“They do.” Matilda focused her attention on Lady Nancy. She was a pretty thing, with a bright smile and was short enough to be deemed petite. They looked great together. The jealousy that had lanced her dug in deeper.
“Do you think he’ll ask you to dance?”
“You said he danced with you, didn’t he? He might be interested in courting you.”
“I doubt it,” Elizabeth said confidently. “He only asked because he was paying his respects to Father and he was being polite. But he does seem like he wants to ask you to dance.”
Does he?
A stronger bout of hope blossomed in her chest when they made eye contact once again. “If you’re right then he’ll be over soon.”
“I’m so excited for you, Matilda! Doesn’t this seem like fate? You’ve ran into him twice already and now you two can’t seem to keep your eyes off each other.”
“Which is inappropriate.” Matilda wrenched her eyes away from the mesmerizing gentleman to look at her sister. Her face was glowing with happiness. Matilda loved seeing her like this. “I should be more focused on you. How is the ball going for you? Do you think you’ve met a few nice gentlemen?”
“I’ve met many nice gentlemen,” Elizabeth said. Her eyes darted to the side, at her mother, as if checking to see if she heard what she said. The movement was so swift, Matilda almost missed it. She decided to ignore it. “So many nice gentlemen that they’re all blending together in my head. I’ll have to see which I like the best.”
“How lucky for you, Elizabeth. But I’m not surprised. You look so lovely tonight that I knew your dance card would be full.”
“If I dance any more, I’m bound to collapse.”
“Come now, you’re made of stronger stuff than that. The next dance will be starting soon. Get ready.”
“Why would I need to—” Before she could finish, a dapper gentleman approached them. Like many others in the ballroom, Matilda didn’t recognize him but Elizabeth’s eyes lit up the moment he came close.
“How are you, Miss Jones, Miss Jones.”
“Good evening,” Elizabeth greeted. She was already grinning from ear-to-ear. Matilda held back her own smile at the sight. If she kept up like that, every gentleman she danced with was bound to think she was in love with them.
“Would you care to dance with me, My Lady?”
“I would love to.”
Matilda gave her an approving nod, since her father was otherwise occupied and her mother was basically not present. As the next dance began to start, the gentleman took her by the hand and led her out among the masses, where bodies were once again beginning to twist and turn with each other.
Because of the dancing couples, Matilda had a hard time keeping an eye on the Duke, but she caught sight of him soon enough. He was leading Lady Nancy back to dance, not looking at her any longer.
Matilda deflated. She should have known better than to think he would ask her to dance. He must have heard about her scandal. There weren’t many gentlemen at this ball who were willing to dance with her despite that, so she shouldn’t be surprise that he wasn’t one of them. Matilda hadn’t seen the same disapproving look in his eyes, but she supposed she could be wrong.
A gentleman approached her. Matilda barely heard a word he said. She got the gist that he was asking her to dance and she accepted without hesitation, wanting to forget about the gentleman with the intoxicating eyes.
Chapter 5
One of his favorite things to do after a long day was to relax at a gentleman’s club he was elected into a couple years ago. Timothy quite liked the aura of the club. With a relaxing glass of whiskey in his hand, and his closest friend by his side, he was content.
Except, for some reason, he couldn’t relax this time. He was burdened by the memory of the lady who had captured his attention only a week ago. An entire week had gone by. Days in which he had been busy with other more important things, things that should have allowed him to forget about the beautiful lady he had bounced into at the last ball.
Only, her memory seemed to stand out as stark as ever. He could even remember the slope of her jaw as she looked down at him in confusion, the curiosity in her eyes when she caught him staring from the other side of the room. To this day, Timothy still couldn’t understand why he did that.
It was so unlike him. He was a decent gentleman and staring at a lady with such intensity without saying a word to her all night was the opposite of decent. He could tell she was expecting him to approach her. And Timothy had wanted nothing more than to do just that.
But Lady Nancy had been by his side, her brother on his other side. He had been trapped, burdened by the knowledge that he was already spoken for, which meant he shouldn’t be paying too much attention to any other lady. A dance or two was fine, but Timothy didn’t trust himself to keep the wonder from his eyes when he looked at her.
“What are you thinking about so intently?” Jonathan looked up from his own glass, twirling the dark liquid.
“Nothing.” Timothy took a sip of his whiskey. He didn’t think it wise to tell Jonathan about the lady he couldn’t get out of his head, especially seeing that he was incredibly protective of his sister.
“You’ve had that look on your face since we came in here. I doubt you heard a word I’ve been saying, have you?”
“I haven’t but I’m willing to take a guess. You were going on about Lady Hamer and her daughters again, weren’t you?”
Jonathan sat up a little straighter at that. Around them was the loud hum of men playing faro, but Timothy had decided to opt out of that this time. “You’re sure you weren’t listening to me?”
“I know I wasn’t listening because I knew you would be going on about that once again.”
“Well what can I say? That lady and her two daughters are proving to be very interesting to me.”
“I thought you were going to leave it at a single dance. Whatever happened to that?”
“I suppose it was when we actually got to talking during the dance. She’s more interesting than she looks.”
“That’s not saying much since she doesn’t look interesting in the slightest.”
“Ouch. You can be very harsh, do you know that?”’
Timothy only shrugged. The warm liquid burned his throat and Timothy half hoped it would burn away the image of that lady. But it was to no avail.
Miss Matilda Jones. Why is she plaguing my mind so?
A foolish question he couldn’t help asking himself because he already knew the answer. She was a beauty, but not only was she beautiful, she was burdened by a scandal that didn’t sit well with him. She was clearly an outcast.
Timothy had been watching her for most of the night, whenever he had the chance to, and also saw the reaction she received from others when she was within their presence. Seeing it made him uneasy, but he couldn’t understand why.
Jonathan was talking again. Timothy had long ago learned how to block him out when necessary but it was easier today than it had ever been. Their years of friendship was strong, withstanding embarrassing happenings on Timothy’s end and near-scandalous activities on Jonathan’s. They helped each other through all of it and Lady Nancy had been the lady standing in the middle of all of it.
Timothy wasn’t very close to her. He had always known her to be Jonathan’s little sister and had come to treat her like it, but as they grew older, talk more of a betrothal that would effectively merge their two wool companies and create a monopoly, Timothy had gotten to know her a little more.
He found himself within her presence more often than usual, courting her in a way that was expected of him. She was, after all, the daughter of an earl and a very sweet lady at the end of it all. Being married to her wouldn’t be that bad.
But at the ball, he could hardly focus on her. He forced himself to, tried smiling when she did and kept himself from reverting his eyes back to Miss Jones as much as he could, but it was more difficult than he thought it would be.
She seemed oblivious to his struggles, as did Jonathan, so he supposed he did a better job than he first thought. But Miss Jones was always on his mind when Lady Nancy spoke to him. When she smiled at him, he found himself wondering what Miss Jones’ smile would be like. He had caught her talking to her sister before Miss Jones was whisked away for another dance and had just barely missed it. The regret had been instantaneous.
Lady Nancy doesn’t stir my mind like Miss Jones does. My future wife should make me yearn for her touch, shouldn’t she?
This was ridiculous. Timothy shook his head, downing the rest of his drink. No lady should be plaguing him like this. There were other beauties in this world. Why was Miss Matilda Jones so interesting to him? What was so special about her that he couldn’t seem to get her out his head?
“Jonathan, when is the next ball?” he asked.
“In a few days,” he said. “Why? Are you thinking of attending?”
“It wouldn’t hurt, would it?”
Jonathan frowned confusedly. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be attending any more balls. You hate them.”
“I don’t hate them,” Timothy protested. He didn’t need his friend knowing he was thinking of going in the hopes of dancing with someone who wasn’t his sister. “I find I like them more than I thought I did. And since I’m betrothed to your sister, I’m not burdened with the need to dance with every eligible lady present.”
“Why would you want to go if not to dance with every lady present?”
“I know you want to go,” he said. “Don’t you want to dance with Lady Fiona again?”
Jonathan looked as if he was thinking about it for a moment. “I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad. If you plan to go, then I can go as well.”
Timothy smiled only a little, not wanting Jonathan to see how eager he was to be attending. He would have gone without Jonathan, but he needed him there, if only to be a safeguard.
He wouldn’t do anything crazy with Jonathan there, would he?
He could only hope.
* * *
The mornings in the Roburg Manor were filled with the loud screams of a young child. Miss West was great with Jackson but there was no taming him when he wanted something, and that something was normally his own mother.
Matilda was always eager to step in and help whenever she could, but Jackson was as stubborn as they came. When he wanted his mother, he would deal with no one else, which meant there would be continuous screams until Elizabeth could fetch him.
Thankfully, that never lasted very long. Matilda sat at the dinner table, waiting patiently for the rest of the family to stream into the room. Her mother was already there, sitting in the chair next to the head of the table and staring at the wood before her. Little by little, the table was being filled by food for breakfast. Matilda’s father was very lenient in allowing Jackson to have their morning meal with them.
“Good morning, Mother,” Matilda greeted, not expecting a response but hoping for one all the same. It was at times like these, when they were alone together, she would wish more fervently that she was the same as Matilda remembered her to be.
“Good morning,” Lady Roburg said automatically. Her eyes didn’t lift from the wood. Matilda wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t know who she was talking to.
Still, she went on. As the food was being brought out and Matilda could hear Elizabeth and Jackson coming toward the dining room, she said, “I hope you had a good rest.”
“As should you.”
And that was that. Lord Roburg walked into the room, all smiles, followed by Elizabeth and a very smartly-dressed Jackson walking hand in hand with her. As soon as they entered, Miss West scooped him into her arms and carried him over to a chair they had made specifically for him so he could eat in the room. Not at the table, though, but a little further away where his governess could feed him in peace.
“Good morning, Matilda. Good morning, Mother.” Elizabeth leaned over to peck her mother on the cheek and the older lady stirred gently. She straightened, falling into her morning day routine.
Elizabeth took her seat next to Matilda. “Aren’t you excited? Tonight is another ball.”
“I’m excited only because you are.” As soon as her father was seated, they could commence their meal. “I think you’ll really enjoy yourself at this one.”
“More than I did the other?”
“Of course,” she said. She looked at her father. “Father, do you remember my first Season? By the second ball, everyone had basically singled out who they would like to court. I was receiving so many dance requests that I hardly had a moment’s rest.”
“It was such a productive Season, I can say that much.” His tone was laced with regret and Matilda saw Elizabeth sag a little. After all, the reason she hadn’t been able to finish the Season was because of her. “You had so many gentlemen looking to be your suitors.”
“Many of them weren’t worth my time, Father,” Matilda said, shaking her head in dismissal. “But enough about that. I was trying to say that by the second ball, everyone is more familiar with each other. It’s much more fun when you know someone a little better.”
“Oh, you’re right!” Whatever dejection she had been under before disappeared in an instant. “But I have a feeling there are a great many gentleman I want to meet. Do you think I can meet them all?”
“I think you’re willing to try and that’s really all that matters.”
Both Lord Roburg and Elizabeth laughed at that, which brought a smile out of Matilda. When she ignored her mother’s burdening silence, she could enjoy herself during breakfast.
So that was exactly what she did. She laughed and chatted through breakfast and when it was over, Matilda watched her sister leave with Jackson, intending to spend quality time with him before heading out to the Square with her friends.
Matilda didn’t have any friends and she didn’t have any other plans for the day so she wondered if that was what kept her to her seat as everything was taken away. Even her father disappeared into his study, leaving her alone with her mother once again.
Matilda didn’t say a word. She stared at the wood before her like her mother did, waiting for her to make her move. Finally, she did. Her mother rose and left the room. Matilda followed behind her.
She made her way to the closest drawing room and sat by the chair at the window. Matilda sat close to her, waiting a few moments before she decided to break the silence.
“I had an odd encounter with a gentleman at the last ball,” she started off. Before Elizabeth’s pregnancy, her mother and Matilda had been very close. They spoke about all manners of things, so close in fact that Matilda didn’t care very much that she didn’t have many friends and when the few friends she had left after the scandal had been made public, Matilda had thought she would still at least have her mother.
But as the days wore on and she drew even further into herself, as Matilda watched the light die in her eyes, she never gave up hope. She liked to take moments like this to tell her about the things in her life, or to simply chat with her like old times. Her mother never responded, but Matilda never gave up.
“Well,” she went on, “I wouldn’t say an odd encounter, per se, seeing that we never really spoke to each other. Do you remember the gentleman who ran into me at the port? He also bumped into me at the ball. He was dancing with Elizabeth and he must have tripped over his feet.” Matilda huffed a laugh at the thought. The more she thought about it, the funnier it was.
The Duke of Brentminster tripping over his feet. How droll.
“I wonder if he’s always that clumsy.”’
Her mother hardly moved. She barely blinked. Matilda went on. “But,” she said, waving off her previous words, “what I’m trying to say is that, at the ball, he kept staring at me. I almost thought he was going to ask me to dance, but he didn’t. He didn’t even approach me. I didn’t get the feeling he was condemning me like everyone else was. He seemed genuine … and intrigued. Perhaps I’m mere
ly being desperate.”
She chuckled to herself, but there wasn’t much mirth to it. “I think I’m getting way in over my head. It’s been so long since I’ve received any positive attention from a gentleman that I’m reading into it too deeply. He was probably just curious about me after hearing the rumors. What do you think?”
She always ended her chatter with a question, always holding out hope that her mother would answer, or at least give some indication that she was listening. But her response to Matilda was just the same. “That’s nice, dear.”
Matilda sighed. Though she was used to it, somehow it hit harder than usual. “It’s always great talking to you, Mother.”
The Scandalous Secret 0f The Tempting Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 4