“Mama,” said Mrs. Rosanna Tate in a gentle reproof, though the lady seemed not to hear it.
Benjamin slanted a raised brow at David, and he held back a snicker. As usual, Mrs. Leigh did not seem to know or care about the implications of her words and what they might mean to the mill owner’s son standing before her. Or the hypocrisy rife in the fact that she had just been trolling those lowly mill owners on her daughter’s behalf.
“I must dance, Mother,” said Benjamin.
Patting her boy on his cheek, she smiled. “Yes, you must, and you cannot help it if all the ladies are desperate to secure you for their partner. Go, enjoy yourself, my darling boy.”
Benjamin attempted to do just that, but Mrs. Leigh released David’s arm and latched herself to her son, fairly squeezing his cheeks as though he were a lad of three.
“You are such a handsome young man. It is little wonder they are all fighting for a chance to stand up with you.”
With a strained smile, Benjamin met David’s gaze as though begging him to intercede, but David knew better than to engage in losing battles. Instead, he gave his friend all the sympathy he deserved at such a moment.
“I heard they were casting lots to see who would have the honor of approaching him first,” said David, a smirk tugging at his lips, and Benjamin’s gaze narrowed.
“Oh, my dear, wonderful, perfect little boy,” said Mrs. Leigh. “It is precisely as it ought to be. You are a catch, and far better than most of those ladies could ever hope to secure. It is little wonder Miss Rothschild is chasing after you.”
David cast a glance round about, but the noise of conversation and the music in the air covered her words enough that only the busiest of bodies might’ve overheard. And they were all occupied elsewhere.
“I could speak with Malcolm about Katherine,” said Mrs. Tate with a considering look into the crowd for her husband. “As we do not spend most of our time in Greater Edgerton, he does not have as many acquaintances as we do in Town or at our family seat in Kent, but he might know of candidates we haven’t explored before.”
With care, Benjamin extricated himself from his mother’s grasp, and David knew better than to linger. Whilst Mrs. Leigh was occupied turning back to her daughter, he slipped away. Though not fast enough that he didn’t catch the beginning (or continuation, rather) of their assessment of Miss Leigh’s matrimonial prospects, weighing the many options available tonight.
David held back a shudder. Thank the heavens his parents were too distracted to give any thought to his matrimonial state. Father didn’t care one jot, and Mother was still reveling after Agatha’s marriage last winter and too occupied with her three other daughters to give her son much thought. David had enough to manage at present without being bothered by their machinations or adding a wife to his list of duties.
Turning his gaze to the gathering, he searched the sea of faces for Miss Leigh. The lady had scurried away before he’d secured a dance with her. Not that he needed to rush matters, for he knew well enough that her dance card never filled, but in the past two years since he’d come to know Benjamin and the Leigh family, David had discovered her night always fared better if someone—even her scraggly friend—stood up with her early.
And perhaps he could warn her of her mother and sister’s plans. Not that they were anything new, but there was a determined edge to their conversation that was troubling.
Skirting the gathering, he scoured her usual haunts, though it was slow going, as people insisted on interrupting his hunt to lob social niceties at him. Each pause ate up the time until he extricated himself once more, and matters weren’t helped by the fact that he must’ve missed her during his first turn about the room and had to make another before he spied her hiding in the back corner of the room, slightly obscured by the musicians.
Ensuring that his hat was once more resting at a jaunty angle, David lifted his pistols and invaded Miss Leigh’s sanctuary.
Chapter 3
“Stand and deliver,” said David with a low growl.
The lady raised her hands in placation, though her gaze held more than a hint of impatience. With a wooden tone, she said, “Do not hurt me, I beg you.”
David straightened and tucked his pistols away, and with more than a hint of teasing he said, “Spoilsport.”
“It is my costume, after all.”
Tucking his hands behind him, he paused and wondered what to say. Which was an odd sensation, as from almost the very beginning, conversation had never been a struggle with Miss Leigh. David didn’t understand it any more than he understood why so many found her company irksome and her humor incomprehensible.
But with her mother’s words burning in his brain, David didn’t know what to say. He never did in such moments. After witnessing all the vitriol Mrs. Leigh was able to cast upon her daughter, he ought to know how to tend Miss Leigh’s wounds, but all the placating words he employed with his sisters or mother didn’t seem right.
Miss Leigh wasn’t some wilting miss who needed a healthy dose of encouragement to thrive. Again and again, she stood firm against her mother’s railings and never shrank. But even the strongest of spirits suffered injuries at times.
“You left before I was able to speak to you properly,” he said.
“Extricating myself is the easiest way to hold my tongue,” she replied in a wry tone.
“With how often you must do so, it is a wonder you haven’t relocated to another county.”
Miss Leigh’s lips quirked into a smile that shone with her dry humor. “I shall, one day. But what did you wish to speak to me about, Mr. Archer?”
David’s brows rose in challenge. “What do you think I would wish to speak to you aboutat a ball?”
