by Regina Darcy
Am I but a fool in love?
Your distraught sister,
A.Winters
P.S Pardon my manners – how is Beatrice? And how did Papa take the news?
***
“Good evening, Lord Penderstone.”
Charles caught himself in time before he asked Miss Winters why she appeared so troubled. Instead, he merely offered her a simple greeting and turned towards the theatre door, offering her his arm as he did so. Miss Winters took it at once but said nothing more. Charles walked alongside her in silence, finding that he himself had nothing pertinent to say.
It had been ten days since Charles had found himself engaged to Miss Winters and despite his determination to remain angry and frustrated, he had begun to find her company quite engaging. Of course, he had not said as much to anyone, having not even wanted to admit it to himself, but it was there within him, nonetheless.
Unfortunately, Miss Winters had appeared despondent of late. She had lost her easy smile and had not held her gaze upon him for a long while. Instead, there had been nothing more than cautious glances, a few murmured comments and long pronounced silences that left him feeling more uncomfortable than ever before. What made things all the worse was that the constant company of Lady Hedley wherever he went was both a relief and a struggle.
It was a relief because, deep down, he had to admit that he still cared greatly for her company and very much enjoyed her smiles. However, the struggle that came thereafter with Miss Winters made him lose a good deal of contentedness. He had caught Miss Winters watching Lady Hedley speak to him on more than one occasion and had seen her face fall and her shoulders slump. As much as he told himself he did not care what she thought or felt or did, Charles was beginning to find himself concerned for Miss Winters. He was beginning to wish for her to smile at him, for her to be able to seek his attention and conversation as she had once done, but it seemed as though she would never do so – at least, not until he set Lady Hedley aside. It was not as though he intended to do anything with regards to Lady Hedley and her offer of developing their relationship into something greater, for whilst he had to admit that he did enjoy her company, he had never permitted himself to consider anything more. It was not something he desired, which surprised even him.
“You look very lovely this evening, Miss Winters.”
Miss Winters looked up at him in surprise, her green eyes widening slightly.
“I am very glad to be in your company this evening,” he managed, wondering why he was finding it so difficult to speak to Miss Winters when he usually found it remarkably easy to converse with any other young lady of his acquaintance. “I do hope you will enjoy this performance.” In truth, he had very little idea of what the performance was. He actually had never taken much interest in the theatre prior to this evening, for his usual company entertained him in other ways instead of requiring him to watch the performance and comment on it thereafter.
“Thank you, Lord Penderstone,” Miss Winters murmured, her voice drifting away as they walked into the theatre. “I am sure this evening will be quite lovely.” There was no tone of excitement in her voice, no sense that she was, in fact, looking forward to spending another evening with him and Charles found that to be rather unsettling.
“Oh, good evening Lord Penderstone!”
The sound of Lady Hedley reached his ears almost the moment he had stepped into the theatre. Beside him, Charles felt Miss Winters stiffen even though she greeted Lady Hedley with as much gentility as usual.
“Good evening Lady Hedley,” he replied, inclining his head. “I did not expect to see you here this evening.”
Lady Hedley laughed and pressed his arm for a moment, before stepping away, ignoring Miss Winters altogether. “But surely you must recall just how often we attended the theatre together in the past, Lord Penderstone,” she cooed, whilst Charles shuffled his feet a little uncomfortable. “I am here this evening to enjoy what will be a wonderful performance, I am quite sure.”
“And do you have company?” Miss Winters asked, quietly.
Lady Hedley laughed again, although Charles sensed a slightly unkind tone this time. He stiffened, his brow furrowing as Lady Hedley tossed her head.
“Of course I have company, Miss Winters,” she said, waving a hand. “I have Lord Stanton with me this evening, as well as an invitation to Lord and Lady Kettering’s soiree thereafter, so I shall be quite content, I assure you.”
A breath of silence rushed between them and Charles swallowed hard, two different desires warring within him.
Lady Hedley was looking at him as though she expected him to ask her to throw aside Lord Stanton and join him and Miss Winters in their box whilst Miss Winters stood silently beside him, her facial expression begging him for something he was not sure he was ready to give.
“I think that we should depart, Miss Winters,” he declared, as Lady Hedley’s dark eyebrows slanted in a frown. “Do excuse us, Lady Hedley. The performance is soon to begin and I do not wish to miss even a moment of it.” This was nothing but a lie but Charles found himself eager to remove Miss Winters from Lady Hedley’s company as soon as possible. Lady Hedley did not say anything more to him, although her displeasure was more than a little apparent.
“If you wish for Lady Hedley to join us, Lord Penderstone, then you need not fear to ask her on my account,” Miss Winters suddenly interjected behind clenched teeth.
Charles blinked in astonishment. This was the first time he saw anything but affable sweetness from her and it piqued his interest. Maybe there was more to the young lady than it seemed.
“I do not wish her to sit with us, Miss Winters. However, if you think that –”
“Oh, no.” Miss Winters interrupted him quickly, looking straight at him for just a moment and then returning her gaze straight ahead. “I am quite content with things as they stand.” She gave him a tiny smile, although her eyes did not settle upon his, and Charles felt frustrated that Lady Hedley had, in her persistent manner, managed to dampen Miss Winters’s enjoyment of the evening.
Silently they moved off to find their seats. The allocated box was quiet and shrouded in darkness. Her Grace the Duchess of Sotheby would soon be joining them, but for the time being, there was no-one else within.
Charles heart quicken with a sudden sense of anticipation, although he put it down to the fact that his mind was returning to all the encounters that had happened here before.
“Might I ask, Lord Penderstone, if you miss it?”
Miss Winters had taken her seat and was now looking out towards the front of the stage, even though she had asked him a question.
“If I miss it?” Charles repeated, frowning as he came to sit down opposite her. “Miss what, Miss Winters?”
She did not look at him, keeping her face turned away and her gaze lying straight ahead. Charles’ frown deepened as he saw her lip tremble. Clearly something was distressing her.
“I know that I am not your choice of bride and that this engagement has come about in a rather unwelcome fashion,” Miss Winters continued, eventually. “I fear that you miss your life as it was and seek to continue on with whatever it is that brought you such happiness once before.”
Charles hesitated for a moment or two, seeing the taut expression and hearing the way that she did not quite ask a question. Was it to do with Lady Hedley? Or simply that she feared he might turn from her entirely once they were wed? It would not be the first time that a gentleman courted his betrothed simply for appearance's sake, only to then return to his life of carousing, drinking and entertainment almost the very minute after he had become wed.
“I have no intention of pushing you to a country estate whilst I remain here,” he told her, firmly. “Nor have I any thought to take a mistress, if that is what you are asking.”
Miss Winters turned her head sharply and looked at him with such an intensity that Charles felt his very heart penetrated by her searching gaze. It was as if she could not quite bring herself
to believe him, could not quite trust him to be speaking the truth and yet the desperate longing to do so was within her heart.
“I know full well that my reputation as something of a rascal well precedes me,” Charles found himself saying, struggling to speak honestly and yet feeling the urge to do so rise up within him.
“I am aware that you must have heard of my rakish behaviour from a good many sources.” He held his gaze locked to hers until Miss Winters winced and looked away. “I am sorry for the discomfort it brings you, Miss Winters, although I will not apologise or deny who I have been.”
A tense silence stretched between both of them.
“You need not do so with me,” Miss Winters replied defiantly, her chin raised a notch.
“If you must know, I have been approached by a good many members of the ton since we announced our engagement.” She shrugged. “Some have come with advice; others have come to question whether or not I am truly in my right mind to agreeing to an engagement with such a gentleman as you.” This was spoken without malice although there was a flicker of something akin to pain in her eyes. “Tell me the truth, my Lord.” Miss Winters turned in her seat so that she was facing him and could, therefore, see him better. “Tell me if you wish to be free of this engagement.”
Charles frowned, his heart beating a trifle more quickly as he looked into her eyes and saw the depth of emotion within them. She was, he realised, being perfectly serious, in the hope that he would be more than honest with her. His mouth went dry as he tried to find what he wished to say, realising that he was reacting to the scent of her, which seemed to permeate the box. He swallowed hard.
His eyes wanted to linger on her beauty.
His hands wanted to reach out and capture her hands in his, to allow his fingers to brush through the soft tendrils of her hair, but his heart told him that he had to speak with all seriousness and with the honesty Miss Winters so clearly sought.
Clearing his throat, Charles considered the question and fought against the various answers that clamoured all together in his mind. One beat the other away, whilst a third tried to climb to the top and claim itself triumphant.
Try as he might, Charles could not pull out one simple answer.
“It is difficult for me to say, Miss Winters,” he told her eventually, seeing a flicker of light begin to leave her eyes. “Our engagement did not come about in the best fashion, as you well know, but now that it is done and we are to be wed, I accept this outcome.”
“Oh.” Miss Winters looked away from him, turning back around in her chair so that she faced the stage.
“I quite understand now, Lord Penderstone. I thank you.”
No, you do not understand, Charles wanted to say. She did not know what he meant for, in a strange way, neither did he. Frustrated, he let out a long breath, his eyes still roving over Miss Winters form as she sat, stiff and straight, in her chair.
On impulse, Charles reached across and grasped her gloved hand, feeling her jerk in surprise. Her eyes flared as she looked down at where he now held her hand before looking back up into his face.
“I am trying to devise a future with you, Miss Winters,” Charles stated, softly, feeling the swell of urgency fill his chest as though he had very little time with which he might convince her.
“This has all come as something of a shock, as I am certain it has done for you, and I am struggling to contend with the reality of our situation. However,” he continued, earnestly. “Despite the reputation that has clung to me for so long, you will find that I am not a gentleman who is unfaithful to the wife he has committed to.”
Miss Winters’ eyes dipped low.
“You may not believe it,” Charles continued, knowing that Miss Winters had every right to doubt him. “But that is the intention of my heart. In fact, it has always been so. I have long determined that when I married, I would do so with the intention that I should remain entirely faithful to my wife.”
“And does that still stand even though you have been forced into a betrothal that you did not wish for?” Miss Winters asked, as she settled her bright ocean blue eyes upon him. Charles felt like he was hit by a freight train. It was the first time he had really looked at the young lady. The expression in her eyes promised all that a man could ever want and more. It promised a wife, a companion and a mistress all rolled into one. Tinged by her obvious innocence it was a heady mix. Did she realise exactly how much she was revealing. She made his decision very easy to share.
“It does, Miss Winters,” he told her. She nodded and then, slowly, began to smile. “I am a man of my word, hopefully you will discover that this is the case in due time.”
Miss Winters let out a long breath.
“Lady Hedley will not be of concern in our marriage,” Charles continued, his face expressionless. “I suspect that you are concerned over her presence, Miss Winters, but I assure you that she is nothing more than an acquaintance and will never be more than that.”
“Then I suppose I must trust that you tell the truth, Lord Penderstone,” Miss Winters replied, as the sound of approaching footsteps alerted them both that the Duchess of Sotheby was to join them in a moment or so. “I thank you for speaking to me so earnestly.”
“You are most welcome.” Charles let go of her hand and rose to his feet, ready to greet the Duchess, only to find that a strange longing came from within him as he did so. It was as though something within him wanted to return to Miss Winters, wanted to take her hand again so that her soft skin rested against his. It was a foolish thought and one that Charles immediately tried to dismiss.
Yes, he cared for Miss Winters’ wellbeing and did not want her to be despondent – for what could be worse for a gentleman than a morose wife? But he did not have any strong affection for her, surely? She was beautiful and he appreciated that, but there could not be any feelings of fondness or the like within his heart. That would only complicate matters a good deal and Charles did not want to allow himself to feel anything of the sort. He had never done before now so why would his heart yearn for the one lady he was to marry? It did not make any sense and so, with a dogged determination, Charles set such feelings aside and instead focused on greeting the Duchess and thereafter, attempting to enjoy the performance for what would be the first time in his life.
SEVEN
“You appear sorrowful, Ann.”
Ann looked up from her needlework to see Theodora coming towards her, a small concerned smile on her face. She flushed, aware that she had not even noticed her sister entering the room.
“I do not think you have sewn even a single stitch since I have come in to join you,” Theodora continued, making Ann realise that Theodora had been present for some time. “What is it that troubles you?”
She perched on the edge of a chair and looked expectantly at her sister.
“I….” Ann trailed off, rubbing at her forehead with the back of her hand and then shaking her head. “I cannot say precisely, Theodora.”
“Only that it is to do with the Marquess,” Theodora suggested, with a small smile. “Yes, I am aware that you have been very distracted by him of late, Ann. That is to be expected and pray do not think that I chide you for it.”
“I thank you for that,” she told her sister, suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable about discussing the Marquess in such a fashion but feeling the urge to relieve herself of the burden that tugged at her heart.
“The Marquess has been on my mind a good deal of late and I find myself struggling to know what I think and feel any longer.”
Theodora looked even more concerned.
“I thought you believed yourself to be deeply in love with him,” she said, frowning slightly. “Ever since that day that he saved Beatrice?”
Ann let out a long breath, feeling a little foolish as she tried to explain.
“My longing and my desire have not changed,” she admitted. “The Marquess and I are destined for each other.”
She bit her lower lip. “But I feel a go
od deal of guilt over what has occurred and, with it, comes the fear that the Marquess will never reciprocate the fondness and affection that I have within my heart for him.”
Ann swallowed the ache that had formed in her throat. She was struggling to find the words to express how she felt and yet she was overcome by the desperate urge to tell Theodora everything in the hope that it might lighten her burden somewhat. “What if he does not come to care for me, Theodora?”
Her sister held her gaze steadily for some moments, whilst fiddling with a loose lock that had crept out of her braided hair in a most indelicate fashion.
Ann felt her heart grow tormented, wanting to beg Theodora to speak aloud so that she might have an answer to her questions.
“I think, Ann,” Theodora said slowly, looking at her with pitying eyes. “That you must continue to hope and pray that such a thing will occur. However, if it does not, then what shall you do?” She shrugged. “You shall have to continue to find a way to live with contentment. Contentment that does not rely on what the Marquess feels for you. You will be his wife, and, hopefully his confidante, his friend. That may be all you can attain but it should be enough.”
“And what if it is not?” Ann whispered, tears suddenly choking her. “What if what I long for can never be attained but the longing remains within me regardless, tearing at me until I can no longer cope with all that I feel?”
Theodora paused, looking away from Ann for a moment or two. “Tell me, Ann,” she said, slowly, looking back at her sister. “Do you have any evidence that the Marquess has had a change of heart thus far? I know that it has only been a fortnight since you became engaged but in that time, has he warmed to you? Has he spoken to you of his own heart? Is there a growing intimacy between you?”