Page 2 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife
“Because it’s what a man of fashion does.It proves you’re a person of taste.”
“But I have no interest in Fenella Fitchett.”
“Petronella.”
“The name alone is enough to make me head for the hills.”
“She’s a pretty filly.”
She was indeed, in the blonde, simpering style.“I suppose so.”
“You danced with her.You must have liked the look of her.”
“Of course I did.I’m not blind.Anyway, Lord Tierney practically forced me to ask her.”The diamond might have held greater appeal, if she hadn’t been more aware of her good looks than Hugo was.
“You were the envy of every man in that ballroom.”
“I don’t know why.She’s got no more conversation than a dormouse.”
“When she looks the way she does, she doesn’t need to talk.”
Something in Ivor’s tone sparked Hugo’s curiosity.“Don’t tell me you’re serious about courting her.”
That elicited an inelegant snort.“As if she’d look at me, a mere mister.I know nobody thinks I have an ounce of sense, but I’ve got the sense to know that the prettiest girl in London isn’t going to give me a second glance.”
“She’s not going to look at me either.I’m only a baronet, and she’ll fancy herself a countess at the very least.”
“You’re dashed rich.”Ivor went a little pink.“And m’sister tells me you’re accounted a good-looking cove.”
Hugo shifted in his leather chair.In general, a chap didn’t remark on another chap’s attractions.Anyway, he wasn’t in the current style at all.He looked like a farmer, with his thick fair hair and deep-set blue eyes used to surveying a distant fell, not a crowded ballroom.He was large and muscular, built for striding across his broad acres in Yorkshire and pulling a stranded ewe out of the mud.
“In the rustic manner.I’ve got no Town bronze.”A week in London had proven that he didn’t belong here, although he was enjoying his visit to the capital.The city was only a few hundred miles from Hampden Crags, but it felt as exotic as far Cathay.“Anyway, I want a wife I can talk to.Winter evenings on the moors are long and dark.”
“You’re missing the point.”Ivor frowned.“You’re not sending Lady P.flowers because you want to marry her.”
“I don’t.”
Ivor ignored the emphatic interruption.“You’re sending her flowers because it’s what a Town buck does.Trust me on this.You’re new to London and I’m just trying to steer you right.”
Hugo’s lips flattened, even as he conceded that Ivor knew his way about the beau monde and he didn’t.At home, he was lord of all he surveyed.Here in London, he was as unaware as a newborn lamb.
He’d left Yorkshire with a vague idea of finding a bride and seeing a bit of the high life.The weeks leading up to Christmas provided a chance to sample the city’s entertainments without immersing himself in the hectic whirl of the season.Anyway, it was a quiet time on the farm and he could get away.
So far, society’s complicated customs left him baffled.He found it much easier to deal with sheep.Sheep he understood.“So I need to send her flowers?”
“You danced with the girl, after all.”
“Very well.I’ll get Lister onto it.He’ll know where to go.”
Lister was the valet he’d employed upon his arrival in London, again at Ivor’s suggestion.Ivor had insisted that Hugo’s perfectly respectable wardrobe needed smartening up, if he wanted to cut a dash in the ton.Hugo’s old school friend had found an experienced gentleman’s gentleman to undertake the task.So far, the relationship had proven combative, but Hugo, if pushed, would award the honors to Lister.
It all seemed a lot of damned palaver about nothing, even if in the last week, Hugo had spent a ridiculous amount of brass on clothes.Not to mention he’d been nagged into devoting the same attention to nuances of fashion that a lawyer paid to a rich man’s will.
“Actually I’ve got a better idea.Don’t get Lady P.flowers.Get her bonbons.She likes bonbons.”
Hugo was starting to wish that he’d never sought his friend’s advice.In fact, he wondered if he might have been better going to York for a month, attending a few assemblies and looking for a bride closer to home.He couldn’t imagine a good, sensible Yorkshire lass requiring quite this amount of fuss to win her.“You just said to send her flowers.”
“Any blockhead can send a lady flowers.The man of style will buy her candied violets from Sweet Little Nothings in Bond Street.”
