The Aristocrat's Lady. Mary Moore

developed, she knew he was not a man in the first blush of youth. Now that her initial anger had subsided, she began to see the humor in the situation and felt an intense wish to stay and converse with this man. She knew it would be quite improper, but the inane pleasantries she had been forced to endure at recent soirees made her long for a normal and intelligent conversation with someone who had no preconceived notions of her. Truth to tell, she asked herself if a moonlight discourse with someone she did not know could be considered a normal conversation.

      However, it was too late, and she was beyond rational thinking. She wanted to pretend she was whole and that an interesting man found her company enjoyable. She raised her head at the sound of the agitated ducks.

      The gentleman broke into her thoughts. “You will think me mad, indeed I am beginning to agree with you, but since you lost your temper with me, you have … I cannot explain it, you have withdrawn. Despite what they say killed that woebegone cat, I find myself curious. Indeed, I have wanted to ask you why such a beautiful woman attending the most exclusive house party in London would be here on the terrace instead of wrapping every man in the room around her little finger.” He continued, sounding puzzled. “In fact, while you did not know I was here I even heard a sigh or two.”

      It was now Nicole’s turn to chuckle as she turned back toward the house, leaning her back against the railing. Suddenly Nicole felt she could be herself. “It appears you consider yourself quite perceptive, sir. I admit I may have sighed at the pure joy of the fresh air, however, that is where I draw the line. That borders on a fit of the vapors, and I assure you I have never resorted to those.” She raised her nose just slightly in the air, appearing to snub him. His surprised bark of laughter confirmed to her she had met a kindred spirit amidst all the trappings of London.

      “I am Nicole Beaumont, and I admit to a small amount of despondency because I miss home. The breeze on my face was a feeling I had almost forgotten since arriving in London.”

      She felt him beside her now, leaning his back against the railing. “Where is your home, if I may be so bold, and what makes you miss it so?” She knew the need to return to her mother, but did not yet wish to go.

      For just an instant, Nicole wondered if she could be completely honest with this man. Finding herself shocked at the thought of telling the gentleman all about herself on less than half an hour’s acquaintance, she simply answered, “The quiet here reminds me a little of home, a chance to put London’s glitter into perspective.”

      “Those seem very serious thoughts for a beautiful young woman at an exclusive ball. Are you one of those Methodists who eschews the upper classes?”

      She was pensive for a moment. “No, I am not. I cannot despise Society when God has placed me here. But I feel … sorrow that what is important in Society is what is transpiring in the ballroom. I see little evidence that much else matters except to see and be seen.”

      “I see that getting to know you could take a bit more time than the space of a ball.”

      Nicole smiled at his restraint. She knew he would have little patience for such words had he not been intent upon flirting with her. Would she be missing the one chance she had to tell him about her beliefs? It was clear the conversation would never fit into the short space of time on a moonlit terrace, so she answered his question. “My home is in Cheltenham in Gloucester. My father’s estate is there, and I am securely attached to it and its inhabitants.” She had almost forgotten he was present. “The scents of the garden were making me nostalgic as well. I am afraid I am quite the enthusiast when it comes to roses and I had a decided curiosity toward Mr. Repton and his work here.”

      She had to rein her thoughts in once again. “Unfortunately, I could not leave the ballroom earlier when I could have strolled through the famed atrium he created for Lady Swathmore. I understand his acclaimed work with fountains is represented here as well.” She smiled unevenly as she said, “What a pity it is a sight that only the rich and prestigious may see.”

      She shook off her melancholy. “However, the smell of the roses was enough to carry me back to the country. Believe it or not, I even miss my chores!” She chuckled at the last. “Since my father died I have been helping to run our estate. The new earl has not yet … taken an interest in his new home.” She shook off that thought. “I am even more amazed at how much time is taken up in London with nothing getting accomplished!” She stopped on this comment, embarrassed again for going on about a subject of absolutely no interest to anyone but herself.

      “I am amazed that I have only now had the pleasure of meeting you!”

      Nicole was not in the least surprised. “We have just spent the past five hours in the same house and we have not met.” She left unsaid her purpose to avoid as much of the company as possible. “Unlike you, I am surprised that even though the same people attend the same affairs night after night no one gets better acquainted. I have come to the conclusion that the hosts of such events only count them a success should their drawing rooms be so overcrowded that guests need only spend a few moments in each other’s company!”

      “I can see,” he said, very seriously, “each time we begin a conversation you will twist it so that I get no answer at all.” His stature changed and he became less flirtatious. “I apologize in advance for once again sounding arrogant, but whether I wish it or not, I usually come into contact with the new crop of belles each Season. Had I met you sooner, I would know more about you now than that you are attached to your home and that you are a follower of Mr. Repton. I, too, have a particular interest in his work, although I find some of his designs too intricate and symmetrical for my taste. Much more to my liking are some of Sir William Townsend Aiton’s ideas in the royal gardens.”

      She let out a little gasp of surprise.

      “You see, even on so short acquaintance we have much in common, and I am not the conceited simpleton you think me!”

      He left the topic, however. “Do not imagine I have forgotten the provocative comment you made about having no desire to marry. That in itself makes you different from every other woman here.”

      The gentleman placed his finger under her chin and gently turned her head toward him. It was too intimate a gesture for a first meeting and it embarrassed her. “Your attention seems bent solely upon this stone terrace. Oddly enough I would prefer it to be on me, despite my earlier attempts to send you off posthaste.”

      Nicole could not raise her eyes to his. She was afraid her confused emotions might show. Why would this man, who by his own admission was much sought after, show interest in her? Did he intend to add her name to a list of conquests? She had foolishly admitted she had no males to protect her, though she knew Toby would not stand idly by and see her hurt.

      His hand still cupped her chin, and it made Nicole feel decidedly strange. She had never felt such an immediate connection with a man and she could not explain it. Lord, protect me from this gentleman and from myself, she prayed quickly. This is what it could be like, if her malady did not exist.

      She turned her face back toward the candlelit ballroom. She knew God’s plan for her did not include marriage, but in her daydreams, she still saw it all. She would meet a man she could love who would share her humor and appreciation for the country. She dared to conjure up someone who would appreciate her family ties, but especially her love of God. He would accept her, defects and all.

      Dream though she might, she was much too practical to dwell on what could not be. She must rely on the verses in Jeremiah that now gave her confidence. For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Her expected end did not include marriage, but God promised His peace would accompany it.

      “You must forgive me. I meant no insult.” He resorted to humor again. “I do believe you and the moonlight have conspired to bewitch me!” Flirting followed close on its heels. “I do not believe that I have ever spent half an hour with a woman without once hearing the latest gossip or being asked to give my opinion on a new bonnet. Your conversation pleases me. I believe I have determined Society to be a dead bore.”

      Nicole