by Emma Evans
“Wait,” he hissed, his hand tightening on her wrist. “Just wait, Miss Newton.”
Frowning, she shook his hand free and sat back in her seat, never taking her gaze from his face. “Wait, Lord Guthrie? For what, might I ask?”
“For…” He did not say any more, his eyes fixed on the group on the grass. A little alarmed, Sophia saw his hands slowly curl into fists, the corners of his mouth going white with tension.
Something was clearly wrong.
“I do not think I can allow you to join this party today, Miss Newton,” he said eventually, his teeth clenched. “I do not think it wise.”
Her frown deepened. “And why is that?”
Quickly, his eyes darted back to hers and then away again. “You will just need to trust me on this, Miss Newton.”
Letting out a harsh laugh, Sophia shook her head. “Oh, no, Lord Guthrie. That will not do at all. If I am to miss a picnic—an invitation I already accepted, may I remind you—then I wish to know exactly why I am to remain in the carriage.”
His jaw clenched.
“I will require a reason, Lord Guthrie,” she said softly, “else I fully intend to step out of this carriage and go join my friends.”
Slowly, he turned towards her, his eyes growing desperate. “I cannot explain why, Miss Newton, but I beg of you to do as I ask.”
Shaking her head, Sophia let out a heavy sigh. “That is unfair of you, Lord Guthrie.”
“I will not speak of it! I will not speak of him!”
Her eyes shot to his, seeing the way his lips clamped together as though he had said too much. Finally, Sophia felt as though she were able to see a chink of light in the shroud he had wrapped around himself, her mind fixing on who this man might be.
“I have accepted the invitation to the picnic, Lord Guthrie,” she said slowly, trying her best to be reasonable. “They are expecting me. The carriage has arrived in the park and I am sure has not escaped their notice since they are sitting quite close to us. Unless you are able to tell me why I should not go to join the party, I do not feel as though I can simply agree to turning the carriage around and returning home.” She lifted one eyebrow, waiting for him to speak, but he simply shook his head mutely.
“Then I shall return to the carriage once the picnic is over,” she continued, wondering if he would grasp her wrist again to pull her back. “Do excuse me, Lord Guthrie.” She gave him another moment to speak, another moment to tell her the truth about what he was asking of her, but nothing more was said. With a heavy sigh, Sophia opened the carriage door and stepped outside, helped down to the ground by the tiger.
Then, without another glance towards Lord Guthrie, she made her way towards Lord Cartwright and the rest of the party, wondering which of the many gentlemen standing on the grass had been the one that had upset Lord Guthrie so badly. Her eyes roved around the group, but no one stood out to her, especially as she did not know them all by name.
“Miss Newton!” Lord Cartwright exclaimed, striding towards her. “How good of you to come. And you have your parasol, of course. It is just as well, for the sun is wonderfully warm this afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Lord Cartwright,” Sophia replied with a smile, her worry and anxiety already beginning to fade. “Yes, it is a beautiful day.”
Lord Cartwright beamed at her, his youthful face alive with delight. “Now, come and let me introduce you to everyone. I am sure there are a few here you do not yet know.”
“Indeed,” Sophia murmured, walking with him towards a group of ladies and gentlemen who were standing under the shade of a tree, talking.
“Ah, here we are, then. Miss Newton, this is Lord Cardan. Lord Cardan, Miss Newton. Daughter of Baron Musgrove.”
The tall, pale-faced yet remarkably handsome gentleman bowed over her hand at once, a smile on his face as he rose to greet her.
“Charmed, Miss Newton, charmed,” he replied smoothly. “How very good it is to make your acquaintance.”
“Thank you,” Sophia replied with a warm smile, and as Lord Cardan continued to engage her in conversation, all thoughts of Lord Guthrie and his anxiety disappeared completely.
Chapter Seven
Hector cleared his throat as Miss Newton took his arm, ready to make their way into the ballroom. Mrs. Drake came behind them, with Captain Drake joining them for the evening which was a little unexpected. Apparently, Captain Drake had heard talk of a card room at Lord Dalton’s ball and so had been persuaded to come.
His throat clogged with nerves as he made his way into the room, praying to goodness that Lord Cardan would not be in attendance. It had been a great torment to see him yesterday afternoon at the park and to have Miss Newton not only be in his company but to spend so much time in conversation with him had been more than a little trying.
If he had found the courage to tell her everything, then she might have been persuaded to stay in the carriage with him, but the shame of it all had kept his mouth closed. He had hated seeing her go, had wanted to run, shouting all the while, from the carriage to grasp a hold of Lord Cardan and shake him until his teeth rattled, but he had done no such thing. Instead, he had stayed within the carriage, keeping his eyes fixed on Miss Newton and growling to himself every time Lord Cardan had stopped to speak to her.
She had returned with all the delights of a summer afternoon spent in good company, apparently having forgotten her frustration with him over his lack of willingness to let her go in the first place. To hear her talk brightly of so many gentlemen and ladies, mentioning Lord Cardan by name, had been a painful experience but he had endured it nonetheless.
And now they were at a ball where Miss Newton might, in fact, be asked for a dance by Lord Cardan, were he in attendance. According to Lord Larchmont, Lord Cardan was slowly making his way back into society and, apparently, was being accepted by the ton. It just showed how the mud of gossip and slander stuck to a lady for much longer than it did a gentleman.
“Now, you are still not permitted to waltz, Miss Newton,” he said firmly. The last thing he wanted was for Lord Cardan to pull Miss Newton close, to share such an intimate dance with her when he knew what would be going through Lord Cardan’s mind. Whilst Miss Newton’s father did not hold a particularly high title, he was still substantially wealthy, and Miss Newton had a large dowry. Lord Cardan cared for only two things—wealth and his own pleasures. If Miss Newton found him as charming as Elizabeth had done, then there could be a great deal of trouble in her future.
“I will not allow it to get to that stage,” he muttered aloud, his words hidden from Miss Newton’s ears by the music of the orchestra.
“I shall attend Miss Newton, if you wish to go to the card room, Lord Guthrie,” Mrs. Drake suggested as they moved into the throng a little more. “I know Captain Drake is desperate to do so and I am sure he would be more than happy if you joined him.”
“Thank you,” he muttered, aware that Miss Newton’s hand had already left his arm as she turned to talk to a lady of her acquaintance. “I think I shall do just that.” He paused and touched Mrs. Drake’s gloved hand, swallowing the lump of worry in his throat. “Do be aware that there might be gentlemen who press her to waltz but I have not yet granted her permission. I believe such a dance should only be intended for those who show a true interest in Miss Newton and until such a time as they appear, I intend to keep her from such a dance.”
Mrs. Drake nodded, her expression a little thoughtful. “Quite so, Lord Guthrie. Very wise, if I may say so.”
Hector nodded, drawing in a deep breath. “Very good. I shall be in the card room or on the balcony if you require my presence. Miss Newton knows a great many ladies now, so I do not think she will need me to introduce her to anyone.”
He smiled at Mrs. Drake and stepped away from her and Miss Newton, following Captain Drake to the card room.
Smoke filled the room already, curling up to the ceiling as the gentlemen sat to play cards or simply converse over a cigar. Most of them were older gentlemen—fathe
rs who had daughters enjoying their Season, or rakes who cared for nothing until the hour grew a little later and they might be able to encourage a lady into the gardens for a short walk.
Hector knew he would find no enjoyment here. His mind was filled with Miss Newton, growing worried that Lord Cardan was here and that he would continue to develop his acquaintance with Miss Newton. Were he to do so, then Hector would have very little choice but to tell her everything about his past and talk openly with her about what Lord Cardan had done.
He felt impotent. As much as he wanted to beat Lord Cardan into a pile of broken bones for what he had done, Hector knew he would do nothing of the sort. He simply had to endure Lord Cardan’s presence in London for the time being, doing his best to actively avoid the gentleman wherever he could. Of course, Lord Cardan would be aware that Miss Newton was under his chaperonage by now, for even if she had not told him herself, another one of his acquaintances would have done so. Surely the man would not be foolish enough to try and develop an association with Miss Newton once he knew that she was under his chaperonage!
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Hector muttered to himself, turning around to leave the card room and Captain Drake, who was already at one of the tables. Lord Cardan had been more than willing to try and steal a married woman’s affection right under the husband’s nose and had succeeded in doing so. It was as though it brought the man a thrill to behave in such a way and so, mayhap, to try and capture Miss Newton’s affections.
He could not allow that to happen.
Stepping out onto the balcony, Hector let out a long sigh and looked down at the crowd below him. He still did not belong here, amongst the ton who loved to gossip and brag and spread rumors, amongst the young ladies who looked at him with a calculating eye as though weighing up his title and fortune against the other gentlemen of their acquaintance. How he despised it!
His eyes found Miss Newton easily, her cream gown catching his eye even amongst all the other pastel-colored gowns. Her fair hair was dressed with sparkling jewels that caught the light whenever she turned her head. He had struggled to hide his reaction to her when she had descended the stairs of Thackery’s home when he had come to collect her that evening, finding her more beautiful than he’d ever done before.
He hated that about himself. He hated that his heart was still open and soft towards Miss Newton. Despite the evident frustration she brought him, there was something about her character that drove him to think of her in a way he had not thought of another lady in a long time.
“Ever since Elizabeth,” he murmured to himself, seeing Miss Newton step out onto the floor with a gentleman he did not know, lining up for the quadrille. He could not take his eyes from her, seeing her laugh up at the gentleman as he led her out onto the floor.
He wanted those laughing eyes to be turned on him.
“Stop this, Guthrie,” he said aloud, his brows furrowing as he set his jaw, hating that he felt such a strong affection for the lady. Miss Newton was young and beautiful, a dazzling jewel amongst the ton and it was in his best interests to find her a husband who would deserve her. He was marred by his past, his heart broken and painful, filled with a bitterness that seemed to have spread into his veins. Miss Newton did not know his true self and he certainly did not want to show her. That would mean that she would become aware of his past, aware of his wife and the shame that had come over him. He had already given his heart away once and it had been thoroughly trampled, torn to shreds and never truly put back together again. Why would he risk doing such a thing again?
But you never truly knew Elizabeth. Yet you know Miss Newton.
The truth hit him right between the eyes. Elizabeth, his bride, had promised she loved him, had looked at him with adoration in her eyes—and he had believed every word spoken from those perfect lips. Only to discover, much later on, that she had been lying to him ever since the day he had asked to court her. She did not love him. She held no affection for him. She only wanted his title and his fortune, as well as choosing who she shared her affections with. When it was all over, she had pleaded with him not to send her away, telling him that most married couples found their own pleasures instead of remaining true to the vows they had spoken. She had even encouraged him to do the same as she, as though somehow that would make it better.
He had felt sick to his stomach on hearing those words from her.
When he had made his promises before God and before man on his wedding day, he had meant every word of them. Apparently, his wife had not. He had never really known her. Had never really spent time talking with her, listening to her, delving deeply into her hopes and dreams, her thoughts and her interests. Instead, he had simply lain, adoringly, at her feet and believed her when she said she loved him.
That could not be said for Miss Newton, however. They had begun a friendship that he had turned his back on. They had enjoyed more conversations than he had ever had with Elizabeth, he felt as though he knew more about her than he had ever known about Elizabeth—but still he had pushed her away. She had been concerned for him and he had not wanted her to know why. What did he think? Did he truly believe that she would turn from him if he told her everything?
If he allowed himself to acknowledge the feelings in his heart, Hector knew that he would find a deep affection there. An affection that had not been allowed to see the light of day, that had been so deeply hidden that he had thought he would not ever let himself be aware of it again. Sighing heavily, he leaned on the balcony rail and lowered his head to his arms, trying to think clearly.
The music for the first waltz began to play and Hector looked up, remembering that he had not given permission for Miss Newton to waltz. Making sure that she had left the floor with the gentleman she had previously been dancing with, Hector let out a sigh of relief on seeing her standing talking to Mrs. Drake, her eyes turning towards the dancers on the floor.
Only for a man he recognized to stride towards Miss Newton, gesturing to the dancers on the floor. His gut tightened as he watched Miss Newton color and shake her head, clearly explaining that she was not yet permitted to waltz. However, the man he knew to be Lord Cardan certainly did not accept that explanation from her, pointing to the dancers again and suggesting that they go out to dance. Mrs. Drake stepped forward to shake her head in solidarity with Miss Newton and yet, Lord Cardan did not step aside.
Anger fueled his steps as Hector hurried along the balcony and down the staircase, suddenly desperate to get to Lord Cardan and prevent him from doing what he had intended.
However, he was much too late. As he hurried down the steps, he saw Lord Cardan grasp Miss Newton’s arm and as a slight shriek came from her mouth, he clasped one hand around her waist and began to waltz across the floor.
Chapter Eight
There was nothing she could do but go with him.
Her cheeks burned as Sophia tried her best to find her footing, aware of just how tightly Lord Cardan held her. It was improper to be so close to him, of that she was aware, but yet here he was, clearly determined that he would dance with her.
She could not understand it.
“There, you see?” Lord Cardan chuckled, his dark eyes practically glowing as he relaxed his grip a little. “A wonderful dance, is it not? And certainly not one that you should miss out on.”
“That is not the point, Lord Cardan,” Sophia replied, feeling both angry and upset. “I have not been given permission.”
“And why is that?” Lord Cardan asked with the air of someone who is well aware as to why such a thing might be. “Is it because your stuffy chaperone will not let you? Is it because he wants to claim such a dance for himself?”
Sophia stiffened, suddenly finding herself intensely disliking this man. “Do you know Lord Guthrie?”
“I do,” Lord Cardan replied with a slight sniff. “A fool, if ever there was one.” He went into such a series of turns that she could not help but catch her breath, her fingers digging into his shoulder as she hel
d onto him tightly.
“I do not think him a fool,” she replied as soon as she’d gotten her breath back. “I am surprised that you would say such a thing, Lord Cardan.”
“You do not know him as I do,” he replied firmly. “There is more to that gentleman’s story than you know.”
Aware that this was certainly true, Sophia pressed her lips together and did not speak.
“You do not want to know, perhaps?” Lord Cardan continued as the music continued to play. “You see, Miss Newton, that is precisely why I insisted on waltzing with you. How else was I to get you alone?”
“That does not make sense,” Sophia replied stoutly, still feeling an intense dislike for him. “You could have come to call on me and spoken then.”
Lord Cardan chuckled. “Yes, along with the presence of your companion, Miss Newton. That is not what I am looking for, not when what I have to say is so shocking.”
A stir of interest quickened in her mind, but Sophia tried her best to push it away. At the mention of Lord Guthrie, all she could think of was just how angry he would be with her upon discovering that she had, indeed, waltzed without being given express consent. Lord Cardan she barely knew, so anything he had to say Sophia intended to completely disregard.
“Lord Guthrie is a man with many secrets,” Lord Cardan murmured as the music began to come to a close. “Have you ever wondered why he has been absent from society for so long? Why he is looked upon with such derision and rebuke by some of the ton—the ones who remember what he did?”
“Lord Guthrie’s affairs are his own, Lord Cardan,” Sophia replied, suddenly desperate to step out of his arms. “I give them none of my time or interest.”
“I suggest that you do,” he replied, bowing and releasing her from his grip. “After all, not every young lady’s chaperone is a divorced gentleman.”
Sophia stared at him, the breath gone from her chest as she saw the way Lord Cardan looked at her. There was no mirth in his eyes, no hint of a smile that told her he was just jesting. There was nothing but truth, and that truth drove itself straight into her heart.