Page 130 of Rakes & Reticules
“Of course we are friends.” Samuel’s brow knitted into a frown while Lady Hazel crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him through narrowed eyes. He was afraid to hazard a guess as to what the woman was about to share next.
Lips pursed, she said, “And was it not you who was the one who suggested to be each other’s champion…to assist one another. You were to provide support in my quest to find a husband, and I was to guide you in mastering gentlemanly behavior in order to shed the persona of a rake.”
He nodded, not knowing how best to reply.
“Then…then pray explain how it came about that Lady Archbroke overheard you last eve at the Harrington affair sharing to all and sundry a long list my faults. That is not an act of a boon companion. Who in their right mind would agree to share the rest of their days with me when my own friend believes I’m a stubborn minx with a sharp mind and tongue?”
His head throbbed, partially due to having over indulged the night before, but also from guilt as he recalled the monologue Lady Hazel was referring to. While he had used those exact words, they were taken out of context. “Let me explain.” He reached to take her hand in his once more, but she scooted back and he ended up wrapping his arm about her to prevent her from falling off the edge of the bench. Lady Hazel rose and he let his arm fall to his side. He didn’t want her to leave his side. He grabbed her hand. “I was wrong. It was not my intention to disparage your character.”
She released a sigh filled with defeat. “We are midway through the Season, and while you have managed to regain the favor of the ton,Ihave not gained the interest of any gentleman. You claim that your attention will induce others to take notice of me, yet I find that the other eligible bachelors steer clear of me when you are present. I think it’s time we…”
“I agree. We…we should devise a different stratagem to find you a husband.” A lump in his throat formed as the words slipped through his lips. He swallowed hard and continued, “As your friend—”
Lady Hazel squeezed his hand that remained desperately clasped in hers. “That is the crux of the issue, Samuel. We can’t remain friends.” She pulled free and began to pace in a circle.
He rose and shifted to stand next to the pianoforte. “You enjoy my company and I enjoy yours. Thus there is no reason for usnotto remain friends.”
Lady Hazel stopped mid step and froze. “But there is a reason.” She inhaled deeply and stared directly up at him. “I’ve grown far too accustomed to your presence. When you are not near, I begin to feel anxious. I think of you constantly. And when you are near, my heart races. These…these are not the feelings a friend should have. I can’t remain your friend. I fear I’m—” Lady Hazel covered her face with her hands.
He slowly approached her and gently removed her hands from her face. “Lady Hazel.” He waited for her to open her eyes but they remained shut. “I’m in no position to take a wife. I’ve but only begun to come to accept the fact I’m Lord Thornsbee and to rectify my rakish ways.”
Head bent Lady Hazel muttered, “I understand.”
The trickle of moisture that escaped the corner of Lady Hazel’s eyes had Samuel’s heart aching with regret. “I should take my leave now.”
Lady Hazel nodded and rather than remaining behind, it was she who retreated from the music room first.
He wanted to run after her and beg for forgiveness for causing her tears but he remained rooted to the spot, unable to move forward to leave. A war as to what was the best course of action raged within him. To leave and let Lady Hazel be—or to convince her to remain friends, to hell with finding a husband this Season?
CHAPTERTWO
Hazel’s second Season - 1814
The man who had devilishly captured her heart weaved through the crowd toward her. Hazel wanted to whirl around and run. Run into the dark gardens, but Samuel would only follow her and track her down without a care for what it might mean to her reputation. Hands fisted at her side, she counted to ten, hoping Samuel would be waylaid by one of the many widows that were more than eager for his company. Her blood boiled recalling how she had recklessly wasted her debut Season secretly hoping Samuel’s feelings would mirror her own.
What had innocently begun as fondness for a friend and had ultimately bloomed into love. No longer was she willing to wait for a glimpse of the man’s winning smile or while the hours away reliving the enthralling scientific discussions on the formations in the sky, especially those conversations that focused upon the stars that glittered in the night. No other gentleman of her acquaintance humored her interest in such subjects; instead, they found her bookish ways a bore and escaped from her company. Prepared to do whatever necessary to find a husband this Season, Hazel emptied her mind and plastered a smile upon her face as Samuel came to a stop in front of her.
“A good evening to you, Lord Thornsbee.”
“Lady Hazel.” Samuel folded into a bow but his gaze never left her face. “How was your summer, my friend?”
Friend! Blast the man and his “friendship.” She wasn’t in need of a friend; she needed a husband. Unwilling to repeat the same mistake as last Season, misinterpreting the time and attention he devoted to her as interest, Hazel swore she would keep her distance and remain as far away as possible from Samuel. No, not Samuel. Lord Thornsbee. The sooner she refrained from referring to the man so informally and rebuilt the wall of proprietary the better.
Hazel stared at the man who had rejected her admission of love and crushed her heart. The fine laughter lines of a carefree rake that had appeared at the corners of his eyes last Season were gone. She slowly unfurled her fisted hands and purposefully clasped them behind her back prepared to verbally spar with the man who still had the ability to make her knees weak. “My summer was...” She wanted to confess she had missed his company, but the sting of rejection stiffened her spine. “I always enjoy sun-filled days in the country. Thank you for inquiring, friend.”
Lord Thornsbee chuckled. “So…you missed me.”
How arrogant of the rake! She had to admit his ability to read her thoughts accurately had not dissipated one bit despite not having contact for over three months. He’d seen straight through her vague reply. Hazel planted her hands on her hips. “Not for a moment did I think of you.”
He bent at the waist and stared directly at her. “You’re lying.”
Terrible at uttering falsehoods, but unwilling to look away, she replied, “I’m not.”
“Lady Hazel, your eyes don’t lie—you missed me.” Lord Thornsbee straightened and adjusted his cravat. “Now that the summer's over and you have returned to London, I expect we shall be able to enjoy each other's company once more.” He winged out his arm for her. “Shall we take a stroll?”
The audacity of the man. Didn’t he realize that if she continued to accept his invitations to accompany him, she would once again face a Season with no prospects of marriage? She brought her chin up from her chest and infused as much conviction as she could muster into her answer. “Not with you,my friend.” She blinked as the sharp edge to her tone sliced through the air between them.
Brows knitted, Lord Thornsbee tilted his head and asked, “Are you angry with me? Is there something I should apologize for?”
