Then that wretched Mr. Clements was at her side, thanking her, though George could not countenance the reason behind it. He was certainly not grateful for the vicar’s interruption.
“We were to visit the circus next, Mr. Finch,” she said, taking Mr. Clements’ arm as they wandered from the dance floor.
“Please join us, if you are interested,” added the vicar.
The fellow’s wits were lacking, for George could not imagine inviting another gentleman along on an outing with his lady, but that was Mr. Clements’ mistake, and George would not follow his example by passing the opportunity by. In a trice, the trio meandered through the stalls, and though he stood with them, the pair were quite content to continue with their previous conversation, leaving George alone with his thoughts.
Letting out a heavy sigh, George steeled himself for the hours to come.
Chapter 22
“What is the time?” asked Evelyn, casting a look at the crowd around them. She forced herself not to shift from foot to foot and focused on keeping her breathing even.
Mama laughed with a smile as bright as her flaming hair. “It has been two minutes since the last time you asked. Your fellow should be here shortly.”
Evelyn’s cheeks bloomed red, and she glanced at the surrounding crowd, though there was no one about to overhear. “He is not my fellow.”
With an arched brow, Papa slanted her a smile. “Is he not?”
The trio wandered out of the throng into a quieter section of the festival, all while Evelyn’s gaze swiveled in constant motion.
“You needn’t worry, dearest. I am certain you will have a wonderful outing together,” said Mama.
“It is a bit much to call it an outing,” said Evelyn, her eyes scouring the area for the gentleman. “Mr. Townsend wished to attend but not alone. That is all.”
“Nonsense,” added Papa, pulling the trio to a stop and facing her with a gentle smile. “He has taken you on drives and called on you multiple times—including one that was for the sole purpose of inviting you to attend the festival with him. You are a gem, Evelyn, and clearly, he recognizes it. Do not doubt yourself.”
Her insides fluttered at that description, and Evelyn thought through the past three weeks. The whole thing seemed a romantic whirlwind. Though there was plenty of evidence, she struggled to believe she and Mr. Townsend were courting, but if Papa and Mama had noticed his marked interest and said it was such, then surely Evelyn was not a fool to accept the truth.
“Perhaps we ought to invite him for dinner,” said Mama, which was met with a nod by Papa.
“That is a fine idea. Beyond his relationship to the Wrigleys and his excellent taste in ladies, I know little about him.”
As her parents plotted, Evelyn caught sight of him in the crowd, and anticipation thrummed through her, her skin prickling as he drew near. Mama shooed her away, and Evelyn needed no more invitation. Forcing herself to remain calm, she strode forward with purposeful but not hurried steps. It was one thing to demonstrate her preference before her family, but she clung hard to her resolution to encourage Mr. Townsend but not rush him.
Calm. Collected. Evelyn eased her smile into something more fitting for the situation and less energetic.
“Miss Finch, there you are,” said Mr. Townsend with a broad grin, closing the final distance between them with hurried steps. “I had all but despaired of finding you here. I hadn’t expected the festival to be so large. It is quite extraordinary for this quiet corner of the country.”
“Yes, we take great pride in it,” said Evelyn, forcing herself to break his gaze and survey the stalls around them. “And I hope you enjoy apples, for we have some of the best baked goods you shall ever taste.”
“Excellent,” he said, rubbing his hands together. Then, turning away, he added, “And may I introduce Miss Diane Abbott.”
Mr. Townsend ushered a young lady forward, and Evelyn stared at her. Though the Finches couldn’t claim an acquaintance with everyone in the area, they knew most, and Evelyn didn’t recognize her. She was taller than one might expect but stately in her bearing, with the air of one unbothered by a few added inches. And though not eye-catching, Miss Abbott was attractive.
The lady nodded with a faint smile, and they exchanged curtsies.
“Welcome, Miss Abbott,” said Evelyn, her eyes flitting between the lady and Mr. Townsend.
“Her family live some miles from here and are old friends of my parents, so I decided to renew our acquaintance whilst I was in the neighborhood,” said Mr. Townsend, and some of the tightness in Evelyn’s chest eased. A friend. That was perfectly understandable. “I was shocked to discover she has never attended Bentmoor’s harvest festival and knew I must rectify that.”
Miss Abbott smiled, but there was a hint of ennui in her gaze that had Evelyn bristling. Bentmoor may not be as grand as some places, but a festival was always a diverting manner in which to pass a day.
“Then she is joining us?” asked Evelyn, trying to keep the surprise from her tone.
“This isn’t the party I had hoped to gather, but as you two are far more interesting than my cousins, I do not see why we shan’t have a delightful afternoon.”
Evelyn blinked, sorting through the words so that they might make sense, for she could not comprehend them. A party? Evelyn thought through Mr. Townsend’s invitation and recalled no instance in which he’d implied that it extended to anyone beyond her. Even her parents had been convinced of that fact.
