15. Chapter Fifteen

“A re you a gentleman?”

Hugh paused in the middle of filing down a balancing plate. He knew the voice and turned to look at the woman in the doorway with more than a little trepidation. Their previous encounter had filled his thoughts more than he would have liked over the past several days.

Miss Woodbury didn’t look angry, exactly, but there was an intensity about her that made him proceed carefully. “I beg your pardon?”

“My brother’s esteem isn’t all that exceptional as he tends to like everyone, but Ambrose? I didn’t think he truly considered anyone a friend aside from Marmaduke, and here he is inviting you to family dinners and giving you permission to call him by his first name.”

“It’s his second name, actually.” The moment the words left his mouth, he knew they were the wrong thing to say, but there was no taking them back. Besides, what would be the proper response? Was she disparaging his character? Questioning her brother’s discretion? Challenging her cousin’s judgment?

She blinked and narrowed her gaze. “You know what I mean.”

That was a rather bold assumption. “Actually, I don’t.”

She turned a full circle in the doorway before stepping fully into the room. “Are you a gentleman?”

He coughed. “My lady, I deeply apologize if I’ve given you cause to question my behavior.” He’d done his level best to avoid her since their conversation a few days ago. How could he have done anything untoward if she hadn’t seen him?

She blew out an annoyed breath. “Not that sort of gentleman.”

“Of course.” This conversation had gone from confusing to downright bizarre, and he was now far too fascinated to cut it short. Slowly he set his tool and part on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “If I may ask, what sort of gentleman are you inquiring about?”

“A proper one.”

He merely lifted his eyebrows at her.

She began to pace, her hands fluttering as if she could pull the words from the air around her. “An official one. Someone who can put esquire after their name and such.”

Hugh would rather move the conversation back to the bizarre instead of the uncomfortable weight it now held. He cleared his throat. “If you are asking my placement in society, I’m afraid I am solidly below you on the ladder. I am a man in trade, though not the owner of my own business. I am the son of a candlemaker and the nephew of clergyman. Even my highest aspirations would not have me stepping far from that sphere.”

Never in his life had Hugh considered himself inadequate or lacking. He’d been born into a certain social position, but that was merely circumstances and had nothing to do with his worth or importance as a man. Yes, he’d done everything he could to make the most of his situation, but he didn’t begrudge the men such as Ambrose who had been born into a different one. It took all sorts to make society function, after all.

“Then how did you do it?”

At least the conversation had rolled back around to confusing. “Do what?”

“Become friends with a viscount.”

Were they friends? What did that even mean? “I’m not certain what—”

“I have been in London for two weeks.” She started pacing again. “In that time, according to my aunt and even my mother, I’ve managed to ostracize half of London because I’m not being amiable enough.”

Hugh lifted a hand to his mouth to cover the grin that formed. No, amiable was not the word he would use to describe Miss Woodbury. Fascinating, intriguing, and even somewhat captivating, yes, but not amiable. She was far too opinionated for that.

She propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not—” He had to stop as laughter indeed slid from his mouth when he attempted to speak. After clearing his throat, he tried once more. “I’m laughing, yes, but not at you. More at the idea that you would want to be considered amiable. It just doesn’t seem a priority for you.”

Her face fell from determined to devastated as her body dropped into a chair. “You find me disagreeable? I thought—”

“One moment. How did we move from not amiable to disagreeable ? That’s quite the jump.”

“Not according to my aunt.”

In Hugh’s opinion, her aunt was not the best judge of character. The woman was as shallow as a puddle and a caricature of a typical aristocratic lady. He winced at his own judgmental thoughts. He was likely being unfair, but the things he’d heard the woman say to her nephew and her son were definitely the words of a woman who was very aware that she’d climbed up in society and didn’t want to be reminded that she’d ever lived elsewhere.

He could only imagine what sorts of things she was saying to her niece.

“Do you wish to be amiable?”

She frowned. “I wish to be considered at least somewhat affable, I suppose. I haven’t exactly been making friends here, you know.”

“Eleanor liked you.” She’d liked this woman an awful lot if the note she’d sent round reminding him he’d promised to assist in Miss Woodbury’s project was anything to go by.

As if she expected Hugh to renege on his commitment just because the situation was awkward.

He had, of course, hoped the entire thing would go away if he ignored it, but he didn’t like that Eleanor had assumed he would do such.

Miss Woodbury didn’t respond to his statement, but her face clearly said she was aware that Eleanor was not the sort of person she needed to impress while in London.

Of course, she also wasn’t aiming to gain the respect of a man such as himself. So what was she doing seeking him out? Her first visit was an accident, but tonight’s was obviously intentional.

“Right.” Hugh cleared his throat, desperately combing his mind for the right words to say. There was something desperate about Miss Woodbury that made him want to help her. Something her brother had said nudged his memory and he frowned. “I didn’t think you wanted a match from the upper crust.”

“I don’t.” She crossed her arms. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be invited.”

Hugh laughed. Miss Woodbury sprang from her chair. “I’ve never had to deal with this before. In the country, I was invited everywhere. I went to simple birthday celebrations with tea and cakes, and I attended several of Lady Witherton’s assemblies and parties. No one there has ever told me I was less than amiable or called me aloof.”

“And here?”

“Here even Mother said I need to consider my actions more carefully.”

As a man who constantly thought about the impact of his choices, he couldn’t imagine a person not thinking through their actions. Surely it wasn’t that Miss Woodbury was acting without intention. “Why does she think that?”

“She says it’s because I’m not in the country anymore.” The wistfulness of her words had Hugh bracing himself to have a crying female on his hands soon.

“She isn’t wrong. London is not the country.”

“My current location is not of my doing.” She stuck her nose in the air. “I never asked to come to London.”

“Then why do you care if London suits you?” Hugh busied himself with reorganizing the parts he was keeping in a small tray. He had a feeling that this conversation would end if she thought herself an imposition to his work.

Keeping himself busy also kept it from getting awkward.

Hopefully.

“I care,” she said slowly, as if Hugh’s need for an explanation was his fault, “because I am a woman.”

“Such a condition hardly makes you lacking in discernment or circumspection.”

Her response was a narrowed glare.

Hugh bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Honestly, Miss Woodbury, if this life is not what you want, it shouldn’t matter if it doesn’t suit you.”

“I meant that I need to marry.”

A pang of unease speared his stomach at her pronouncement of the obvious, and the sensation surprised him a little. Marriage was the natural order of things. It was practically a necessity for women, particularly those born above a certain station. The idea of her marrying someone should not make him want to cut this conversation off immediately. “Are there no men in the country?”

“I’m afraid there aren’t many unwed men of consequence in the district. Certainly none that my mother would happily see me wed to.”

“You would change the course of your entire life to please her?” If that was the case, Hugh had nothing to offer. His father had expected Hugh to go into candles, to follow his father’s footsteps. The lure of clock mechanisms was too much for Hugh to ignore, though.

“I believe it is possible to appease us both. Aunt Elizabeth is more exacting, but her disapproval will have little bearing on my choices.” Miss Woodbury smoothed her skirts and gave a decisive nod. “This is why I have settled on Mr. Pitt as an option.”

Hugh tried not to laugh again but once more failed. “It is usually the man who decides if he wants to be a suitor.”

“If you truly think that, then you are not as understanding of women as you claim to be.”

“I never claimed to understand them at all.”

“Are you going to tell me your secrets or not?”

Hugh was going to be walking back through the conversation in his mind for days trying to find where he kept losing the direction. “Please recall I never claimed to understand women when I tell you that I have no idea to what you are referring.”

“You have made connections above your station. I need to do the same. Mr. Pitt is at least a little bit interested, but he shall stop calling on me if I ostracize everyone in London.”

Hugh had never moved in society. He had a small group of friends that he met with on occasion, and he enjoyed talking with people at his uncle’s church. Still, he liked to think that he had a decent rapport with the aristocrats and gentry he’d worked with over the years. Was that at all the same as Miss Woodbury’s situation? It was the best he had to give her.

“I find an easy smile and a quiet tongue make most of them happy.”

She frowned. “I’m not certain I can do that.”

“Me neither.”

Her frown slid into a look of consternation. Probably trying to ascertain whether or not Hugh was making fun of her. He wasn’t, but he didn’t think meekly following along was a skill Miss Woodbury possessed.

Finally, she sighed. “Is that what you do with Marmaduke and Ambrose? Smile and nod?”

“Ah, well, no.”

“Then what do you do?”

“I simply . . . be myself?”

It was the only advice he had. To be honest, he still wasn’t sure he could say how he’d become connected to the viscount and his cousin, and at first, he’d tried to avoid it. Somehow, he’d ended up their friend anyway.

“You are naturally amiable, then?”

Hugh shifted more things in the basket, heat flushing the back of his neck. “I like to think so, I suppose. I haven’t given it that much thought.”

“Hmm.” Her mouth flattened and she appeared to be in deep thought. “I suppose I shall have to learn by observation then.”

The basket slid across the table and almost fell on the floor as Hugh jerked in surprise. “You . . . you intend to observe me with your brother and cousin?”

What was she going to do? Huddle in the corner of the billiard room? Hide under the table in the study?

“When we were children, the three of us were inseparable. I have, admittedly, spent more time away from them in recent years, but I believe we are still close.”

Hugh believed they were as well, given how often her plans for the evening or her progress in London was mentioned during the billiards game.

Still, her presence would change the dynamic, and Hugh wasn’t certain he’d still be welcome in the room. Her aunt and mother might have dismissed him at dinner, but those two men were well aware that Miss Woodbury was unmarried and Hugh was an unrelated man.

Miss Woodbury seemed not to consider these things though as she smiled and gave a decisive nod. “Besides, the first of the month is tomorrow.”

Hugh frowned. “What has that to do with anything?”

She stood and straightened her shoulders. “I shall become the commander.”