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Chapter Twelve
The move to London wasn’t as easy as it should have been. When Stephen saw the mood his mother was in, he hoped it would be a pleasurable trip, saving him the pains of having to listen to her lecture him on how he should conduct himself. She’d smiled much easier, pleased with the fact that he had changed into something she deemed more befitting a Duke but that hadn’t stopped her from berating him on everything else while they moved into their London home.
“I truly do believe that if you trimmed your beard, you’d be much more of a hit this Season.”
It was a struggle not to sigh. That was the second time his mother had said such a thing and he had a sad feeling that it wouldn’t be the last. “I think it gives me a distinguished look.”’
The Dowager Duchess crossed her arms, a sure sign that she was steadily growing displeased. They were now sitting in the drawing room, away from the hustle and bustle of the servants bringing their luggage in. And by luggage, that meant the many, many new clothes his mother had had made for him, more clothes than he would ever need.
“You couldn’t be more wrong, Stephen,” his mother snipped. “It makes you look like a ruffian. I insist that you cut if off before the debut ball.”
“Debut ball?” It was an effort not to recline in the seat and stare up at the ceiling in boredom. He wanted to be anywhere but here discussing balls and such.
In fact, now that I am back in London, I want to see Hannah.
Her alluring image pulled his mind from the room; his mother’s voice faded into nothing. He could still feel the shadow of her lips and the sudden urge to leave this place and go to her side grew overwhelming.
Stephen nearly sighed. The longing to see her was intense, too great. When he’d returned to England, the last thing he wanted to do was to open up again. But Hannah made it so...easy.
Is she thinking about me the way I am thinking about her? Is she fitting in well with the Stantons?
These were questions he wanted to ask Hannah herself and it annoyed him even more now that he was instead subjected to listening to his mother list all the things that were wrong with his appearance.
“Stephen, are you listening to me?”
He nodded automatically. “Yes, Mother.”
“You haven’t heard a word I said.” As if to conceal her anger, the Dowager Duchess took a sip of her tea. “Because if you did, you would have been complaining right this second.”
Stephen narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re right. I was daydreaming for a second. You said something about a debut ball?”
The Dowager sighed heavily, visibly collecting herself. “Lady Hamilton has invited us to her ball in a few days and I told her that you are yearning to meet her daughter, Lady Penelope.”
“I truly hope you didn’t use the wordyearning.”
His mother ignored it. “She tells me that her daughter is as eager to see you. So please remember to dance with her when the time comes.”
Stephen said the only thing that would please his mother, even if he was particularly annoyed by her admission. “Of course, Mother.”
“And Lady Beldor also has a daughter who will be attending the ball…”
He tuned her out once again. It wasn’t on purpose and Stephen knew how his mother would react when she realized he wasn’t listening, but he couldn’t help himself. At the talk of balls, he thought of Hannah, picturing her long, beautiful hair in soft curls atop her head, and her slim frame wrapped in a beautiful debut dress.
If she was a noble, what color would she chose to wear? White? Blue?
The simplicity of the question had him squirming to see her even more, if only to know that much. It wouldn’t be a good enough excuse to show up at the Stanton home again, but Stephen was more than eager to try it. He wanted to get to know Hannah, wanted to see who this guarded, beautiful woman was.
There was something about her that wasn’t all that it seemed. Stephen couldn’t put his finger on it, but he supposed it had something to do with the way the graceful way she moved, and the musical lilt to her voice when she spoke. The way she watched him without saying a word, and how her face never gave away what she was thinking, which drew him to her like a moth to a flame. Stephen wasn’t ashamed to admit that he would readily jump into the fire.
“Stephen!”
He resisted the urge to sigh, this time feeling a bit apologetic. One time was enough, but a second time ignoring her was borderline rude. “Forgive me, Mother, but I’m not feeling very well. I think the trip here might have worn me out more than expected.”
She pursed her lips. Stephen waited, expecting her to berate him once more, so his surprise skyrocketed when she only sighed. “It seems to me like your mind is on something else, Stephen.”
“Something else like what?”
She surely doesn’t know anything about Hannah.
