Despite quite a good many flowing through his mind, his mouth refused to obey any commands. His cravat tightened around his neck, threatening to choke him as he stared at the young lady. A sensation that only grew when her eyes drifted to the top of his head. Her gaze was there and gone in a flash, but with no hat to hide behind tonight, there was no covering that deficiency.
Arthur may not have been grateful when his hair had begun thinning at the ripe old age of nineteen, but at present, he was quite glad to have grown accustomed to those glances and the slight strain of the smiles that accompanied them. Or accustomed enough that it didn’t discompose him when Miss Roper’s expression tightened. He had reasons enough to be discomposed and needn’t add this to the list.
Before he could form a proper (though simple) response, another lady and chaperone approached with a gushing, “Why, there you are, Dr. Vaughn! How lovely to see you.”
For all that he’d been standing with Finch in peace, Miss Roper’s arrival hailed a shift, for more began to gather around like bees to a flower—if the bees were giving each other narrowed looks and silent warnings to leave.
“I do hate to interrupt,” said Finch with a smile for the gathering crowd. “But I fear there is a gentleman I need to introduce Dr. Vaughn to. Please excuse us.”
And with that, the gentleman led Arthur away, not slowing when the ladies attempted to cling to the conversation. Meanwhile, Arthur drew in a breath and readied himself for another introduction. At least it was a gentleman, which was far easier to manage.
But when they stepped out the front door into the night air, Finch gave Arthur a slanted smile. “You looked in need of rescue.”
There was a hint of a question in his tone, and Arthur pretended not to notice; chatting with gentlemen about medicine, politics, sports, and the like was a vast deal different than conversing with a lady.
“I have to admit that I am a little astonished by my reception,” replied Arthur with a furrowed brow. “With their prestige and success, my older brothers are usually the center of attention.”
Crossing his arms, Finch leaned against the building and nodded to another gentleman as he passed. “You will find it vastly different here. With the war on the Continent still raging with no end in sight, many of the young eligible men have joined the army and navy in hopes of securing a fortune. You possess a good living and are suitably handsome, which will leave every unmarried lady from seventeen to seventy vying for your attention.”
Arthur’s brows shot upward, his cravat tightening instantly. Yet as he considered the possibility, the strain eased. Wasn’t this precisely what he wanted? In London, he was merely one of any number of gentlemen of decent family and income, and there always seemed to be someone “better suited” for the ladies he wished to court. In Devon, it seemed the tables had turned.
But was that for good or ill?
“You didn’t mention that when you wrote to me—” But Arthur’s words cut out abruptly when a voice called from behind him.
“There you are, Dr. Vaughn.”
Gliding to his side, Miss Bacon grinned broadly at him, a coy spark in her gaze—just before it flicked to the top of his head and back. Arthur’s expression tightened, and he drew in a deep breath as he tried to formulate a greeting.
“You promised me a dance, sir,” she said with a laugh as she brushed a hand across his lapel as though to rid him of some lint, and Arthur’s spine stiffened at that liberty, his throat growing dry.
Much had happened in the past fortnight since he’d begun his journey to Devon, and in that whirlwind, many details had been sadly overlooked or forgotten, but Arthur could say with all confidence that his asking Miss Bacon to dance hadn’t been among them. The young lady watched him with a glint of challenge to her gaze, as though wondering if he would call out the bald-faced lie for what it was.
There was no point in spitting in the face of an opportunity. Though Arthur’s hands began to sweat profusely beneath his gloves, he motioned to take hold of hers. Miss Bacon accepted the offer, her head held high as they strode back into the inn.
Now, he just had to sort out what to say to the lady.
Chapter 6
Arm in arm, Diana and Violet stepped through the door of the Three Crowns. Excitement buzzed through Violet as she gazed out upon the gathering. One might think that a lady with two and thirty years to her name would be well past the age when such entertainments held any pleasure, but her heart soared.
The Wolvertons had outdone themselves tonight. Where the innkeeper usually served his libations, the master of ceremonies had arrayed the counter with a variety of drinks and nibbles to keep the party watered and fed for the evening, though Violet had heard rumor that one of the private parlors upstairs had been converted into a tearoom, should they require a seat. There certainly was no space here.
Dancers lined the floor, moving through their figures carefully so as not to collide with the others. Onlookers stood shoulder to shoulder, as there wasn’t room enough for them to gather in groups, the way they were wont to do in other circumstances. Thankfully, the Wolvertons were fond of long breaks between sets to allow for milling.
The music rang out, and Violet beamed at the quartet they’d procured. Thank the heavens. Last assembly, they’dmade do with three, but it was beastly difficult to hear the tune with so much noise.
This was truly magnificent.
And most especially, Violet was eager to feel the wave of heat enveloping her. No doubt she would curse the sweltering temperatures later, but it would take some time before the gooseflesh on her arms faded. With summer well underway, one ought to manage with only a shawl, but fate was determined to mock her; the air outside was bracing, and Violet hadn’t the funds to replace her cloak yet.
Slipping between the pair, Osborn Gadd inserted himself in the middle of his sister and her friend, taking them both by the arms. When he touched Violet’s arm, he grimaced.
“You would think an intelligent lady such as yourself would know how to properly clothe herself,” he said with a raised brow. “Where is your cloak, madam? Even with my gloves on, I can feel that you are chilled to the bone.”
Violet laughed and smirked. “Hush, dear sir, else you will bring attention to my plot. What better way to warm oneself than to find a gallant young man to hold me tight?”
Giving a choking squawk, Osborn chuckled. “Ah, I hadn’t thought of that, Vi. Surely, you are a mastermind at luring in men.”
