Miss Dower's Paragon (25 page)

A reluctant smile twitched at Evelyn’s lips as her sense of the ridiculous finally began to catch up with her. “Yes,” she admitted.

When he laughed, she said firmly, “I shall have you know that I have a natural instinct for the leathers. It is only a pity that the bees did not stand aside in admiration of my skill.”

Mr. Hawkins laughed again, before saying, “I am very happy that you were unhurt, Miss Dower. Since you walked into town I must assume the worst regarding Sir Charles’s equipage.”

“The phaeton was quite, quite smashed,” said Evelyn. She found something of cheer in the recollection. At least Sir Charles would not go completely unscathed for his perfidy in becoming only an ordinary mortal rather than the romantic hero she had thought him.

“I see.” Mr. Hawkins glanced down at his companion once more. The rim of her bedraggled bonnet sheltered her expression from him, but he thought he had heard a peculiarly pleased note in her voice. He realized that there was more to the tale than the lady had chosen to tell him. However, he was too cognizant of the bounds of propriety to press her further.

Nevertheless, it was already a fascinating story. He smiled to himself. He would roast Sir Charles finely for allowing a lady, and especially one as raw as Miss Dower, the privilege of driving his prized horses. The temptation to see the destruction for himself became suddenly overriding.

As they reached Miss Dower’s address, he swiftly made up his mind. He helped her down from the carriage and walked her up to the door, where he saw her into the care of the concerned footman.

“I shall leave you now to the tender ministrations of your household. Miss Dower, while I go see what can be done on Sir Charles’s behalf,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins.”

Evelyn was quite self-possessed in the presence of the servant. But after Mr. Hawkins had turned away and the door was closed on his broad back, she turned and fled up the stairs. To her consternation, she met her mother on the upstairs landing.

“Oh, are you returned from driving with Sir Charles? I hope that you enjoyed your lesson, dear,” said Mrs. Dower. She frowned at her daughter. “Your bonnet is quite oddly canted, Evelyn. I do not mean to scold, but it is not at all the fashion for you.”

Evelyn gave a sobbing laugh. She fell straightway into her mother’s startled arms and cried, “Oh, Mama! The phaeton was wrecked and Sir Charles cared for nothing but his idiotic horses. What am I to do?”

“Do, dear? Why, I suppose you should stay completely away from horses. You do seem to have the most dismaying ill fortune around the creatures,” said Mrs. Dower practically. “If you wish it, I shall myself inform Sir Charles that you will no longer be taking lessons with him.”

Evelyn wailed, and she pressed her face against her mother’s neck. Her shoulders shook, whether with grief or laugher Mrs. Dower was uncertain.

“Evelyn? Are you quite all right?” She tried what she thought to be an inspired observation. “Do,
do
try for a little decorum, my dear. I had thought you such a sensible girl. Whatever would Sir Charles think to see you in such a state? It could very well put him off and—”

Mrs. Dower watched in astonishment as Evelyn staggered away in the direction of her bedroom. Her daughter was now definitely laughing. “Why, whatever have I said now to set you off again? Dearest, I do believe you are hysterical!”

The week following the abortive driving lesson with Sir Charles, Evelyn did not go out to any social engagements until the angry welts on her face had subsided. It was put about that she suffered from a light cold, and only her closest friends were given access to her.

Miss Woodthorpe laughed outright at the story of the cloud of bees and the subsequent misadventure. “Mrs. Dower was quite right, Evelyn, you do have the most amazing bad luck around horses. Perhaps you would do best to give them a wide berth in future. Though I must say I am glad to hear that Sir Charles’s team took no permanent harm, as they are a prime bit of blood and bone.”

Miss Sparrow sent a reproving look in Miss Woodthorpe’s direction. “Indeed, Evelyn, I shudder to think how close you came to real injury,” she said.

“Oh well, it is all done with and I am none the worse for wear,” said Evelyn cheerfully as she offered a tray of biscuits to her friends.

“Truly? I noticed several lovely bouquets when I arrived. When I commented upon them to your dear mother, I was quite surprised to learn that none were from Sir Charles,” said Miss Sparrow.

Evelyn colored faintly. “No, none are from Sir Charles,” she agreed calmly. “Will you take more tea, Pol?”

Miss Woodthorpe smiled at Evelyn, holding away her cup. “That is a very weak ruse, my dear.”

Evelyn looked from one to the other of her friends. She sighed. “Oh, very well. I shall satisfy your curiosity, for I can see that neither of you will let it go otherwise. Sir Charles has not been to visit me, nor am I particularly unhappy about it. Now, may I serve you a proper tea?”

“But I thought you quite taken with Sir Charles,” said Miss Sparrow, scarcely noticing as Evelyn poured her cup.

Evelyn’s brows pulled together in the faintest of frowns. She poured for Miss Woodthorpe and set down the teapot before replying. “It is quite puzzling, actually. I thought Sir Charles very much the perfect gentleman for me until I became so very disillusioned in him. I suppose that is what cured me so rapidly of those feelings that I had harbored for him.”

“Otherwise you must suspect yourself to be a heartless flirt,” said Miss Woodthorpe, her eyes twinkling.

“There is that, of course,” said Evelyn, laughing.

“What a horrid thing to say, Apollonia,” said Miss Sparrow, though she also smiled. “Of course Evelyn is not a
flirt.
She was merely mistaken in her heart.”

“Then I may think myself to be merely foolish,” said Evelyn wryly.

Her friends laughed with her. Miss Woodthorpe assured her that neither of them thought her any more foolish than she had ever been.

“Thank you ever so much, Pol,” said Evelyn with a laughing grimace.

“Apollonia is a merciless tease so pay no attention to her, Evelyn. I am only glad that you have not suffered too much from Sir Charles’s own turn of heart.”

“There only remains the question of who
did
send all of these lovely flowers,” said Miss Woodthorpe in her quiet way.

Evelyn opened her eyes wide. “Why, they come from my several other admirers, of course.” She abandoned her innocent air to say, “And do not dare to inquire of my mother, Abigail!”

That set Miss Woodthorpe and Miss Sparrow laughing again, and Miss Sparrow assured her that she would not be so disobliging. “Though I do think it quite pinching of you to leave us in suspense,” she said, pulling on her gloves.

Miss Woodthorpe also made ready to leave. “I suppose that you have heard from Mr. Hawkins?” she asked casually.

“Oh indeed; also from Lord Waithe and a handful of my other admirers,” said Evelyn with a laughing look. “I have not been forgotten, it seems.’

“Of course you have not,” said Miss Sparrow staunchly. “A few days’ absence will but enhance the gentlemen’s sincere admiration for you. You will be as popular as before.”

“Thank you, Abigail. You have done me a world of good,” said Evelyn, hugging her friend in farewell.

“Pray give my regards to your dear mama. I hope that the little domestic emergency that called her away so hastily before tea is swiftly resolved,” said Miss Sparrow.

“I shall,” said Evelyn. She turned to Miss Woodthorpe, who was regarding her with a knowing gaze. Evelyn laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, Pol! What would I do without you to tease me?”

Miss Woodthorpe shrugged negligently. “You would go on very well, I should think, except that you would have no one to give you sound advice on what to expect of particular gentlemen. After all, you do have the most amazing ill fortune with horses, which gentlemen very much resemble in temperament and character.”

“Oh do go away! I shall very likely decide to end as a spinster if you keep on in that vein.” said Evelyn, walking her friends to the drawing room door.

Miss Sparrow had waited so that she and Miss Woodthorpe could accompany one another out. The ladies left after repeating their good-byes.

Evelyn turned back into the drawing room. Almost absently she reached out to touch a delicate yellow rose, one of several in a Waterford crystal vase. A soft smile touched her lips, for these roses as well as a scattering of the other bouquets among the tokens sent by her admirers were from Mr. Hawkins.

Of course, Mr. Hawkins
would
be so thoughtful as to send several offerings, along with his solicitous notes that inquired after her continued well-being. He would do no less for any lady whom he had rescued from a street corner. She sighed, a curiously regretful sound, and left the drawing room.

Chapter Twenty-five

Evelyn’s gratitude to
Mr. Hawkins lasted for precisely one fortnight before it was completely overborne by her former anger against him.

In the excess of her gratitude she had forgotten how furious she had been to hear from Miss Sparrow that he had hinted away some of her admirers. It was not that she missed the attentions of those particular gentlemen. Without exception the gentlemen who dropped away from her circle were in some respect unworthy of consideration as a possible husband, all having been too old, or too lecherous, or too much the fortunehunter.

What had so infuriated Evelyn was Mr. Hawkins’s highhanded, arrogant presumption. Weeding out the undesirables among her admirers was a task for her mother or her to do. It was not at all the concern of a gentleman who could not even claim to be a family relation.

Evelyn thought she could have accepted all that Mr. Hawkins had done, if not in a glad spirit, at least with some semblance of dignity. She would have found a way, in the politest manner possible, to make clear to him that his concern for her was quite inappropriate and unnecessary. He would have realized his error, and she would have retained his friendship.

Such was Evelyn’s intention when next she had the opportunity to speak to
Mr. Hawkins privately, but certain events made that tempered resolution impossible.

When Evelyn finally emerged from seclusion, it was quickly borne in on her that she had become the focus of speculative glances and whispers. Uncomfortable, uncomprehending, Evelyn did not know what to make of any of it.

Mrs. Dower was equally as bewildered and could offer no explanation. “I truly do not understand it, Evelyn. Several of my friends drop what I know must be sly hints of some sort, but I have no notion what it is all about. Dearest, I
am
sorry. I so wish I were cleverer at times.”

Evelyn sighed and patted her mother’s hand. “It is all right, Mama. I am certain it must all come clear sooner or later.”

Evelyn continued to endure the unwelcome attention at the social functions that she and Mrs. Dower attended, never for a moment letting her smile falter. If she only knew what it was all about! She knew that Miss Woodthorpe would have told her, if asked, but she did not see her friend except for a few moments during an assembly. Miss Woodthorpe had been escorted by Viscount Waithe, and not for worlds would Evelyn have intimated in his lordship’s presence that she needed her friend’s counsel. Miss Sparrow had also been unavailable to her, having contracted her youngest sister’s mumps and perforce been required to keep to her bed. It was frustrating in the extreme, for there was no one else that Evelyn could completely trust.

Then one afternoon at tea, an acquaintance inquired archly whether Evelyn had been receiving Mr. Hawkins during her convalescence. Quite suddenly, Evelyn’s quick intuitive mind fastened upon the truth. It astounded her. It enraged her. She seethed with it, but on no account could she demonstrate a hint of her feelings before this lady.

With a glittering smile, she raised her brows in cool inquiry. She infused a faint note of surprise into her voice. “Why no, ma’am. Should I have? Pray, why do you ask?”

The lady fluttered in confusion. She cast a glance at Evelyn’s mother. Mrs. Dower’s puzzled expression only confirmed her instant and horrible suspicion that she had committed a faux pas. The lady hastily changed the topic, chattering quickly past the uncomfortable moment. Within minutes, she had taken her leave.

Mrs. Dower was astonished by their guest’s hurried exit. “Gracious, whatever was that about?”

“I do believe Mr. Hawkins has been quite busy on my behalf,” said Evelyn very evenly. Her hands were folded so tightly together that her knuckles had gone white.

Mrs. Dower regarded her daughter with sudden anxiety. “I
can
not like that peculiar light in your eyes, Evelyn. You—you are not going to do anything foolish?”

Evelyn smiled at her mother. The molten sparks in her eyes did not abate. “Oh no. I promise you, I shall be all that is circumspect, Mama.”

Mrs. Dower let out her breath. “Thank you, dear. I should not like to see you go to the soiree this evening while you were caught up in a temper. I do not quite see what Mr. Hawkins—but never mind, do not explain it to me. I do not wish to know. Only assure me that you will not make a scene.”

“I hope I am too sensible to disgrace you. Mama,” said Evelyn, still smiling.

Mrs. Dower chose to overlook the martial light that still burned brightly in Evelyn’s eyes. She said firmly, “We shall have a marvelous time, then. Lord Hughes has promised to escort us.”

“Has he? Then I may look forward to seeing Mr. Hawkins as well,” said Evelyn.

Mrs. Dower’s faint uneasiness was strengthened by the silky note in her daughter’s voice. But after throwing Evelyn a worried glance, she decided that she really, really did not want to know what her daughter was contemplating. The girl bore entirely too close a resemblance to her late husband when he had been taken by a high fury. “Oh, it is going to be an uncomfortable evening. I just know it is,” Mrs. Dower murmured unhappily.

Evelyn tested her theory by throwing herself into the enjoyment of the evening. She laughed often and threw artless glances at all the gentlemen who courted her. She appeared at her loveliest, and even some of those gentlemen who had been glaringly absent from her circle were drawn back as moths to a flame. Evelyn was particularly pleased by that, and she made a point of flirting outrageously with the most undesirable of her suitors. Out of the corner of her eyes she became aware of Mr. Hawkins’s glowering presence, but she pretended not to see him while she waited to see what he might do.