Deb Marlowe - Unbuttoning Miss Hardwick

She glanced his way again, just the lightest, fleeting brush of their gazes. She coloured and looked away.

No. He wasn’t jealous. The notion was too ridiculous to be entertained. And yet he couldn’t help but wonder—from where had come that glow, lighting her face from within? Why had he never seen her smile so, before now? He couldn’t look away.

He wasn’t alone. Thom stared unabashedly. The vicar kept shooting her small glances of bemusement. Even Mrs Goodmond frowned repeatedly in Hardwick’s direction. As the next course came out, the vicar’s wife laid down her utensils and cleared her throat.

‘Miss Hardwick, I wondered if you intend to engage a chaperon to stay here at Denning along with you.’ She gave a nod towards Mairi. ‘Lady Ashton lends you countenance, of course, but I’m sure her stay is only temporary.’

Hardwick frowned. ‘I hadn’t thought to, Mrs Goodmond.’ She set down her own silverware and met the woman’s eye directly. ‘In truth, I hadn’t even considered such a thing. When I first came to Denning, my father was here as well. After his death, I was so distraught, and then so busy, that it never entered my mind that I should need a chaperon.’

‘Well, it entered mine,’ the lady returned somewhat waspishly. ‘But Lord Marland has been so busily engaged in restoring his estate and you seemed so occupied with the new wing, and so I thought … There was talk, of course, but, well, I let the matter drop.’ She leaned back in her chair and bestowed a sternly disapproving look, first upon her husband, then upon her victim. ‘And now I am picking it back up.’

Hardwick stiffened. ‘I’ve only changed my dress, Mrs Goodmond. Not my character.’

The lady sniffed. ‘Appearances matter, Miss Hardwick. And now that your appearance has changed … a chaperon is in order. I only hope it is not too late.’

Braedon had heard enough. ‘I respect your position, of course,’ he said with a nod to the vicar. ‘But Hardwick is a member of my staff and I don’t appreciate interference in how I run my household.’

‘Now, everyone take a breath,’ Mairi interrupted as Mrs Goodmond puffed up, ready for a fight. ‘I am sure that my brother will do all that is right and proper, ma’am. He usually does.’ She smiled. ‘Now, he tells me that you manage several charitable projects in the area. Will you tell me about your work?’

Braedon ducked his head. It had been a long time since he’d had to reach for the numbness that had protected him so long ago, but he could use a good dose of it now. How heartily he wished this night over. Tomorrow he would have a talk with Hardwick, clear the air and insist that they return to the normal, comfortable state of things.

Chloe bit her lip and stared at her plate. This scenario had not played out as she’d hoped. Lord Marland appeared only annoyed at her transformation, not intrigued. Why was he so resistant?

She caught him tossing her a quick, scowling glance and thought perhaps she could guess why. She’d been so caught up in the swirl of her new feelings that she’d forgot that only her inner landscape was in upheaval—and had been even before the countess had arrived. Everything inside Chloe was shifting as fear receded and curiosity and confidence began to grow. She was changing, nearly by the minute. Lord Marland was not—and neither was his view of her.

She sucked in a breath and hoped that she had not made a colossal mistake.

Her head came up as she heard her name.

‘—and I understand now the high praise you included in your letters, Braedon,’ the countess said. ‘And I find myself in complete agreement. Why, I’ve only been here a few days and Miss Hardwick has helped me with a particularly sticky problem.’

The marquess mumbled something incoherent.

‘You’ll recall the matter we discussed,’ his sister said brightly. She turned to Mrs Goodmond. ‘I’m happy to say that the solution will lead to a large project of my own. You see, my husband’s birthday approaches.’ The countess caught Chloe’s eye. ‘Growing up, he’s mentioned that such occasions were never marked. But this year I intend that it should be.’

Understanding dawned. The secret, the regret that she had mentioned as a way back to intimacy with the earl. She nodded.

‘I’d like to make it a grand event. An occasion suited to his particular tastes. A celebration of every masculine delight.’

From Sir Thomas came a great guffaw. The countess turned a saucy eye on him. ‘ Nearly every masculine delight, then.’ Her smile faded. ‘It shall be a great deal of work. I suspect I must find an assistant of my own, when I return to Town. I can only hope to find someone half so competent as Miss Hardwick.’

Chloe straightened, lightning-struck by the obvious notion. She caught Lord Marland’s eye, but he quickly glanced away. No, she thought, staring hard at him. She had not made a mistake. She hadn’t been wrong to pursue this position when she’d had such a great need of it, and she wasn’t wrong to heed her changing needs now. But perhaps she had tried the wrong tack. Perhaps, now that she had delivered the marquess such a shock, she should let him taste her absence.

‘Oh, but you’ve given me a lovely idea, Lady Ashton!’ she said. ‘I’m due some time away from my position, as you pointed out earlier. So why do I not come to London to help you?’

The countess grasped her hand and gasped in delight. The Goodmonds exchanged a glance. The marquess, however, gave a snort of derision that echoed around the room.

‘Oh, would you?’ Lady Ashton cried. ‘It would be just the thing! You are a model of organisation and efficiency—with your help I’m sure I could not fail to please my husband.’

Lord Marland eyed his sister with obvious irritation. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mairead.’ He turned to Chloe with the same hostility. She fought back a shiver as he raked a critical eye over her. ‘I know I asked you to find some way to keep busy, but I never meant for you to turn Hardwick into a pet project.’

Chloe stiffened. Now she was becoming agitated.

‘You are the one being ridiculous, Braedon,’ Lady Ashton responded. ‘Miss Hardwick is a person, not a project. A young woman with hopes, dreams and feelings.’

‘And responsibilities. I need her here. The collection—’

‘Will be fine in your capable hands,’ Chloe said smoothly. ‘The wing is in the last stages of construction. Most of the collection is ready, or waiting on the completion of our custom-built display cases. Surely I could be spared for a few weeks?’

‘Famous!’ the countess exclaimed, with a clap of her hands. ‘I’m so relieved!’ She squeezed Chloe’s hand again. ‘I promise that it won’t be all work and no play. We shall have plenty of time to shop and meet new people, to go to the theatre and the parks. It will be a grand time all around. What do you think?’

Chloe’s heart leapt. Underneath the table, her free hand gripped her napkin until her knuckles were surely whitened. It sounded terrifying—and divine.

‘Now that is the outside of enough,’ Lord Marland scoffed. ‘You mean to take Hardwick to Town and thrust her amongst the ton ?’

His mockery made Chloe blanch.

‘It would be nothing but an unmitigated disaster.’

Lady Ashton clenched her jaw. ‘I think that you underestimate Miss Hardwick.’

‘No, I believe that you overestimate the fashionable set. Hardwick is no empty-headed society chit. What does she care for fashion and furbelows?’ He gestured in her direction. ‘Hardwick can estimate mortar to the last brick. She deals in stone blocks and steel blades, not crowds and gowns and gossip.’

Chloe stilled. The marquess surely didn’t intend to be cruel.