Never again.
Such women might make the best mistresses. Like the mote in Miss Amelia’s eye, even their flaws seemed to sparkle with a tempting vivacity. But now that he meant to marry, it would be to the quiet beauty of an Arabella. It would be like coming home to a house filled with fresh flowers, each day. Just the thought of her smile made the tensions in his soul relax. After what he had been through, he deserved peace.
It did not matter what fate Amelia Summoner planned for him. He wanted no part of it. But in one thing, his friend Templeton, had been totally right. To gain the ultimate tranquillity of a life with Belle, Ben would need to douse the conflagration that burned in her sister. If the elder of the two became a member of his household, his life would be far more difficult than he wished it to be. There must be some man in London who could take her off his hands.
First, he must find a way to charm her out of the irrational antipathy she displayed towards him. Once a truce had been declared, perhaps, he could gain some insight into her character and find an acceptable match for her where Lord Summoner had failed. He took a moment to imagine the happy gratitude of that gentleman at settling a matter that no doubt weighed heavily on his mind. It would be one more thing that would smooth the way when Ben asked for his younger daughter’s hand.
And there, on the street just below him, were the two women he most wanted to impress, admiring the bonnets in the milliner’s shop opposite his rooms. The older woman who accompanied them, and who he assumed was their chaperon, was swaying slightly as the terrier on the leash in her hand strained at each passer-by.
Perhaps today he might make an impression on the pair of them without Templeton swooping in to monopolise Arabella. Ben gave a brief glance in the mirror to assure himself that his cravat and coat were spotless before racing down the stairs. At the door, he took only a moment to compose himself again, so that their meeting might seem a chance encounter on London’s most popular shopping thoroughfare.
But in the moments it had taken to get from sitting room to street, his future wife had disappeared along with her keeper, leaving Miss Amelia and the dog as grim sentinels prepared to thwart his plans.
The girl glanced in his direction for only a moment, before turning back to stare at the shop window in a deliberate attempt to ignore him. The terrier, however, pivoted on the line holding him to give Ben’s shoes a thorough sniffing. The little beast was uncommonly ugly for a lady’s pet. It seemed to be made of the parts of a variety of animals, stuck together in a haphazard fashion by someone who had no clear idea of what a dog was supposed to look like. Its long body supported an enormous head and waddled along on hardly any legs at all. The whole of it was covered with a layer of unevenly cropped white-and-tan fur. When it had completed its investigation of his shoes, it looked up at him with an air of resigned embarrassment at its own appearance. It was then he saw that its eyes were no more coordinated than the rest of it. They were large as a bug’s and mismatched in colour, one blue, one brown, like a ridiculous parody of the woman who controlled it. It ambled forward and flopped down upon his foot, giving him far more notice than its owner, who was still stubbornly ignoring him.
If he meant to join her family, he could not allow her to cut him on the street. He nudged the dog gently aside and stepped forward, smiling. ‘Miss Summoner.’
He was sure he had spoken loud enough to be heard, but she remained purposefully oblivious.
‘Miss Summoner,’ he said more loudly to prove he would not be denied. Then he took his place beside her, trying to meet her eyes in the reflection of the glass.
She did not turn, still focusing on the goods displayed. ‘You are not the gentleman you claim to be, Mr Lovell.’
Her words hit so close to the truth that his smile faltered and he bit his tongue to stop the question echoing in his head.
What have you heard?
She continued with the obvious explanation for her words. ‘Surely you know that when a lady does not acknowledge you, you must not persist in trying to engage her.’
It was nothing. He was safe. He let out a relieved breath and shifted his leg to detach the dog, who was now sniffing the hems of his pants. ‘Have I done something to offend you?’ he asked, honestly curious.
‘To offend me? No, Mr Lovell, you have not. But I would hate to spoil that.’
‘Do not be glib with me, Miss Summoner.’
‘I was not attempting to be,’ she reminded him. ‘I was attempting to avoid you.’
‘But why?’ Now he sounded like a petulant child. He gave her reflection another disarming smile. ‘Is there a reason that we cannot have a friendly conversation when we meet on a crowded street?’