by Regina Darcy
“Welcome, my dear Penderstone,” Lord Henstridge called out.
Charles grinned and bowed to his friend.
“Henstridge,” he murmured, looking all about the room. “You seem to have started without me.”
Lord Henstridge chuckled.
“No, indeed I have not! Although there are a good many young ladies here who I am certain will be glad to make your acquaintance this evening, Penderstone. We will begin the evening’s entertainment soon, which will, unfortunately, begin with a few songs from some of the young ladies present.” He winced, as though this would be a great trial. “I cannot promise that all of them will sing in tune, however.”
“And thereafter?”
Another laugh escaped from Lord Henstridge.
“You know me too well, Penderstone. Yes, yes. Thereafter, there shall be an acrobat of sorts and someone who claims to be able to do all sorts of tricks.” He grinned at Charles’ look of delight. “It will make for a very entertaining evening, will it not?”
“It will indeed,” Charles agreed, thinking silently to himself that he could endure all manner of young debutantes attempting to display their accomplishments by way of singing or playing the pianoforte in the knowledge that there was something a good deal more entertaining coming thereafter.
“The Duke and Duchess of Sotheby are also present.” Something changed in Lord Henstridge’s voice, making Charles frown as he glanced back at his friend. “And there is a young lady with them. The Duchess’ sister, I believe.” Lord Henstridge arched an eyebrow.
“She is a beauty, I must say, and seems to be entertaining a good many gentlemen with her conversation and wit.”
Charles frowned.
“Why should I care about such things?”
Lord Henstridge laughed and slapped Charles on the shoulder.
“I know very well that you enjoy the company of young ladies, and particularly those who are both beautiful and quick-witted.”
Shaking his head, Charles’ frown remained.
“I do not deflower young debutants, as well you know.”
“I did not so much as suggest that!” Lord Henstridge replied, with mock disapproval in his voice. “But merely that you may enjoy her company. It seems that she is a most willing conversationalist, although I have noticed that her gaze has, these last few minutes, barely strayed from you.”
He jerked his head a little to his right and Charles could not help but look in that direction. He saw a young lady looking back at him, her vivid green eyes grasping his attention at once. Her fair curls were pulled back neatly, with a few wisps gracing her temples. She had an oval face, a touch of colour to her cheeks and was laughing at something someone said, which only added to her beauty. Her gaze, however, remained fixed on his and as Charles looked back at her, he felt something within him shift.
How curious, he did not remember the young lady having such an unusual effect on him the other day.
He frowned and looked away at once.
“I have been introduced to her already,” he told Lord Henstridge, who was looking at him with interest. “That is Miss Winters, I believe.”
“Oh.” Lord Henstridge’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, yes, I recall now being introduced to her some hours ago, when they first arrived.” One eyebrow arched. “They were not tardy, as some of my guests were.”
Charles found himself beginning to relax, now that his attention was away from Miss Winters.
“I am here now, am I not?” he protested, gesturing to the vacant pianoforte. “You may begin now, of course.”
Lord Henstridge laughed and shook his head, before turning around and announcing to the guests that they were to have some entertainment. Charles remained where he was, watching the gentlemen and ladies surging forward in an attempt to take their seats, with some young ladies seeking to seat themselves near the front of the room so that they might be able to easily stand to sing or to play. Miss Winters, Charles noted, remained closer to the back, sitting next to her sister whilst the Duke remained standing.
The musical part of the evening began in earnest but Charles found himself rather bored with it all. He had done this many times before, of course, having been a part of the engaging and charmed audience to many a young debutante’s performances. It was all the same. All so dull. All so predictable.
“You look a tad bit bored this evening, my lord.”
His skin prickled uncomfortably as he turned to his left, and watched as Lady Serena Hedley drew even closer to him.
“Good evening, Lady Hedley,” he murmured, as her hand touched his for just a moment.
It sent a shiver of awareness up his spine, his heart quickening at the dark enticement in her expression. Why he had not yet taken her up on her offer of making her his new mistress, he could not say, for it was more than obvious that her allure was unrivalled.
“Good evening, Lord Penderstone,” she replied, in a teasing tone. “Should you care to escape this and come for a walk with me in the gardens?”
A vision of what might occur if he did so crashed into Charles’ mind all at once, forcing him to drag in air. Lady Hedley smiled softly, her knowledge of gentlemen making it apparent that she knew precisely what sort of effect she was having on him.
“I do not think it would be wise to depart so soon after the performances have begun,” Charles found himself saying, even though his mind screamed at him to keep silent and to go with her at once.
His eyes roved across the room, aware of his quickened breathing, only to land upon Miss Winters, who was looking back at both him and Lady Hedley.
He suddenly felt uncomfortable, even though there was no explanation for it. It was not as though he were ashamed to be in Lady Hedley’s company, but the curiosity in Miss Winters eyes tinged with what could only be described as a bit of disappointment, seemed to have the most extraordinary effect on him.
His desire to entertain Lady Hedley suggestion suddenly cooled.
“I hear there is to be an acrobat,” he told Lady Hedley, by way of distraction, even though he could not quite make sense of what he was doing. “And I confess that I myself have only just arrived, so I should not like to bring Lord Henstridge’s irritation down upon my head.”
“Why do you fight so?”
Her question was smooth and gentle, running over him and making its way into his mind. His breath caught as her fingers ran down his arm, brushing against his hand again as though to give him the smallest taste of what she was offering.
“I have heard you are a gentleman who enjoys the company of ladies,” Lady Hedley continued, her emphasis revealing to Charles that she knew precisely the sort of gentleman he was. “Why not secure a continued enjoyment with me?”
Charles could give no answer. There was no simple explanation for it. However, the way that Miss Winters continued to regard him seemed to bridle his tongue, even though he cared nothing for the lady and certainly did not think that she had any influence upon him.
“If it is that you are concerned that I am under the protection of another that can easily be set to rights.”
He jerked his head about and looked at her.
“You are already in another gentleman’s company?” Charles asked, suddenly feeling unease. “If that is so, Lady Hedley, then I cannot allow myself to even consider the matter.”
Lady Hedley did not appear to be offended by his outburst but instead smiled and leaned closer.
“You cannot expect me simply to linger in the shadows, waiting in anticipation for you to accept my offer, my dear Marquess,” she told him, her smile sultry and her eyes bright. “But I should be glad to give up my current circumstances in order to acquire your company instead.”
“Lord Penderstone?”
Starting in surprise, Charles turned back to see none other than Miss Winters standing before him, regarding him with her emerald green eyes. They glowed with wide-eyed innocence. She tentatively smiled and her visage was transformed into that of a tempting angel.
Charles almost dropped the monocle he had been fiddling with. Irritated with himself he frowned.
“Miss Winters,” he muttered, gruffly, as another young lady rose to play the pianoforte. “Can I be of some aid to you?” He held her gaze steadily, his facial expression emotionless.
Miss Winters smiled, although there was a tightness to her expression that she could not quite hide from him.
“I have heard, my lord, that you have a fine voice,” Miss Winters began, her words coming out in a rush as her eyes dropped to the floor before racing back up to him. “I did wonder if you might wish to sing and therefore, if I could accompany you?”
Charles stared at the young lady in shock, surprised at her bold question. Next to him, he heard Lady Hedley stifle a chuckle, as though there was nothing more ridiculous than the idea of him singing alongside a debutante.
“Alas no,” he stated, watching the way Miss Winters expression fell at his words. “I fear that I am not in particularly fine fettle this evening, Miss Winters. I cannot satisfy your request.”
Miss Winters’ shoulders dropped.
“Oh,” she replied, looking thoroughly disappointed. “I see. Good evening, Lord Penderstone.”
Before Charles could say anything else, Miss Winters turned on her heel and walked back to her seat, sitting down next to her sister.
He allowed his gaze to linger on her for a moment or two, surprised at just how bold the young lady had been.
“Goodness, that one will follow you around like a lap dog,” Lady Hedley commented quietly, her voice filled with laughter. “She seems quite taken with you, Penderstone – although I am certain she is not the first to have fallen for your charms!”
“She certainly is the first one to speak to me in such a bold fashion,” he replied, not lifting his eyes from Miss Winters. “I confess, I am surprised by that.”
Lady Hedley sniffed delicately.
“She has not offered you anything akin to what I speak of,” she reminded him, her voice low. “She is not the only one who is bold.”
Charles swung his gaze towards her.
“You are not a debutante, Lady Hedley.”
“No,” she agreed, her smile spreading across her face as she leaned towards him a little more. “No, indeed I am not. I am much more experienced. Do not forget it, Penderstone.”
And, so saying, she was gone, sweeping away from him and allowing her presence to be torn from his side.
Charles felt something begin to ache within him, regret burning inside as he let his eyes watch her moving across the room to talk to another.
Why had he refused her? They had enjoyed a friendly acquaintance for some weeks and now, it seemed, she had decided to pin her attention upon him. He had very little idea as to whom she currently shared her favours with – although the rumour was that she was the former mistress of the Prince Regent – Charles did not quite believe that the story was true. Regardless, he simply could not understand why he had not accepted her, wondering if there was something wrong with him to have rejected such a beauty. It was certainly not for any moral reasons, his mistresses had been plenty and not far in between. At one point he actually had three mistresses at once. It had been an exhausting position to be in.
Sighing, he returned his attention back to the young lady at the front of the room, surprised to see that it was none other than Miss Winters who now took her turn to perform. Sitting down at the pianoforte, she began to play and Charles was soon caught up in the music, letting it fill his mind and calm his frantic thoughts.
Closing his eyes, he recalled how Miss Winters had spoken to him in such a bold fashion and the disappointment in her expression when he had refused her. There was a sense of admiration growing in him that she had been as forthright and as determined as that, although he was quite certain that he was not at all interested in sharing any sort of affection with her.
One thing Charles was determined to do was to remain steadfastly unwed, so that he might enjoy his unmarried state – and the attentions that came with it – for as long as possible.
Which meant that, of course, he would have to make sure to accept Lady Hedley’s offer just as soon as he was able.
THREE
It had now been three weeks since Ann had returned to London society and yet she felt a deep sense of dissatisfaction wrestling within her at almost every moment.
She could not seem to catch the Marquess’ attention and it was becoming a deeply trying state of affairs. She had tried almost everything in order to get him to look at her again. To entice him to come towards her and mayhap ask for a few minutes in her company, but nothing had prevailed.
The Marquess was, of course, often surrounded by young ladies and their mothers, or enjoying a conversation with a widow or lady of independent means, which meant there was very little opportunity for her to make herself known to him.
Some weeks ago, she had attempted to be bold and to ask him to sing with her but he had refused her without even a moment of hesitation. Forced to retreat, she had stumbled back to her seat and felt her cheeks burn with mortification, only for Theodora to encourage her to play the pianoforte regardless of whether or not she had managed to secure the Marquess’ involvement. It had been a good plan and, thankfully, Ann had managed to play faultlessly, fully aware that the Marquess had watched her throughout her performance.
That had been the extent of their interaction. They often greeted one another during social events or passed a few comments about whether one was enjoying the evening or not, but there was nothing more than that.
The Marquess did not want to secure any young lady, it seemed, for he certainly did not pay anyone particular attention. That did not prohibit a myriad of rumours about his amorous assignation with various widows.
Lady Hedley was often by his side, which was a struggle for Ann to see, for the lady garnered the Marquess’ attention in a way that Ann could not, and she found herself often filled with jealousy over such a thing. At least the woman’s name had not yet been mentioned as a paramour of the Marquess.
Theodora and the Duke had, of course, attempted to encourage her to seek the attention of other gentlemen but Ann had still found herself drawn only towards one nobleman.
She believed herself to be completely in love with the Marquess of Penderstone, sighing over him whenever he entered her thoughts.
If only there was a way to show him that she was, in fact, the perfect companion for him! If only she could prove that she was entirely caught up by him and that, if he could only spare her a little bit of attention, she might prove herself to be everything he had ever desired.
But that, it seemed, was foolishness. A foolishness her sister Caroline had not hesitated to set out in detail in her last correspondence.
***
Miss Caroline Winters to Miss Ann Winters
Somerset.
Dear Ann,
What a delight it was to get your message. You cannot imagine how trying it has been to help Beatrice recover. Papa is to no use as he is just so grateful that she has her memory back that he does not either wonder or worry that she does not remember her betrothed. Any diversion is welcome.
It breaks my heart to see how Sir Percival Burke aches for her. I only hope they find a way back to each other or this year only one of the Winters sisters will be wed.
But whatever is this nonsense about the Marquess of Penderstone? He is known even to my dear Stanway, who declares him the worst of rogues. Apparently Casanova is nothing compared to him. Men hide their wives and daughters with him in the vicinity.
However Stanway has stated that he is not known for deflowering virgins, so I am reassured that although you foolishly are trying to capture his attention, he is unlikely to compromise your virtue.
But please do regain your senses Ann. One cannot love someone one does not know – it goes against any logic. Besides if you have not caught his eye at the first encounter what makes you think a second or third will mak
e a difference?
I know you are of the belief that there is a connection between the two of you, but I fear for you sister mine. I fear the connection only lives within your heart and that when you will finally realise the truth of it, the blow will be more crushing than you can imagine.
Know that I take no pleasure in writing these words. I wish for you to find the kind of love I share with the Earl and Theodora with the Duke. Anything else is but a mirage of affections.
Should all matters not present themselves in the manner you had hoped for, do not hesitate to send me a missive. I shall come to you in all haste, with Beatrice in tow!
Your beloved sister,
C. Winters
***
“Good evening, Miss Winters.”
Ann kept her sigh inward with an effort, looking up into the eager face of the Viscount of Gregson, who had been often at her side these last few weeks. He was a kind gentleman, it seemed, with thick, fair hair and a charming smile that Ann was certain would steal the heart of any young debutante he thought to share it with – all save for her, of course.
“Good evening, Lord Gregson,” she murmured, handing him her dance-card without him even having to ask for it.
This seemed to be of great encouragement to the gentleman, for his eyes widened slightly as he saw her hold it out and it was a moment or two before he took it from her dangling wrist.
“Two dances, if I may, Miss Winters?”
She nodded, not seeing any particular reason why she should refuse him and yet wishing that she did not have to accept. Lord Gregson was kind enough, yes, and certainly a gentleman with a title and fortune, but nothing about him caught at her mind or heart. There was no interest there.
“Thank you, Lord Gregson,” she murmured, seeing him smile down into her eyes but managing to conjure up nothing more than a lacklustre smile in return. “I look forward to our first dance.”