Timeless Regency Collection: A Midwinter Ball

by Heidi Ashworth

  “Not well begun then,” Lord Benton said. “But no matter. You’ve months in which to improve upon a friendship, and as you are both my guests, I expect that will be accomplished shortly.”

  Months? We are both his guests? Ella wondered why Mr. Darling did not reside at his own residence. She told herself it did not matter because she would soon be gone. “I was just explaining to Mr. Darling that I am certain the purchases made on my behalf can be returned,” Ella said. “I had believed—falsely—that my father was behind this expedition and it was his money I was spending. Your generosity is overwhelming, but it would not be right to have you pay for my gowns or other articles of clothing.”

  “A woman who is honest and does not wish to spend a man’s every last cent.” Lord Benton’s smiled deepened. “No wonder my brother was smitten with you, Lady Ella.”

  She supposed he was plying her with compliments purposely and told herself she must resist both his charms and generosity. “I was not old enough for him to be smitten with me,” she reminded them. “Unfortunately, we had very little interaction together before his passing.”

  “That is unfortunate,” Lord Benton agreed. He swept his hand in an arc before the chairs and sofa. “Why do we not sit and enjoy the refreshment I see has already been brought?”

  A few minutes ago, Ella had been ready to leave but now found herself drawn once again into the center of the room, this time seated across from Lord Benton and once more beside Mr. Darling.

  “There you are, Darling.” A woman swept into the room, her pale yellow gown a pretty contrast to the chestnut curls topping her head. She was tugging off gloves as she came, and instead of walking up to Lord Benton as Eleanora had supposed she would, she went straight to Mr. Darling and gave him a hug.

  “It is good to see you,” she said when at last they had pulled back and she studied him at arm’s length. “You look rather tired, though. Have you been keeping late hours at Whites?”

  “That is a poor jest, sister.” Mr. Darling’s expression returned to its near customary scowl. “You know I should rather be caught dead than to make a fool of myself there.” He gave a short, harsh laugh. “Of course, there is a very good chance that if I did frequent Whites, I would be dead quite soon. Perhaps I shall consider such a course.”

  “Enough of that,” Lady Benton said abruptly, a tone of reprimand in her voice. Ella noted with fascination that her scowl almost perfectly matched her brother’s.

  “Crayton has been blackballed from White’s anyhow,” Lord Benton said. “Had something to do with the Duke of Salisbury’s recently discovered granddaughter, I believe. The duke may be old, but he’s not to be trifled with.”

  “Lady Ella, may I introduce you to my sister Ann?” Mr. Darling said, rather cleverly changing the topic of conversation, Ella noted. “Ann at times feels that her position as Lord Benton’s wife elevates her to knowing what is best for me,” Mr. Darling added.

  “I do know what is best for you.” A smile replaced Lady Benton’s frown as she turned to Ella. “It is so lovely to finally meet you. Ever since we discovered Henry’s letter, we have been all agog wondering about you.”

  “Oh?” Ella said, her discomfort growing. “I am certain Mr. Darling can tell you there is not so much to wonder about at all. I am a simple country girl and happy to stay that way. In fact, before your arrival we were discussing my wish to return home.”

  “But you’ve only just arrived,” Lady Benton exclaimed.

  “You cannot leave us yet,” Lord Benton agreed. “You might be a bit of a green girl to the ways of London, but Ann shall see you through.”

  “Please,” Lady Benton implored, seating herself in the chair closest to Ella’s end of the sofa. “You must agree to stay for a short while at least. You’ve no idea how thrilled I’ve been at the prospect of another woman in the house. It will be so much better than enduring life with these two.” She rolled her eyes at her husband and brother.

  Mr. Darling really does reside here?

  “So much for your warm greeting,” Mr. Darling said good-naturedly, while Lord Benton appeared to ignore his wife’s comment altogether.

  “I saw Stoutheart out back by the carriage house. Decided to bring him to London, did you?” Lord Benton took up a plate of biscuits as he waited for Mr. Darling to answer.

  “I went back for him, yes. I only just returned today.” Mr. Darling glanced in Ella’s direction, as if to see if she was listening. She was, though also trying to answer Lady Benton’s questions about the gown she was to wear to tomorrow evening’s ball.

  Ella faced Lady Benton and attempted polite small talk, while keeping her ear attuned to the men’s discussion of horses—in particular, one called Stoutheart.

  “I think you ought to reconsider entering him in the races,” Lord Benton was saying. “I’ve never seen a faster horse.”

  “Nor one more dependable,” Mr. Darling said. “I won’t risk injuring him. I’d prefer not to spend another three years training a different horse to neck rein. Not to mention what I paid for Stoutheart.”

  Ella’s interest was greatly piqued. She was unfamiliar with the term he’d used but interested in all things having to do with training horses. While Lady Benton expounded upon the possible hairpieces that might match her gown, Ella reached for her teacup on the table, as a pretense for leaning closer to better hear Mr. Darling.

  “Well, with any luck, you’ll have a Stoutheart the second to train next year,” Lord Benton said.

  “And were any of your new hats made with horsehair?” Lady Benton asked, flashing Ella a knowing smile over the rim of her teacup.

  “Pardon?” Ella asked, wondering when the discussion had changed to bonnets.

  “I take it you enjoy horses, or riding,” Lady Benton said, the twinkle in her eye matching her grin. She’d spoken loud enough that the men ceased their conversation and once more engaged with the women.

  “Both,” Ella said, returning Lady Benton’s smile, while feeling grateful to her for providing an entry into the men’s topic. “At home, I ride for two hours every morning. And I often ride in the afternoons and evenings as well.”

  “Mr. Darling must take you out while you are here then,” Lady Benton said, with a pointed look at her brother. “There is no finer rider than he in all of London.”

  “I would like that very much,” Ella said, then shifted her gaze to her teacup when Mr. Darling did not say that he would enjoy that too. He had probably already endured more of her company than he wished.

  “Where do you go riding in London?” she asked, attempting to mask her discomfort.

  “Hyde Park, of course,” Lady Benton said, sounding somewhat surprised. “Have you not been there?”

  “I have not seen much of London at all,” Ella confessed. “Excepting Bond Street—which I have seen enough of.”

  “Lady Ella, you have only to utter such sentiment once at the upcoming ball, and you shall be a favorite among many there—or the men at least,” Lord Benton predicted. “Is it not every man’s dream to have a wife who does not live to bankrupt him with her clothing purchases?”

  “Surely I have done significant damage already,” Ella said, “with the garments ordered since I arrived. To have someone other than my father pay for them seems unjust at best.”

  “It is perfectly just,” Lady Benton said. “Did Mr. Darling not explain to you the money discovered with Henry’s letter?”

  Ella shook her head.

  “A £400 was sealed in the envelope with the letter, which I discovered inside an obscure volume in our library. A book about fishing, oddly.” Lord Benton shrugged. “I’d never noticed it until a few weeks ago, when it nearly fell from the shelf. Maids must have moved it when dusting. Inside were your letter, the money, and instructions to me—which I have followed in bringing you here.”

  “So, you see, it is your money,” Lady Benton said. “Henry was wise enough to leave it discreetly, so as not to complicate matters.”


  “He used to talk of you quite frequently, you know,” Lord Benton said. “At the time of his death, he was anticipating eagerly the day you would come of age to marry. I daresay you would have had a child or two at least by now.”

  Beyond a blush, Ella felt her face catch fire.

  “What are you thinking of, talking to her of such things?” Lady Benton scolded her husband.

  “Makes me look better at least,”—Mr. Darling coughed into his hand—“considering I spoke to her of undergarments the day we traveled.”

  “You’re both hopeless,” Lady Benton scolded. “You see why you must remain here with me, Lady Ella?”

  Ella nodded. It seemed equally hopeless that the conversation would return to horses and the possibility of accompanying Mr. Darling to Hyde Park, but she found herself enjoying their company just the same. The afternoon waned to evening as they visited until it was time to change for dinner. She did, going upstairs after promising that she would remain in London.

  Until the week’s end at least. She would attend the Duke of Salisbury’s ball, and then she would return home and perhaps ready herself for another trip. This one to join her father.

  Chapter Six

  “Was that not the second dance for which Lord Dersingham requested your hand?” Lady Benton asked, as Ella rejoined her after a most enjoyable cotillion.

  “It was.” Ella watched her partner walk away and realized several pairs of eyes were still directed at her, as they had been during their dance. She clasped her hands in front of her to keep from self-consciously smoothing the skirt of her pale pink gown or fussing with the beading in her hair.

  “He has already been predicted to be the catch of the Season,” Lady Benton whispered behind her fan. “Newly titled, deliciously rich, dashingly handsome . . .”

  “He knows a fair amount about horses as well,” Ella said, adding her own thoughts of approval. No matter what they said, she was not here in search of a husband.

  But if I had been . . . Lord Dersingham would not have been a bad choice.

  “Have you set your cap for him then?” Lady Benton asked, her fan beating quicker with her excitement.

  “Heavens no,” Ella exclaimed, then found herself wanting to giggle at the absurdity of it all. “He is far from my reach, even had I wanted him.”

  Lady Benton shook her head and took Ella’s arm, pulling her closer even as her head bent low. “You are the daughter of a marquis, and Lord Dersingham is an earl. It would be a good match for you both.”

  Ella sighed and knew it was of no use to explain to Lady Benton her feelings on this subject. Titles were all well and good, and she knew society revolved around them. But simply because one had one—or one’s parents were of the peerage, as was her circumstance—did not necessarily elevate him or her to a certain status. Ella knew she could never be content to live in the city, hanging on her husband’s arm at dinner parties and leading a life of social calls and teas. A marquis’s daughter or not, she felt more comfortable on a horse or walking a lone country path, a fishing rod slung over her shoulder—something she very much doubted that any gentleman in this room would approve of.

  “I am not as polished as Lord Dersingham,” Ella said in an attempt to explain.

  “Never mind him then,” Lady Benton whispered. “Your next partner approaches.”

  Ella turned from her as a gentleman stopped before them.

  “Good evening, ladies. Lady Benton.” He bowed. “I do not believe I have the pleasure of knowing your companion.” Dark eyes full of interest and speculation focused on Ella.

  “Mr. Woodward, may I present to you Lady Eleanora Whitticomb. She is a guest of ours this month and will be returning with us for the Season as well.”

  Ella smiled at him while inside she writhed. Lady Benton’s introduction had no doubt alerted Mr. Woodward that Ella was on the marriage mart. How I detest this game. No wonder Papa never wants to come to London. She determined to be kind to Mr. Woodward, without giving him false hope of her interest.

  “A pleasure.” He bowed once more. “Whitticomb?” His overly large brows drew together. “By chance, was your father a member of the House of Lords?”

  “He was,” Ella said, careful not to let her smile falter.

  “But he abdicated his position, did he not?” Mr. Woodward asked.

  Ella nodded. She had been through this same discussion twice already this week, with visitors who had come to call. “After my mother died, Papa’s grief was such that he took a season off. During that time, he traveled and found it agreed with him so much that he resigned from his seat permanently.”

  “How peculiar,” Mr. Woodward said. “How very interesting.”

  Ella did not particularly find it so but had learned many others did. Apparently, what her father had done was unheard of. It is as if he has turned his back on society, one of her visitors had commented.

  It is as if he has turned his back on a life that was both tedious and boring, Ella thought, though dared not voice that opinion.

  “They are forming for another set,” Lady Benton said, as if Ella and Mr. Woodward could not see the same for themselves.

  “Would you care to dance, Lady Eleanora?” he asked quickly.

  Falling too easily for Lady Benton’s scheme. “I should be delighted,” Ella said, eager indeed for another of the formation dances that kept her far from her partner and left little time or room for conversation. She accepted Mr. Woodward’s arm.

  “I must tell you that I admire your father’s gumption,” Mr. Woodward said as they made their way to the center of the ballroom. “I daresay there are many men sitting in parliament who would like to do as he has but haven’t the courage.”

  “On his behalf, I thank you for your kind words,” Ella said, her initial opinion of Mr. Woodward altering somewhat.

  “I find myself wondering if you take after your father,” Mr. Woodward said. “Doing as you please without overly caring what your peers think of you?”

  “I hope to,” Ella answered. “In truth, I have little thought of my peers as I am not often among them. This trip to London is my first in many years.”

  “Then come with me for a stroll on the balcony after this dance,” Mr. Woodward invited. “It is far more pleasant in the cool night air than in this stuffy room.”

  “All right,” Ella said, though Lady Benton’s earlier caution about going outside with any gentleman rang through her mind.

  The dance passed pleasantly enough with their continued light conversation and the enticement of what she was about to do. When the last steps were taken and the orchestra ceased, she once again took Mr. Woodward’s arm and allowed him to lead her outside through one of the sets of double doors off the east side of the ballroom.

  The balcony was not as deserted as she would have supposed, and Ella felt a little of the tension leave her as they strolled amid other couples. They reached the edge of the balcony overlooking the gardens, and she released her hold on Mr. Woodward and stepped to the side, placing her hands on the low stone wall and putting a bit more distance between them, though the night was chill.

  “Did your chaperone warn you not to come outside with anyone?” he asked, looking down at her with a mischievous smile.

  “Yes,” Ella answered honestly. “But I am my father’s daughter.” She attempted a careless laugh.

  “Beware of that then,” Mr. Woodward said, sounding quite serious of a sudden. “Rumor has already circulated that you are here as a guest of Lord Benton and are in search of a husband.”

  “Are not many young ladies here in search of one?” Ella asked, feeling humiliated and wishing that the night was over and she might leave.

  “Of course. That is the game of the Season each year, is it not?” Mr. Woodward said. “But most young ladies have parents to look out for them. You do not, and while Lord and Lady Benton are well respected, it is not the same as having a father and mother with you, to whom any suitor would be accountable. Furthermore, ther
e is the mystery surrounding your father’s position. I tell you all this, Lady Eleanora, because I find myself—like many others in attendance this night—rather taken with you. And I should hate to see any take unfair advantage.”

  “As you have in leading me out on this balcony?” She ignored his comment about being taken with her, believing it to be untrue.

  “Perhaps.” Mr. Woodward’s grin broadened. “Though I daresay that Lord Dersingham has done the same, asking you to dance twice in succession.”

  “We had a bit of refreshment in between,” Ella said in her defense.

  “Ah, but the point is that you remained in his company for nearly an hour.”

  “You seem to know quite a bit about the goings-on at tonight’s ball,” Ella said, feeling that she ought to be suspicious of Mr. Woodward but instead appreciating him for his candor.

  “As you should learn to be as well,” Mr. Woodward advised. “It is the only way one survives the ton. For example, I am quite aware that another gentleman has been watching you this entire night. He followed us outside and is even now spying on us from a bush behind you.”

  Ella started to turn her head, but Mr. Woodward’s hand over hers on the wall stopped her. “Better not to let him know you are aware. I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

  “Will you now?” Ella drawled. “And what reason have I to trust you?”

  “This one.” He moved away from her. “It is time to return inside before you are missed. Do not take my arm. Go through the far door—alone—and I will take the opposite. Good evening, Lady Eleanora. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope to enjoy your company again soon.”

  With that, he was gone, leaving Ella with somewhat confused feelings regarding him. She followed him inside a moment later, only just resisting the urge to look behind her and see if she was, indeed, being followed. She found Lady Benton almost frantic.