Sophia tipped her head back, laughing with him. She had expected his answer to speak of gambling and gaming as most philanderers tended to invest their time. She narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her head very slightly, suggesting perhaps her preconceptions concerning this handsome man had been wrong.
***
A little time later and as their dance had come to a close, Hannah curtsied to Caleb’s bow, looking down at the ground. She did not look up at him and did not sense the weight of his inquisitive stare upon her face. He escorted her from the dance floor to join her mother and she scampered slightly ahead of him, keen to get away. Only as she was too close to turn back and re-navigate a different path did she realise that the lady standing with Evelyn and Sophia’s Mother was the woman from the crowd with the sharp, scowling face.
Her steps faltered as she approached, noting that the woman watched her with a disapproving glint in her eye.
‘Darling Hannah,’ Evelyn gestured for her daughter to join them ‘may I introduce you to Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Montwood- ‘it was Her Grace’s son, the Duke of Montwood, with whom you danced.’
Evelyn conducted herself with smiles and graces but the firm way in which she held her posture and the tautness of her face disclosed to Hannah that this lady was to be impressed.
With this in mind, Hannah forced a smile despite her instinct willing her to distance herself from the negativity that rolled off this woman in waves.
‘Your Grace, it is an honour to meet you,’ Hannah lowered her eyes respectfully. ‘I am-’
‘Hannah Haworth, I know.’ Anne finished the sentence.
A look of alarm flashed between Evelyn and Hannah at the joint recognition that the formal title of ‘Lady’ had been dropped in the Duchesses’ interruption.
‘Yes, Lady Hannah Haworth of Haysendale,’ Evelyn clarified politely, saving her daughter’s grace.
Anne did not smile, neither did she take her eyes off Hannah but rather there was a hint of enjoyment as she watched the girl blush.
‘Did you enjoy your dance?’ Evelyn queried in an attempt to move the conversation along. ‘The Duke is quite striking and I daresay you made a beautiful pair on the dance floor!’ Evelyn cooed, her enthusiasm attempting to compensate for Anne’s lack.
‘I…of course,’ Hannah swallowed hard.
Finding the scrutiny unbearable, Hannah noticed her best friend out of the corner of her eye, rejoining the boundaries of the dance floor after her dance had finished.
‘If you will excuse me – I must speak with Lady Camden…’ Hannah bobbed a curtsey to the Duchess and avoided her mother’s judgmental eye as she scurried away.
Joining Sophia, the difference between the two friends’ experiences of the same dance floor was distinct. Sophia was beaming with radiance and Hannah looked almost grey in pallor from her discomfort. She looked across the ballroom to where the Duke stood with his friend, Lord Dutton and as she frowned, trying to figure out something that niggled inside her chest, he turned as though he’d felt her eyes upon him. He did not smile; rather seemed to consider her with disdain and turned away. Hannah silently vowed that she wanted nothing more to do with that cold, unfeeling man.
***
In her bedchamber that evening, Hannah sat upon the end of her bed, brushing her hair with a silver-plated comb. Her Mother instructed one hundred brushes before bed as a child and this habit had followed her through adolescence. Her hair shone golden and she attributed this to the care she took of it – the nightly practice also allowed her time to reflect upon the day each evening.
Hannah certainly had an abundance to reflect upon that evening. She thought back to her fear as she stood on the precipice of the staircase with all those many eyes upon her – even as she recalled the moment, she experienced a sensation of giddiness. She had successfully negotiated the steps, which was an enormous relief. The dance with her Father had been sweet and calming and her chatter with Sophia and Nathaniel had been truly rewarding – she had been invited to visit Nathaniel’s new art piece once it was hung and he had encouraged her to exhibit her work!
Hannah’s heart sank a little as she recalled the next part of the evening – her introduction and resulting dance with the Duke of Montwood. There had been a heaviness about his energy – Hannah wondered if he struggled still with the weight of his Father’s premature passing and the consequent inheritance of his distinguished title and associated responsibilities.
Or perhaps he was simply a miserable man – they were a brand that existed and Hannah made efforts to avoid. Gentlemen such as Nathaniel and Lord Albert Dutton greeted everybody with a smile and elegance. Could the Duke not have applied a little social grace for one evening? Hannah felt simultaneously perplexed and irritated by his nonchalance.
Crossing her room, she grabbed a large sketchpad and her tin of perfectly sharpened colouring material and perched back on her bed, to do what she would always do when emotions were high and she felt in need of some release; she drew her feelings.
Almost without conscious action, Hannah’s hand flew expertly across the page, defining streaks of impassioned pink to symbolise the heightened energy of the beautified debutantes and fertile interest of the young men there, gathered. She introduced greys and black shadows to portray the darkness creeping around the borders, hinting at the brooding of the Duke and the way his presence entirely brought her down.
Hannah sighed, holding out the sketch to assess it. Such boldness and contrast – she had been feeling more than she had realised.
***
Caleb swilled the golden whiskey around the base of the crystal tumbler and it glistened as it caught the light from the candle on his broad mahogany desk. He paced the room, feeling ill at ease. Some nagging sensation agitated him that he felt he may not have performed his best that evening, although he could not identify what it was that felt misplaced. He had attended, despite his preference to stay at home – there, he had succeeded; his attendance was in alignment with his Father’s wishes. He had held conference with the Marquess, Lord Vincent Haworth to reinforce the good feeling between the two families that his Father had laid foundations for – all was well here. He had a formal introduction to the young Lady Hannah Haworth and had been pleasant and cordial. He had invited her to dance and executed the dance without any societal misdemeanour, such as stepping on her toes or embarrassing himself in some way. They parted on good terms. Why then, had she looked across the room at him with such a frown? Why was it that he felt such aggravation about the predicament. Had not all gone completely as planned? It had! Caleb swigged back the whiskey and winced as it hit the back of his throat, the burning glow of it coating his chest from within, usually comforting, but this evening strangely claustrophobic.
There was something about this Hannah. Pretty girls who wanted to impress the Duke would coquettishly fawn about him with femininity and delicate sweetness. He could barely conceal an eye-roll in such moments. Hannah Haworth had been eager when she saw him – her face open and interested. Then she had changed; closed off and appeared somewhat wounded. Had he done something without having realised? The folly of women’s emotions was not usually something he would concern himself with and he reprimanded himself. He had greater deeds to busy himself with. He recalled that it had been his intention to attend a lecture the following morning, but an urgency newly weighed upon him and he knew there were now other priorities which had to be put into action. Caleb called his footman to rearrange his coach – he would no longer require a chaise to take him into the city early, but would require a Phaeton to take him to the Haworth residence late-morning.
CHAPTER THREE
Hannah creaked open the door to the drawing room believing she may be the first to arrive since there was total silence. It surprised her to see that her mother and father were already seated at the large breakfast table. Evelyn smiled tightly and Vincent simply watched her approach.
