changing into a cream silk tea gown embellished with opulent lace, a tight corselet at the waist and a low square-cut neckline. She found Lord Lanyon still closeted with her father in the conservatory. They were talking politics, and she would have loved to join them. Annoyed that women were excluded, she returned to the drawingroom.
Mother beckoned her from the sofa, a sherry glass in her hand. “Well! That is an improvement, I must say. Did you really have to appear in such a disheveled state?”
“I can’t control the weather, Mother.”
Her mother was not in the mood to argue. “Lord Lanyon is an interesting man. Where did you meet him?”
“We shared a cab. There was an accident. The driver was drunk.”
“Sharing a hansom?” Her mother took a sip from her glass. “Simply not done in my day.”
Her mother had a knack for passing over details which did not interest her. Annoyed, Laura resisted mentioning that her mother had never been in ahansom.
Lord Lanyon was not placed near her at the table, and as fashion was discussed on her right, and staffing problems on her left, she found the whole affair quite tedious. When she later saw Lord Lanyon to the door, she offered her hand. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”
He held her hand in his for a long moment. “I have tickets for a concert at the Royal Opera House on Saturday evening—the pianist, Paderewski. The person accompanying me cannot attend, and I don’t wish to go alone. I hope you’ll take pity on me once more.” He tilted his head with a smile. “These occasions are so much better shared, don’t you agree?”
Paderewski! She would love to hear him play. How could she resist? It was only a concert after all. “I’d be pleased to come. Thank you.”
He nodded. “I shall telephone and ask your father.”
“Yes. Good night.”
He opened his umbrella and hurried out to the cab her father had ordered for him. What had she done? Her mother would never give up now until she married theman.
***
Nathaniel entered his hotel room and sat in an overstuffed chair, gazing out through the window at the blurred row of lights along the Thames. He’d come to town to present a bill to Parliament, and then return to Cornwall. He was not seeking a bride. In fact, he had decided not to marryagain.
Laura Parr.What was it about her that drew him? Before going in to dinner, Lady Parr had expressed her frustration at Laura’s modern views. “What is happening to young women today?” she’d said with a moue. “Laura is too independent. I am at my wit’s end to know what to do with her.” She had taken his arm and led him toward the dining room, with Laura and her father following, he hoped out of earshot. “My daughter read far too many radical essays at university,” she continued, “and they have filled her head with useless knowledge. Marriage to a strong man will settle her down.”
Should she become his wife, Miss Parr would have to be prepared to deal with tenants and villagers, and suffer a dearth of the intellectual conversation she was accustomed to, and he sensed, very much enjoyed. The abbey was miles from a large town. A young lady such as she would find it difficult to accept the way things were at Wolfram. Had he the right to extinguish her youthful romanticism? Was he losing his goodsense?
His struggle for peace had been so tenuous, and he suspected she would turn his life upside down and dig into secrets it suited him best to leave buried. But when her eyes had met his in the Parr’s entry foyer, he’d have sworn a frisson of excitement, breathtaking with promise, passed between them. His body had leapt to life, as if he’d been in a long sleep. Such a coltish beauty, with her coil of auburn hair baring her long, graceful neck. As he returned in the carriage to the city, he was already confident of Miss Parr’s passionate nature. It was evident in the flash of her beautiful green eyes and her willful mouth that he wanted badly to kiss. A serious young woman, she seemed completely unaware of her charm. She had a frankness that heliked.
Damn it. He wanted her. And for a young woman as gently reared as Laura, that could only mean marriage. Her independent spirt and strength of character made him hopeful theirs would be a good future despite everything. A passionate one if he was anyjudge.
Nathaniel frowned and drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair. He doubted even this fiery beauty could penetrate the thickness of the wall he’d built around himself in the last two years. Would what he offered of himself be enough? Was he mad to think that a wife as engaging as Laura could charm the villagers, quell the gossip and return Wolfram to the home it oncewas?
He left the room, wondering if he might find Horace Tothill at hisclub.
“Nathaniel!” Horace rose to shake his hand. “Good to see you in London. A session at the Lords I gather?”
“I’ve been doing some research for a project I’m considering. A much-needed orphanage for the Southwest.”
“A commendable venture, by the sound of it. What news of Wolfram?”
