As she stood across from him at the center of the dance floor, she tried to remember all the steps to the scotch reel, visualizing them in her mind as the orchestra readied their instruments. When the music began, she let her body guide her, and her mood quickly improved with each jaunty step.
“You are better at this than I thought you would be,” Swinton remarked after a few moments.
August shot him a bemused look. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to be kind or rude, Mr. Swinton. Kind because you offered to dance with me despite those preconceived notions that I would be a poor dance partner—or rude because you had those preconceived notions at all.”
Swinton chuckled. “I did not think you would be a poor partner. I only did not realize you would be more skilled than me.”
“Well, I have been practicing very hard.”
They continued in silence. At one point, August thought she saw Brooks in the corner of the room, but he disappeared as soon as she could take a second look. Swinton must have seen the disappointment on her face. “Is something the matter, Lady August?”
She forced a smile. “Not at all. I only thought I saw Brooks in the corner, but then he disappeared. I must have imagined it. I should not have believed him when he said he would come.” She sighed. “You must know how he hates balls since you are his brother-in-law.”
“Yes, Brooks is quite the curmudgeon,” he replied with a wry grin. “I believe he grows worse every year I know him. He seems to have developed an attachment to you, however.”
“Me?” August asked incredulously, her face becoming warm. He smiled, looking down at her.
“Yes, you, and I can’t say I blame my brother-in-law.”
August did not respond, unable to find any genuineness in Swinton’s compliments. If Brooks was attached to her, what sort of friend was Swinton, shamelessly flirting with her while they danced? More importantly, why wasn’t Brooks here if he liked her as Swinton claimed he did?
But she must move past that. She would not spend the whole night pining over stupid Brooks. “Is this room not rather warm?” she asked Swinton when the dance finished. “Is there somewhere we can go and get some air?”
Swinton nodded, offering her his arm. She took it, walking beside him through the crowd to a pair of glass doors, which opened onto a balcony overlooking Ridlington’s gardens. August noticed other couples standing in the shadows behind him as they came to the balcony’s railing. Torches illuminated the gravel pathways, shrubbery, and flower bushes below. At the center, water in a circular stone fountain trickled softly.
They looked on in silence. August supposed it would have been romantic if she felt anything for him. She frowned, thinking about Brooks.
“I have a proposition for you,” Swinton said, his voice cutting through the hushed atmosphere. August turned, surprised. She had almost forgotten he was there.
“Oh?” she asked. The moon was in just the right spot in the cloudy sky so that the light shone directly upon his face. His cheeks dimpled when he smiled at her. To another woman, he might have been attractive. Lucy, for one, must have loved him.
“I have convinced Lady Bolton and Charles to let you and Lady Ramsbury dine with us one night next week,” he explained. “I have not even told Rosamund yet. I wanted to tell you first.”
“My!” August said caustically, turning back to the garden below. “You have changed their minds rather quickly.”
He chuckled. “I told you I have a way with my aunt, and I can be very persuasive when I want to be.” He paused a moment. “Besides, I think they might pity me. I have not been so excited about a new acquaintance in a long time.” August eyed him suspiciously. “Do you think you and your aunt would like to come?”
August sighed. “I will think about it,” she said, realizing she would need much more courage if she would be facing his bizarre advances for the rest of the evening. “Do you think you could get me more punch from the refreshment table?”
“Of course,” he replied with a gracious bow of the head. “I will be back soon.”
He turned and left the balcony, and August stood alone with the other two couples in the shadows. She smiled ruefully at them, though they didn’t notice her. She sighed again, looking out into the garden until a familiar figure in the doorway caught her eye. August spun around, facing it.
“Henry?” she asked, dread spreading in her gut. He looked the same as ever, tall and broad-shouldered, with a splattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. When he stepped closer to her, he practically stumbled, and she realized right away he was drunk. She thought back to what Brooks told her about him. Her pulse quickened.
“What are you doing here, Henry?”
“August,” he said, his lopsided grin spreading from ear to ear. He reached out for her, but she stepped away. He lost his chance with her a long time ago.
“Why have you been telling everyone at your club about us?” she asked, her voice low. “You can try your best to ruin my reputation, but you cannot blackmail me into marrying you just because I’m rich now and you suddenly want me as your wife.”
Henry straightened, regarding her with a frown. “Who told you that? Your solicitor?” He laughed slightly, and August stepped further away. Still, he followed her. “Did it shock him to learn the truth about you?
August glared at him. “What truth is that?”
A condescending grin formed on Henry’s lips. “That you are nothing more than a wanton country girl, hardly a true lady at all.”
August flinched, his words stinging her. “That may be true, but I doubt Brooks gives a damn!”
Henry clucked his tongue. “No wife of mine will curse like that. Perhaps I should punish you for it.”
He lunged for her, somehow managing to grab hold of her wrists. She struggled against his grip, but he held her so tightly that she couldn’t break free. She winced. “Henry, let go! You’re hurting me.” But he did not let go. Instead, he laughed and only drew closer.
“You and I had something special, August,” he said against her neck, his breath tickling her skin. He smelled of brandy and snuff. She tried to pull away, but he cornered her at the edge of the balcony. August glanced at the other couples in the shadows, but as soon as they noticed her precarious situation, they promptly scattered, practically running back into the ballroom. She cursed them inwardly, peeking over Henry’s shoulder at the door. She hoped Swinton would be back soon.
“I have not stopped thinking of you since the day you left,” Henry murmured, nuzzling his head against her neck. She groaned with anger.
“Please, Henry,” she said, trying to shove him away from her, but he was as solid as a brick wall, completely unmoving no matter how much force she used. “You and I both know that couldn’t be further from the truth. You only wish to marry me because I have money now!”
But he continued to nuzzle her neck, planting wet, sloppy kisses on her skin. Realizing she still had free use of her legs, she swiftly raised her knee with all her might, aiming for his groin. The kisses ceased, and he let out a loud moan, stumbling backward.
She feared his retaliation and considered running while she had the chance, but a large hand covered one of Henry’s shoulders soon after she hit him. Someone jerked him even further away from her, throwing him to the ground in the process. August closed her eyes, only hearing the struggle that was playing out in front of her.
When she was brave enough to open her eyes, she expected to see Swinton standing there, their beverages discarded at his side after he sprung into action. Instead, a fair-haired gentleman stood over Henry’s limp body. August gasped. “Brooks!” she exclaimed.
But he did not acknowledge her—not yet. Instead, he crouched beside Henry, the vicar’s face bloodied and bruised, lifting him roughly by the cravat until they were face-to-face. August thought she heard Henry whimper. She would have as well if Brooks looked at her like that.
“I should preface this by saying I do not like having the same c
onversation twice,” he told Henry. “Trust me when I say you do not want to meet me a third time. If I ever see you touch her again, I will kill you. Do you understand?” When Henry did not answer right away, Brooks violently shook him. “Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, sir,” Henry stammered.
“Good,” Brooks said, dropping Henry on the cold stone of the balcony floor. He quickly got to his feet and rushed toward the ballroom, scampering away like the rat he was. Swinton appeared then, holding two cups of punch in his hands, nearly dropping them as Henry shoved past him. He looked at Brooks.
“Was that…?”
Brooks nodded, then turned to August, who stood beside him, somewhat in a daze. She hadn’t expected him to arrive in such a fashion that night.
“Are you all right?” Brooks asked, reaching for her elbow, gently holding her steady. She stared at him, nodding. She wanted to say something, like how thankful she was for him, but nothing came out, feeling as though she couldn’t form even half a sentence at the moment.
Brooks moved to speak again, but Ridlington suddenly appeared on the balcony, a nervous expression on his face. “The three of you must come with me at once.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brooks nearly didn’t come that night. After the embarrassing incident where he drunkenly scaled August’s balcony and barged into her bedroom in the middle of the night, Brooks wasn’t sure he could face her again. Her rejection still stung, but how could he blame her? She knew what she wanted… and now it appeared she might get it.
Brooks and August sat in two matching armchairs across from Lord Ridlington’s large desk. They were far away from the ballroom in his study, where Lady Ramsbury, Lady Sarah, and Mrs. Brooks relentlessly interrogated them from behind the marquess’s desk. Ridlington and Mr. Talbot stood together in one of the room’s corners. For a private matter, the room certainly felt crowded.
Rosamund nervously hovered behind them, and where Rosamund went, the duke was never far behind. Swinton was there as well, and as much as his presence irritated Brooks, his brother-in-law certainly needed to be there. This incident was as much his fault as anyone else’s. If he hadn’t left August alone on the balcony, they wouldn’t have been in this mess.
Thus it was a good thing Mrs. Brooks poked and prodded her son until he finally dressed that evening and rented a hack to take them to Ridlington House. If Brooks hadn’t happened upon the balcony at just the right time, who is to say what could have happened to August. Brooks shuddered at the thought.
August explained who Henry was to their interrogators right away, after which Ridlington told them that the bastard bolted from the ballroom sometime after Brooks leveled him with his fists. That was just as the gossip started to travel throughout the ballroom and the rest of Ridlington House.
The other couples on the balcony that night heard August’s name and saw what happened, and they told the story to anyone who would listen, doing the newcomer no favors with their lack of discretion. Although no one could name the man who attacked August, this was not a scandal her reputation could simply recover from when the night was over. They must take some sort of action to protect her, or at least that was what her aunt, the dowager duchess, said.
“I’m sorry, Aunt,” August said, her voice frantic. “I should have told you as soon as Brooks discovered his intentions this evening.”
Lady Ramsbury cast a nasty glare in Brooks’s direction. “You knew about this?” she asked, her shrill voice causing him to wince. Brooks reluctantly nodded.
“Samuel Brooks!” his mother exclaimed with a gasp. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Ridlington stepped forward then. “Yes, why didn’t you? I could have uninvited the stupid bastard.”
Brooks’s face grew warm. He didn’t know what to say. Over the past few days, he hadn’t stopped thinking about what happened in August’s bedroom. As a result, he nearly forgot about Henry Fitzgerald’s plan. Perhaps Brooks also expected the man not to do anything after he threatened him at the club. But as it turned out, that wasn’t the case, and now August would pay for it. Brooks sighed, trying to think of some excuse for his stupidity.
“I didn’t want to embarrass August any further,” he finally said, glancing back at Ridlington. He turned to face the three women staring down at him with narrowed eyes. “I thought I could handle the situation myself.”
Lady Ramsbury made a sound of exasperation. “Clearly not!” She turned to August then, her face softening. “Why didn’t you tell me, my dear? I could have helped you.”
Brooks looked at August, seeing the tears start to form in the corner of her eyes. His chest tightened. He did not want to see her cry, especially not over that bastard Fitzgerald. He nearly reached for her hand, but after briefly glancing up, he noticed Lady Sarah watching him like a hawk, so he resisted.
“I-I’m sorry, Aunt,” August said again, this time practically sputtering the words. “I was em-embarrassed, and I-I d-did not want you to t-think any less of m-me!”
“Oh, August,” her mother said, sighing as she came around the side of the desk. Lady Sarah kneeled next to her daughter, reaching for her shoulders. She gently held them, then shot a surreptitious glance in Lady Ramsbury’s direction. “Surely you did not believe we would think any less of you.”
“Regardless of what anyone in this room thinks of Lady August, her debut has unfortunately been ruined,” Rutley said, his booming voice startling Brooks, “as will she if she does not leave this house engaged.”
August’s eyes widened, and she frantically looked from her mother to her aunt. They did not say anything, only sadly smiled. August grew panicked as she thought of being tied to Henry for the rest of her life.
“B-but I cannot marry Henry!” she said. She turned to Brooks, whose chest tightened once more upon seeing her tears. Whatever strange emotion he was feeling made him uncomfortable, and he didn’t like that. “He is awful!”
“There may be ways out of that,” Rutley said. Both August and Brooks turned to look at him. Even Rosamund stopped pacing long enough to turn and stare at her fiancé.
“What do you mean?” Rosamund asked, furrowing her brow.
Rutley glanced over his shoulder at the marquess in the corner of the room. “Ridlington said it himself earlier.” He turned back to August and Brooks. “No one knows who attacked August, but everyone saw Brooks and Swinton leave the balcony with her. People will think it’s one of them who had their way with her, not Fitzgerald.”
Brooks quickly faced forward, unable to look at Rutley any longer. There was the solution he feared the most. His shoulders tensed as Rutley continued. “If Brooks or Swinton agrees to marry her—mark my words—the ton will forget about this in a week.”
Brooks looked up, meeting his mother’s eyes immediately. How quickly they changed from concern to hope. Meanwhile, Brooks felt as though he might be sick. He didn’t dare look at August, though he felt her eyes burning a hole in the side of his face.
“I will marry her.”
Brooks tightened his jaw, his head snapping around to look at Swinton. But his brother-in-law ignored his menacing gaze, focusing his attention on August. When Brooks glanced at her, she was staring at Swinton, her mouth slightly open, probably in shock at his ridiculous proposal. Brooks turned back toward Swinton, glaring at him.
“If she will have me, of course.”
“She will not have you,” Brooks said before he could think the better of it. Everyone turned and looked at him. His shoulders grew tense underneath their collective gaze. “I will not allow it. Not after what happened to my sister when she was your wife.”
A feminine voice answered him. “Then you will have to marry me.”
Brooks froze. When he looked to his right, August was staring at him, her bright blue eyes capturing his. She did not smile when she said it. She must have known forcing him into marriage would not earn his love, and wasn’t that what she said she wanted from him?
I will not
settle for anything less than all of you. But why would August want such a thing? Surely he would only disappoint and fail her.
“I cannot marry you,” he finally said, turning away.
“Brooks!” his mother and Rosamund exclaimed at once. Let them be disappointed in him, but even Swinton was better for her than him.
But August squared her shoulders, resolutely facing forward, barely sparing the other man a second glance. “And I cannot marry Mr. Swinton, so I suppose I will have to live in ruination, forced to think about my one terrible night out in society for the rest of my life.”
Brooks glared at her. “Do not be so dramatic, August.” Her head snapped in his direction, and her nostrils flared at his insult. “You will marry Swinton, and you will—”
“Brooks. Swinton. A word outside, please.”
The duke was the one who interrupted him. Brooks and Swinton simultaneously looked at him, confused. “Out in the hall,” Rutley said, gesturing toward the door.
Reluctantly, Brooks stood up and followed him, Swinton not far behind. When they left the room, Brooks could faintly hear chatter, laughter, and music coming from the ballroom at the front of the house. He narrowed his eyes at the duke, annoyed.
“Is it wise to speak out in the open like this?” Brooks asked.
Rutley pursed his lips. “This will only take a moment. Someone needs to talk some sense into you, and I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the ladies.”
Brooks flinched at the duke’s insult but didn’t say anything. The man always did like to hear himself talk. He was sure there was nothing Rutley could say to change his mind, but Brooks decided to let him speak his piece.
“I was once afraid of matrimony,” Rutley said. Brooks blinked, willing himself not to burst out laughing.
“Here we go,” he muttered, looking down at the gold carpet beneath their feet and shaking his head.
“My fear made me do foolish things, and by the time I realized how awful I had been to the person I loved, my fiancée no longer wanted to marry me. Do you want the same thing to happen to you?”
Lady August Page 21