by Emma Evans
His heart tore. He did not want someone as sweet and kind as Miss Dynes to suffer at the hands of some cruel monster, even if that monster was, in fact, her brother.
“Now,” Sophia said, interrupting his thoughts. “Are we to stand here discussing Miss Dynes all day or are you to introduce me to your friends?”
Simon cleared his throat, pasted a smile on his face and tried to push thoughts of Miss Dynes entirely out of his mind. “But of course, my dear cousin,” he said with a broad smile. “Come then, let me ensure that you have the most enjoyable evening.”
“Thank you, Thackery,” she replied, taking his arm. “You are most kind.”
Chapter Six
Clara sighed to herself as she watched the dancing couples on the floor, recalling how she had so loved to dance when she had last been in London. She did not want to feel sorry for herself but yet the thought that she would not ever be able to dance in such a way again did bring a small tear to her eye.
Sophia, however, was having a marvelous time and Clara could not help but be happy for her. She was practically glowing as she came back to Clara’s side after each dance, her eyes filled with happiness and excitement. Each gentleman had been declared to be ‘the most handsome’ and ‘the most wonderful of dancers’, making Clara laugh. She was glad for Sophia, glad that she had been accepted into society almost immediately, and equally glad that Lord Thackery had been so helpful in introducing Sophia to so many of his friends.
Clara could not help but allow her gaze to rest on him from time to time as he moved across the ballroom. He had danced but twice and Clara had insistently ignored the pang of jealousy that had spiked in her heart, telling herself that she was being quite ridiculous. He had gone to the card room some time ago and so she had been relieved of her constant battle against her own desire to watch him, to take him in, to allow her heart to swell with a feeling she was not altogether happy with.
She could not allow herself to have any kind of feeling for him, even if he appeared to be both handsome and kind. The way he had apologized to her, even though he had not needed to, had made her heart sing. He treated her as an equal, did not look down on her as though she were lesser than him and, all in all, made her feel accepted and acknowledged. When he had praised her guidance with Sophia, right on the very steps of the ballroom, she had felt her heart burst open with happiness, struggling to speak with a throat clogged with emotion. It had been a long time since anyone had appreciated what she did, and whilst she certainly did not look for such a thing, it brought joy to her heart to be so acknowledged.
“You are being foolish,” she told herself aloud as the dance came to a close. “Enjoy the music, enjoy watching the dancing, and stop wishing for more.”
“Oh, Clara!” Sophia exclaimed, as her gentleman partner bowed and took his leave. “Is he not the most—”
“Handsome?” Clara interrupted with a quick smile. “The most graceful of dancers? The most artful conversationalist?”
Sophia blushed, her eyes lowering. “Am I being ridiculous?” she asked, clearly a little embarrassed. “I hope I am not making a fool of myself.”
“No, indeed, you are not,” Clara assured her with a broad smile. “I am just so very glad you are having such a wonderful evening.”
“Speaking of wonderful evenings,” a voice said, just from behind her, “I believe this next dance is a waltz.”
Realizing that it was Lord Thackery, Clara turned around and lowered her eyes. “I am not going to be allowing her to dance, Lord Thackery. I am well aware of what you have said.”
His eyes widened for a moment but then he chuckled. “No, indeed, Miss Dynes. That was not what I meant to say. What I am asking, in a very confused way, I admit, is whether or not you would wish to partner me.”
Clara’s mouth went dry. She stared at Lord Thackery, unblinking, as he looked back at her steadily. Had she really heard him say such a thing to her?
“Oh, Clara!” Sophia exclaimed, nudging her elbow just a little. “Are you going to accept? Do say you will, I know just how much you have been longing to dance.”
“I—” Clara could find nothing to say as Lord Thackery held out his hand to her and gave a slight bow.
“I would be delighted to dance with you, Miss Dynes. After all, I have been able to see the longing in your eyes as you watch the other dancers and I would very much like to have you dancing again.”
Woodenly, Clara took his hand and, still unable to say a single word, was led by Lord Thackery onto the dance floor.
Sophia, who was now accompanied by another, older lady whom Lord Thackery knew, clapped her hands in delight, clearly thrilled for Clara—but Clara could not so much as smile. She felt confused, even troubled, as though she were an outsider daring to show her face where she was not welcome.
The music began, and Lord Thackery held her hand tightly while placing his other hand gently on her waist, and began to lead her across the floor.
Clara could not relax, her eyes fixed on something—anything—over his shoulder so that she would not have to look up into his face. This felt entirely wrong. She should not be here. She should not be doing this.
“Miss Dynes, you do not appear to be enjoying yourself.”
She looked up at him for a moment, his throaty whisper sending spirals of heat all through her.
“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said quietly, as though he had read her mind. “You are as welcome to dance as any other. You are young and beautiful and more than eligible. Why you are a companion instead of searching for your own husband, I cannot understand.”
There was a faint trace of anger in his voice and Clara wondered whether or not Sophia had given any of her background away. Her cheeks burned with mortification, hoping Lord Thackery did not think ill of her.
“Come now,” he continued, with a gentle smile in her direction. “Do try and relax and you will find yourself enjoying it much more, I assure you.”
Clara held his gaze for a moment, seeing the reassurance and calm there that she needed. Drawing in a long breath, she tried to relax, and suddenly, everything changed.
She did not worry any longer about what the beau monde might be saying about her. She did not care that there might be whispers. She closed her eyes and allowed Lord Thackery to lead her, trusting him completely. Memories of her first Season in London came back to her, remembering just how wonderful it had felt to be dancing in the arms of a handsome, eligible gentleman.
She had that feeling again.
Her heart was betraying her, blossoming with a slow growing affection for Lord Thackery, even though she knew she ought to feel nothing for him. He had asked to dance with her, when most others would simply brush over her, ignoring her presence for the most part. She had expected to be standing at the side of the room, entirely unnoticed, but yet he had come to her and asked her for the waltz. For a few minutes, Clara was able to forget that she was a rejected sister, a companion to another. She was just Clara, a young lady dancing with one of the most handsome men in all of London.
“There you go, you see,” Lord Thackery murmured as the dance came to a close. “A perfect dance, by all accounts. You are a wonderful dancer, Miss Dynes. A delight to have on the floor, I must say.”
Her cheeks warmed and Clara tried to smile as he led her from the floor, her mouth feeling dry yet a happiness in her heart. She ignored everyone who was looking at her, aware that they must be wondering who she was, fixing her eyes on Sophia who looked even happier than she felt.
“You were simply beautiful, Clara,” Sophia exclaimed, the moment Clara reached her. “I did not know that you could dance so beautifully.”
“A beautiful partner indeed,” Lord Thackery murmured, letting go of Clara’s arm and bowing deeply. “Do excuse me, Miss Dynes. I must now go in search of my next partner.”
“But of course, Lord Thackery,” Clara managed to say, still not quite able to think quickly. “Thank you.”
She
watched him leave before turning back to Sophia who was looking at her with a slight smile on her face.
“You enjoyed your dance, then?” she asked with a slight lift of her eyebrow.
“I did, very much,” Clara said happily. “It has been so long since—”
“I am very glad,” Sophia interrupted, putting her hand on Clara’s. “I must confess something to you, however. I have spoken to Thackery about you, and now I realize that I may have been too open with what is said.”
The happiness Clara felt began to fade as Sophia continued to speak.
“I told him of your brother and new sister-in-law, as well as that continuing awkward situation with various other people, and now I realize that I may have spoken out of turn. Will you forgive me?”
Clara, trying not to be too affected by this news, gave a small shrug. “I do not suppose Lord Thackery was all that interested.”
“Oh, but he was!” Sophia exclaimed, her face filled with concern that she might have done wrong in speaking so truthfully. “In fact, I believe he was a little angry and feels a great deal of sympathy for your situation.”
The reason that Lord Thackery had chosen to dance with her suddenly became crystal clear.
“Oh,” Clara heard herself say, her heart sinking to her toes. “I see.”
“I know he does not think well of your brother,” Sophia continued with an air of satisfaction. “Lord Thackery is a good man, Clara.”
“I can see that,” Clara replied with a soft smile. “Thank you for telling me, Sophia. You need not worry yourself any longer about this matter, although I would appreciate it if you would not speak of my situation with him any further. After all,” she continued reassuringly, as Sophia’s eyes grew worried, “it is you that is the important one here, not I. I do not even give the slightest consideration to my own situation, I assure you. Once I have you happily married, then I shall worry about what to do with my own life. Do you understand?”
Sophia nodded, although she did not look pleased. “I think that you ought to think of yourself before then, Clara,” she said firmly. “Perhaps this Season is meant to bring a change to both our circumstances, not just my own.”
Clara let out a long, frustrated breath but did not manage to say anything more, seeing another young gentleman come to take Sophia out onto the dance floor.
“I believe it is our dance,” the gentleman murmured, as Sophia gave him a brilliant smile.
“But, of course,” Sophie said at once, giving Clara a quick smile.
“Enjoy yourself,” Clara murmured as Sophia walked away, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at the gentleman who held her arm.
Watching the couples take their places in the set, Clara fought back hot tears. She knew now why Lord Thackery had been so kind as to take her out onto the floor. He felt sorry for her, for what her family had done in rejecting her in the way they had. There was no affection, no true feeling there. She had been foolish to even wonder whether there had been any of that kind of motivation within him.
Lifting her chin, Clara turned away from the dancing and went in search of some refreshment for herself and Sophia. She did not need to think of Lord Thackery in that way any longer. That part of her life was over. She had Sophia to look out for now and that was all she had to do.
Chapter Seven
Simon threw back his whisky with gusto, trying to let the liquor push some of his thoughts out of his head—but, to very little avail.
“You appear to have something on your mind,” his friend commented, getting up to pour him another drink. “That cousin of yours not causing trouble, I hope?”
Shaking his head, Simon leaned his head back against the comfortable chair he was sitting in and wondered whether or not to tell Lord Michael Guthrie all he was struggling with.
“Thackery,” Guthrie said, a little more sternly. “You and I have been friends for a very long time—”
“Since Eton,” Simon interrupted.
“Yes, since Eton,” Guthrie continued, sounding a little exasperated. “You were there when I married my wife, you were there when I divorced her. Now I am here for you. I can tell that there is something going on and you are struggling with it.”
Aware that his friend was right, Simon let out a long breath. “You have been in love before, have you not?”
Guthrie chuckled. “No, not really. As you know, my first wife was a second cousin and a bit of a shrew at that. I barely saw her, she refused to come to my bed and I had absolutely no affection for her. When she ran away with that fellow, I had no choice but to divorce her, despite the scandal it caused and the damage to my own reputation. I will confess that I found it something of a relief to be on my own again—so, in short, I do not believe I have ever been in love.” He grinned and lifted one eyebrow. “Why? Is this something you are currently struggling with?”
“I don’t know,” Simon muttered, hating to admit even to himself that he had been unable to get Miss Dynes out of his head ever since he had danced with her one full week ago. “I cannot tell if it is simply that I feel sorry for the lady or if there is something more there.”
“And would it be so bad if it was more than just sympathy?”
The question had him thinking hard, his mind turning over and over as he considered how to answer. “Yes,” he said eventually. “Yes, I believe it would be. I did not—I do not—want a wife. Affairs of the heart are too complicated. I enjoy my solitude.”
“But you know you need a wife to produce your heir,” Lord Guthrie protested with a slight smile. “And if you have an affection for her, then all the better.”
“No,” Simon said firmly. “You don’t understand, Guthrie. She is my cousin’s companion.”
Lord Guthrie’s mouth fell open. Then, without a word, he rose and poured Simon yet another measure of whisky.
“She is not an elderly woman, if that is what you are thinking,” Simon chuckled, seeing Guthrie’s look of relief as he sagged back in his chair. “She is a young woman, only a few years older than my cousin and, surprisingly, not yet considered past the age for matrimony.”
Guthrie frowned, sitting forward in his chair. “Why then is she a companion?”
Briefly, Simon told his friend all that Sophia had said, seeing his friend frown as he did so.
“I have not been in town for too long and certainly not long enough to listen to the gossip about Miss Dynes’ brother,” he concluded, sitting back in his chair. “Is any of it true, do you know?”
Much to his dismay—as if he had been hoping that it would not be true—Guthrie nodded slowly.
“I recall the gossip going around about it,” Guthrie said with a shake of his head. “Bad business. I did not know anything about Miss Dynes, however. Whatever’s been going on at the estate that involves her, I cannot say. I can vouch for the rest of it, however.”
Anger began to spiral through Simon as he recalled how gentle and sweet Miss Dynes appeared to be, particularly towards Sophia. Most companions grew tired of their charges or did not pay all that much attention, but everything Miss Dynes did was for Sophia’s benefit. She did not grumble nor complain. She did everything with a smile, clearly grateful that she had been taken away from her former life for a time. Simon felt a deep urge grow within him, an urge not to allow her to ever have to go back to her brother again.
“Then what should I do?” he muttered, feeling both lost and rather hopeless. “She is my cousin’s companion and certainly will not easily accept any help.”
Lord Guthrie shrugged. “Why not find her a husband?”
Simon stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I could not do that.”
“Why not?” Guthrie asked at once. “It would be nothing more than proper, I can assure you. To find your cousin’s companion a suitable match would be easy, if she is as sweet as you say. Once Sophia has a husband of her own—or at least an engagement—then you can use the time between the engagement and the wedding to find someone for M
iss Dynes.”
The idea could not be easily dismissed but yet Simon found himself rebelling against the very idea of such a thing. He did not want to set up Miss Dynes with a gentleman, no matter how good a man he might be. However, nor did he want to consider why he felt such a way.
“I might be a suitable candidate, don’t you think?” Lord Guthrie continued, with a lift of his brow. “I am a good man, am I not? Kind, generous, and more than willing to find another wife—so long as she is nothing like my first.”
Simon snorted. “You forget, Guthrie, that you are divorced. Do you know how much your reputation has been damaged because of that? I could never allow Miss Dynes to go near someone like you.” His tone was jesting, his words teasing, and yet the look in Guthrie’s eyes was one of pain. The smile faded from Simon’s face as he realized he might have overstepped.
“Sorry, old man,” he muttered with a small shake of his head. “Didn’t mean to upset you. I was just—”
“And yet it is the truth,” Lord Guthrie replied with a sad smile. “Mayhap you should take pity on me and consider introducing me to this lady of yours.”
“Perhaps I shall,” Simon said quietly. “I do not know what else to do with her, Guthrie.”
Lord Guthrie grinned, the pain gone from his expression. “Would you care for my opinion, Thackery?”
Simon, surprised, nodded at once.
“Then, here it is. Talk to her.”
Simon’s shoulders slumped. “What do you mean?”
“Just that,” Guthrie said, his grin widening at Simon’s confusion. “Talk to her. Find out what you can from her. Discover what she likes, what she hates, what she is afraid of. Ask her about her past and her brother, see if there is any way you can aid her in that situation. Find out what her dreams are, what hopes she has for the future.”
Simon chewed his lip for a moment, thinking hard. “You make a good point, Guthrie,” he said slowly. “Yet I can only see one problem. She is not the kind of lady to talk to me. She has barely said more than a few words to me.”
“Mayhap she is afraid of you.”