Page 14 of The Earl’s Hoyden

Goosebumps prickled over her bare arms, but she didn’t voice her discomfort, not when Madame Bannery’s girl had already added a fresh log to the fire moments before.

“I expect this will be your season, Hannah.” Lady Westwich carefully inspected a length of yellow Spitalfields silk with a moss-green and royal-blue floral pattern across its edge. “I can feel it.”

Most likely, what Lady Westwich felt was the remnants of her toast points from that morning, which never failed to give her a touch of dyspepsia.

Hannah acted as though she had not heard her mother.

“Did you hear me, Hannah?” The baroness turned pointedly to her. “This is going to be your season.”

If Hannah could properly breathe in the pinned garment, she might have sighed. Fear of being stabbed by the pins holding the fabric in place, however, had her squelching the reaction.

“Yes, Mother.”

Lady Westwich did sigh. “Don’t patronize me with platitudes, daughter. I have it on good authority we are to be invited to the opening ball at Ranford Place.” Her mother beamed, clearly proud of herself. “Lord Ranford.” The man’s name was said slowly, as if Hannah was simpleminded, followed by a suggested raising of the baroness’s light brows.

Hannah groaned. “We are merely friends, Mother.”

Madame Bannery straightened and turned Hannah to work on a piece of the small cap sleeve, breaking Lady Westwich’s fixed stare.

Thank heavens!

The baroness shifted to be in front of Hannah, locking onto her gaze once more. “But you could be more than friends.”

“He needed advice on Lady Julia’s coming out,” Hannah replied.

“It was kind of you to aid him through his sister’s debut since their mother has been gone for so long, but if you pressed your advantage with him…” Lady Westwich settled a hand on Hannah’s arm.

Kind.

There was that confounded word again.

“Oh, you’re freezing, Hannah,” her mother cried.

The shop assistant ran toward the hearth without hesitation and plunged two more logs into the flames before Hannah could even protest. However, as a blast of heat washed over her bare arms, she was grateful for a reprieve from the chill.

“What I was saying is that your friendship could blossom into something more,” Lady Westwich continued, never one to be swayed from the path of dogged conversation. “Like your father and I did.”

Hannah sighed and was rewarded with a sharp prick from one of the pins at her ribs.

Her mother was forever using her union with Hannah’s father as a lesson in what marriage should be. The discussion was as tedious as it was off-putting with how they longingly looked at one another. The long, drawn-out stares were what young lovers were wont to do. Not self-respecting, cultured adults.

Madame Bannery gently spun Hannah around to address the other dainty sleeve.

“What about Lord Brightstone?” her mother asked.

Hannah was grateful not to be facing Lady Westwich at that moment as Hannah was sure her face flushed as vibrantly red as her hair. What could her mother possibly know about Lord Brightstone? Hannah had never divulged that she had even spoken with him.

“Our neighbor in York?” Hannah hoped she sounded more innocent and aloof to her mother than she did to herself.

The baroness appeared in front of her, lips pursed, stare assessing. She knew something.

But how?

Hannah schooled her features to remain entirely impassive.

“You are finished, Miss Bexley.” Madame Bannery pulled a pin from her mouth and smiled at her—a gesture Hannah returned enthusiastically. Dressing would at least present an opportunity to escape from her mother for a few more moments.

Mary helped Hannah into several layers of clothing, topping it all with a deep lapis-blue velvet day dress.