Hawk & the Lady - Elizabeth Stevens Page 0,3
just not interested in being escorted anywhere.”
“Even to appease your mother?”
“Why, Edward. Are you trying to appeal to my sense of self-preservation?” I teased.
He smiled ruefully. “I might indeed.”
“And might I ask what you get out of it?”
“Other than your tremendous company? Nothing.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Mr Barnes.”
“Can you blame a man for trying, Miss Carmichael?”
“Oh, I can. But, this once, I may not.”
“Does that mean you’ll let me escort you?”
I looked over to my mother as she talked with Anna, our father, and Sara. It would get her off my back, even in the short-term. It would also put me firmly in Isabella’s crosshairs. I could deal with Isabella, she was in no way a threat to me on any level. But anytime I didn’t have to deal with unnecessary annoyances was awesome. The somewhat antagonistic part of me looked forward to ignoring Isabella’s reaction. The part of me that wanted peace and quiet was reminding me that it wasn’t worth the hassle. And those two parts warred in me like always.
It was my nature versus my nurture at its finest. I was brought up to respect the rigid shackles of my parents’ and social groups’ beliefs and expectations, but it was my nature to rage against the cage that made me feel like I needed to be in it. I was constantly bridging the gap between two worlds, two lives, two Leahs. It could be tiring but, after twenty-seven years, it was my normal. There was safety in normal. The idea of ripping apart my normal was terrifying, even if it might have been more peaceful.
So, I did the thing that was the perfect example of my two worlds, my two identities colliding.
“All right, Edward. You can escort me.”
****
But before the Tremain’s gala ball, we still had the Fitzgerald’s function and the Nelsons’ big yearly soiree to get through.
No matter who the hosts were, I was just as awful at these things as I was at brunch. But the Fitzgerald’s Spring ball (a generous word) was the most mind-numbing of the lot.
I enjoyed the excuse to wear a pretty dress and some nice heels. As much as I loved tracky dacks and ugg boots, it was nice to be given a reason to feel good about myself in front of other people. I just honest to God needed the shove in the backside to do it, lazy sod that I was.
As long as I reminded myself who I was talking to, I could easily talk the talk with the lot of them. But I only managed the walk the walk part about as long as I was counting my footsteps, and as long as I didn’t down one too many glasses of bubbles.
At which, I’d been relatively good that night.
“How are the kids?” Anna asked me as we snuck an obscene number of canapés.
We pulled ourselves together long enough to smile at Mr Fitzgerald. I could feel Anna tense just as I did as he started walking towards us. But thankfully he was distracted by Mrs Barry, so we were free to continue scarfing and chatting about things that actually interested us.
I shrugged and licked cream cheese off my finger. “The Year Twelves have just finished their practice exams, so they’re fine. But now I have to mark them all.”
Anna chuckled. “You’re the one who decided to be a teacher. It’s not like they didn’t warn you.”
“Some sympathetic ear you are,” I scoffed.
“If you wanted a sympathetic ear, you’d have gone to Sara,” she reminded me.
I rolled my eyes. “Stop using logic on me. Where is that gorgeous step-daughter of yours?”
“She got a phone call.”
“Oh, is it a boy? Tell me it’s a boy.”
“For someone who calls themselves anti-romance, you’re certainly very keen on your niece being interested in boys.”
“I’m not anti-romance. I’m anti-wasting my time.”
Anna snorted, covering her mouth in case food was trying to make a getaway. “Is that what you call it?”
“I maintain that men are just getting worse the older I get. They’re either taken, immature, not interested, or too interested to the point they’re clingy.”
“And which is that fine piece of man on Mrs Fortescue’s arm you can’t take your eyes off?” Anna asked, kicking her head to the left behind me.
I turned and followed her gaze. And there he was. Again.
I’d seen him on Mrs Fortescue’s arm quite a bit the last few months and I couldn’t quite figure him out. He had the same air of refinement as