Pursuing Miss Hall by Karen Thornell

Chapter Eight

Thankfully, his parents complied with the standards of timeliness that evening, and Nathan found himself seated amongst Meg’s many suitors firmly on time for the musicale. His knee bounced up and down despite the hand he firmly kept on it, and he was powerless to his continual glances toward the door. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in this room. Meg’s family’s estate was substantial, which was simply another fact marking the difference between his own means and hers. His family was not bereft, but if her parents knew of his regard for her, he would no doubt be labeled a fortune hunter.

“The ladies are certainly enjoying keeping us in suspense—ha!” The young Mr. Evans braved the silence of the room, but his jovial interjection fell rather flat. No one offered a response unless Mr. Parking’s polite smile could be considered one. Thankfully, the door opened at that moment, and the ladies of the party entered, bringing the gentlemen to their feet. Meg was enchanting in an ivory silk dress, and Nathan stepped toward her, only to be passed by Lord Hatfield.

“Miss Hall, you look truly wonderful this evening.” The insufferable man bowed over her hand. He would compliment her looks—that was all Lord Hatfield seemed to care for. Never mind that Nathan would have said the same thing.

No, not quite the same. He would likely have used the words angelic or breathtaking.

Thank heavens Lord Hatfield had beat him to it.

The viscount led Meg to a seat at the front of the gathering, then returned to escort his mother to a seat on his other side. Momentarily befuddled, Nathan missed the chance to claim the seat on Meg’s right; Mr. Evans settled himself there before Nathan had begun to cross the room. He had to content himself with sitting just behind her, after offering his arm to Miss Caroline, who had been lingering near the door quite dejectedly.

The room quieted as Lady Hall stood to address them. She was far more composed than when Nathan had seen her after the storm. At that time, she had been nearly falling apart with hysterics over Meg.

“I am so grateful to have you all join us for a display of the many musical talents I am sure our guests possess. I have asked Miss Parking and Miss Caroline to begin with a simply wonderful duet I overheard just yesterday. Ladies?”

Wonderful may have been a slight exaggeration, but the duet was pleasant enough. Miss Evans played the pianoforte next, with Mr. Parking offering to turn pages for her. Even Mr. Evans shocked the group with his surprisingly talented tenor voice.

“Margaret darling, would you play that beautiful piece your father purchased for you just last month?” Lady Hall requested when Mr. Evans had reclaimed his seat.

Meg ducked her head. “I am afraid that piece requires a singing part to be performed as it was meant, but it is too low for my own range.”

“Lord Hatfield,” Lady Hall then said, with far too much simpering for Nathan to believe she hadn’t planned this very twist all along. “I understand you are musically talented. Would you join my daughter?”

“Certainly, Lady Hall.” Lord Hatfield offered his arm to Meg, and Nathan clenched his teeth when she smiled. The two walked to the pianoforte. Lord Hatfield, seeing Meg settled at the bench, then standing just behind her, apparently intended to both sing and turn pages.

Nathan attempted to distract himself with the darkening view from the north window, but he could not keep his eyes from straying back to Meg when she began.

She would not be considered a great musician, but there was something about watching as her slender hands moved up and down the keys that gave Nathan great pleasure. Her way of playing was much like her character: quiet and unassuming but full of warmth and happiness. His mind suddenly returned to two days before when he had held her closely in his arms. Even despite his terror for her health, he had been unable to ignore how perfectly she seemed to fit in his embrace. When she had wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder . . .

His cravat was suddenly too tight and the room too warm. He forced himself to focus on the music, but that simply served to frustrate him. He rubbed his hands down his pant legs, stopping at his knees and gripping tightly.

Lord Hatfield sang well, too well, honestly, for Meg’s inexperienced playing, but occasionally the two shared a glance and a smile. Nathan wanted to throttle the man for it.

They finished the song, the room applauded politely, and Nathan watched as the couple returned to their seats. Lord Hatfield leaned over once they were seated and whispered something in Meg’s ear. Meg ducked her head and smiled again.

Then Nathan indulged in a blissful dream of taking hold of Lord Batfield’s neckcloth and dragging him from the room with it.

Thunder and turf, he was going mad.

Meg seemed far more at ease than she had during the card party. Could she be warming to one or more of her suitors? Lord Hatfield, perhaps? Nathan felt faintly sick. Would she ever see Nathan as anything more than a friend, or would he be doomed to watch her marry and leave with someone like the viscount?

He could not imagine such a future, but his waning hope warned him that perhaps he should prepare for the possibility.

It was painful to sit through the remainder of the performances, and once they were complete, it was painful to watch as Lord Hatfield escorted Meg and his mother to a corner of the room nearest the fire. Nathan found himself playing host to both the Miss Parkings for half an hour. And he spent at least half that time sending glances across the room to Meg.

That is until his mother caught his eye and shook her head with an amused lift of her lips.

Blast it all. How was this supposed to further his cause?

Ignoring his mother’s gaze, he excused himself from the Parkings and strode purposefully across the room. He hadn’t a clue how he would pull Meg away, but he’d figure it out as needed.

“Mr. Blake.”

Blast.

Nathan turned and bowed to Lady Hall. The woman glanced in her daughter’s direction, then back to Nathan. She was on to him. He was sure of it. Without any of the reluctance he felt, he turned his back on Meg and gave her mother his full attention. “Lady Hall, the musicale was brilliant. You have quite the talent for hosting, I should say.”

A smile hovered over Lady Hall’s lips, then disappeared completely. “Thank you, Mr. Blake. I wished to thank you for something more, though. Would you sit a moment?” She gestured toward a pair of couches a few paces away.

With half a frown, Nathan nodded and followed her.

Someone began playing the pianoforte again and called for a little dancing. With regret, Nathan noticed Meg taking the viscount’s arm and allowing him to escort her toward the center of the room. They would, presumably, join in the dancing. Perhaps if Nathan’s conversation was brief enough, he would be able to claim her for a second dance.

“I have not properly had the chance to thank you, Mr. Blake, for your swift actions regarding my daughter.”

At some point, Nathan had sat, and now Lady Hall was speaking to him with a solemnity that required his full attention. “I am only grateful that my actions were enough, Lady Hall.”

“Yes.” She nodded, pursing her lips slightly and glancing over his shoulder at the now-dancing couples. Nathan resisted the impulse to turn and glance as well. “I do, however, wonder why Margaret was so far from the house.”

Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but Lady Hall continued.

“Being that you are a dear friend of hers, and indeed, one of the few knowledgeable about her . . . delicate nature . . . I was surprised to learn that it was on your escort that she came to be so far from the house.” Her eyes bore into his, a warning there behind the pleasant expression.

Nathan hardly knew what to say. While Meg had lain in bed, Nathan had been consumed with guilt over their excursion. He blamed himself for taking her too far, not keeping an eye on the weather, being distracted by her presence in general. But somehow he’d never considered her family would blame him as well. Did Meg blame him? Was that why she had given him hardly any notice all evening? It took several moments to find his voice. “I apologize for allowing our distance to go unchecked, Lady Hall. It was never my intention to put Me—Miss Hall—in danger.”

Lady Hall took a single, deep breath, then returned her gaze to his. It was softer now. Not soft, exactly, but softer. As if some of the fight had gone out of her. Or perhaps weariness had taken the fight’s place. “No, Mr. Blake, I imagine it would not be. Thank you again for seeing her home safely.”

Nathan blinked. “Of course.”

Lady Hall stood abruptly, and Nathan followed suit. He turned, and immediately his eyes caught on Meg’s dancing form. He’d never seen her dance. She’d had tutors, he knew, but he’d never been witness to her natural grace amplified by the graceful movements of a dance. It was exquisite.

A quiet cough at his side startled him. He felt heat creep up the back of his neck as he took in Lady Hall’s discerning look.

She inclined her head to the dancing couples, speaking softly. “He is a good match for her. Our family will be quite relieved to see her settled so advantageously.”

For the first time since the dancing had begun, Nathan noticed Meg’s partner. Lord Hatfield. The heat on his neck transformed into something else entirely. Nathan’s hands pulled into fists before he could relax them. Lady Hall nodded to him, then moved to take the empty seat beside the Dowager Lady Hatfield. Nathan ground his teeth.

The match with Lord Hatfield might, indeed, be advantageous for the family. But Nathan could not believe it was a good match for Meg.

But as he watched, she smiled at something Lord Hatfield said, and Nathan’s stomach dropped dangerously.

No, Lord Hatfield wasn’t a good match. He couldn’t be.

Could he?