by Joyce Alec
Mary could not understand why. Lord Johnston was, as far as she was concerned, worth more than half the titled men present at this evening’s ball. Her eyes roved around the room, taking in the dandies and the peacocks, watching as they practically preened themselves in front of the eligible young ladies of the ton. Her lips twisted as she recalled how easily taken in she had once been, glad that her father – God bless his soul – had provided her with no other choice but to marry Lord Ashton. Her father had known what he was doing in making such a match, and she was now rather glad for it. To find oneself married to a rake or a dandy would be terrible, she was sure.
“My dear Lady Ashton!”
The voice was loud and crisp, forcing Mary to turn her head. “Lord Hertford,” she murmured, her heart immediately sinking to her toes. “Good evening.”
“Good evening,” he replied, his dark eyes fixed on hers with an intensity dwelling within them that she did not like. “Are you dancing this evening, Lady Ashton?”
Her hand froze by her side, refusing to be moved. Her dance card was already laced around her wrist, unable to be hidden from his sight, but yet she knew that to accept a dance from him would only encourage him further.
“Lord Hertford, it is a very pleasant evening, is it not?” she replied, refusing to answer the question and not caring even a jot whether or not she came across as rude. “There are so many eligible young ladies to dance with that I am quite surprised that you have not yet found yourself entirely secured all night.”
Lord Hertford smiled, his smile a little cruel as his eyes dropped to the floor, only to run their way up the length of her form. Heat crawled up her spine, her stomach began to churn almost uncontrollably, but she held herself steady regardless, clasping her hands in front of her and holding the dance card in one of her hands, praying he would not ask for it again. Lord Hertford was no gentleman she ever wished to spend time with—and even their conversation thus far had felt much too long.
If only she had thought to fill her dance card with gentlemen she knew were neither interested in her, nor would be interested in her should she dance with them. Instead, she had allowed herself to linger, talking to one or two acquaintances and letting herself look at the twirling skirts of the dancers out on the floor.
“I thought it best to ensure I had my dances safely procured from the loveliest lady at this evening’s ball,” Lord Hertford replied smoothly, his handsome face alight with what appeared to be delight at her company, but which Mary knew hid a trace of anger and irritation. That was what frightened her the most about Lord Hertford – she always had the impression that he hid his true emotions behind a mask of gentility and delight. Although, upon occasion, the mask had slipped a little when she had refused him, yet again.
“Ah, Lady Ashton! There you are. You must forgive me for being so very late to your side. The waltz is all ready to begin, and here I am, tardy as usual. You must forgive me.”
Mary could not speak, her mouth going dry as Lord Johnston bent over her hand, looking every inch to be completely apologetic.
“We have the waltz, yes?” he said, with one slowly arching eyebrow. “You have not forgotten me, I hope?”
“No, no indeed,” Mary murmured, realizing what he meant to do. Evidently, he had been aware of Lord Hertford and then saw just how much she disliked the gentleman’s company. He had come to save her from any further conversation or discussion with the man.
“Do excuse us, Lord Hertford,” she managed to say, just as Lord Johnston took her arm and led her onto the dance floor.
For a moment, Mary felt completely breathless, caught up in Lord Johnston’s arms as he began to spin her effortlessly around the floor.
“My dear Lord Johnston, you cannot know what it is you have saved me from,” she eventually said, awash with relief. “Lord Hertford is one of two gentlemen who seem very eager to wed me, despite my continued refusal to allow their court.”
Lord Johnston gave her a grim smile. “I could see that his company was not something you were particularly enjoying, Lady Ashton. I do apologize if you had no intention of dancing this evening.”
“Please, I am nothing more than grateful, Lord Johnston, truly,” Mary protested at once, looking up into his face and seeing the way his hazel eyes now appeared to be a little lighter than when he had first bowed over her hand in front of Lord Hertford. “You are a wonderful dancer too, I might add.”
This appeared to please him, for the tension left his frame and he began to relax into the dance. “Might I be so bold as to ask you a somewhat personal question, Lady Ashton?”
“Of course,” she replied at once, wondering what it was that he had to ask her.
“How is it that you have no one here to aid you in matters such as these?” he asked, a little gruffly. “Your husband died, yes, but did he have a brother?”
“He did,” Mary said, recalling how her brother-in-law had barely been able to wait for her to vacate her late husband’s estate. “He did not want a widow to consider and, since I have a fortune of my own, I thought it best to break ties as quickly as possible.”
Lord Johnston frowned. “So he has no consideration for you?” he asked, as the dance came to a close. As she curtsied and he bowed, Mary saw just how intently Lord Johnston was looking at her, as though he could not understand why she was so alone in this world.
A small sigh left her lips as the sadness that had once engulfed her almost every moment began to rush over her again. “No, my brother-in-law, the new Lord Ashton, cares for none but himself, I fear,” she admitted, as Lord Johnston led her from the floor and into a quiet corner where they might continue their conversation. “My father, sadly, passed away only a month into my marriage to Lord Ashton. I shall never forget that day.”
“I am sorry for the pain you endured and must continue to endure.” Lord Johnston looked as though he wanted to comfort her somehow, his expression soft and, much to her surprise, Mary felt his hand on her arm for just a moment. As she looked down, he withdrew it quickly, evidently a little embarrassed at his forwardness.
“Thank you,” she murmured, seeing the way he dropped his head and finding that it was she who wanted to reassure him that he had not overstepped. “You are very kind, Lord Johnston.”
He took a moment to gather himself, silence settling over them both for just a moment before he spoke again.
“And your father’s title?”
Mary shook her head. “I have a brother a good ten years older than I, but he has not been seen in some years,” she replied, the pain lancing her heart again. “I can still recall the day he left to board ship to some far-off land. I cannot quite recall where. My father had holdings that he sent Greggory to inspect, on his behalf, given my father’s ill health at the time. I was but thirteen years of age then. I have never seen him since.”
“My goodness,” Lord Johnston muttered, appearing to be both saddened and shocked at this news. “You have no idea what has occurred?”
“Not even if he is alive or dead, although my father always held out hope that he still lived,” Mary managed to say, her voice struggling to remain steady with all the emotion she felt. “I have never known what to believe, but there is a lingering hope that one day, he will return to me and claim the title as he ought.”
There was another short silence.
“So you are alone in the world, are you not?” Lord Johnston touched her hand, making her jump slightly, although she found herself grateful for his tenderness.
Looking up at him, she gave him a small, miserable smile. “Some distant relation has claimed my father’s title, but they care very little for me. After all, is that not how things are when one marries? I was my husband’s responsibility to care for, as it was my duty to care for him, but now that he is gone, I find that I am rather more alone than I had anticipated.”
The words left her lips and sent cold rushing through her form. She had not meant to speak so openly, and yet the words had come to her wi
thout her even thinking about what she was saying. The truth was painful, the loneliness suddenly agonizing. She was, as she had said, alone in this world.
“Then I will be a friend to you,” Lord Johnston stated firmly, his hand now squeezing her gently. “I will swoop in and save you from Lord Hertford or whomever else attempts to procure favor with you regardless of your own feelings. Should you require it, I will attempt to be someone you can depend on, someone you can turn to, without the fear that I will try to wed you myself.”
This was said with such grandiose, with such fervor, that Mary could not help but smile. Putting her free hand on their joined hands, she saw him still, his eyes fixing on her own.
“You are truly wonderful, Lord Johnston,” she said slowly. “I would be glad to depend on you. Although do you not fear that the person who has sought to throw us together still lingers? What if this is precisely what they have been hoping for?”
Lord Johnston paused for a moment, then shrugged, letting her hand go. “I think, Lady Ashton, that such a thing could hardly be considered a dire consequence. I consider it an honor to be admitted to your acquaintanceship.”
She could not help but smile at this, her sorrow and pain dwindling as Lord Johnston stepped into their place. After only a very short acquaintance, he was proving to her that he had a good, kind heart. That was something she could not turn away from.
“Thank you, Lord Johnston,” she smiled, as the music started up again behind them. “Your friendship means more to me than you know.”
5
“You dance very well, Lady Ashton.”
Stephen smiled just a little as the lady looked up at him, aware that her eyes were showing every single thing she felt. He had felt so much sympathy and compassion for her when they talked together about her family and her past that he had felt himself drawing closer to her with almost every word that left her lips. The urge to protect her had astonished him, but he had accepted it regardless, truly glad that Lady Ashton had been glad to consider him a friend.
“Thank you, Lord Johnston,” she murmured, as they continued to waltz. “More importantly, however, has anything of interest occurred this evening?”
Keeping his heavy sigh to himself, Stephen managed a tight smile. “No, indeed not,” he replied softly. “It has been almost a week now since we were first acquainted and nothing of any particular interest has occurred. I cannot make sense of it.”
“And you have heard nothing more of Lord Shafer?” Lady Ashton asked, as the music came to a close. “I have asked a few of my acquaintances, but none have even heard the name! I gave them the description of the gentleman – as sparse as it was – but none knew him.”
Stephen could not stop yet another sigh from leaving his lips. “Indeed,” he replied heavily. “My description of the man was rather poor, given my befuddled mind at the time, but I am beginning to believe that the man’s name may not even be what he told me it was. I do not know many people of the ton, but I have asked those I do know. None of them have ever heard of Lord Shafer before, not even when I describe him. I am beginning to believe that I was never introduced to the gentlemen before, as he claimed. How foolish of me to believe it without question!”
“But why would you not?” Lady Ashton asked gently, her hand resting on his arm as they walked from the floor together. “You were doing your utmost not to be rude, and that is a credit to you.” She smiled and nodded at one or two of her acquaintances, who were watching them both with interest. “That is nothing to be ashamed of, Lord Johnston.”
He cleared his throat and nodded, turning towards her and bowing just a little, aware that there were a good many eyes upon them both. “I fear that I will sully your reputation, Lady Ashton, should we continue to dance together at any occasion we attend.” At the moment, they had been at three balls together and had danced twice at each, as was expected. However, that had not escaped the notice of those hawked-eyed ladies of the beau monde, who liked nothing more than to whisper behind their hands about anyone and everyone they could.
“Whatever do you mean, Lord Johnston?” Lady Ashton asked, with a slightly mirthful look. “Everyone is well aware that I am a wealthy widow and that I have very little intention of marrying. In short, they believe that I will simply be toying with you. Your reputation may be in greater danger than my own.”
To his embarrassment, Stephen felt himself flushing, suddenly aware of just how beautiful Lady Ashton was. Indeed, it appeared as though she practically floated on air as she walked away from him, and Stephen found himself unable to remove his gaze from her. Of course, he had promised her that he would be the only gentleman of her acquaintance that would not pursue her hand in matrimony and, despite the growing awareness of her beauty and the appreciation of her company and good character, he was still determined to do as he had promised.
“She is wonderful, is she not?”
A little startled, Stephen turned to see Lady Moore standing by his side, her eyes a little narrowed as she watched Lady Ashton take her leave.
“Lady Moore,” he stammered, suddenly ill at ease. His skin flushed hot, his throat constricting as he took her in. She was as beautiful as ever; her copper hair twisted this way and that into a most elegant coiffure. Her green eyes, however, held a hint of steel—and it was this that surprised Stephen the most. Was she still angry with him for how he had behaved, and for his lack of apology? Mayhap now was the opportunity to do such a thing.
“Lady Moore,” he began, wishing he could think of what to say. “I must apologize for the last time we were in one another’s company. I—”
“You have been in her company a good deal,” Lady Moore interrupted, looking at him directly and ignoring everything else he had tried to say. “And not once have you attempted to seek out my own.” One delicate eyebrow arched, sending a tingling all the way down Stephen’s spine. “I did not think that you were so easily deterred, Lord Johnston. After what you said on your visit to my home, I thought there was a little more fire in you. Or is it that your attentions have been caught by another?”
For a long moment, Stephen struggled to know what to say or how to respond. He looked at Lady Moore with a growing desperation, urging himself to say something – to say anything – instead of simply standing there, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
“There is–”
His throat was aching, his mouth seemingly filled with sand.
“There is only an acquaintance between Lady Ashton and myself,” he managed to say, his words growing a little stronger with every one he managed to speak.
Lady Moore did not appear entirely convinced by this pronouncement, although why she was in any way interested in his association with Lady Ashton was beyond him.
“Is that so?” Lady Moore murmured, eyeing him carefully. “Then I shall try not to appear affronted that you have not once sought me out in order to peruse my dance card, Lord Johnston.”
Stephen blinked. “Do you wish to dance, Lady Moore? And with me?” he stammered, struggling to understand why Lady Moore, after appearing so disinterested in his attentions previously, had now come to seek him out. “I did not mean to offend you in any way, my dear lady, but I was not certain that I would be at all welcome. You have a good many admirers, which is to be expected, but I confess that I feel myself unworthy of your attention.”
Lady Moore smiled, although her eyes did not warm in any way. It was as though she was rather pleased with what he had said to her, but did not wish to reveal it to him. Instead of feeling delighted with her attentions to him, Stephen felt his heart shudder within his chest, as though it were warning him that Lady Moore would not be worth his efforts.
However, he immediately dismissed such thoughts and enjoyed the contentedness that now appeared across her expression.
“You think much too little of yourself, Lord Johnston,” Lady Moore murmured, tapping his arm gently with her fan. “Whilst Lord Hertford and the others may be most attentive, that does no
t mean that I have not noticed you. Therefore, you must come to find me the very first moment you arrive at the next ball we attend together. I will allow you to have the pick of the dances.”
Still overwhelmed by all that had occurred, Stephen inclined his head and, seeing her outstretched hand, took it in his own but did not press a kiss to the back of it, as he knew she was expecting. For whatever reason, he found himself disinclined to do so. “Thank you, Lady Moore,” he murmured, as he looked back up at her. “You are very kind, but I think my dances for this evening are all filled. Perhaps the next evening there is a ball, we might dance together.”
Lady Moore was frowning, her eyes dark as she made to walk away, turning her back on him almost immediately after he had let go of her hand. Stephen was left standing in the ballroom, entirely at a loss as to what had occurred or why. He had attempted to call on Lady Moore, having only danced with her on two separate occasions where she had never once said more than a few words to him. Now, here she was attempting to pursue him? It was quite extraordinary and, if he were honest, more than a little surprising. Lady Moore was the daughter of an earl and ought to look to marry a gentleman of a higher title than her father’s if she could manage it, but certainly not a gentleman whose title was lower than the one she currently held. Of course, that had been the reasons he had told himself, believing that there was nothing that set him apart from the rest of the gentlemen who pursued her when it came to both his title and his fortune.
And now, she was seeking his company for some reason. A reason he could only hope was to do with her heart, for he could think of no other explanation for her sudden interest in him and the company he kept.