I was not off to a very promising start.
“You ought to speak with him before dinner,” Kate said in an urgent tone. “You may not have another opportunity.”
I calculated the number of steps it would take to reach him, but that was as far as my mind went. I had no idea what to say when I reached his side, but Kate nudged me forward. “Go. Now.” Before I could give them permission to do so, my legs began carrying me in Mr. Campbell’s direction.
He was moments away from joining a group of gentlemen near the window, but I stopped him. “Mr. Campbell,” I blurted a little too abruptly.
He froze for a second or two before turning to face me.
“Miss Sharp.” His voice was laced with hesitation.
I gave my best curtsy, searching for words—any words—I might say that were less awkward than the ones I had selected the night before. My gaze flickered to his buttons before jumping back to his face. I steadied myself with a breath, offering a flirtatious smile. “I have yet to find you absent from any party. You must be the most well-connected gentleman in all of Bath.”
He studied my face for a moment, his eyelids heavy. “Does that make you the most well-connected lady?”
I laughed, waving a hand through the air. “Surely not.” Modesty would serve me well, I imagined. I blinked up at him innocently.
Mr. Campbell interlocked his hands behind his back. “I do find it interesting that we happen to be attending all the same events.”
I could thank Kate’s investigative skills for that. I sensed her watching our conversation, but I doubted she could overhear. “Yes, I find it to be a very pleasant coincidence.” I thought the comment to be polite, but Mr. Campbell’s brow was smooth, lacking even a hint of appreciation.
He lowered his voice. “Or you are simply contriving to be wherever I am on any given evening.”
My eyes rounded, but I pretended to think he was only jesting. A laugh much louder than I expected escaped my throat. “I would much rather think it is you who is contriving to be whereIam.” It was a bold statement, but not as bold as his. His wastrue—yes—but still very bold. I maintained my flirtatious smile even as he examined me with a condescending look.
“The evidence would suggest otherwise. I was walking away when you approached me, was I not?” His voice was cold, yet it made my cheeks burn. I had known he was boring, but not this impertinent.
I cleared my throat, deciding that it was best to skirt past the subject. “Let us settle the matter as a coincidence. There is no…contriving to be found.”
His lips pressed together, and he gave a small nod. “Good evening, Miss Sharp.” That was usually how he concluded our interactions, but I was far from satisfied.
A surge of desperation rose up in my chest, and without thinking, I reached for his arm. “Wait—” I took a handful ofhis jacket sleeve to hold him back, and the collective gasp from the nearby guests in the room made me acutely aware of my mistake.
Mr. Campbell tugged his arm away, his gaze shooting to his sleeve.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “But I-I wished to ask…who tailors your jackets? They are always quite well-fitted, and my brother wishes to find a new tailor.”
Mr. Campbell looked at me as if I were a pest trapped inside a moving carriage with him. He couldn’t easily jump out the window, not now that we were being watched by at least half the room. My heart was in my throat. Was this a good thing? If society began to whisper about the two of us, Mr. Campbell might feel just enough pressure to court me. I felt my chances grow slimmer as he deliberately smoothed the wrinkles out of his sleeve, one eyebrow arched.
“I have my jackets tailored at Weston’s in London.” His voice was dangerously quiet. “I have found nothing else to be suitable.”
I forced myself to smile. “Of course. I should have expected nothing less from a man of your station.”
Mr. Campbell seemed even more irked by that, but with the many eyes on us, he maintained a polite voice. “I wish your brother well in his search.”
“And I wish you well in yours,” I said before realizing how very inapplicable that was. Why could I never sound eloquent?
Mr. Campbell’s brow twitched in confusion.
“I mean—everyone is searching for something.” I laughed. “Perhaps not a new tailor in your case.” I was only making matters worse, but I couldn’t stop talking once I started, especially when I was attempting to repair my mistakes.
“Is that so?” Mr. Campbell crossed his arms. “What is it you are searching for, Miss Sharp?”
A rich husband wouldn’t be a proper answer. Nor would‘your fortune.’“I’m afraid I cannot tell you that.”
“Why not?” Mr. Campbell seemed to be playing a game with me. I must not have been as sly as I thought I was. He knew full well that I was hunting his fortune.
I sighed inwardly. It seemed I would have to redirect my efforts. Another gentleman might be more oblivious—or care much less about my motivations. There was no use carrying on with my embarrassing attempts to flirt with Mr. Campbell. “I wouldn’t spill the desires of my heart to a recent acquaintance,” I said finally, “especially one who seems intent on avoiding me.”
