Elizabeth’s face fell a little, but not for long. She turned to the seamstress who had been hovering nearby and smiled warmly. “Thank you very much for allowing me to try it. I’ll take the other dresses I’ve ordered now.”
“Yes, Miss Jones.” The seamstress hurried to take the dress from her hands.
“I cannot believe the first ball of the Season is almost here,” Elizabeth gushed once again. She’d been saying as much since they broke fast this morning and Matilda didn’t think she would be stopping any time soon. Her excitement was heartwarming.
“I don’t think you’ll really believe it until you’re having your first dance.”
“Oh, I’m so excited! Do you think my dancing card will be all filled up?”
“Elizabeth, have you looked yourself in the mirror? You’re absolutely gorgeous. What gentleman in their right mind wouldn’t want to dance with you?”
“Oh, stop it.” Elizabeth blushed. “I only wished you would be able to join me.”
Matilda instantly stiffened. They weren’t alone in the shop. Other young ladies waiting for their dresses for the upcoming ball were around, young ladies who knew of Matilda’s scandalous status. “If only,” she said, hoping she would leave it at that.
It was wishful thinking. Elizabeth may sometimes seem like the wisest lady in the room, but more times than not, she was as dense as they came. “Oh, it’s so unfair. Why do people care so much about such foolish things like that?”
“It’s our society, Elizabeth. There’s nothing we can do about it.”
“I suppose,” she sighed dejectedly. “It’s still very unfair.”
“Let’s drop this. Let’s focus on the ball. Is there anyone you have your eyes set on?”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “There is one gentleman I’ve been dying to meet. I’ve heard so much about him from the other ladies.”
“Other ladies? What other ladies?”
“What do you mean? You don’t think I have friends?”
“I think you’re as much a recluse as I am.”
“I am not!”
Matilda chuckled into her hand, not so much minding the eyes that fell on them at Elizabeth’s outburst. “If you say you have friends, then I’ll believe you. What have these friends of yours been saying?”
“Hmph.” Elizabeth cocked her chin, but the excitement didn’t waver. “He’s a Marquess. I’ve never met himself, but I’ve always heard of how handsome and dashing he is. The sort of gentleman who could sweep you up off your feet.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh! He must be a lot like the Duke of Brentminster! Do you remember him?”
Matilda resisted the urge not to groan. “How could I forget him? You hardly allow me to. Any chance you get to mention him, you take it.”
“I can’t help it. It’s not every day a Duke runs into you chasing after robbers. Don’t you think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?”
“I would,” Matilda murmured. “If there was any romance involved at all. I doubt I’ll meet him again after that encounter and if we ever do, he won’t even recognize me.”
“I doubt that. No one can run into my gorgeous sister and resist her beauty.”
Matilda couldn’t help but laugh at the determined way she said that. “Let’s forget about me. We were talking about your Marquess.”
“He’s not my Marquess—”
“Miss Jones?” The seamstress returned with her dresses, holding them out to her.
“Oh, thank you very much. I can’t wait to try them all.”
The seamstress beamed at that then hurried off to tend to someone else. Matilda casted a quick glance at her mother who had automatically risen when they did and began making her way to the exit alongside them. She was barely present, Matilda mused, and definitely not talking.
“Is that her?” said a voice behind her.
“I think so. She does bear the markings of a mother, don’t you think?” The other person that spoke had a voice as light as a whisper.
“I’m getting that feeling as well. She doesn’t think she can partake in this Season, does she?” said the first person, who didn’t seem to care to keep her voice down.
The second lady mimicked the first, her words dripped in disdain. “She would be mad to think such a thing.”
Matilda didn’t bother to turn around. They were things she had heard many times before, things she was yet to get used to. Even so, she knew there was nothing that could be done about it, but she couldn’t help the way she began hastening toward the exit. They were bound to turn the conversation to Elizabeth if she lingered too long.
“Excuse me?” came another voice that was all too familiar.
Matilda came to a halt at the voice. Was that…
Her mother turned to the ladies who had been whispering animatedly about Matilda. Her face remained blank, her voice dry. But her eyes latched onto them with such intensity, Matilda almost shivered.
“Do you not deem it unladylike to gossip about someone when they are present?” she asked them. “I do hope you don’t plan to bring such abhorrent manners to the upcoming ball or there is no way you’ll be able to snag a husband. Continue in such a way and you might end up a spinster as well. I’m sure you wouldn’t like that now, would you?”
Her mother didn’t spare them the chance to respond. She swiveled on her heels and left, opening her parasol with such perfect flourish that it left Matilda and Elizabeth gaping in her wake. They recovered quickly enough and followed behind her, not bothering to see the affect her words had left on the gossiping ladies. They didn’t say anything, not until they were all in the carriage once again.
“Mother!” Elizabeth exclaimed. She tossed her dresses to the side, nearly knocking her hats off the seat. “I can’t believe you said that!”
“It had to be said,” her mother said with a shrug. Her eyes were trained out the window, once again the silent lady who was hardly present.
Matilda was still too much in shock to respond. It had been a while since she last heard her mother speak with such gusto, even if it didn’t last very long. She hardly knew what to say to her. “Thank you,” she said finally. “You said all the things I wish I could say, although I think I might have taken it a little too far if I attempted to.”
Her mother didn’t answer. She only nodded, not looking away from the window. Matilda knew that was the most she would be getting from her.
“I wish I had gotten a look at their faces when Mother put them in their place,” Elizabeth gushed. After everything that happened and Matilda’s scandal, Elizabeth took her mother’s withdrawal the hardest.
Day by day, as the weight of their situation took hold, it seemed to have affected her mother the most. Matilda knew her sister could hardly bear to see it. She saw the way she drew into herself when her mother was brought up, as if she didn’t want to face it.
“I did,” Matilda told her. “It was priceless. I’m sorry you missed it.”
“Just as how I’m sorry you missed the dashing Duke during his pursuit.”
“Oh, here we go again…”
Elizabeth laughed heartily bringing a laugh out of Matilda herself. They were done with shopping for the day and so the carriage ride home was filled with enthusiastic chatter and laughter. Elizabeth’s fervor seemed to mount as they drew closer to home, as if she was beginning to realize just how close this ball was.
Matilda fed off her excitement, letting it nourish her soul. There was nothing she wanted more than this Season to go well for Elizabeth.
It is the least she deserves after everything.
She went along with her chatter, sticking by her mother’s side despite her quietude. The butler rushed to get everything from the carriage as they made their way into the manor, arm-in-arm. Matilda was so caught up at what her sister was saying about the dashing Marquess that she hadn’t expected the little body that ran into her leg the moment they were through the door.
“Mommy!”
It was as if every bit of stress settled on her shoulders lifted instantly. The tiny squeal of the young child by her feet was like fresh breeze rushing into a stuffy house, lightening the hearts of everyone around. Brown curls to match his mother’s, sporting the blue eyes of his father, Jackson Jones bounced on his tiny feet, still barely able to stand perfectly on his own without toppling over ever so often.
The maids that stood by smiled at the young child, including the governess who had been trying to hold him back. The butler reentered the manor with everything in tow, coming to halt by the door, falling under the spell that Jackson casted. Even her mother reached down to rustle his hair before heading toward the stairway.
“Jackson, sweetheart, are you giving your governess trouble?” Matilda gathered him into her arms.
Jackson shook his head vigorously. In her peripherals, Matilda saw her governess shake her head at the motion. She’d been trying fervently to tame Jackson but Matilda could see that it was to no avail. Jackson was slowly growing to be a very rowdy young boy and Matilda loved him for it. It was a lot like her when she was growing up.
“Mommy!” he squealed again, wriggling in her arms. Matilda soon gave up the struggle and let him loose, allowing him to fall into the arms of the person he was really after.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Elizabeth cooed. She held the excitable child perfectly in her arms. “Did you miss me?”
“Yes, Mommy!”
“I hope you weren’t giving Miss West any problems.”
Jackson pouted, and peeked over his shoulder at Miss West. The slightly-stern look the governess was wearing melted upon seeing his cute face.
“He was an angel, Miss Jones,” Miss West said with a smile.
“I’m happy to hear it. Why don’t we go to your room?” Elizabeth lowered Jackson to the floor and took his tiny hand in hers. She shot Matilda a smile before heading up the stairs, moving slowly to accommodate the very tiny body next to hers.
Matilda watched them leave. Bit by bit, the maids went about their various business, Miss West following Elizabeth and Jackson in their wake. Soon enough, she was alone, left with her thoughts.
The months leading up to Jackson’s birth had been filled with chaos and strife. Uncertain about the future, Matilda had sat with her father in their study, prepared to hear what she knew was their only option.
She was eighteen at the time, already well accustomed with London Season and still husband-less. No one would be surprised to hear that she had gotten pregnant. Her spinster status had already been descending.
Elizabeth on the other hand was only sixteen at the time. Underage. Her reputation would have been obliterated. She wouldn’t have been able to show her face in public if they found out what happened. It only made sense that Matilda take the fall for everything. It was their only option.
Elizabeth had been completely against the idea, but in the end, she too knew there was nothing she could do about it. She would never find a husband if they knew she bore a child at her tender age, and finding a husband was one of Elizabeth’s main goals in life.
She was still so naïve, still so innocent, and Matilda didn’t want the harshness of a public scandal to take that all away from her. She would lay herself on the chopping block for Elizabeth time and time again.
To the ton, the child was hers. But within the confines of this household, Elizabeth was the true mother.
Chapter 3
The first ball of the London Season was the worst ball of them all. Brimming with flirting ladies, fanning themselves incessantly in the aim of looking demure and innocent, the ball was sure to be hours filled of torture.
On the one hand, there were no shortage of beauties. Done up from head to toe, hair coiffed, cheeks blushed, and dresses fitting them magnificently, Timothy couldn’t help but focus on the other, more negative side to all of this.
He was a Duke, which meant he was bound to be high on the list of potential husbands. Not to mention his booming wool company, riches and prestige was a plus to being his wife. He knew that and the myriad of looming mothers accommodating their daughters knew it as well.
It was at times like these he was glad he was already spoken for. It minimized the number of ladies who were likely to approach him, though the bold few never failed to disappoint. He stood to the very back of the ball, watching dancing couples twirl about in the center of the ballroom, the distant boom of introductions being made as more families arrived for the new Season.
“You look like you ate a lemon,” Jonathan said to his left. They had been standing alone together for a while, enjoying what peace they had before the ladies descended. Jonathan, son to the Earl of Ferbriand, was a legitimate suitor himself, and his handsomeness kept him well within the eyes of many matrons looking for a husband for their daughters. Even now, Timothy could see a pair of eyes on them, though he couldn’t be sure which of them was the object of their attention.
Perhaps both.
“You know I dislike balls. Too … stuffy.”
Jonathan huffed a laugh. “Too stuffy, you say? Does that mean you don’t plan to dance with anyone? It doesn’t get any more stuffy than that.”
“I don’t think I have much of a choice. It’s expected of me, even though they stand no chance.”
“Ah, the protection of a betrothal already in the making. How lucky of you.” Jonathan sighed heavily. “While I, on the other hand, will have to contend with Lady Hamer and her twin daughters.”
Blinking, Timothy followed the direction of his gaze, landing on the busty lady furiously fanning herself, razor-sharp eyes latched on to Jonathan. Though she caught them staring, she didn’t care to look away.
On either side of her were her twin daughters, Lady Fiona and Lady Julia Hamer, comely ladies who barely spoke a word to anyone but each other. “You’re right,” Timothy said, humor tickling his throat. “I wish you all the luck, my friend. I doubt you’ll be able to get away from that one very easily.”
“I doubt it myself. Well,” Jonathan sighed in resignation, “I suppose a dance invitation is in order.”
“Which one will you ask to dance?”
“Whichever one is on the left,” Jonathan said. “Or maybe I’ll let Lady Hamer choose.”
“Again,” Timothy laughed, “I wish you all the luck.”
Jonathan nodded, pulling his shoulders back before weaving his way through the crowd. Timothy watched him for a moment, then looked away, knowing he would be just fine. Jonathan had a smooth tongue capable of wooing just about anyone. He would match up well against the aggressive Lady Hamer.
Sometimes, Timothy wished he had half the charm of his friend. He wasn’t very good in crowds, which was why he wasn’t happy to be attending this ball, but he also knew he had little choice in the matter. And soon, now that Jonathan was no longer by his side, he would have to seek other company so as not to look like a recluse.
His eyes scanned the crowd, skimming over the interested gazes who hoped he would meet with them. Timothy may not be as charming as his friend, but he was perfect at preventing conversation when he could.
Finally, he caught sight of someone similar. A handsome gentleman, gray hair tickling his ear, he stood next to a beautiful older lady who looked to be his wife. Timothy frowned.
Where do I know that gentleman from? Is he … oh!
He was the Viscount of Roburg, the gentleman he met around a week ago when Timothy ran into his daughter. That was perfect. He could pass the time talking to him for a while.
Timothy set out toward him and, when he was half way there, the Viscount caught sight of him as well. His eyes twinkled with surprise as he approached. “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
Timothy grabbed hold of his hand in greeting. “The pleasure is all mine, My Lord. I reckon I should come over to greet you properly in order to make up for last time.”
The Viscount laughed gruffly. His eyes nearly disappeared when he did, his smile so big and wide that it nea
rly overtook his face. “Believe me, Your Grace, it was certainly a very interesting introduction. I hope you found those robbers?”
“Alas, they got away. I hope the ladies who had their reticules stolen aren’t worse for wear.”
“You’re a good man, Your Grace. I don’t think you’ve met my wife?” The Viscount slipped an arm around the waist of the beautiful lady who stood by his side. She smiled at him, but that smile didn’t touch her eyes. “Please, allow me to introduce Lady Roburg.”
The Scandalous Secret 0f The Tempting Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 2