Was that all? Lady Sampson had countless friends, mostly women of similar age and status in society. She had even brought one or two to the neighborhood on previous visits. No, there had to be something else. A visiting society matron would not inspire such an impish look in his twin’s eyes.
When they reached the drawing room, Tim walked straight in without waiting for an introduction. After a moment’s pause, Oliver and his mother followed. Lady Sampson’s note had promised an informal evening.
The room was already half full of familiar figures. Oliver’s brothers-in-law, Nat Towne and Grant Warner, stood near the fireplace conversing with Mr. Bailey, Tim’s father-in-law. Mrs. Bailey sat on the sofa next to her daughter, with Oliver’s older sister, Sarah, across from them.
A soft laughter sounded from the side of the room, and Oliver turned to find his younger sister, Marianne, conversing with a vaguely familiar young woman with dark curls. After taking two steps towards the gentlemen, Oliver froze and then turned to confirm his suspicions.
The dark curls belonged to none other than Miss Catherine Childs. What in the world was she doing in Hampshire, of all places? His stomach sank. He glanced at his mother, who had taken a seat next toSarah. Was someone playing matchmaker? He couldn’t think who, or why. As far as he was aware, there wasn’t a soul in the neighborhood who knew he and Miss Childs were already acquainted. Though that might be the scheme. They thought they were bringing an unfamiliar young woman for him to meet.
He watched Miss Childs for a moment as she smiled at something Marianne said. Perhaps he would get to meet the woman behind the pot, rather than the indifferent debutante. The thought brought a soft smile to his lips, but it vanished the moment he turned away and found Tim watching him.
His brother raised his brows in question and then returned to his conversation with the other men. He knew. Oliver wasn’t sure exactly what Tim knew, but clearly something. At the very least, he knew Oliver had met Miss Childs. But how?
Actually, that was not much of a mystery. She had likely recognized Tim, or thought she had. But how did Tim know Oliver would care about the identity of Lady Sampson’s guest?
Something must have drawn her attention because Miss Childs looked up. When she met Oliver’s eye, the perfect mask had returned. After an unreasonable pang of disappointment, Oliver donned his own.
“Miss Childs, so nice to see you again,” Oliver said before offering a shallow bow.
“And you, Mr. Linfield,” came the practiced response.
After a moment’s pause, he turned slightly towards the sofas. “Would you allow me to introduce you to my mother?” Someone would need to introduce them, and performing the duty himself would save him from needing to find another topicof conversation.
“Of course,” Miss Childs replied before following him the five steps to where his mother sat.
As was expected, Lady Diana stood at their arrival.
“Mother, may I introduce Miss Catherine Childs?” At his mother’s nod, he turned to Lady Sampson’s guest, “Miss Childs, this is my mother, Lady Diana Linfield.”
After exchanging greetings, Lady Diana gestured to a chair that sat near her own seat on the sofa.
Oliver stepped closer to the gentlemen, but he could still hear Miss Childs chatting with his mother. The younger woman was personable and friendly, if very proper. Exactly how a young woman of society would be trained to speak to someone of far higher rank. Her appropriate behavior made him even more curious about why she hid behind a pot at the home of a countess.
Lady Sampson stepped into the room. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. There was an issue with my gown and it took time to sort it out.”
Lady Diana stood and greeted her friend. “So good to see you, Harriet.”
“And you, Diana.”
As the two women shared a quick embrace, Oliver noted that Miss Childs’ eyes went wide with surprise for a moment before her expression returned to a polite mask.
The exchange reminded Oliver that they were not in London anymore. Such familiarity would be frowned upon at a dinner party on Grosvenor Square. But would Lady Sampson’s guest shed her London persona? He glanced at the young woman as he half-listened to the baroness explain their casual dinner arrangements. Likely not.
With two more women than men at the table, the seating arrangements were slightly unorthodox. At least per London’s standards. Lady Sampson sat at the head of the table, with Lady Diana at her right. While Kitty sat in the middle with Arabella Linfield on one side and her father, Mr. Bailey, on the other.
The arrangement suited Kitty just fine, as the vicar’s wife struck Kitty from the first as someone she would enjoy getting to know. Though quieter than her husband, she obviously possessed her own quick wit and sense of humor.
The position also allowed Kitty to watch Oliver Linfield out of the corner of her eye. He sat on the other side of the table, with one sister on either side. Both ladies appeared determined to engage him in conversation, while he responded as little as was polite. She would have expected the man to at least be personable with his own family. But he appeared more interested in the lamb and boiled potatoes on his plate.
After learning of the dinner party, Kitty had spent far more time than was probably healthy thinking about seeing Oliver Linfield again. Would he smile and tease as he had during their first encounter? Or would he put on an air of indifference as he had during their second? And how would she react to his presence?
Knowing that her mother would be over the moon about his proximity in the neighborhood made Kitty want to hide behind a stone-faced mask. Nothing good would come ofcourting the attention of a pockets-to-let nephew of an earl. But then she would think back to their brief interaction in the entrance hall of Fulbourn House. In the end, she determined to let his reaction be her guide.
His reaction had been less than flattering. When Mr. Timothy had left the drawing room to greet his mother and brother, Kitty had wondered if he meant to warn them of her attendance that evening. But he must have had another purpose, because Oliver Linfield had no idea Kitty was in Hampshire. After walking two steps past her, he froze and turned back. He had quickly schooled his expression, but not before she noted first shock, and then annoyance. In a flash, her decision was made. Polite but disinterested would be the order of the day, for both of them.
“How do you find Hampshire, Miss Childs?” Mr. Bailey spoke for perhaps the third time all evening.
Kitty turned to the older gentleman on her right. “Very beautiful.”
