This time Flora blushed. She looked over at Anthony who had the good sense to keep his face blank. She appreciated that. Though it was no secret that she had not had any luck in London, she felt embarrassment over speaking of that in front of Anthony.
“I knew that if I suggested that there were eligible men in Kent that she would have to relent, and she did.”
Flora sighed. It was not that she did not desire to meet a potential suitor; it was simply that she thought that she could come to Kent simply to enjoy her best friend’s company. She had spent the last several months trying to make a match, and she was not sure that she had the energy to continue such things.
“I promise that it will be fun,” Abigail said. “We are going to have a dinner party this evening. Very informal, but you will be able to meet with some of the local men and women.”
Flora sighed. “You did not have to do that,” she said. “I promise that I am more than content to just spend time together.”
For a moment, Abigail looked disappointed. “I suppose that I can cancel…”
Flora shook her head. “Of course not!” she exclaimed. “I am happy to meet the people of Kent. I simply want you to know that I am happy to be in your presence.” She turned to Anthony. “And I want to thank you both for your hospitality.”
“There now, none of that,” Abigail said, her face immediately bright. “We are both so glad that you are here.”
She looked over at her husband. “Correct?”
Anthony chuckled. “I am happy that you and I will get better acquainted.”
Flora held back a chuckle at Anthony’s diplomacy. She was grateful for him, but she did not want to offend her best friend.
Abigail pulled her arm slightly. “Now,” she said, her brown eyes sparkling, “tell me everything about London.”
Flora plopped down on one of the overstuffed chairs. Abigail had brought her to the drawing room for a quick respite.
“This is where I take my leave,” Anthony announced. “You two enjoy yourselves.”
Flora nearly called out to tell him that she did not wish to run him from his own home, but Abigail did not give her the chance.
For the next hour, Flora thought nothing of her circumstances, and instead, she enjoyed her best-friend’s company hoping that Kent would be the breath of fresh air that she needed.
Chapter 2
Lionel sighed as he walked towards his neighbour’s home. The Autumn air was cool, and though it was just early into September, Lionel suspected that it would only be a few weeks before the trees surrounding his property turned red, orange, and yellow, and eventually, fell. When they did, he would have a clear view of the Waldren home. It was much smaller than his own, but the Waldrens had been his family’s neighbours for generations.
That was the only reason that Lionel had accepted their invitation for dinner that evening. Normally, Lionel was not the type to attend such things. He was not a social man, and since he was unmarried, he had no wife to drag him to these types of things.
He was only willing to attend this dinner because he liked the Waldrens. He had known Anthony since they were boys. They had both gone to Eton and then Oxford together, and though they were not best friends, they were close to one another.
Abigail Waldren was new to the town, but in the past year, she had done a great deal to integrate herself into the town, which Lionel thought was admirable. He knew of several young ladies who married and immediately desired the thrill of the London Season.
Lionel did not understand why.
He did not find London incredibly appealing. Going to the city was a necessary evil for his business, and one that he would have been happy to avoid. This past year, he had decided to stay in London for the Season, and it had not gone as well as he hoped.
As Lionel trekked towards the Waldren’s estate, he shuddered as he thought about what had occurred. The Season had been pleasant enough. The mothers of the Ton descended upon him like ferocious lions on a gazelle, but Lionel had not minded it terribly. They did all the work for him.
As Earl of Kent, he was a commodity to them, and Lionel received more invites than he knew what to do with. He called upon several young ladies whom he found pleasant enough, but he had been unable to make a match.
All the ladies had their qualities, but Lionel could not see himself spending the remainder of his life with any one of them. After all, there were only so many times that a man could listen to the piano forte before he wanted to throw himself into the nearest body of water.
Lionel chuckled as he recalled some of the inane conversations that he had engaged in during that time.
Lionel was nearly to the Waldren’s home when he caught sight of a young lady in the garden. She was leaning down to smell one of the last August roses that had yet to die in the coolness of the September air.
She was not Abigail Waldren. Lionel did not recognise her, and he knew all the young ladies of Kent. Most of them had done everything they could in the last few years to make themselves seem appealing to him.
Lionel took a moment to study the young woman. She was slight. He suspected that her head would barely pass his shoulder. Her hair was a light brown and pulled back from her face in a mass of curls. When the sun hit it, Lionel noticed that there were golden streaks throughout.