Page 10 of Loving Mister Stratford
There was a rustle of fabric as her mother shrugged in her typically Gallic fashion.“Who are we to snub our noses at such an opportunity?” This was so like her mother, to see her daughter’s blossoming courtship as an opportunity for advancement rather than a chance for her daughter to find her own happiness. Odette had always known her mother was far from a romantic; she never understood if the jadedness came from her own complicated romantic entanglements or playing role after role where she was the object of desire, though.
Perhaps Estelle Auclair believed romance wasonlyfor the stage.
“I think,” her mother continued;“we should use Mr. Stratford’s interest to our advantage. You’ve already charmed him and he so obviously finds you to his tastes from the way he looks at you. He’s handsome enough, if somewhat peculiar. If you can tolerate this, then pursue him back. He doesn’t seem like the type who would ever do you harm, though it is sometimes difficult to tell in the first blooms of attraction.”
Odette looked up and frowned at her mother.“What are you saying?”
“What I’m saying is you have the buck in your trap…it’s time to pull the snare.” Her mother’s voice was deadly calm and unnervingly even.
“I don’t want to trap him,” Odette replied, horrified.“Can’t we just allow things to play out as they will? You said so yourself that he likes me—”
“A man like Stratford will dawdle for months, if not a year or more,” she cut Odette off in a tone that brooked no comment.“We don’t have the luxury of allowing him to slip away after dedicating all this time and effort. Though you possess an education to rival even the most high-born of ladies, very little will overcome your breeding,” she spat the last like a curse, her French accent becoming more pronounced with her emotions. She had always known her mother’s temper would burst forth full force if she allowed herself to slip fully into French.
Odette’s mouth narrowed to a fine, taut line. Short of chasing off Mr. Stratford, she knew there was little she could do to stop her mother once she’d set her sights on something. This was the way things had always been: She claimed the role she wanted, she procured the protector upon whom she’d set her sights, and she imposed her will upon Odette with fierce determination.
Torn between wanting to spare Mr. Stratford from her mother’s machinations and terrified of pushing away such a kind, interesting, earnest man, Odette was forced to silently succumb to her mother’s wishes.
*****
As it turned out, her mother’s plot began to include a great deal of poor chaperoning. She’d leave Odette and Mr. Stratford alone in a room when he came to call, or bow out and dare to let them go on an outing alone and unattended. Unfortunately for her mother, it seemed that she’d either miscalculated Mr. Stratford’s honor or overestimated his ability to recognize exactly the opportunities as they presented themselves because his manners remained unchanged.
Odette had to stop herself from smiling as he’d continue a conversation as if they weren’t alone, or when he made no move to compromise her or coax her into a situation or embrace that Odette didn’t doubt any number of other men of the peerage would have taken advantage. He remained distant, if still attentive in his ways, and oblivious to the opportunities afforded him by her mother’s questionable behavior. For her part, Odette refused to comply with her mother, and she, too, continued as if nothing had changed. However, if anything, she found herself more drawn to Mr. Stratford than before. The evidence of his honor and respect were more endearing and charming to Odette than any ode or words of flattery.
But a kiss from those mesmerizing lips of his might not have been entirely unwelcome.
Things continued on much in this manner for another two weeks; however, unfortunately for Odette, this peace was not to last.
She should have known her mother would grow impatient…she just didn’t realize the lengths to which she would go to see her plan to fruition.
Her mother had been invited to a dinner party thrown by an obscure member of the royal family—some earl whose bloodline put him fourteenth or fifteenth in line for the throne. Odette had been invited by proxy and her mother, ever charming and able to get her wishes, was able to procure another space for Mr. Stratford to attend as their escort.
Though unaware of the plot simmering just beneath the surface, Odette had still been nervous about presenting the invitation to him. This would be an intimate party where he’d undoubtedly have to interact with nearly every guest.
His acceptance had surprised her, though the look she’d encountered in his sharp blue-green eyes told her he’d done so for her and only her.
And it made her positively tingly.
Odette practically floated as she entered the party on Mr. Stratford’s arm. He looked immaculate and regal in his evening-wear; his lean frame was dashing and the endearing tilt of his lips when he saw her made her fragile heart flutter in excitement. At her mother’s behest, she’d donned an ivory lace-trimmed gown with puffed sleeves and gold embroidery that shone when she moved in the candlelight. For once in her life she felt dainty and delicate on Mr. Stratford’s steady, strong arm.
She felt more confident with him by her side.
It seemed that, separately, neither of them fared well in these social situations; together, however, they found a rhythm and a confidence that had previously eluded them. They made small talk, taking a pass of the room with a surety neither knew that they possessed. They’d even shared a few amusing, knowing looks when some other guests would make ignorant or inane comments. It would seem that they had come to share a sense of humor after all the time spent together.
Shortly before dinner was announced, Mr. Stratford was coaxed into a conversation with an acquaintance of his father’s. Odette was content to observe the exchange, subtly admiring his profile and the perfection of his cheekbones, but she was interrupted by the hostess.
“Your mother has asked that I pull you away. She has need of you in the powder room,” the older woman whispered.
Wondering what her mother could have done—perhaps lost a hairpin or needed an adjustment to her skirts—Odette politely excused herself and left Mr. Stratford’s side.
She did her best to tamp down her sense of excitement at his flicker of regret when she took her leave.
Following the hostess’s instructions, Odette exited the parlor and made her way down the hallway, locating the powder room with ease. She found her mother strategically adjusting a blond curl in the mirror a moment before she glanced up and caught Odette’s reflection over her shoulder.
“You wanted to see me?” Odette asked, shutting the door behind her and noting that they were the only two in the room. Her mother gave her a cool smile, but didn’t turn from the mirror.
“Yes; I wanted to see how your evening is going.”
“Fine,” Odette replied cautiously, unsure why she needed to be pulled away for such a question.
