“Immensely, actually. Hil loved it even more. It was almost too bad for her, as it made her a little unhinged.”
Ashford laughed. “Whatever do you mean?”
Again he saw her sparkling smile show itself briefly, and it warmed his heart to think perhaps all was not lost in his pursuit of the girl.
“Well, you met her before she married her viscount. She was determined to wed a duke. It was rather twisted reasoning, but somehow she had it in her head that she had failed in being born a girl rather than a boy. That she ought to have been the heir our father needed. I think it stemmed from her great love for the estate and her enjoyment of our father’s attention in allowing her to help him. It wasn’t Father’s fault. I got a slight taste of it myself when we returned home after my grandmother’s death. That year of being the eldest and helping Father was wonderful. I could see why Hil wished she had been a boy. Not that I wished the same, but it was certainly fulfilling. Now Eastwood lets her do whatever she wants with his estate, and she has come to be happy with being a viscountess.”
“How fascinating.” His dry remark prompted another brief laugh from his companion as he steered his carriage into the Park and into the flow of circulating nobles on display that afternoon.
After another brief pause, Ashford prompted her to speak again. “But even if you find your own household as you said, surely you could reassure your parents in the same way, whether you’re there or not.”
“That’s true, but it wouldn’t carry the same weight if I’m preoccupied with my own future.”
“Perhaps not, but don’t you think if you don’t get on with your own future as you put it, they will have reason to be worried about both you and the boy?”
Lady Vigilia laughed out loud over his words before suddenly sobering. “Well, now I’m extra motivated to get on with my life,” she stated. “If only it were as easy as saying it is so.”
“Well you could, perhaps be a little less picky, and you could get on with it.”
The young woman beside him stiffened before turning to glare at him. “For one thing, Mr. Northcott, I am not being picky, as though to imply I am playing hard to please. For another thing, every young woman ought to be particular about her choices about her future. It’s the largest decision of her life, shouldn’t she be careful about it? But your statement implies that I have been overrun with eligible offers and have refused to accept any of them on frivolous grounds. I can assure you that has not been the case.”
She was practically hissing by the time she got to the end of her declaration but suddenly stopped, flushed to the roots of her pretty blonde hair that was covered by a bonnet of some fashion. Blinking rapidly, she appeared to collect herself before looking past him and smiling.
“Good afternoon, Lady Chorley, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
“Good afternoon, Lady Vigilia, you are looking as pretty as a picture on this fine afternoon. Mr. Northcott, how do you do?”
Ash gritted his teeth over the interruption. He felt as though he had discovered the potential source of his difficulties with Lady Vigilia but was now unable to pursue getting to the root of the matter. He would now have to make polite conversation with the talkative viscountess.
He was correct in his assumption. Once Lady Chorley excused herself, Lady Vigilia became a chattering magpie, barely allowing him to insert any words of his own, as though nervously trying to prevent him from commenting on their previous conversation.
“Perhaps, we ought to stroll for a while,” she prompted, rather rudely in his estimation. Was it not his place to make such a suggestion? Once he helped her down from the high vehicle, he quickly saw why she had made the alteration to their drive. She was all the better able to interact with anyone else but him, as they were able to encounter more people strolling through the park. He found her tactics amusing in a certain way. If only they weren’t also terribly frustrating.
“I really ought to be returning home,” she suddenly said. “Well, not home, of course, but to Crossley’s townhouse,” she added with a nervous sounding giggle.
It was unusual to see the easy going, normally poised young woman acting like a nervous debutante. Ash wondered if it was a good sign or a bad one. Perhaps, he ought to discuss the girl with her hostess. But a part of him balked at the idea of discussing the woman with anyone. Not only did he hate the thought of confiding in someone, but he also didn’t want to admit to having less than the utmost success in his pursuit. But Lady Crossley could probably give him some useful advice on the matter, he reminded himself.
“Will you be at the Smythe rout this evening?” he was able to finally ask as he was handing her down in front of the townhouse moments later. He had been forced to take advantage of her finally stopping for breath. She blushed as though realizing that he knew what she had been doing.
“I do believe we are promised there,” she finally answered after a brief hesitation.
When a servant hurried forward to take control of his horses so he could escort her inside, the lady waved him away.
“Don’t bother keeping your horses standing on my account. I am perfectly fine making my own way into the house. Thank you for getting me out into the fresh air, Mr. Northcott. Perhaps, I shall see you later this evening.” With those dismissive words and barely a glance in his direction, she hurried up the stairs and through the door conveniently held open by an attentive servant.
Ashford watched her disappear, amusement chasing away his irritation. He couldn’t even explain who he was irritated with. The girl for being less than receptive to his attentions, or himself for continuing said attentions. With a slight shake of his head and a twitch of the reins, he urged his team of horses into motion.