Page 7 of The Viscount's Forgery
Lady Isobella nodded firmly, drawing her back to those present rather than thinking only of the Marquess and Polly. “You have your own happiness to think of too, Eugenia. If you wish to marry, then we will assist you when it comes to finding a suitable gentleman. As you have been able to see, there are many gentlemen eager to consider a bluestocking!”
Eugenia smiled, thinking of some of the recent happiness the bluestockings had found. “That is true.”
“Though the bluestocking book club continues all the same,” Lady Isobella said firmly. “There is still some time before the end of the Season. What sort of gentleman do you think you might wish to find?”
It was a very direct question – though Eugenia knew to expect that from Lady Isobella – but one that she was not quite able to answer. “I do not know,” she said, as they approached the other bluestockings. “I had not thought about that, not with any depth.”
“Then you must!” Lady Isobella declared, smiling at Eugenia. “Do you seek love?”
This made Eugenia shake her head most fervently. “No, not in the least. I do not even think affection is necessary, only respect and consideration.”
“And a contentment to have one’s wife be a bluestocking,” Lady Isobella added, as Eugenia chuckled, smiling at her other friends.
“Good evening, Eugenia,” Miss Trentworth said, as the others smiled at her. “Are you to dance this evening? We have only just had Lord Albury and Lord Broughton come to stand with us, signing various dance cards. I am sure they would be very glad to stand up with you also. Lord Waverley is to return to us also very soon.”
“They are very kind, but I am contented just to stand and watch this evening,” Eugenia answered, feeling a little heaviness in her spirit given how Polly had spoken to her. “My sister has been upset about this evening, you understand, given that the Marquess of Bothwell will be present.”
“That must be difficult for her and for you,” Lady Amelia said, gently. “You know we are more than willing to do whatever we can to support you in this.”
“You are all very kind,” Eugenia answered, feeling her spirits rising as she stood amongst her friends once more. “I am sure I will be very contented this evening, now that I am with you all.”
Eugenia knewshe ought not to be out of the ballroom alone, but the noise of the music, laughter, and multiple conversations had left her feeling a little weary. Promising Lady Isobella she would return very soon, she had stepped out of the crowd and into the quietness of a hallway where, as often happened, a painting on the wall caught her attention.
She took it in, trying to come to a decision as to whether she liked it or not. That was a little unusual in itself, for usually, her decisions were very clear indeed. This, however, was one that she could not seem to decide on. It was a country scene, a dilapidated house in one corner with the fields streaming out to the left of it. There was no sunshine, however, no sunset nor sunrise. Instead, it was all rather grey, with the mist coming in to hug itself around the stalks of wheat that grew. Indeed, as Eugenia considered it, it appeared as though the mist were approaching the house, threatening it in a most frightening way as if it sought to tear it down completely. Tilting her head, she decided inwardly that though she did not like the painting in itself, it was a masterful piece of work. It had made her think, had invoked a reaction within her, and that, certainly, was impressive.
A noise caught her attention and she jumped, her skin prickling as she looked to her right, seeing a gentleman walking along the hallway towards her. His head was lowered, and he was pushing one hand through his hair, only to lift his gaze and see her there.
Eugenia’s mouth went dry, suddenly very afraid indeed. She was standing alone and quite without company, and there were, she knew, a good many roguish gentlemen here at the ball. If this were one, then she might well be in danger.
The gentleman stopped, looking straight at her. The candlelight in the hallway was strong enough for her to make out the copper in his hair, though his dark eyes made her stomach twist sharply with fear.
“I presume, my lady, that you do not have the intention of making your way to the card room?”
His voice was clear and crisp as he stood where he was, not approaching her nor moving away. The steadiness of his eyesgave her pause as she shook her head, not at all certain that she should say anything.
“It is a trifle unusual for a young lady to be standing alone in the hallway,” glancing over his shoulder. “Are you waiting for someone, mayhap?”
Understanding his meaning, Eugenia drew herself up straight. “I most certainly am not. There is no gentleman come to find me, if that is what you think.”
A small quirk touched the side of his lips, though it faded quickly. “I see.”
“I was taking a moment,” she declared, firmly, “then became a little distracted by this painting, that is all. I should take my leave now.”
“Yes, I think you should,” came the reply, as he strode towards her. Eugenia caught her breath and took a few steps back, but the gentleman did not approach her. Instead, he came to stand directly in front of the painting, clasping his hands behind his back and looking up at it, just as she had been doing. Eugenia, not sure what she should do, stayed precisely where she was. If she made to step around him, then would he reach out to grab her? Take a hold of her and do whatever he pleased? She could not run in the opposite direction, for that would lead her to the card room and, no doubt, to gentlemen who were so deep in their cups, they would not know what they were doing.
“You need not think that I will behave improperly towards you,” the gentleman said to her, glancing towards her out of the corner of his eye. “I can see that you are fearful, but I assure you, you need not be. If you wish to return to the ballroom, as I think you should, then I will do nothing to prevent that.”
Still a little uncertain, Eugenia nodded and then stepped slowly around him, relieved when he did not reach out to grasp her. It seemed, then, that he was a gentleman of his word, and for that, she was grateful.
“Might I ask, before you leave, what it was about this painting that caught your attention?” The gentleman tipped his head, studying the work but not looking towards her for even a moment. “It seems a little dull to me, and I have a good many works of art upon my walls. The very best, in fact, though I should never have something such asthisupon them.”
Eugenia’s mouth was still dry, but she spoke as clearly as she could, relieved now that there was no threat hovering over her, though she did think the gentleman a little arrogant in the way he spoke. “I could not decide whether I liked it or not.”
“That is all?” The gentleman’s eyebrow lifted as he looked back at her. “That is the only thing that drew you to it?”
“Usually, I have a very clear idea as to whether something is to my liking or not,” Eugenia answered, a little embarrassed. “With this painting, I could not be sure. The subject matter is a little dull, as you have said, but the more I looked at it, the more I realized that itdoesevoke a sense of concern, of worry that the approaching mist is more fearsome than it appears. In that sense, I think that it is very well painted. The skill it takes to use a brush in that manner is one thing, but to bring out a sense of concern from the admirer is quite another.”
The gentleman blinked, ran one hand over his chin, and began to nod slowly, his dark eyes lingering on her. “You are quite astute, are you not?”
