The Birth of Blue Satan by Patricia Wynn

that she was observing him closely. The pity he saw in her eyes gave him a jolt.
    “Mrs. Kean,” he said, “you will not be offended, I hope, if I confess to you my aspirations.”
    “My lord.” Her smile gently teased him. “You will not be offended, I hope, if I tell you I have guessed them long ago.”
    Gideon found himself relaxing again at the evidence of her humour. “Have I been so awkward as that?”
    “Not awkward—no.” Her haste to reassure him on this point made him worry all the more.
    Gideon studied her face and noted her unease with a sinking heart. “Have I a serious rival, then, or would you rather not say?”
    “I should rather not say, but since you desire it, I will do my best to put the case in the fairest way I can. My lord—” she regarded him solemnly before taking a deep breath— “I can only say that both my aunt and cousin look upon your suit with great favour. But you must realize that Isabella has more attention than any dozen girls could ever hope to have. And, because of that attention, I do not think she is always in a position to know her own heart.”
    Gideon felt a frown crease his brow. He did his best to erase it, but he was feeling sick. The wound on his arm was aching more and more with every minute. Fever had begun to blur his eyes, and Mrs. Kean’s words had struck at his worst fears.
    He would have thanked her all the same. He took her remarks for a careful warning that he must do his best to secure Isabella’s hand with all haste. But, just then, a shrill cry interrupted them.
    “Hester!”
    Mrs. Mayfield’s vicious note shocked him.
    “I have been looking for you this past quarter hour and more! And where you had gone to, nobody could tell me. I need you this instant to fetch my pink shawl from the carriage. The air has grown quite chilly in here, and I swear I shall catch my death of cold before supper.”
    Gideon stood abruptly. A wave of dizziness seized him, but he tried to ignore the stabbing pains in his arm that had caused it. Catching his balance, he gave Mrs. Mayfield a stiff bow. If he needed any proof that Mrs. Mayfield regarded him as her daughter’s property, her offence at his attention to Mrs. Kean had given it. He supposed he should feel delighted, but he could never wish to see a girl as decent as Mrs. Kean treated so unfairly.
    “Pray allow me, madam, to find a page to fetch your shawl. Mrs. Kean has been kind enough to sit with me.” He might have added that she had done so while he waited to dance with her cousin, but such a comment would only serve to diminish Mrs. Kean and his pleasure in her company.
    Gideon saw that his politeness had done nothing to take the edge off Mrs. Mayfield’s offence. The smile she gave him did not reach her eyes—nor did it include her niece.
    “La, my lord! How can you think I would ever ask your lordship to bother yourself over a trifle like this?” Turning to her niece, she said with a false cheer that failed to conceal her displeasure, “Be a good girl, Hester, and run along to the carriage.”
    Gideon watched Hester’s face as she curtsied to him, accepting her aunt’s command with no sign of resentment. None of the annoyance he had felt seemed to have bothered her, which was good, he told himself, since she undoubtedly would have to put up with Mrs. Mayfield’s whimsical humours until she married. For her sake, Gideon hoped it would not be long.      
     
    Here stood Ill Nature like an ancient maid,
    Her wrinkled form in black and white arrayed;
    With store of prayers, for mornings, nights, and noons,
    Her hand is filled; her bosom with lampoons.
    There Affectation, with a sickly mien,
    Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen,
    Practised to lisp, and hang the head aside,
          Faints into airs, and languishes with pride
     
    This day, black Omens threat the brightest Fair
    That e’er deserved a watchful spirit’s care;
    Some dire disaster, or by force, or slight;
    But what, or