Miss Dower's Paragon Read Free Page A

come to say is most properly directed to Miss Dower in your presence.”
    Evelyn lifted a delicate brow, murmuring, “Come, Mr. Hawkins. Surely I am not so intimidating a personage as that.”
    Mrs. Dower uttered a soft murmur of distress.
    Mr. Hawkins appeared taken aback. “Why, I had no such feelings at all, Miss Dower. Of course I would not think anything so disrespectful of one whom I hold in the most reverential regard.”
    “Very prettily said, Mr. Hawkins,” said Mrs. Dower. Hidden from the gentleman in the folds of her skirt, she twitched her hand at her daughter.
    Evelyn ignored her mother’s urgent signal, and with a bright, brittle smile, she said, “Mercy, Mr. Hawkins. I am overcome, indeed, at such an exquisite compliment.”
    Mrs. Dower uncertainly eyed her daughter. All too readily she recognized the danger signals flying in her daughter’s manner, and her heart bled for the poor unsuspecting gentleman. She wavered in her intention to leave the young couple alone. “I suppose—perhaps I shall do better to speak to the gardener another time.”
    “Pray do not put off your intention on my account, Mama,” said Evelyn cordially.
    Mrs. Dower sighed in defeat. “You shall call to me when I am needed, Evelyn dearest.”
    “Of course, Mama, though perhaps it will be Mr. Hawkins who shall feel in need of succor,” said Evelyn.
    Mr. Hawkins smiled. It was a smile of great charm, creating the tiniest quirk at one corner of his firm mouth.
    Evelyn had once thought his to be the most fascinating smile in all England, and even now, at the height of her wounded pride, she found that she must harden her susceptible heart against it.
    “You have a droll sense of humor, Miss Dower. I had not appreciated it before, I am sorry to say.”
    “Hadn’t you?”
    There was something in Evelyn’s bright eyes and flippant voice that strongly reminded Mrs. Dower of her late husband when he had been in the throes of a towering temper, and that finally spurred her to action. With a hastily murmured word, she retreated in a most cowardly fashion.
    “May I presume so far as to share your bench, Miss Dower?”
    Evelyn inclined her head, still maintaining her haughty air. With magnificent indifference, she said, “As you wish, Mr. Hawkins.” He seemed impervious to her snub, and to her fury seated himself beside her. Evelyn gave a faint sniff and lifted her nose as though she scented something faintly obnoxious. She stared straight ahead, presenting him with only her profile.
    Mr. Hawkins cleared his throat, then said with a grave air, “Miss Dower, I am fully cognizant of the maidenly confusion a young lady of delicate sensibilities must feel upon entertaining an interview such as this. If your father had been alive, I would certainly have applied to him and therefore spared you the awkwardness of our present meeting. Indeed, that happy conclusion is what I had hoped for when Lady Pomerancy approached Mrs. Dower.”
    “Pray do not give it another thought, Mr. Hawkins. My mother persuaded me of the necessity of receiving you. I am quite resigned to it, I assure you,” said Evelyn, bestowing upon him an artificial smile.
    Mr. Hawkins appeared insensitive to her heavy insult. Instead, an expression almost of relief crossed his face. “I am happy to hear you say so, Mrs. Dower. I was afraid of offending you with my boldness.”
    Evelyn positively stared at the gentleman.
    The thought crossed her mind that he was an idiot, but it was almost as instantly dismissed. Intelligence and humor enlivened his handsome countenance, while his vivid blue eyes regarded her with a smile in their depths. That left her with the uncomfortable suspicion that he was making game of her. “I assure you, Mr. Hawkins, I am not offended by your boldness,” she said warily.
    Mr. Hawkins’s mouth quirked in its beguiling fashion. “I am glad of that.” He gently took one of her hands and lifted her fingers in tender, reverential salute.
    At the