Pursuing Miss Hall by Karen Thornell
Chapter Five
Meg’s cheeks hurt—not the kind of hurt caused by laughter and wide grins. She had been forcing a smile nearly since dinner the night before and was beginning to feel the throbbing of a headache. But she could not let her parents down and did not wish their guests to believe she was unhappy.
Still, all she wanted to do was take a page from Nathan’s book and slip out the nearest window to freedom. Perhaps if he would ever arrive, he could aid her escape.
“Miss Hall, have I told you how truly brilliant you are at cards? I believe I may claim you as my partner for the remainder of this party. Have you lost a game yet?” Mr. Evans smiled at Meg, his overly large teeth poking out over his bottom lip. He seemed to be a nice young man, but so far, he had complimented Meg no fewer than nine times over the course of their two games of whist, and Meg did not believe this latest was any more genuine than the others.
“You are very kind, Mr. Evans. I am certain it is just luck.” Really, it was all numbers. It was not too hard to win at cards if you simply knew the odds of taking each trick. But perhaps she should be losing. Mama had said the men would not want her to excel in arithmetic . . . Was it the same with cards? She was unsure. Her next card took the trick, and she determined to lose the upcoming hand or two.
Their partners were Miss Parking and Mr. Simon Parking. The latter was not a marriage candidate, but rather the younger brother of one. Upon the introductions, Meg had quickly matched each marriage candidate with their memorized name. It had not been too hard. Mr. Evans had his unfortunate teeth; Viscount Hatfield had an apparent love of bright colors; and Mr. Parking had a near-constant furrow in his brow—likely due to his three younger siblings, all of whom had joined the party with very lively dispositions.
“It is your turn,” Mr. Simon Parking spoke with the languidness of a man entirely at his leisure.
“Ah, yes, thank you.” And she threw out a losing card.
“Oh, dear!” Mr. Evans said. “It would seem I’ve jinxed your luck. Though I must say, I still would not mind claiming you as my partner for the remainder of the evening!”
Mama’s polite laugh came from a chair by the fireplace. “You are too kind, Mr. Evans, though I am certain Mr. Parking would wish a turn to play?”
The gentleman with the furrowed brow looked up from where he was conversing with Miss Evans, Mr. Evans’s sister. He glanced at the group playing cards, then back at Miss Evans. Slowly he came to his feet, his gaze lingering on Miss Evans. He appeared reluctant but unwilling to displease his host. “Of course, Lady Hall, I would be delighted.” With a bow, he strode toward their card table.
Meg could not look away from Miss Evans, who was looking bereft. “And you as well, Miss Evans, if you wish?” Meg added.
The petite, mousy girl brightened visibly. “Thank you, Miss Hall. I would indeed enjoy a turn.” Mr. Parking’s furrowed brow softened slightly as he offered his arm to Miss Evans.
Meg and Mr. Evans both stood from the table to relinquish their spots. Their partners stood as well, allowing another set to join the game. Meg hoped for a moment of solitude, but it was not to be. Mr. Evans claimed Meg’s arm before she could walk far. “If we cannot be partners in whist, perhaps a bit of conversation?” He showed off his teeth yet again. Meg could see no kind way to turn him down.
“Certain—”
“Margaret, darling, would you assist me please?” Mama broke into the exchange, taking hold of Meg’s other arm. She rather felt like a desirable pudding between the two of them, with the way they were holding onto her and looking at her with interest. Hesitating only a moment, Mr. Evans released her, smiling.
“Of course you must assist your mother. I shall await your return.” He bowed and walked away, settling on the settee near the window, his eyes still on Meg.
“Oh dear, he is becoming rather insistent, isn’t he?” Mama muttered as she led Meg to the door. “He is a fine choice—his parents have a stunning estate not a day north of here—but I cannot allow him to stake a claim quite so early. Not when you’ve hardly had any interaction with the other gentlemen, especially the viscount. Now, will you find a maid to bring in the refreshments?” Her voice lowered. “And you have a small curl that has escaped. Perhaps you can fix it while you are out.”
Meg smiled, her cheeks still throbbing, and nodded. “I will return directly.”
“Wonderful, wonderful,” her mother responded distractedly, surveying the guests with a pleased look. The drawing room was full: the three gentlemen meant as suitors for Meg, a smattering of their elders, and various siblings of the men. Dinner the night before had gone off without a hitch, and tonight, the card games and conversation were also coming along well.
Still, Meg was grateful for a quick escape. Nathan and his parents had not arrived, having sent a note that they had been detained, and Meg rather felt that the whole gathering was somewhat dull because of their absence. Not that Nathan had done much brightening of her evening the night before. He’d spent a large majority of it conversing with her father, a handful of the guests, and even her mother, rarely speaking to Meg except to compliment her dress.
Though his assignment from her mother had been to not wait on Meg, she still felt his absence in a strangely pronounced way.
She slipped into the dining room, notified a maid of her mother’s request, then stopped at a gilded mirror beside a large landscape painting of the estate to adjust her hair.
Not for the first time, Meg wondered at her mama’s reasons for inviting each of the members of the party. The viscount was clearly her first choice of matrimonial companion for Meg. With the way Mama had pulled Meg aside at various points in the day and reminded her to see to the viscount’s comfort, engage the viscount in conversation, or perform any other action that would endear her to the man, Meg wondered if he was truly Mama’s only choice, rather than her preferred.
Why then, were they having such a party? The Evans were distant cousins, and Mrs. Evans was a close friend of Mama’s from when she had been a debutante herself. But why Mr. Parking and his brother and two sisters had been invited was beyond Meg. Mr. Parking was set to inherit a baronetcy from his uncle, but such a title was clearly not Mama’s main goal, not when there was a possibility of her daughter becoming a viscountess. And the man, though he had been every bit the gentleman, seemed more in need of a governess for his sisters than a wife. Though perhaps he was looking for a woman to fill both roles. The idea did not sit well with Meg.
She blew out a breath. Likely, Mama simply wanted to improve ties with the families or else did not wish to scare off the viscount by making him appear to be as hunted as he most definitely was.
Whatever the reason, Meg would not dwell on it. Mama must have a particular purpose she had not shared with Meg in all their planning. After all, Mama was particular about a number of things, including her daughter’s hair. Focusing again on the mirror, Meg turned her head side to side, ensuring she had fixed the wayward strands, and found herself satisfied.
Footsteps from the back of the house drew her attention, and she leaned back from the mirror to see who it might be. All the guests were in the drawing room so far as she was aware, but it would not do to be found alone in this chamber if any of them were not. Hastily, she turned. A deep, familiar voice stopped her.
“Hiding, I see. I do not blame you, considering all the fawning affection you must be receiving from the party.” Nathan’s teasing grin appeared in the dim light at the back of the room, growing clearer as he neared her. She almost sighed with relief at his arrival.
“Nathan, what detained you? And . . .” She looked behind him and raised her eyebrow. “Where did you just come from?”
He placed a finger to his lips. “I cannot tell; it is a secret.”
“Cook let you in through the kitchens again, did she?” Meg laughed. “Where are your parents? I cannot imagine they’ve arrived similarly, have they?”
“My mother is feeling a bit under the weather, and so they determined to stay home this evening.”
“Your mother is unwell? Does she need anything?”
“No, just an evening off is all. But they insisted I come.”
“I am glad they did. I could use a friend in there.” She indicated the drawing room door with a tilt of her head. It was closed. If Mama were to find them, she would be sorely displeased.
“Oh?” He leaned against the wall beside her, crossing his arms. “So, you are truly hiding?”
“No. Mama wished me to ring for refreshments and to fix my hair.”
Nathan’s gaze roamed over her face. “I think your hair looks perfect.”
His voice was pitched low to avoid detection from the party members, and a strange warmth swept through Meg. She laughed it off, tucking her hands behind her back. “That is because I have already fixed it. Go on and join the party. I will follow in a moment.”
He looked over her shoulder with a slight grimace. “No, thank you. I much prefer the present company.”
She hit him on the arm with the back of her hand. “No, you foolish man, I meant to imply that we cannot enter together. What would everyone think?”
“That we were enjoying a romantic repose in the darkened dining room, perhaps?”
That strange warmth tickled her stomach again, but she batted it away, responding with sarcasm. “Yes, of course. Now go on, you.”
He laughed but walked past her. Just before he entered the drawing room, he looked back, offering a small, lopsided smile. The strange warmth returned, and Meg placed a hand at her midsection. What was this?