by Regina Darcy
“Quite,” David murmured, wondering why he had presumed that Thurston would mock him for his acquaintance with Miss Worthington. By stepping in front of her, had he embarrassed her. He could only hope that she would not be angry with him, even though he now felt discomfort at the way he had acted. He had not meant to give the impression that he was embarrassed to be seen conversing with her, although he was sure now that this was exactly what he had done. His eyes found her again, standing, white-faced, next to Miss Hemsworth. As Thurston continued to discuss the merits of Miss Hemsworth’s school, all David could think of was Miss Worthington’s pale countenance, the warm glow that had been in her cheeks only a few minutes before now entirely gone. He had done that, he was quite sure of it.
“I will have to make it up to her somehow,” he muttered, frustrated with himself.
“What’s that?” Thurston asked, looking at him curiously.
David shook his head. “Nothing of import. I must go and attend to an important matter. If you will excuse me, Thurston?”
“Of course,” the man replied, giving David a quick bow. “Until next time.”
David nodded tersely and walked away, out of the inn. He had to get the documents to Sandiford. After that, he would consider how best to approach Miss Worthington with his abject apology.
TWELVE
Charity did not say a single word as they walked back to the school, despite Miss Hemsworth’s encouragement. Miss Hemsworth, of course, had not seen the way that her ‘dear friend’ Lord Cunningham had put himself between Charity and his friend, Lord Thurston. It had brought her such a deep humiliation that Charity was not quite sure how she would recover. All this time, she had believed that Lord Cunningham had some kind of affection for her but now she realised that, even were that the case, there could be no kind of future for them. She was a woman with a questionable background, one who could never be accepted fully into polite society. There was no question over whether or not Lord Cunningham could ever accept her as she was. He could not. Of course, he could not! Given his status and title, he would have to find a wife of similar status to him, not someone from St Bernadette.
I have been so foolish, Charity thought, her heart clenching in pain. She had allowed herself to start thinking of Lord Cunningham in ways she should not have been. The man was attractive, of course, but that was as much as she should have permitted herself to admit. However, Charity knew she could not pretend that she felt nothing for the man, for why else would she be feeling so distraught over his behaviour towards her in front of his friend?
“Are you sure you are quite well, Charity?” Miss Hemsworth asked, briefly touching Charity’s arm. “Have you noticed that the man tailing us is back again?”
Charity shrugged, uncaring.
“You do not seem happy in the least.”
“I am more than happy,” Charity replied, firmly. “The invitations to the ball have all been sent out, we have given the documents to Lord Cunningham and now all we must do is wait. Our part is over.”
“Not quite,” Miss Hemsworth laughed. “We have much to do to prepare for the ball!”
“Should I not be sent to the colonies first,” Charity muttered, darkly. “I would not be surprised if your uncle discovers what we are about and chooses to send me away.”
Miss Hemsworth shook her head, all trace of laughter gone from her face. “No, I will not allow it,” she replied, firmly. “You are going to be quite safe, Charity, and I am sure you will find more than one man interested in you at the ball. Although, I am not quite sure how Lord Cunningham will take such interest! I believe he wants you all for himself.”
Charity bit her lip and did not reply. Whilst it might be true that Lord Cunningham might want her for himself, she could no longer believe that he could have any true intentions towards her.
“Shall you take some tea with me?” Miss Hemsworth asked as they approached the school. “After such a long walk, I think it would be quite refreshing.”
“No, I thank you,” Charity replied, wanting nothing more than her own company. “I am quite tired out.”
“Are you sure?” Miss Hemsworth asked, her voice growing quieter as they walked inside. “Is something the matter?”
Charity shrugged out of her coat. “I’m just a little tired, I assure you,” she promised. “I’ll join you soon. I know we have much to prepare for the ball.” Walking away, Charity felt Miss Hemsworth’s eyes on her, knowing that her former headmistress did not believe her in the slightest. T Charity knew Miss Hemsworth would be quizzing her again later to ensure she was quite well. Not that Charity wanted to explain, however. There were some things that had to be kept private.
Entering her small, yet cosy room, Charity placed her bonnet and gloves down before sitting down at the small dressing table and looking at her reflection in the mirror. The woman that looked back at her had something of a haunted expression, with a deep sadness in her eyes that Charity was not quite sure would ever fully leave her.
The threat of the colonies still hung over her head, but her grief over her sisters brought fresh pain to her heart. Here she was, hoping that she would be saved from her fate, whilst her two sisters were already having to endure their situations, wherever they were. She had to hope that they might have found some kind of happiness, feeling almost guilty over her desperation to remain at the school.
And what of Lord Cunningham?
Charity looked away from the mirror, rising to her feet and looking out of the small window instead. Lord Cunningham had awoken such feelings in her that she was not quite sure what to do with them. Especially now that she had realised that her feelings could never be returned. Not truly. An affection returned would mean the possibility of love and of matrimony, when the truth was that Charity could never hope to marry Lord Cunningham. Had he not stepped directly in front of her, so that he would hide her from the stares of his friend? He clearly did not want to be seen with her. Letting out a soft sigh, Charity fought the hot tears that burned in her eyes, desperate not to cry over the man but finding she was quite unable to stop them from falling softly onto her cheeks.
“What did you expect, Charity?” she told herself, sternly. “The man is a viscount and you are…” She trailed off, dropping her head. “You are nothing,” she murmured, softly. “He cannot ever wed you. Your affection for him can come to nought.” The slow sinking of her heart brought waves of despair and sadness until Charity buried her face in her hands and wept aloud, letting her emotions run freely through her.
While she was more than grateful for Lord Cunningham’s assistance in the matter with Miss Hemsworth’s uncle, which could mean her freedom from the threat of the colonies, she knew now that she could not depend on him for anything more. Once the matter was resolved, she would either continue to work here with Miss Hemsworth, or she would find a good tradesman in need of a wife.
Wandering away from the window, her sobs slowly abating, Charity lay down on her bed, exhaustion seeping into her limbs. She would look forward to the ball, in the hope that she might find someone who could wed her before Robert Savage sent her to the colonies. If she could not find someone, then the threat would grow stronger by the day, for Savage would still have that debt to repay. Unless Lord Cunningham could reveal the truth in time, Charity would be on a ship in a matter of days after the ball, she was quite sure of it.
Thinking of her dear sisters, Charity’s heart broke once more, shattering into a million tiny pieces. She had allowed herself to get lost in a dream, a dream where she might have an entirely different life to the one she had now. How foolish she had been!
Her eyes slowly fluttered closed as grief and pain wrapped themselves around her like a blanket. Instead of warming her, however, she grew cold and numb. She did not feel Miss Hemsworth’s hands pulling the blanket over her, did not see the way Miss Hemsworth watched her briefly with a look of concern on her face. Neither did she see Miss Hemsworth order a fire lit in the room, nor hear the crackling of t
he flames once they caught. Instead, Charity drifted into a dreamless slumber, completely exhausted by everything she felt.
THIRTEEN
The day of the ball dawned bright and clear, but David had woken well before the dawn, knowing that his time was short. He had breakfasted early, looking through some documents as he did so.
The documents had been handed over to his clerks in London a few days ago for verification, but as yet there had been no particular progress. His clerks had been in touch, apparently, there was already an investigation into Savage, but it was quite hush-hush, they would have to dig deeper to find out who was in charge of it. With that, David decided to call it a day.
Sandiford had shaken his head sadly, as David prepared to leave so that he might dress for the ball. “You may have to marry the girl yourself, Cunningham,” he had stated, half-joking. “Otherwise I believe this Savage fellow might truly send her away.”
David had given the man a half-smile, finding that he did not think the idea too preposterous in the least. In fact, it actually gave him a feeling of both satisfaction and happiness. He had never truly considered matrimony before, but the idea of having Miss Worthington by his side had his heart reacting in a peculiar manner.
He contemplated this idea as he changed, and even on the short ride to the ball held at St Bernadette. It would not leave him, try as he might to ponder on other things. He had to admit that he cared for the lady, finding her both beautiful and of a gentle nature. Their shared love of poetry had been the very thing that had drawn him to her initially, and since their first meeting, his affection for her had grown. What would she say if he asked her this evening? Would she turn him down? Or would the affection, the love, he held for her in his heart be returned in some way?
“Good evening, Lord Cunningham.”
David smiled and pressed a light kiss to Miss Hemsworth’s hand. “Good evening, Miss Hemsworth. You look quite lovely, if I may say.”
She blushed prettily. “I thank you, my lord. May I also thank you for everything you have done to help me with this evening. I am quite sure I shall find husbands for all my girls.”
“I do hope so,” David replied, fervently. “We are drawing closer to having proof about this so-called uncle of yours but, as yet, I do not hold such proof in my hands.”
Miss Hemsworth nodded slowly. “I am sure we will be able to stop him soon, although I do confess that I worry about Charity. My uncle is still determined to use her as payment of a debt, although perhaps this evening she might find someone else to wed her.” She nodded in a vague direction, and David turned his head so that he might find Miss Worthington.
His eyes found her almost at once, taking her in. She was lit with an almost ethereal light, her russet gown lit with flecks of gold and bronze. She was utterly breath-taking.
“As you can see,” Miss Hemsworth finished, quietly. “She appears to have captured more than one gentleman’s attention.”
A rush of heat flooded David as he studied Miss Worthington, seeing that she had at least four gentlemen surrounding her, smiling and laughing with each one in turn. He did not even take his leave of Miss Hemsworth but found himself striding towards Miss Worthington, fire burning in his veins.
“Miss Worthington,” he said loudly, interrupting the conversation. “How are you this evening?
Stunned surprise came over the group for a moment, with something like shock on Miss Worthington’s face.
“I am quite well,” she said after a few seconds had passed. “And you, Lord Cunningham?”
“Would you care to dance?” he interjected ignoring her question.
“I – I am promised to –”
“Come,” he stated, grasping her hand and tugging her towards the dance floor. Ignoring the protests from one of the other gentlemen, he held Charity tightly in his arms as they began to dance.
“Lord Cunningham,” Miss Worthington protested, her eyes blazing with disapproval. “You are being quite discourteous. Whatever has come over you?”
David did not know what to say, the heat in his body slowly cooling. He’d been jealous, he realised, shame creeping over him. He had not behaved as he ought.
“I had to speak to you,” he stated in a cool voice, glaring at the group of men Miss Worthington had been talking to.
“Is that so?” Miss Worthington replied, incredulity dripping from her words. “How may I be of assistance, Lord Cunningham?”
His voice failed entirely as his brain scrambled to find an answer.
“I see,” Miss Worthington continued, her lips tightening. “So you decided to take me away from those who might wish to offer me a proposal of matrimony so that you might keep me for yourself?”
“Well, that is not quite right,” he spluttered, knowing full well that she had hit on the truth. “It is just that I –”
“I may be a bastard daughter, Lord Cunningham,” she hissed, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “But I will not become anyone’s mistress. I intend to marry. So do not, for one moment, think that I am open to any kind of lewd suggestion!” Her eyes flashed, her cheeks filling with colour.
David stared at her, slowly coming to halt in the corner of the dance floor. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“I believe you know exactly of what I speak!” Miss Worthington continued, stepping back into the shadows of the corner of the room. “And I find that I do not wish to dance with you any longer.”
Not knowing what she meant by her words, but desperate that she would not leave his side, David did the only thing he could think of.
He kissed her.
It was hard and fierce, his arms slipping around her waist and holding her tightly against him. She tensed for a few seconds before, slowly, relaxing. His kiss softened as she did so. He tilted his head slightly. He had never kissed a woman before but, given the fireworks going off in his head though, it was something of an extraordinary experience.
Miss Worthington was soft and warm under his embrace, her fingers clinging to his attire as she kissed him back with a fervour that utterly astonished him. He knew then that Miss Worthington was the only woman for him, the only one who could make him feel such a sense of love and passion that overwhelmed every part of him.
However, he then felt dampness on his cheek and, breaking the kiss, looked down to see Miss Worthington’s face was wet with tears. Frowning, he brushed one away with his finger, only for her to tug away from him.
“Miss Worthington,” he murmured, not quite sure what had happened. “I — ”
“I will never be your mistress,” she replied, her gaze wavering slightly as she looked at him. “I love you too much for that.”
His mouth fell open, unable to give any kind of response. Miss Worthington sniffed once, wiping her tears with her hand, before extracting herself from his grip and slipping out of the side doors that led to the small gardens at the back of the school.
David was left standing in the corner of the dance floor, entirely confused. He had no idea what Miss Worthington meant by her words, for he had never thought of making her his mistress.
“Might I suggest, Lord Cunningham, that you go in search for her?” said a soft voice to his left.
Starting, David turned to see Miss Hemsworth, dancing with a tall gentleman who was looking down at her with a steely glint in his eye – although she seemed quite unaware of it. Apparently, she had seen everything, even though David had thought he and Miss Worthington had been quite hidden in the shadows.
“I think there is much you need to discuss,” she continued, before being swung away by the gentleman, leaving him alone once more.
David blinked, cleared his throat and then made his way across the ballroom floor towards the open doors. He would not allow Miss Worthington to leave him in such a state of confusion. There was too much at stake.
FOURTEEN
The gardens were dark, meaning that David found it difficult to navigate his way through them. He was surprised to find that Miss W
orthington had disappeared into the depths of the small garden somewhere, instead of standing quietly against the wall or sitting on the stone bench near to the side door. Try as he might, he could not find her anywhere.
David frowned, moving slowly in search of his love.
“Miss Worthington?” he said, in a half-whisper. “I am sorry, please. Let us talk.” His skin prickled with anxiety as he moved forward, finding no trace of her.
A sudden shriek had his hair standing on end, with sounds of a scuffle coming from somewhere near his right.
“Miss Worthington?” he called, trying to find his way through the gardens towards the sound. He rushed forward, ignoring the way that the cold damp of the long grass began to seep into the tops of his boots. His heart was hammering in his chest, terrified that Robert Savage had finally done what he’d threatened to do right from the start.
“Miss Worthington? Charity?”
There was no response. Stopping dead, David listened hard, trying to hear where the sounds had come from. Unfortunately for him, the gardens were, once more, deathly silent. Apparently, whoever had been there was there no longer.
Anxiety settled around his heart, making it squeeze with pain. Where was his lady love? Had she been taken?
The colonies mean a ship, he told himself, trying to think rationally. The docks, perhaps?
There would be a great many ships at the docks, however, and he was quite sure that Robert Savage would ensure that Miss Worthington was almost impossible to find, unless he knew the ship to search.
Everything screamed at him to climb the shrubs and begin searching the surrounding area for her, but the sensible part of him told him that would be foolishness indeed. The best thing for him to do would be to find Robert Savage and attempt to extract the truth from him.