style="font-size:15px;"> Every nerve in his body was strung tight. Relying on others was not something he was comfortable with, but unfortunately it was part of doing business. And now he would have to wait a week before he knew if they could move forward with their plans.
As his vision began to clear, Mrs Sommersby came into focus. How long he had been staring sightlessly at her, he had no idea. She was listening intently to what her companion was saying. What did women talk about when they weren’t in the company of men? The question had never occurred to him until now. Once more, Lane tried to read lips and once more he failed miserably.
She had this way of gracefully moving her fingers as she continually spun her cup in her saucer. It was distinctly possible that she wasn’t even aware she was doing it, but oddly enough watching her movement was easing his agitation. Suddenly she looked his way and, as their eyes met, a slow smile spread across her face. Something inside him shifted and it felt as if the sun had come out for the first time during this very gloomy day.
Spotting Mr Lane sitting approximately four tables away from her in the bustling Lower Assembly Room had made a fine morning even better. It had been quite some time since Clara had captured the attention of an attractive man in his thirties—at least one that was unaware of her lofty family connections or her very comfortable financial position. And even though she knew his attention had more to do with the fact she was probably one of the only people he recognised in the room, it still was a wonderful feeling.
When she dipped her head as a silent greeting, he returned the gesture with the smallest of smiles.
‘I would so love to see The Rivals,’ Miss Harriet Collingswood said, drawing Clara’s attention away from Mr Lane and back to the conversation she had been having with her new friend. Harriet was the older daughter of her neighbour; the one the Dowager had suggested might be in need of their help finding a husband. ‘My mother doesn’t like Mr Sheridan’s work and has refused to take us to see the play,’ she continued. ‘She had seen two of his plays in the past and found little humour in them. However, I heard they are quite amusing and I do so love to laugh.’
Giving Harriet a sympathetic smile, Clara resisted the urge to see if Mr Lane was still watching her. With a concerted effort, she focused all of her attention on the woman sitting across the small round table from her.
The more time Clara spent with the young woman, the more she discovered she liked her. Taking her to the spa this morning to drink the waters with her and then bringing her here to the Lower Assembly Room for breakfast had proved to be a wise decision. It had become apparent that spending time with her while Clara searched for potential husbands for the woman would be rather enjoyable.
Although, currently, it was proving to be impossible to keep her attention on her for very long. The urge to glance over at Mr Lane was too great and her gaze slid over to him once more.
His eyes were still on her.
She needed to appear composed and unaffected by his attention. She was a middle-aged woman. His attention shouldn’t make her want to smile, yet it was taking great effort on her part to keep her expression neutral as she quickly looked back at Harriet. ‘And your sister? Does Ann have a desire to see the play?’
‘No. Ann prefers operas. She tends to favour whatever is considered the height of fashion at the moment and has heard that many women of the ton favour it. Have you seen any of Mr Sheridan’s plays?’
‘I have seen all of his work and every production.’ This might be just the opportunity Clara was looking for to remove Harriet from her family long enough to introduce her to potential suitors. ‘Do you think your mother will be willing to spare you for one evening? If she would, I’d be happy to take you to see it at the Theatre Royal. I have a box there.’
The invitation appeared to embarrass Harriet, who lowered her eyes to the table. ‘That is very generous of you, but I don’t want to impose on your time that way. Please do not think it was my intention to try to garner an invitation from you.’
‘The thought never occurred to me and it would be no imposition at all. I’d enjoy your company.’ She fiddled with her cup in its saucer, trying to decide how to best ask the question that sprang out of her curiosity about the sisters. While she was thinking how to tactfully phrase her question, Harriet took matters into her own hands.
‘Might I ask you a question, Mrs Sommersby?’
‘Of course, my dear.’
‘I am very grateful that you invited me out this morning, but I am curious as to why you singled me out with this favour? Most people, you see, tend to pay more attention to my sister Ann.’
And with that brief declaration, Clara was saved from finding a way to delicately bring up Harriet’s sister. ‘I noticed as much the times I have been in your family’s company. I, too, had a sister who garnered all the attention while I was of a quieter nature. Although, I confess, I thought you were far quieter than you truly are.’
Her observation appeared to have embarrassed Harriet again. When she placed her hand gently over the young woman’s as a comforting gesture, Harriet seemed surprised. Clara had always been a person who drew comfort from a touch. She had to remind herself once more that not everyone felt that way.
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