intelligence would be as nothing. And her will! Why, she would use it to achieve the end of becoming his wife, I dare say."
The picture Emily painted was not at all pleasing to Hugh. Though he realized that his sister was weaving a fantasy that had almost no grounding in reality, he could not help but wonder if the seed that had been sown by Mr. Bentley's visit in Queen Square might not indeed take root.
He concealed his displeasure with difficulty as he took his leave of his sister. Why did he feel so bothered? For honor’s sake, he hoped that it was not concern about his inheritance. And yet, what other reason had he to feel what amounted to a real stab of alarm?
Perhaps, he thought, as he strode off in the direction of Queen Square, it was because his own evaluation of Miss Armstrong did not ignore the fact that she was a babe in the woods where the world was concerned. In that, certainly, Emily was correct. Miss Armstrong might easily be overwhelmed by the admiration of a young man who had nothing to recommend him except a pleasant face and a gracious manner. If nothing else, was it not Sir Hugh's duty in some measure to keep an eye on her and prevent her from enacting any sort of folly? Surely he owed that much to his godmother, who could not be expected to be any more up to snuff than her niece where the social world of Bath was concerned. His brow cleared as this logical reasoning made his concern fully explainable.
* * * *
Rosemarie was not disposed to look favorably on Sir Hugh's visit. "We saw you only last night," she protested. "What are you doing here this afternoon?"
"Heaven knows," he murmured, giving Nell a rueful glance. "It is customary, in Bath, to pay a call on the ladies you have recently escorted, to inquire as to their comfort after the rigors of attending a social function."
"Horse feathers! As if Helen and I weren't stout enough to make the smallest excursion. If I were that decrepit I would not have come to Bath in the first place."
"So you were out first thing this morning taking the waters at the pump room, were you?" Hugh asked.
His godmother glared at him. "We don't take the waters every day. They are far too disgusting to drink all that often. I suspect that they would poison you if you drank them every day."
"Do you?" Hugh's brows rose. "I don't believe I've heard of anyone being poisoned by them. Have you?"
When Rosemarie only snorted, her niece met his interested gaze with merry eyes. They were remarkably pretty eyes, he noted. And her complexion was so fair that her feelings easily showed in the quick rise and fall of color in softly rounded cheeks. Her lips curved delightfully with those tucked-away smiles she half-concealed so well. Bemused, he realized she was speaking to him.
"You can never be too careful, Sir Hugh. Aunt Longstreet has taken note of all the invalids who congregate at the pump room and it is her opinion that any number of them may as easily be harmed as helped by the waters, since very few of them appear to be cured when they leave Bath."
"Ah, I see. I have not myself indulged in the waters on a regular basis, but I have to admit that they taste vile. Still, some people do swear by them. Have you considered bathing in them?"
His godmother narrowed her eyes. "And just what would be the point of that? Are you hoping I'll drown myself?"
"I'm quite certain no one has ever drowned in the baths, ma'am," he assured her. "Apparently the minerals in the water, and its warmth, are particularly good for the gout."
"And you would be an authority on gout, would you, young man?"
"My father had it, so I do have some experience at second hand."
Miss Armstrong, rather than her aunt, showed a decided interest. "And he found the baths helpful?"
"On many occasions. Of course, some people say it is all in one's head, the benefits of such a treatment. That if you expect some comfort, you will convince yourself that you have received it."
"Fools," muttered his godmother.
The picture Emily painted was not at all pleasing to Hugh. Though he realized that his sister was weaving a fantasy that had almost no grounding in reality, he could not help but wonder if the seed that had been sown by Mr. Bentley's visit in Queen Square might not indeed take root.
He concealed his displeasure with difficulty as he took his leave of his sister. Why did he feel so bothered? For honor’s sake, he hoped that it was not concern about his inheritance. And yet, what other reason had he to feel what amounted to a real stab of alarm?
Perhaps, he thought, as he strode off in the direction of Queen Square, it was because his own evaluation of Miss Armstrong did not ignore the fact that she was a babe in the woods where the world was concerned. In that, certainly, Emily was correct. Miss Armstrong might easily be overwhelmed by the admiration of a young man who had nothing to recommend him except a pleasant face and a gracious manner. If nothing else, was it not Sir Hugh's duty in some measure to keep an eye on her and prevent her from enacting any sort of folly? Surely he owed that much to his godmother, who could not be expected to be any more up to snuff than her niece where the social world of Bath was concerned. His brow cleared as this logical reasoning made his concern fully explainable.
* * * *
Rosemarie was not disposed to look favorably on Sir Hugh's visit. "We saw you only last night," she protested. "What are you doing here this afternoon?"
"Heaven knows," he murmured, giving Nell a rueful glance. "It is customary, in Bath, to pay a call on the ladies you have recently escorted, to inquire as to their comfort after the rigors of attending a social function."
"Horse feathers! As if Helen and I weren't stout enough to make the smallest excursion. If I were that decrepit I would not have come to Bath in the first place."
"So you were out first thing this morning taking the waters at the pump room, were you?" Hugh asked.
His godmother glared at him. "We don't take the waters every day. They are far too disgusting to drink all that often. I suspect that they would poison you if you drank them every day."
"Do you?" Hugh's brows rose. "I don't believe I've heard of anyone being poisoned by them. Have you?"
When Rosemarie only snorted, her niece met his interested gaze with merry eyes. They were remarkably pretty eyes, he noted. And her complexion was so fair that her feelings easily showed in the quick rise and fall of color in softly rounded cheeks. Her lips curved delightfully with those tucked-away smiles she half-concealed so well. Bemused, he realized she was speaking to him.
"You can never be too careful, Sir Hugh. Aunt Longstreet has taken note of all the invalids who congregate at the pump room and it is her opinion that any number of them may as easily be harmed as helped by the waters, since very few of them appear to be cured when they leave Bath."
"Ah, I see. I have not myself indulged in the waters on a regular basis, but I have to admit that they taste vile. Still, some people do swear by them. Have you considered bathing in them?"
His godmother narrowed her eyes. "And just what would be the point of that? Are you hoping I'll drown myself?"
"I'm quite certain no one has ever drowned in the baths, ma'am," he assured her. "Apparently the minerals in the water, and its warmth, are particularly good for the gout."
"And you would be an authority on gout, would you, young man?"
"My father had it, so I do have some experience at second hand."
Miss Armstrong, rather than her aunt, showed a decided interest. "And he found the baths helpful?"
"On many occasions. Of course, some people say it is all in one's head, the benefits of such a treatment. That if you expect some comfort, you will convince yourself that you have received it."
"Fools," muttered his godmother.
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