by Lucy Adams
“Even though you do not feel it.”
Thomas scoffed at this. “Of course I do not feel it,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. “Miss Wells was rude enough to turn down an offer to take her to the floor for a dance, and in doing so, rejected me entirely. I cannot simply allow such a thing to occur without telling her just how much she has insulted me.”
A twinge of guilt in his soul forced him to draw a quick breath, hiding the truth of what he felt even from himself. To admit that Miss Wells’ spurning him had made him both confused and upset would be foolish, for he needed simply to hide those emotions from his heart until they disappeared from him completely. He had a many other young ladies who sought out his company almost the moment he set foot into any establishment anywhere, which meant that he had no reason to continue thinking of Miss Wells. He only had to think of her now so that he might win the bet and collect his winnings from Lord Wiltshire. His reputation would remain intact, and Miss Wells, he told himself again, would be dragged into the center of attention and would, most likely, do very well from it. At the very least, more gentlemen would be interested in dancing and conversing with her, which might then lead to a happy match. That was all he had to think of, he reminded himself, looking through the crowd again in search of her. There was no need to feel any sort of guilt.
“There!”
His eyes narrowed, and his breath caught as his gaze landed on his quarry. Miss Wells was standing by her mother, clad in a cream gown and with her brown tresses piled up on the back of her head. A few curls graced her temples as she looked about her, although Thomas noticed there was no smile of excitement or anticipation on her lips.
“You have discovered her, I see,” Lord Henderson murmured, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with Thomas so that he might observe the lady also. “Goodness, she has improved somewhat, I must say.”
Thomas frowned. “Improved?”
“You are not the only one who has been introduced to the Wells sisters,” Lord Henderson replied with a chuckle. “It was Miss Titania Wells that I met however, as well as the eldest, Miss Eliza Wells – although she is wed now and Miss Titania Wells is soon to be also.”
Thomas nodded, feeling no twinge of disappointment in his heart. He had not felt anything for Miss Titania Wells but had made out that he was deeply upset over her engagement to Lord Carroway. It had just meant that he was without one of his adoring young ladies whose company he had always enjoyed.
“I was not ever introduced to Miss Merry Wells,” Lord Henderson continued, with a small shrug. “She remained with the other wallflowers, and so I did not seek out an introduction. However, her countenance has certainly increased, and she appears a good deal improved since I last saw her.”
“Merry?” Thomas repeated, her name on his lips. “That is her name?”
Lord Henderson nodded, grinning at him. “It is,” he replied, chuckling. “Although I would beg of you not to address her as such, for she will not take kindly to such a thing.”
Thomas laughed and shrugged. “I shall use it with discretion,” he replied in the hope that, one day, Miss Wells might ask him to use her Christian name when they were alone. That would speak to him of an intimacy that, for the moment, he could only dream of. That would be the moment that he would know if had been victorious, for if she were to give him such an intimacy, then he would know that if he asked her to accept his court, she would do so without hesitation.
Whereby, he would then snatch it all from her, declare that he was no longer willing to continue their intimacy, and march to Whites’ in order to claim his prize.
“Are you quite all right, Weston?”
Jerking slightly, Thomas glanced over at Lord Henderson. “Quite,” he replied, setting his shoulders and clearing his throat. “I have only a month in which I must have Miss Wells by my side, and so I was thinking of what I must do next in order to secure her affections.” He chuckled at Lord Henderson’s roll of his eyes. “You do not believe I will be successful.”
“No, that is not it,” Lord Henderson replied slowly, his brow lowering slowly. “Some of my heart wishes for you to fail entirely, Weston. That is not to say that I want you to lose a good deal of money, for that is not the truth of it at all.”
Thomas frowned, his smile fading. “Then what do you mean?”
“If you fail, then you might come to realize that there is more to a lady than simply how much she graces your eyes,” Lord Henderson replied with a small shrug. “You are so caught up with appearance and the like that you never learn anything about the ladies who surround you. With Miss Wells, however, that stunning beauty is not as apparent. It may be that you find there is a beauty of character also – which is something I can only pray will come true.”
Thomas resisted the urge to scoff at this, for he was more than content with seeing only the outward beauty of those who drew near him. Lord Henderson was correct to say that Miss Wells did not have the same outstanding beauty of his usual companions, but she was not overly plain at least. His eyes drew back to hers and took her in, seeing her curvaceous figure, her gentle lips, and it reminded him of her sharp eyes. Light green, if he recalled correctly, although there had been nothing but ice within them when he had first spoken to her.
“I think you should go and attempt to speak to her whilst you have the opportunity to do so,” Lord Henderson said, dragging Thomas’s attention away from his own thoughts. “Look now, there is another gentleman attempting to catch her eye, and he will be by her side before you know it.”
Thomas did not even hesitate for a second, moving forward with such long strides that a good many people had to move out of his way. His eyes were fixed on Miss Wells, as he forced himself to move faster as the gentleman before her bowed and smiled. Much to his displeasure, Thomas saw Miss Wells smiling back, although her expression remained somewhat taut. Was she not enjoying herself? Or did she think this gentleman to be entirely unappealing in some way?
“Miss Wells.”
Seeing Miss Titania Wells nearby, Thomas stopped making his way towards her sister and bowed quickly. “How good to see you this evening.”
Much to his surprise, Miss Titania did not seem delighted to be back in his company. There was no smile on her face and no warmth in her expression as she curtsied.
“Good afternoon, Lord Weston,” she replied tightly. “If you will excuse me, I was just on my way to find Lord Carroway, my betrothed.”
He frowned, wondering at the sharpness of her tone. “I recall that you are engaged, Miss Wells,” he told her, as she made to turn away. “Did I not give you my most hearty congratulations?”
She nodded but did not smile. “You did,” she admitted, still half turned away from him. “I thank you for that.”
“Might I be permitted to peruse your dance card?”
Normally, Miss Titania Wells would be more than delighted to oblige him, but this evening, for whatever reason, she was tightlipped and less than inclined to do as he asked.
“I do not think I shall dance much this evening, Lord Weston,” she told him, her eyes fixed up on his for a moment. “You will have no end of partners however; I am quite certain.”
Still thoroughly confused by her lack of warmth towards him, Thomas could not help but grasp her arm for a moment, which stopped her from turning away from him completely.
“Forgive me, Miss Wells,” he said quickly, seeing the angry look in her eyes. “But what is the matter if I might ask? You appear to be rather put out, and I cannot think as to why.”
A hard laugh came from her, as though he had said something foolish. “Do you truly think that my sister has not informed me of what passed between you both at the last ball we attended, Lord Weston?” she asked, coldly. “Surely you cannot be so arrogant as to believe that I will give my loyalty to you instead of to her?”
A flush crept up Thomas’s neck, his heart twisting painfully. Of course. He had not even thought about the fact that Miss Merry Wells would speak
to her sisters about what had occurred, nor had he thought that there would be such a strong reaction from Titania over it.
“I do hope she informed you that I have apologized fully for what I said to her that evening,” he replied quickly, inclining his head by way of expressing his sorrow. “It was cruel and unkind, and I should not have said a single word to her.”
Miss Wells sniffed and turned away. “You should have accepted her refusal with good grace, Lord Weston,” she replied. “For she has every right to choose whom she will dance with on any particular evening – as do I.” And, with this final remark, she began to walk away from him, leaving him to stand alone.
A ripple of anxiety ran over Thomas’s frame, but he pushed it aside easily enough. There was no need to worry himself about what Miss Merry Wells would say. He would make a pretty apology in person – for it seemed she was not about to accept his written note of regret – and thereafter, his eagerness to acquaint himself further with her would grow steadily. At least, he would make it appear as such. The only reason he was doing this was to win the bet.
The gentleman he had seen earlier was still in conversation with Miss Wells. Frustrated, Thomas let out a long breath and waited until the gentleman caught sight of him, clearly unaware that he had been waiting to speak to Miss Wells. With a slight bow in Thomas’s direction and a murmur to Miss Wells, the gentleman left her side and allowed Thomas to step forward.
Miss Wells was smiling softly in the direction of the gentleman who had only just departed from her. Her whole face was changed in that moment, for there was a brightness to her eyes and a warmth to her smile that halted Thomas for a moment. He had not seen her smile in such a way before, and when she did so, Thomas knew that he could not refer to her as plain. She was delicate, warm, open, and delightful and, much to his surprise, Thomas found himself wondering how he might be able to bring such a look to Miss Wells’ face.
“Miss Wells.”
After striding purposefully towards her, Thomas bowed grandly, snapping his heels together as he did so.
“How good to see you again,” he continued, looking up to see her looking back at him with a dark expression on her face, the smile gone completely. “I do hope you have received my note.”
“I did.” Miss Wells said nothing more, her lips flattening as he looked back at her, his confidence beginning to fade in a most alarming manner. This was not something that often occurred with him, and he had very little idea of what he was to do or what he was to say next. He had never once had to force conversation from a lady and certainly had never needed to consider what he might say in order to have her warm to him. He was floundering completely, feeling as though he were a drowning man with no one nearby to save him. Even Miss Titania Wells, whom he had thought might encourage her sister towards him, had done nothing but turn her back on him, now apparently considering him to be poor company for what he had said.
“Merry.”
A murmured word caught his attention, seeing a tall, older lady turn towards Miss Wells, with a look of interest in her eyes. Miss Wells shot a quick look up to her before closing her eyes momentarily, clearly irritated.
“Might I present my mother, Lady Whitehaven,” she said, barely looking at Thomas as she gestured towards him. “Mother, may I present the Earl of Weston.”
Thomas bowed at once, wondering if Lady Whitehaven had also been made aware of his lack of manners towards her daughter. In lifting his head, he saw that she did indeed know, for her smile was fixed and her eyes suddenly sharp.
“Lord Weston,” Lady Whitehaven murmured, inclining her head. “How good to meet you.” This was said with no warmth whatsoever, and as Thomas struggled to know what to say in response, he saw how she took a step closer to her daughter, as though to reassure her that she would not be left alone to deal with Thomas’s conversation.
“My sister and my cousin are nearby, but not close enough to make introductions,” Miss Wells said, a little tartly. “Else, I would have done so at once.” These last few words were filled with nothing but sarcasm, and Thomas felt himself grow a little angry.
“I would speak to you if I would be permitted, Miss Wells,” he found himself saying, looking at her with a direct gaze. “It appears that my letter has not been an adequate enough apology, and I should like to speak to you further about the matter, if that would please you.”
Miss Wells looked back at him steadily, her chin lifted slightly. “If you wish to apologize in person, Lord Weston, then I would be glad to hear your words. However, I shall not pretend that any sort of acquaintance will arise from it, for that is not at all what I seek from you.”
Thomas stiffened; his whole body racked with a fierce heat that then led to a cold hand grasping at his heart. He did not know what to do with this lady! She was, at least, willing to hear him speak his apology in person but thereafter, there was to be nothing of what he hoped for. How was he meant to have her court him if she continued to refuse his attempts to make himself amenable to her?
“I believe Lord Featherstone is waiting, my dear.”
Thomas glanced to his left and saw a gentleman approaching, his eyes fixed upon Miss Wells. A groan left his lips. He had done remarkably poorly, and now, he was to be left wanting. Miss Wells was not even looking at him any longer but had turned her attention to the approaching gentleman.
“If I could only have but a few minutes of your time, Miss Wells,” he said desperately, seeing her throwing him only the briefest of glances. “I would be truly grateful.”
She sighed and looked back at him dispassionately. “It would ease your guilt somewhat, I presume?”
Immediately, he wanted to rail at her and state that he felt no guilt whatsoever and that the only reason he was doing such a thing was simply to try and gain her trust. Instead, he lowered his head and prayed that his look of sorrow seemed genuine enough. “Indeed,” he replied, softly. “It would.”
She sighed again, whilst the other gentleman greeted her mother. “I am certain I can give you a few minutes of my time at a later time, Lord Weston,” she replied, clearly a little frustrated. “But for the moment, I must dance with Lord Featherstone. Do excuse me.”
Without even giving him a moment to bid her farewell or to thank her for her generosity, Miss Wells stepped past him and drew closer to Lord Featherstone. She greeted him warmly, her tone much changed from what it had been when she had spoken to him. Thomas was forced to step back, out of her way, leaving himself standing alone whilst she greeted Lord Featherstone and stepped out onto the dance floor. For a moment, he was quite overwhelmed with the feelings that swamped him, having very little experience with the deep sense of embarrassment that came with her brush off. Had any of the ton seen her turn away from him with such determination? Were they now whispering about his mortification?
“That did not go as well as you hoped, I would surmise.”
Thomas closed his eyes and let out an exasperated breath. “Might you say that a little louder, Lord Henderson?” he asked, sarcastically. “I do not think that everyone about us heard you say such a thing so explicitly.”
Lord Henderson merely shrugged and grinned at Thomas, who was still battling his anger and his embarrassment. “Please,” he continued, as he and Lord Henderson began to walk towards the footman bearing drinks on a large silver tray. “Please do not speak to me of Miss Wells any more this evening. She has quite infuriated me, and I need not have any reminder of the mortification her brush off has brought on.”
Lord Henderson chuckled and took two glasses from the footman, handing one to Thomas. “Might it be that you need some help in pursuing a young lady?” he asked, lifting one brow in question. “I know that such a thing may be fairly novel to you, having never needed to ask for anyone’s help or advice when it comes to the young ladies of the ton, but perhaps in this case, it is merited.”
Thomas said nothing for a moment, draining his glass of ratafia in a few gulps. This was not what he needed. He did not w
ant Lord Henderson’s mockery nor did he want to be drinking ratafia. He wanted a good glass of the best French brandy; he wanted Miss Wells to be more open to him than she was; and most of all, he wanted to blot out the record of the bet from Whites’ betting book.
“I do not know what I am to do,” he admitted eventually, seeing the way Lord Henderson nodded in understanding. “It is most frustrating. Miss Wells will barely give me more than a moment of her time, and I had to press her heavily before she would permit me to speak to her again in order to offer her my sincere apologies.”
Lord Henderson shrugged. “That is something at least,” he agreed. “However, you must not see Miss Wells as a goal you must achieve, Weston. You must look at her as she is.”
Thomas frowned, reaching for another glass. “What is it that you mean?”
Lord Henderson hesitated, then nodded to himself, as if he were confirming in his own mind what he meant to say. “Miss Wells is unlike any lady of your acquaintance,” he told Thomas, as though he did not know this already. “Therefore, you must study her.”
Recoiling, Thomas shook his head. “I want as little to do with her as possible. I know I must play the part of a regretful fool, and thereafter, a devoted gentleman, but I cannot allow myself to know her better than at present. There is no need to do so!”
“That is where you are mistaken,” Lord Henderson replied firmly. “That is precisely what you must do, if you seek to win your bet. You must do all you can to know her, to find out the person that she is. The other ladies of your acquaintance are nothing more than vapid figures, who bat their eyelashes and paint on their smiles for you. That is not so with Miss Wells. If you are to have her eager to accept your court, then you must dedicate yourself to the learning of her true self. Discover who she is. Look to what she enjoys and force yourself to become the devoted gentleman, even though you know that you have no true affection for her.”