Page 7 of War of the Wedding Wagers
Nevertheless, Miss Fairchild’s declaration suggested that she was not of a forgiving nature. Clearly, encroaching spinsterhood had made her bitter.
Well, best to discover that now, for the truth was that he’d always admired Miss Fairchild. Not only did her dark, glossy curls, creamy complexion with an elegant straight nose, and intelligent blue gaze make her easy on the eye but she wasnot one of these desperate-to-be-noticed misses who seemed to be thrust under his nose every five minutes since it was presumed that his continued bachelorhood after five years on the Continent meant he was after an English wife.
“I remember, Miss Fairchild, your mama telling me many years ago, that you’d borrowed a book whose description of the Acropolis had greatly interested you. No doubt Sir Frederick has actually seen that ancient monument,” said Lady Townsend with a pursed little smile to set off her bobbing gray ringlets.
Frederick waited, then murmured, “Indeed I have.” Perhaps Miss Fairchild, being now put on the spot, was about to offer the olive branch. She surely must know he’d heard her barbed remark about him to her brother and wished to atone.
Instead, she merely inclined her head and murmured, “I wonder if Sir Frederick had time for more than a passing glance at the Acropolis or the Masters in the Louvre or the Uffizi Gallery. Certainly, his appreciation for the ladies on the Continent has become well known.”
Ouch.
Sir Frederick matched her saccharine smile while his thoughts raced. Was she referring to his affair with Lady Langbourne? And yet, that was his only properly low moment in five years away. Lonely, neglected Lady Langbourne held a regular salon in Paris patronized by the greatest minds of Europe, and she had invited Sir Frederick to attend.
Frederick had been in his element. And when Lady Langbourne, a ripe and generous beauty, had singled him out for attention, Frederick had not been averse. Besides, he was not giving his heart—or anything else—to anyone who’d care long term for it.
But Miss Fairchild clearly knew a great deal about the beauties and wonders he had seen with his own eyes. He had few enough people of like mind with which to discuss them, soperhaps a few moments discoursing on the Acropolis and the statue of David—well, perhaps not David—might thaw the ice between them and improve his impression upon her.
He was about to open his mouth to give the lie to the assumption—no, the rather insulting charge she’d just insinuated—that he’d not in fact visited these wonders when she suddenly cried, “Pray, there is Miss Mannerly and I do know she’s been dying to make your acquaintance, Lady Townsend.”
As the small, shapely blonde with cornflower blue eyes and rosebud lips that Miss Fairchild had just hailed, turned in their direction, Frederick was about to make his excuses when Miss Fairchild beseeched him to stay with the words, “You cannot be so unmannerly as to refuse to meet my dear friend Miss Mannerly,” before asking Lady Townsend to perform the introductions.
Frederick was stupefied. He’d spent nearly the entire two weeks since he’d returned from the Continent avoiding this young woman whom he’d heard had singled him out, particularly as a would-be suitor. Her dowry was ample and her lineage exceptional, but she was as flighty as a butterfly. He didn’t need to be introduced to her to know this, having observed her multiple times from a distance. And each time she’d deliberately caught his eye from afar, Frederick had made a point of disappearing to another room. Miss Mannerly was just the kind of young woman he deplored and now Miss Fairchild was ensuring they were acquainted, which would put all sorts of onerous obligations upon him.
“Sir Frederick, Miss Mannerly was saying only yesterday that she’d like nothing more than to hear all about your exploits on the Continent,” Miss Fairchild said sweetly. “I’m sure you can never have enough of an audience of the kind Miss Mannerly has promised to be. Please excuse me, for I see my brother trying to attract my attention.”
And then she was gone, and Sir Frederick was left with the garrulous Miss Mannerly as she talked without a pause in one long monologue about how much she would adore to see all the wondrous sights he had seen and how steeped in history she felt when she gazed at the books in her learned papa’s library yet it barely could be believed that Sir Frederick had seen the sights they contained with his very own eyes.
And when Sir Frederick finally got a word in edgewise to ask reluctantly, “What would you like to see most out of all the great treasures and sights in Europe?” She was speechless.
In fact, she could not name one.
And it wasn’t that she was tongue-tied with embarrassment.
Sir Frederick sighed inwardly, though he smiled with what might pass muster as indulgence as Miss Mannerly had focused a rather panicked look upon him.
Really, he thought. Of all the vacuous blondes he’d had the misfortune to meet, Miss Mannerly must be the most airheaded of all.
While there in the corner of the ballroom, Miss Fairchild was in earnest conversation with her brother.
He wondered what they were talking about. Young Edward Fairchild was not the brightest star, but he was pleasant and it was clear his sister was vastly fond of him.
Frederick thought how nice it would be if Miss Fairchild leveled just such an easy countenance upon him as they discoursed on some mutually enjoyable topic.
Chapter Four
Amelia paced thegenerously proportioned drawing room of their too-expensive townhouse as she tried to think.
Edward and their mother looked on gravely.
“Edward!” she said, looking up suddenly. “I need you to make me a list of every even half-eligible petite blonde damsel you know and can think of. Now!”
“Really, Amelia, I hardly think Edward would be able to come up with six names off the top of his head,” their mother remonstrated. She disliked it when her daughter adopted what she called her “fierce, masculine tone.” “Edward is far more discerning than that. And I’m not sure he even wants to narrow his list of prospectives to simply blonde young ladies. Why would he?”
“Where’s paper and pencil?” Edward responded, ignoring their mother and immediately scrawling an impressive dozen names which had Mrs. Townsend blinking in surprise.
Amelia too.
“Are there really that many eligible young ladies swanning around ballrooms… that are blonde?” Mrs. Fairchild asked. “Blonde ones? What an admirable eye for detail you do have, Edward.”
