The Earl, the Lady and the Song of Love by Fanny Finch
Chapter 3
“Oh, Imogen! You should have seen us. We could have danced all night if we had been allowed to. Lord Wimbledon is an even better man than I thought. Can you believe he has interest in the arts? The arts!” Alicia chuckled in awe as she paused. She soon continued.
“There are not many gentlemen who have interests in books and poems these days, Imogen. Imagine finding one with whom you could speak about your favorite stories and poetry?”
Imogen could hear her friend speaking, but her mind was far away.
Just as Alicia could not stop gushing about the night she had had with the earl, Imogen was replaying it all in her mind.
Thoughts of the moments shared with Lord Exeter filled her mind. When she had gone to sleep the night before, she had dreamt of him. As she awoke that morning, she had continued to think of him.
There was nothing she could do to help it, not even if she wanted to—and she did not.
It had been the best night of her life.
Deciding to only fill three slots on her dance card had turned out to be a good decision. It had afforded her the chance to share one more dance with the baron.
He was charming indeed. He had done enough talking for the both of them when she had been too shy or awed to speak. And when she had spoken, he had laughed as though she was the wittiest person he had ever met.
He was gentle, in speech and in character. He was sweet and endearing and he had looked at her all night, as though she was the only thing he could see.
It had felt like living a fairy tale.
Imogen had only ever gotten so much devotion from her father and her brother. It was Alicia who often got all the attention when they were out together and, in all honesty, Imogen had never cared.
It had never bothered her one bit. It still did not. Especially now that she had someone who appeared to be just as devoted to her.
He had promised to call upon her soon. She hoped he would. She could barely wait to see him again. As humorous as it was, she dared say she missed him.
Indeed, it was too soon. She was aware of this. Nevertheless, if he cared for her anything like she did for him, she believed a proposal was forthcoming.
First, he would ask to court her. Then, he would seek her father’s blessings in the marriage. By the end of the season, they would be married, and, in another year, they would have their first child. They would eventually go on to live happily ever after.
She could just tell they were going to have a wonderful life together.
“Imogen? Imogen!”
She startled out of her daydream as Alicia’s voice pierced into her ears.
“What is it?” she asked, worried.
“You did not hear a word I have just said, did you?”
Imogen considered denying it, but she knew it was no use. So, she answered truthfully.
“Quite frankly, you lost me at poetry.” It was the last thing she could remember hearing.
Alicia’s jaw dropped in mock horror as her eyes widened.
“Poetry? That far back? Gracious!” she huffed haughtily, and Imogen could tell she was offended.
“I apologize. I could not help it.”
“Truly? Did I bore you so much that your mind had to wander off or did you simply refuse to listen because you were jealous?”
Imogen frowned. She had not been expecting that at all.
Jealous? She had never for once felt the merest hint of such ugly feeling towards Alicia.
“Jealous? Whatever of? You know I would never, Alicia.”
“Is that so?” Alicia retorted. “Then why would my best friend not listen when I tell her of the man I happen to like very much? Oh dear . . .” she stopped abruptly as though a thought suddenly occurred to her.
“Of course, you were not jealous. Silly me.” She smacked her forehead softly. Then, turning sober, she looked at Alicia with sympathetic eyes.
“You were hurt, were you not? Yes, of course, you were. Here I was, rambling on about my perfect night when you probably had an unmemorable one. You were not lucky enough to meet someone you fancy, were you? Someone who fancied you in return?”
Imogen was even more surprised to hear these words than she had been at Alicia’s accusation.
True, she had yet to tell Alicia about Lord Exeter, but that was because she had not gotten the chance. Ever since Alicia arrived this morning, she had been going on and on about the earl, leaving little room for Imogen to speak.
Slowly, Imogen started to recover from her shock. She could scarcely fault her friend for thinking her night had been bland.
After all, of the two of them, it was quite a known fact that Alicia was the one who led the most eventful life.
As she understood where the presumptions had come from, Imogen smiled, shaking her head.
“That is not the case either, Alicia. You see, I actually met . . .”
Just then, the door to the drawing room opened and the butler, Mr. Ramson, entered.
Both ladies turned to look at him, question in their eyes.
Mr. Ramson bowed his head. Hands folded behind him, he greeted,
“Miss Hartford, Miss Fitzwilliam. There is a young man at the door. He wishes to see you, Miss Hartford.”
“Me?” Imogen asked. Her heart began to thud in her chest, and she wondered if it was the baron.
Could it be?
“Yes. He says his name is Baron Exeter. He claims you are expecting him.”
Imogen was instantly filled with joy. She tried to contain her happiness though, not wanting to give away too much.
“Yes, yes. I met him at the ball last night. He said he would be calling soon. I gave him permission to. Please, show him here. Are Father and Lewis aware?”
Mr. Ramson nodded. “Master Lewis is with him as we speak. Your Father will not leave his study.”
Imogen nodded. “I see. Please, bring him to me before Lewis scares him away.”
Mr. Ramson’s lips lifted in a small smile then, it was almost a smirk.
“I am afraid it might already be too late for that,” he teased.
Before Imogen could say anything else, he turned and left the drawing room.
“A gentleman, here to see you? Did you meet him at the ball?” Alicia asked when they were alone again.
Imogen’s response was a sweet smile. “That I did. Just after you left with Lord Wimbledon, he came to me. I was immediately smitten. He asked for my first dance, and I was happy to oblige. We shared one more dance before the ball ended and he promised to call on me. He did say soon. I did not think it would be so soon, though. I suppose he is eager to see me again.”
The thought both excited and pleased her.
“I see,” Alicia replied. “And here I was thinking . . . I am happy to know that you found someone as well, Imogen.”
She did not seem very happy, but Imogen refused to think too much of it.
She is probably taken aback, is all.
“Thank you. I was daydreaming about him as you spoke. I was lost in my thoughts, yes, but not for any of the reasons you considered.”
“I know that now. You must forgive me, Imogen. It was not my intention to hurt you with my words.”
She sounded so genuine, Imogen was quick to shake her head in disagreement.
She leaned forward and placed a reassuring hand over Alicia’s.
“There is nothing to be forgiven. Please, do not feel sad. You simply did not know, and I should have done a better job at listening.”
Alicia opened her mouth to say something, but the door swung inwards again. This time, there were three people.
The butler, her brother, and Lord Exeter. Imogen’s heart leapt as her eyes fell upon him. He was even more dashing in daylight.
Dear Goodness.
“Baron Exeter, Miss Hartford,” Mr. Ramson announced. “I will have the servants bring tea and biscuits.”
With those words, he bowed and left the room.
Imogen rose to her feet then. She could feel Lewis’s gaze burning holes into her, but she only had eyes for the baron.
“Lord Exeter,” she breathed excitedly.
“Miss Hartford,” he replied. He seemed just as elated to see her.
Lewis spoke then. He could barely mask his annoyance. “I suppose you do know each other.”
Imogen finally gave him attention. “Yes, we met at the ball last night—as I told Mr. Ramson. Lord Exeter and I made fast friends. I assured him he could visit.”
“I see. I simply needed to make sure that was the case. Oh well, seeing as Alicia is here, you will not be needing me as a chaperone. I shall return to my study then. Lord Exeter,” he turned to the baron, “You are welcome in our home,” he finished tightly.
Lord Exeter smiled at him, but Lewis’ face remained stoic. Giving a curt nod, he turned to leave the drawing room.
Imogen did not even have it in her to be cross with her brother. Instead, she found him adorable. Nevertheless, she needed to have a talk with him. As much as he loved her, he had to understand that one day, he would have to let her go.
She had not debuted when she was sixteen because they had lost her mother the year before. When she was seventeen, her brother had argued that she was still too young.
His argument had been the same when she turned eighteen. By the year after that, he knew he could no longer give excuses or hold her back. She was not getting any younger.
She saw right through him, though. She knew he simply was not ready to lose her. Somehow, she had to make him believe he would never lose her. Not even if she fell in love, got married, and lived a thousand miles away. She would always be his little sister.
Turning to the man in the room who was slowly winning her heart as well, she said, “Lord Exeter, please, have a seat.”
He did just as he was told. When he reached her, she gestured at the sofa beside Alicia.
He muttered his thanks and took his seat. As he did, Imogen returned to hers.
“It is wonderful to see you again, Miss Hartford. I am glad I decided to come.”
The warmth in Imogen’s heart spread to her cheeks as those words filled her ears.
Me too, Lord Exeter. Me too.