Chapter Eight
Dorset
A few days later, a party of five people strolled upon the exquisite lawns of Ethan’s country home. Now he needed to do the pretty and entertain his mother’s guests. Two of his present guests had been thoroughly unanticipated. Still, he was obliged to be civil, considering his mother had extended an invitation to Miss Alice Featherstone and her mother, Viscountess Lipton.
His mother acted as if their presence in Dorset was a happy coincidence, but Ethan already suspected she hoped to align their families. She had spoken of the two Featherstone misses with great animation for the last year, frequently extolling their numerous virtues. The elder sister was somewhat a bluestocking and refused to marry, but not the younger who was keen to forge an alliance. Miss Alice was one and twenty and had a passion for poetry and art. All of that was whispered to him by his aunt as the young lady walked ahead with her mother admiring his extensive grounds and gardens.
“You will like her very much,” Aunt Bess said beaming, her brown eyes sparkling with much mischief. His Aunt was a Viscountess in her own right with three grown children and a husband obsessed with Egyptian puzzles. Aunt Bess’s dark hair had developed wings of pure white, although a large bonnet shaded them from his sight. His aunt had a rounded cheerful face with keen piercing eyes. While she seemed jovial and feather-brained in public, in her own domain she was a martinet who ruled her family and servants with an iron fist in the proverbial velvet glove.
While his aunt was plump in figure, his mother was willowy and elegant. Although they contrasted in appearance, when they put their heads together, the pair would present a united front to society and Ethan was well aware what an indefatigable force they could be. They were very similar in their mannerisms and often found themselves in good humor with each other and the world.
“Why is that?” he asked drily.
His aunt smiled very pointedly. “Why, you and Miss Alice have much in common! I could hardly fathom such good fortune in a potential match.”
“What do we have in common?”
“She loves the stars as much as you do.”
“Did she declare that love before or after you told her of my affinity for the constellations?”
His aunt glared at him, and Ethan chuckled. “I am a man of three and thirty, Aunt Bess. I am perfectly capable of choosing my own wife without any interference from you or mother.”
“Vinnie and I will have all gray hair and die with creaking old bones before it happens. Your father married my sister when he was only four and twenty, and they had several happy years together before he went onto his rewards.”
His mother, Vinnette Hawkins, Countess of Ralston, glanced at them over her slender shoulders. Her morning dress of palest lavender was modelled after one of this season’s fashion plates, although it was less fussy than the original illustration. His mother had good taste and presented a very pretty picture. Ethan shook his head when she winked at Aunt Bess, who then suddenly wanted to stroll along the eastern gardens with his mother and the viscountess, leaving him alone with Miss Alice.
Miss Alice wafted nearer to him, her innocent and seemingly artless dress of white trim with pale blue ribbons floated around her in the slight breeze, hinting at delights beneath without being blatant in its invitation. Ethan suspected that its simplicity had cost her father many guineas and was the masterpiece of one of the ton’s top modistes.
The ladies bustled away, and Miss Alice’s cheeks pinkened at noting they were alone. Her mouth curved into a pretty smile that meant to invite him into a shared laugh at their parents’ antics. Ethan allowed his mouth to shape the smile while he discreetly assessed the young lady his family thought perfect for him. With something akin to dark amusement rushing through him, he wondered truly what having a perfect bride meant. How did one measure that?
Ethan did not wish for a paragon as his wife. However, he would greatly respect a lady who cared for her reputation and that of her family. As Lady Charity had mentioned, liking was a key ingredient in any relationship. He would appreciate a lady he admired, one he could hold an intelligent discourse with, and one who had her own interests outside of being the ideal countess.
Miss Alice’s complexion was fair and unblemished, her soft brown eyes quite lovely and framed with long lashes. Her dark blonde hair was caught up in a profusion of curls, with several caressing her forehead and cheeks. Miss Alice’s shape was slender and comely, and she walked the air of a lady confident of her place in the world.
Even now, she stared at him almost with an expectation of being adored.
“Your home is beyond lovely,” she said with a smile. “Very impressive.”
He glanced back at the vista of his house, which sprawled for three stories above ground, with the kitchens at a half basement to the side, making use of the slight slope of the ground at that point. It was built of pale yellowy stone and had several wings although his ancestors had tried to tie in the additions with some attempt to make an elegant and cohesive statement. The top of the building was edged with a low wall of crenulations, more decorative than defensive
It was not the most ornate or fashionable of stately piles. He scanned the glittering glass of the windows, realizing he was seeking a glimpse of Charity and his sister Jenna.
“It is home,” he said mildly.
“The air is rather lovely, my lord,” she said in a pleasant voice. “Quite refreshing from the air in London, don’t you agree?”
They trundled along the lane, leaves crunching underneath their boots. Ethan idly wondered where Jenna and her guest had disappeared to after breaking their fast. The estate was vast, and they could be anywhere, yet he wondered if Lady Charity had been avoiding his presence. She had yet to meet his mother, Aunt Bess, and present company, who had only arrived an hour ago.
Feeling Miss Alice’s eyes upon him, Ethan realized he had not picked up on her opening discourse as a gentleman ought. Looking around at the soft rolling hills in the distance, the large elm and beech trees lining the property, and the splendid lake teeming with fishes in the distance, he said, “The countryside is indeed refreshing. I much prefer it here to Town.”
Her eyes flicked toward him and then flicked away to the pathway ahead. “Oh, I would not go as far as to say I prefer it. I do appreciate the countryside but find the balls and the attractions of town far more exciting. My sister loathes town life. Olivia finds it too frivolous; she is somewhat of a bluestocking.”
With a quiet jolt, he recognized that Miss Alice was nervous and perhaps wanted to impress him. Ethan would much prefer her to relax and simply be herself.
“London does have its own appreciable share of amusement,” he admitted. “Many which I’ve indulged in.”
“Yes, I do love dancing.” There was a slight hesitation before she continued, “I happened to see a particular scandal sheet a few days ago which took great relish in mentioning that you danced with Lady Charity at some ball.”