Page 9 of A Wallflower's Wassail Punch
“M-hm.”She wondered why she’d not seen Lord Weston’s name on the list.Perhaps he’d not been invited for “the selection” as she’d come to think of it.
An image of the handsome man danced before her.Thick auburn hair with only a touch of gray at the temples and eyes the color of her father’s coffee.His smile… Well, it had sent her belly tumbling.He had to be on the far end of his forties, yet his athletic build would indicate a younger man.Was Lord Weston’s age the reason he hadn’t been included as a possible suitor?
“He’s nice to look at, certainly.But do you think he’s a bit old for you?”Jenny busied herself with picking up the scattered clothing.“Or not…” she said, peering over her shoulder to see Annette’s dreamy expression in the mirror.
“It’s not like he’s as ancient as Lord Greggson.”If Lord Weston was as old as her father, there would be over twenty years difference in their ages.“But you’re right, I am hopeful one of the younger men arriving will be agreeable.”
“It’s a shame it’s come to this, miss,” tsked Jenny.“You used to love parties and crowds.”
Annette’s heart twisted a little, and she wondered where that social creature had gone.Buried in the bowels of Almack’s.Not that she was dreadfully shy.When with family, speaking with a small group of villagers, or mingling with friends of her father or Alice, she was her usual self.It was the large events, with people her own age who seemed to judge her, that sent her scurrying to the wall, hiding from the stares and whispers.Real or perceived.
“Then again, you’ve always been more comfortable with older men.Your brothers, your father’s friends.A widower might make a nice match for you.”Jenny stopped behind her, arms full of clothes, and locked gazes with her mistress.“You deserve to be happy.I’ve seen you with the little ones, the joy in your eyes.It will come to you, milady.I feel it in my bones.”
Annette gave her a grateful smile.“Speaking of happiness, how is your courtship with the stablemaster progressing?”
The maid blushed, her cheeks almost matching the red curls peeking from beneath her cap.“He’s a fine man, my Georgie.We’re thinking once you’re married?—”
“Blast!Must the world stop turning until I find a husband?”She clenched her hands together and squeezed her eyes shut.Deep breath, deep breath.“I didn’t mean to sound harsh.It’s just that I seem to be the reason no one is moving forward in love.You could remain my lady’s maid if you were wed.There is no reason to wait for my betrothal.”
“Georgie would prefer I not work once we’re married.Wants to start a family right away.”The maid blushed again, then grinned.“Besides, I’m in no hurry to leave you or this fine house.”
Annette stood and took Jenny’s hands in her own.“We will work around the wishes of your future husband.Please, if you are in love, marry him.”She thought of losing her mother much too soon, her own future that had seemed so rosy at the beginning of her first Season, and her brother whose heart had been broken the day he’d introduced his beloved to his best friend.“Life is too fleeting.The winds of destiny can change in a breath.Take joy where and when you can find it and never regret your choices.”
“Grand advice that you should follow too.”Jenny arranged the gossamer shawl about her mistress’s shoulders.“Now, go to dinner and enjoy yourself.Consider it a rehearsal for when the rest of the guests arrive.”
Her heart stuttered at the thought of the viscount.Annette agreed she needed practice in the art of flirting.Lord Weston would surely be immune to the coquetry of an amateur.Why not indulge in a harmless pastime?
CHAPTER4
“It seems I’ve been invited to a unique gathering, Bowman,” Andrew mused as he dressed for dinner that night.
“Christmastide, my lord?Will there be pagan rituals?Dancing around a bonfire?”His valet smirked as he attached the collar to Andrew’s linen shirt.
He chuckled.“Don’t ever leave me, Bowman.I’d miss your wit.”
“Thank you, my lord.I’ve no intention of going anywhere.”Bowman held up the waistcoat of striped spruce and cream that matched his butter-colored trousers.“What is so unique?”
Andrew put his arms out and shrugged on the piece of clothing.“The guest list is composed of possible suitors for our host’s daughter.It seems she had trouble in London, of the innocent sort, and refuses to have another Season.So, the suitors shall come to her.”
“Very expedient.”Bowman held a winding length of linen above his own ashen-brown head and slipped it over the viscount’s, then around his neck.“And convenient for you under the circumstances.”
“That’s the irony of this invitation.I’m not one of the proposed suitors.Beecham had no idea I’d decided to take a wife.He wants my opinion of the young men attending.”
“You are an excellent judge of character,” agreed Bowman.“But I wouldn’t take yourself out of the running.”
“I’m too old for her.”Did he sound whiny?
“Nonsense.We’re of the same age, and I’m certainly not in my dotage.Men take younger women to wife all the time.”
Andrew lifted his chin as the valet finished tying the cravat.When Bowman held up the rifle-green coat, Andrew purveyed the room and turned back to his valet.“It seems we’re keeping to a theme tonight.”
“Yes, my lord,” answered his valet with a twinkle in his hazel eyes.“Green is the color of rebirth and renewal.Fortuitous since you are beginning again and will need to revive your courting skills.”
“Yes, well, I don’t know if the color of my bedchamber will help me in that area.”
“It is in the middle of the color spectrum, offering balance.”Bowman raised one brow at his employer.“The shade is also known to induce relaxation and relieve anxiety.”
“And you believe I am in need of more calm and balance in my life?”Andrew asked with a chuckle.He knew the valet always had a point but preferred the long route to a shortcut.
