“Do you see anyone you know? There are certain to be friends here and I do not wish to keep you from meeting them.”
Abigail shook her head, blinking rather stupidly.
“I am quite sure I know no-one! All of London is new to me, you see -”
“That can’t be true,” Nash protested, thinking of how often he had had cause to be in town, whether or not he had been summoned there to see his aunt. “Surely you just mean that it has been some time since your last visit.”
“Oh indeed!” She nodded her head, seriously. “Quite some time. I believe I was...four years old when last I accompanied Mother and Father.” She bit her lip. “They died soon after, you see, and I was sent away to school. I have lived quietly in the countryside ever since!”
Nash was silent for a moment, seeking to find some other topic of conversation with which to engage his companion. This was the greatest number of words he had ever heard corm from her thin lips and he did not wish for them to lapse back into an awkward, uneasy silence.
“The countryside is quite charming, too,” he said. “I am fond of it myself, the walking, shooting...”
“That is why you remained so long at Northridge.”
It was not quite a question, but Nash felt a strange compulsion to reply.
“Yes. I enjoyed spending time with my friends.”
“Does Mr Gale have brothers and sisters?” Abigail asked, looking at him with what, on some other lady, might have been a canny expression.
He frowned, curious as to the origin of her question.
“You say you enjoyed spending time with friends. I merely assumed that there were more people at Northridge than Mr Gale and his mother.”
“There were at first,” Nash explained. “A group of us travelled down, but I remained even after the others had returned to their own homes.”
“Until you could stay no longer without aggravating out aunt,” Abigail suggested, with a sanguine smile. “Yes, I see that she was very effective in summoning you back.”
“I came because Edmund wished to come to London,” Nash said, shortly. “I could not very well stay in his house without him.”
“And yet, for such close friends, you have scarcely seen him since you arrived in London. Why is that, I wonder?”
Nash bristled, rather inclined to think he preferred Abigail when she was too meek to say a word. He had thought her insipid, now he wondered if she was objectionable, too.
“Nash!”
As if the fleeting mention of his name had summoned him into being, Edmund himself crossed the room, dodging expertly past groups of gathering friends, his face lit up with a broad, friendly smile. Instantly Nash felt at ease and forsook Abigail to shake his friend’s hand with all the warmth he could muster.
“Edmund! Are you well?”
“Indeed, yes! And you have come. How splendid, Mama will be pleased. And Louisa will be delighted. She has been a little out of sorts since the family’s arrival, so between us, we must work to cheer her this evening....” He trailed off, noticing, for the first time, that his old friend was not alone. He dropped in a bow, greeting Abigail politely and turning to Nash with an amiable smile to encourage an introduction.
“Miss Carter, this is my friend, Mr Edmund Gale. Ed, may I present Miss Carter, my c-”
“Fiancée,” she offered, clutching hold of Nash’s hand, almost before he realised it was free. “Yes, I know we had not yet planned to tell everyone, darling, but I do not think I can keep the secret any longer. Your aunt has already begun to introduce me as such, and it seems silly to keep it from people who are such close friends of yours - of ours.” She beamed at Edmund a little too widely Edmund’s smile dimmed considerably.
“Fiancée?” His glance shifted to Nash, as if expecting the whole to have been a joke, but Nash could find no words to either confirm or counter Abigail’s confession. He swallowed past a lump in his throat and spotted his aunt, bustling over to them with enthusiastic speed.
“You are not yet acquainted with my aunt, either, I believe. Aunt Reed, this is Edmund Gale, recall, the friend I told you about.”
“The friend who kept you so long that the rest of us feared we never would see you again!” His aunt said, with a cool nod. “Pleased to know you, Mr Gale, and I gather I am to congratulate you on your own recent engagement. Nash, do let me steal Miss Carter away a moment. There is somebody I am eager for her to meet. Come along my dear, you shall have time enough to hang on my nephew’s arm once the dancing begins!”
The two ladies hurried away and Nash felt his shoulders sag noticeably the instant they were out of sight. He would have faded away completely, were it not for the heavy hand Edmund clamped on his shoulder, forcing him to remain upright and to look at him. His features were stiff and serious, not at all like the friendly, affable young man he ordinarily was.
“We must have a conversation, Nash, before the celebrations begin. Let’s step outside a moment, while everyone is still arriving. You look pale as a ghost, and shall need some livening up if you intend to dance this evening.”
Nash allowed his friend to steer him out of doors, disappointment giving way to a strange sense of relief now that the secret was out, the truth spoken. His friend would lecture him, no doubt, for his behaviour. He had been cruel and now he was paying a penance. The engagement offer may not have been made by him in as many words, but it was as good as arranged now. If I had the chance to escape, it is lost to me now. There is nothing to do but go through with it.
The night air was cool, but not cold, for summer was well and truly upon the town, and Nash inhaled the sickly-sweet scent of jasmine as he and Edmund wound their way past crowds of newly-arrived guests, nodding and smiling to those they recognised as they passed.
“Edmund?”
Nash recognised Juliet’s voice and before he could turn away the whole Turner party greeted them, along with the older, stouter lady he recognised from the day of the lecture, and another, slighter man who must be her husband. He turned to leave, hoping to fade into the crowd, but Edmund caught hold of his sleeve, holding him fast with the tiniest glance.
“It is very kind od you to come out to greet us, Mr Gale, but I assure you quite unnecessary!” Juliet’s aunt said, beaming and blushing, nonetheless, at such a warm and welcome reception from not one but two handsome young gentlemen. “And who is your friend?”
“This is Mr Weston, Mrs Reed.”
Nash was forced to look up, his eyes locking for the first and last time on Louisa. She looked particularly pretty that evening, just as he remembered, only more vibrant, more alive than his memory gave credence to. His mouth was dry and when he opened it to greet them he could conjure not a single word of greeting. Instead, his desire to flee overcame him and he wrenched his arm free of Edmund’s clutches, dipping his head in a vague sort of bow and disappearing into the crowd without a backward glance.
“WELL! I CALL THAT QUITE rude!”
Aunt Reed had declared Nash quite rude above a handful of times and every time she did it was like a dagger to Louisa’s heart. There was no pretending, now. Nash was not playing a game with her, he had not mistaken her for a stranger or failed to see her at all. He had looked directly at her, smiled a little, at least she thought she had, just enough to cause her hopes to rise just a little all the more cruelly to be dashed when he turned and fled from her as if from a firing squad.
Louisa kept her head down, no longer eager to see the dresses worn by elegant London ladies, nor to admire the tall ceilings and shaped cornices of the building her uncle had rhapsodised over on their way here. She was not quick enough to avoid the helpless look exchanged between Juliet and Edmund, and when he offered his arm to her and not to his fiancée, Louisa’s face flamed with embarrassment. She took it, unable to think of a suitable refusal, and lifted her head as he escorted her into the room, chattering ten-to-the-dozen as if to distract her. She scarcely heard a word, though, her eyes scanning the crowd. It took her a moment
to realise she was looking for someone, and a moment longer to realise she was looking for Nash. She bit her lip and looked down, wondering just how foolish she must be to still want to see him after being so pointedly snubbed.
He was not like that before! She wanted to scream the words aloud, to explain to everyone she passed that she was not a foolish little wallflower, easily swayed by a few sweet words and handsome smiles.
Was it this, then, that hurt her more than Nash himself? She had been misled. She! Louisa Turner, the most beautiful and petted of all her sisters. She had been destined for greatness and certain that, when her time came, she would have scores of suitors and be able to marry precisely as she chose. Now it seemed she was deemed only worthy of games from a gentleman who had no intention of ever marrying her, if he even thought to see her again.
I thought he cared for me. This, then, was the shame of it all. She had believed his affections to be genuine and they had been proved false, in the most public and humiliating of ways.
Juliet will never let me forget this! Her cheeks flamed with heat. Her sister was always lecturing her for thinking too much of her appearance and what had been her constant defence? It will net me a handsome suitor and a wealthy one, so I shall pay my appearance all the attention I care to, thank you very much! How their roles had been reversed! Juliet was the one with the handsome, accomplished, wealthy suitor and she - Louisa - had been utterly abandoned.
“Louisa?”
It took a second prompting for her to realise that Edmund was speaking to her and she looked up at him, blinking rapidly as she was returned with haste to the present.
“Sorry! My thoughts - ran away with me.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat and met Edmund’s gaze, defying him to look on her with pity. He didn’t, but smiled, in that same mischievous way that spoke to her of home, and reminded her of the many enjoyable times they had had together over the years.
“I suppose I should not expect you to listen to an old, soon-to-married man like me.” He sighed, in a gesture of disappointment. “Well, I shall not monopolise you any more, for you are sure to find a better partner than I could ever be.” He stepped back from her then, exchanging a glance with a shy-looking fellow to her right, and Louisa accepted his fumbling offer to dance with her. He was not Nash, but he would do. She dazzled him with her most brilliant smile, causing him to fumble as they found their places amongst the other dancers. Louisa glanced over her shoulder to see Edmund and Juliet settle behind her, their heads bent together in a whisper that surely concerned her.
Snapping her eyes back to her partner, she tried to put all thought of them from her mind. Let them pity her if they dared to. She would show them, this evening, that she was in no need of pity. She would show Nash, too, precisely how little she cared to have lost his good opinion and affection if, indeed, she had ever had them to begin with.
Chapter Ten
Nash stood to attention by his aunt’s chair, his back ramrod straight, watching the dancers. Watching one dancer in particular. There was Louisa, dancing with Edmund this time, and both of them were smiling and laughing as if they had not a care in the world. His heart ached. How he wished he could be the one who whispered something to her that made her laugh and cover her face with one hand for fear of betraying herself. The eyes of every other gentleman in their circle was drawn to Louisa, it seemed to him, and Nash was certainly not the only observer who was taken with the pretty fair-haired young lady who moved with such grace and charm.
“Nash, I appreciate your determination to keep me company,” Mrs Reed said, not turning to look at him. “But I do not need a permanent guard. Surely you would much rather dance. Where is Abigail?”
“We have already danced several times together, Aunt. Indeed, it was she who requested we sit one dance out.” He glanced around, then, realising for the first time that Abigail was not beside them. He spotted her in a moment, perched at a table with two other young ladies whispering, a malicious smile occasionally darting onto her face.
This was the same Abigail who knew nobody in London? His lips quirked. Had that been a fabrication? Or was she, perhaps, excessively talented at befriending strangers? Either tale did not seem to match the picture of his cousin he held in his mind.
“Perhaps you would care to ask another young lady to dance, in that case,” his aunt suggested, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “It is the responsibility of any true gentleman to offer young ladies a chance to dance - listen, the musicians are stopping, so your timing is perfect. Perhaps -”
But Nash did not hear what his aunt had to say next. He was striding across the room, his gaze fixed on Louisa. This was his only opportunity, and he would seize it, now.
“Thank you, Miss Louisa!” Edmund was laughing, hiccupping through his words.
“Thank you, Mr Gale.” Louisa pulled a face at him, dropping in a curtsy. “Now go and dance with Juliet again. I can see from here she is getting agitated over there in her corner, and will doubtless cause someone offence...”
Edmund glanced around, seeing and understanding the issue in a moment. He took off like a shot, intervening on behalf of his increasingly frustrated fiancée and suggesting that she might like to work off a little of her annoyance by dancing with him.
“Miss Louisa.” Nash had slipped into the very space Edmund had vacated, dropping in a quick bow before straightening and fixing his eyes on Louisa’s.
Her eyes widened momentarily in surprise at seeing him before she drew her lips into a line.
“Mr Weston,” she said, flatly.
“I wonder if I might have the next dance.”
Louisa glanced at the musicians, a delaying tactic, Nash was sure.
“Actually, I was thinking to sit down...”
“Then perhaps you will allow me to accompany you -”
“But as you have asked so politely, I suppose it would only be right to accept.” She looked back at him again, her blue eyes flashing with something that might have been anger or pain. “Unless you prefer to dance with your fiancée?”
Nash swallowed, trying desperately to cobble together the words that would get him out of this mess, that would undo the hurt he had so evidently caused this pretty, charming young lady who had done nothing but be sweet to him.
“She is otherwise occupied. I would much rather dance with you, and perhaps it will afford me a chance to explain.”
Louisa arched an eyebrow, looking in that one gesture of disdain so like Juliet that he almost remarked upon it. Before he could say another word, though, the music had begun again and they were forced to take their place amongst the other dancers and begin.
Once dancing, Nash began to rethink the wisdom of his actions. He had longed for an opportunity to speak to Louisa, to explain things, and now that he had it, he found he had no notion of what to say. What explanation could he give that would undo this?
“How do you like London, Miss Louisa?”
Louisa winced, evidently noticing, as he did, the unfamiliar “Miss” that had dropped away so easily when they were together at Aston House.
“I wonder that you sought to be away from it so long!” she retorted, her eyes turned away from him as she spoke. “If I had a fiancée I loved and an aunt to welcome me, I am not sure I would have cared to be absent for longer than was necessary.” She did not say, nor forming attachments with other young ladies, but the accusation was there all the same.
“If I had a fiancée I loved and an aunt who did not hold me hostage, perhaps I would not have wished to escape, either.”
He had spoken these words aloud almost before he was aware of having thought them, and Louisa looked up at him in surprise and alarm, startled by his honesty.
“I oughtn’t to have said that,” he muttered, as the dance permitted them to pass one another close enough that they might speak freely without fear of being overheard.
“Because it is not true?”
Something in Louisa’s tone of voice, in her eye
s as she looked at him, was so filled with feeling and hope - two things that were so long missing from Nash’s life that he found himself answering honestly, little caring of propriety.
“Because it is not gentlemanly.” His lips quirked. “It is not kind.”
“I would suggest deception is less kind,” Louisa commented, shooting him the same kind of regal, imperious look that had first captured his heart. Life was so simple for Louisa Turner. How could she begin to understand the obligations that were placed on him?
“I did not deceive you, Louisa. At least, I did not mean to.” He paused, waiting for the dance to bring them closer again to continue his confession without their closest dancing neighbours as an audience. “I wished to escape a future laid out for me by another. I wish...” He shrugged his shoulders, summing up all of his regret in one slight motion. “I wanted to imagine life could be different, that I could marry as I chose and be happy.” He dropped his gaze. “I am sorry that you were hurt, but I never did deceive you about my affections. One’s heart is different from one’s duty, and my heart was lost to you from our first meeting.”
“I SHALL KILL HIM,” Juliet muttered. “I shall trip him up and ensure he falls flat on his obnoxiously handsome face.”
“You shall do no such thing,” Edmund said, soothingly. “And is he so very handsome?”
Juliet eyed her betrothed with irritation.
“Regardless,” Edmund continued, pretending not to notice the look. “It is right and proper he should explain himself to Louisa. Better he does it here, in a crowd -”
“With witnesses, you mean,” Juliet hissed, balling her hands into fists, one of which Edmund struggled to grasp at the next point in their dance, and he tapped it gently, a reminder to her to uncoil and allow the dance to play out.
A Summer Scandal (Seasons of Romance Book 3) Page 7