Her Lessons in Persuasion, page 14
And now it had to have been at least five minutes.
“If you will excuse—” Bram began, only to be interrupted.
“Good evening,” Theo said, glancing from one to the other of them.
“Good evening, Mr. Osborne,” Lord Paskins said, his easy smile reappearing.
“Evening, Theo,” Bram said.
Theo gave a pointed look toward Bram’s clothing. “You look quite presentable,” he said, unable to keep a note of astonishment from his tone.
“Thank you,” Bram replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He could dress himself properly, it just wasn’t something he’d ever placed much importance on before. Never mind that Simeon had assisted earlier that day. But he would never admit that to Theo.
“I came with Benedict—he’s off in one of the other rooms discussing politics.” Theo’s disdainful tone revealed what he thought about that. “But I wanted to meet your Lady Wilhelmina,” he continued, giving a sly look toward Lord Paskins.
“Yes, she is in the ballroom, I believe,” Bram said. He nodded to Lord Paskins in a clear gesture of dismissal, but that gentleman walked with them as they returned, Bram spotting Wilhelmina at the edge of the dance floor.
She was not precisely surrounded by a multitude of gentlemen, but there were at least three of them clustered around her.
The plan was working.
He had to make certain it wasn’t working too well, however. He’d promised her, after all.
So he swept through the crowd, Theo and Lord Paskins trailing behind, walking up to her with, he hoped, the attitude that he had the most claim on her.
“Lady Wilhelmina,” he began, indicating Theo, “may I present my friend Mr. Theodore Osborne?”
Her eyes went from him to Theo, and then her mouth curled into a smile as she extended her hand to Theo. “A pleasure to meet you, sir,” she said.
Bram found he didn’t like that she was smiling at Theo. And then found that he didn’t like his own reaction on top of that dislike. He couldn’t be jealous of her, not when they’d both stated their intentions. It was just, he told himself, that he knew Theo was as likely to fall in love with her as Bram was likely to start an argument.
Which was to say very likely.
But he also knew that she had no desire to pair herself with anybody—even somebody as charming as Theo was. She had a plan, he’d figured out; it was just that she hadn’t seen fit to share it with him yet.
“Good evening, Lord Paskins,” she added, her smile dimming a little.
Which Bram tried not to be incredibly cheerful about.
“You attended the opera with this fellow?” Theo said, jerking his thumb toward Bram. “I’ve been trying to get him to more cultural events, but he always has the excuse of work. But now that he has gone to the opera, my lady, what else would you suggest he see?”
Wilhelmina blinked. “Uh . . . I don’t know that I am the person to ask, Mr. Osborne. That was my first time at the opera as well.”
“Did you enjoy it?” Theo asked.
Her expression grew dreamy. “It was splendid. People telling an incredible story through singing, and I would have never imagined it would be so good, and yet it was.”
“You’ll go again, of course,” Theo said, glancing toward Bram.
“I would be glad to accompany you to the opera, my lady, should Mr. Townsend find himself too busy with work to do so,” Lord Paskins said.
Bram suppressed a huff of annoyance. Though he did have to give credit to the other man; not only had he offered to take Lady Wilhelmina to something she would greatly enjoy, he also subtly reminded her that Bram might not value her as much as he did his work, and also that he did work for a living and wasn’t just an aristocrat who’d been born into an indolent lifestyle.
Though that was a bit judgmental. But then again, so was Bram.
“I would very much like to attend the opera again, my lady.” He turned to address Lord Paskins. “Thank you for the offer, but Lady Wilhelmina’s enjoyment is more gratifying to me than a few additional hours of work.”
“Bravo,” Theo murmured.
She met his gaze and blushed, and then he realized how she might take what he’d said—about her enjoyment, when they’d just been kissing one another in the garden.
And then he colored, too.
Men I Do Not Wish to Marry
Men I Do Not Wish to Marry: A Not at All Comprehensive List by Lady Wilhelmina Bettesford
Any gentleman at all. No matter how blue their eyes are, or how intelligent they seem.
Chapter Fourteen
Wilhelmina nearly pinched herself to make certain this was reality. There were no fewer than five gentlemen standing around her, and at least two of them—Mr. Townsend and his friend Mr. Osborne—were exceedingly handsome.
She could see why Alethea enjoyed the attention she received because of her beauty, though Wilhelmina imagined it would be exhausting to have this attention all the time. One would want to run home and hide under the covers for a bit, just to recover.
Or she would. She didn’t think Alethea would have that wish.
She’d never experienced this before. When she’d first made her debut, she’d taken pains to keep herself to herself in the corners, and not so subtly discouraged anyone who might possibly take an interest in her. Then there was her stepping on feet, which discouraged anyone who hadn’t gotten the hint already.
And she was going to go to the opera again! She should have thought of that before, that she could go again if she wanted to. There was no need for her father and his wife to purchase someone to take her either, since she had two gentlemen offering.
Plus she had somehow made Mr. Townsend blush. She wasn’t certain quite what she’d done, just that she’d met his gaze after they’d spoken, and then pink had flooded his cheeks. She would not tell him, of course, but his blushing made his appearance move from devastatingly handsome to adorable.
While still being devastatingly handsome.
“Mr. Townsend, I would very much enjoy going to the opera.” But she wouldn’t be rude to Lord Paskins, even if he thought staring up at the stars was idiotic. He couldn’t be blamed for his ignorance. “And my lord,” she said to Lord Paskins in a gentle tone, “if there is something else you would enjoy doing—” she began, only to pause as Mr. Townsend began to cough.
“Apologies,” he said when the coughing fit was done. “Just something catching in my throat.”
“I imagine so,” his friend Mr. Osborne said, his intonation making it sound as though there was something more he was referencing.
“I’ve purchased a carriage recently,” Lord Paskins replied. “Perhaps I could take you for a drive? Say on Friday?”
Wilhelmina nodded before she had time to think about it.
Perhaps there was something to Alethea’s plan, after all—she would not be doing these things if Mr. Townsend hadn’t agreed to the fake courtship. Though did she really wish to go driving with Lord Paskins? Likely not. But she would like being outside, since the only times lately she could go outside were when she was being whisked to the dressmaker’s or taken to a party such as this one.
If she just went out for the occasional drive with eligible gentlemen, perhaps the careful watch her father and Alethea had on her would relax, and she would be able to do more of what she wanted. It was something she should test out. Rather like a scientific theorem of increasing disregard for what she did, as long as it was in the pursuit of marriage.
Ridiculous, but there it was.
“My lady,” Mr. Osborne said, “would you do me the honor of granting me a dance?” He held his hand out to the dance floor, and she took it, allowing him to escort her out onto the floor.
The music was just starting up, and they stood still for a moment, his expression amused. At something she had done? She didn’t think she was being funny. Perhaps it was inadvertent humor?
“Do you have a question for me, my lady?” he asked as they began to dance.
A waltz. She had very little experience with waltzing; all she knew about it was that it helped if she counted “one, two, three” in her head while moving her feet, but that made answering his question—or talking in general—quite difficult.
He was a remarkably good dancer, unfortunately. Because she knew she must look awfully incompetent compared to him. But perhaps that was for the best, because then prospective suitors might write her off as a potential bride because of her inept footwork.
Which seemed as preposterous as choosing a life partner because you visited them a few afternoons at their house, but she wasn’t the one in charge, so that was how it was done. Though not for her, because she would not be squelched like that. And she knew full well that marriage for her would be a squelching: of her joy, of her research, of her relative autonomy.
If her husband didn’t want a dog in the house, he could get rid of Dipper without even speaking to her about it.
She didn’t think, if she were to marry Mr. Townsend, that he would do any of those things. But he was just as adamant as she that he did not want to marry, so the point was moot.
Even though the thought kept dancing around in her mind, particularly annoying since that dance was far more adept than her own physical attempts.
“My lady?” Mr. Osborne prompted.
Oh right. She owed him an answer to his question, not an internal railing against the system she was currently taking part in, albeit under pressure.
“I was wondering”—two, three—“how you know Mr. Townsend. It seems as though you are good friends.”
It wasn’t what she was wondering, because she knew the answer already, but she couldn’t ask him why he looked so amused. First because he’d have to come up with a lie if he was laughing at her, and second that if he could tell her what he was smiling about, he would have done so.
Likely she was saying the same thing in two different ways. She was proud she’d been able to come up with a response, even if he did have to ask her twice.
“We are,” Mr. Osborne said, looking past her shoulder to where they’d left Mr. Townsend. “He and I met at the Devenaugh Home for Destitute Boys.” He returned his gaze to her. “We are both orphans.”
“Oh,” Wilhelmina replied, envious of their closeness. Though also aware that their closeness was formed through their respective tragedies. “I imagine that would forge a strong bond.” She tilted her head in thought. “Rather like the three stars in Orion’s Belt.”
“Pardon?” Mr. Osborne said, looking confused.
“Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka,” she continued. “Together, they form a constellation. We cannot speak of one without speaking of the others, and in fact, we tend to speak of them as one unit.”
“We?” Mr. Osborne said, his eyebrows raised.
“Astronomers. I am an astronomer,” she said, not without a hint of pride in her voice.
But unfortunately, that moment of boasting meant she lost her count, and so she stepped squarely on Mr. Osborne’s foot, making him wince.
“Oh, goodness, I am sorry,” she said. They had stopped dancing, and now the other dancers were whirling around them, glares on their faces.
“Would you—?” she said, gesturing toward the doors that led out onto the terrace.
“Theo, I can escort Lady Wilhelmina. You should go take care of your foot,” she heard Mr. Townsend say. More glares directed toward them now that there were three people standing in the middle of the dance floor.
“I’ll do that,” Mr. Osborne replied. He didn’t look at all bothered, beyond his initial reaction, that she had stomped on his foot. In fact, he met her gaze and winked, before walking off the floor. Though his stride did have a bit of a hitch to it, as though he was favoring the foot.
“I am no good at this,” she muttered. No, she did not want to find a life partner this way, but neither did she want to cause pain—literal pain—by her very existence. Or more specifically, her foot’s very existence.
“On the contrary, my lady,” Mr. Townsend replied. “You are excellent at it.” He gestured to the dancers, most of whom were now just avoiding the middle of the room where they stood. Not glaring any longer, thank goodness. “Everyone here is aware of who you are and that you are open to trying new things, even if you are not immediately good at them.”
By now, he had walked her back to the terrace, and they stepped outside. She breathed in the fresh air, now conscious of how oppressive the heat and odors were inside.
“You’re not actually talking about my kissing, are you?” she said, narrowing her gaze at him.
Instead of answering, he had another coughing fit, which she was beginning to suspect was caused by his being surprised.
“No, my lady, I have no complaints there,” he said when he’d cleared his throat a few times. “It is unusual to speak about kissing nearly as much as doing it, however.”
She shrugged. “I like to analyze things,” she said. “Don’t you?” She gestured between them. “Isn’t that part of your profession also? You have to prepare your arguments, don’t you?”
“I do,” he confirmed. “We have much in common.”
“We do,” she confirmed. She tilted her head and gave him an appraising glance. “If I had any desire to marry, you might make an adequate husband.”
“Adequate?” he said, his brows raised.
“Though your friend Mr. Osborne is quite pleasant as well,” she mused. “He is such a good dancer, and very gracious about my stepping on him.”
“You think Theo would be adequate as well?” Mr. Townsend asked. His voice held a hint of a snarl, and she wondered if he and his friend had argued recently.
She shrugged. “If I had any desire to marry, I suppose so. But since I don’t,” she continued in a bright tone, “I’ll just be pleased that there are two gentlemen, at least, who would not make me miserable.” She would not tell him that he was the only one she had any desire to kiss. A desire that had, unfortunately, only increased after their terrace-adjacent incident. She hoped it wasn’t like her stargazing—that the more she did it, the more she wished to. Because that would be an untenable situation to be in.
Men I Do Not Wish to Marry
Men I Do Not Wish to Marry: A Not at All Comprehensive List by Lady Wilhelmina Bettesford
Someone who does not have a hobby. It could be the most ludicrous hobby—collecting rocks, for example, or wanting to try every variety of food there is—but a hobby-less man is a very dull man.
Chapter Fifteen
Adequate.
She thought he would make an adequate husband.
Bram’s fingers itched with the urge to grab her to him and show her just how adequate he could be—kissing her until she was breathless, for example, or using his considerable talents of persuasion to change her mind about his adequacy. Or lack thereof.
But what would be the point? Nothing, except for soothing his bruised ego. He was already committed to not marrying her, not only in her eyes, but in her father’s and stepmother’s. Two very different reasons, but it didn’t matter—they would not and could not marry.
“I suppose,” he said slowly, “that if I had any desire to marry, you would be my first choice as well.”
She blinked in surprise, then frowned when she’d processed what he’d said. “You have a first choice, which implies you have a second choice also. Possibly even a third.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I would like to know who those other choices are.”
She sounded outraged, and he tried to keep from smiling in satisfaction.
“It doesn’t matter, does it? Since neither one of us wishes to marry. In fact,” he said, gesturing back toward the party, “the whole point of this is to keep you from having to succumb to that state. If you can just hold out for—six months, I believe?”
“Six months, yes,” she said tightly.
“And while we are conducting this fake courtship, we can discuss what it is you truly wish to do instead.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “We can discuss? When we spoke about it, you said this subterfuge would give me time to decide what I want. How did this,” she said, twirling her fingers in the space between them, “become a two-person endeavor?” She gave an emphatic nod, then folded her arms over her chest again. “Besides,” she continued, “who’s to say I don’t already have a plan in mind?”
God, he loved sparring with her like this.
“I believe, my lady, that it became a two-person endeavor when you kissed me.”
“I did not cede my rights just because I pressed my mouth to yours!” The color in her cheeks was bright pink, and her eyes flashed fire.
“Did I say that?” He imitated her position, folding his arms over his chest. “Remind me when I stated—or even implied—that a kiss bestowed rights of decision-making.”
She glared at him. A long moment of silence stretched between them until finally she exploded, flinging her hands up in the air in exasperation.
“You didn’t! But neither did I ask for your help.”
“I am offering to help, as a friend would.” He leaned in to speak softly in her ear. “As a friend who has kissed you. And would like to again.”
She exhaled sharply, blowing the air up so wisps of hair fluttered around her face.
“I will not withdraw from my pretend courtship of you,” he continued, noting her set expression with an internal lick of pleasure, “so we might as well make the best of the situation.” He nodded toward her. “Tell me. What is it you want?”
He thought for a minute she was going to say she wanted to beat him with her shoe, but she stayed silent for a long few minutes until she finally exhaled.
“I have many plans,” she said at last. “Most of which you cannot help me with,” she continued, making him want to argue. But she kept speaking before he could demand to know just what it was he couldn’t help with. “I do want to go to the next Stars Above Society meeting,” she said at last. “And—” she went on, then stopped.
