Without a word, he handed her his handkerchief and with it she mopped the tears that continued to flood her face. “I am pleased I could lighten your mood, Miss Burrowes.”
She hiccoughed and sniggered, then slowly the tide turned and she sobered. “I do beg your pardon, my lord, for that display. But what you said…” she sputtered off again, then composed herself. “I am afraid I could not help myself.” Lifting the sodden handkerchief, she waved it at him. “I will have this laundered and returned to you on the morrow.”
“Why not return it to me in person?” Nathan didn’t know where that question had come from. He’d had no intention of suggesting they meet again. Except that now that he thought about it, he did wish to see her. “Allow me to take you for a carriage ride tomorrow afternoon.”
That seemed to stun her, for she sat for several moments, pulling at the soaked handkerchief so hard he feared it would tear. “I am sorry, Lord Ainsley, but I cannot. My parents are in negotiations with Mr. Burke. I doubt they would approve such an outing.” She rose and sighed. “Please escort me to my mother, my lord. I am certain she wonders where I am.”
“Of course, Miss Burrowes.” He offered his arm, almost fearing she wouldn’t take it.
After hesitating, she finally rested her hand lightly on it and they made their way back inside Lady Hamilton’s townhouse. The heat was suffocating after the cool outdoors and seemed to get worse as they silently wound their way toward the ballroom amidst the din of a ball in full swing. Miss Burrowes seemed to shrink toward him, now gripping his arm as though it were a lifeline. Did she fear crowds so much? She’d said she’d not been in company much these ten years, though he still wasn’t certain why. When they arrived at the ballroom, awash in light, the dancers swirling around the floor like huge, colorful flowers, he paused, unsure for whom he was looking. “Where is your mother, Miss Burrowes? I cannot recall—”
“There.” She indicated a plump woman with a determined face in a gown of green silk all the way across the room.
“Fortunately, Mr. Burke seems to have dawdled in procuring your lemonade.” Nathan started toward the woman, then glanced down at his charge.
Head down, shrinking against him as though to hide herself, Miss Burrowes trembled as she followed him blindly. Was she truly so terrified of being out in company? He did not remember her so. Had isolation in the country brought about such a change? Perhaps he could help remedy that. Carefully they wound their way around the dance floor, until they reached Mrs. Burrowes, who gazed at him in utter shock.
“Lord Ainsley.” After a stunned moment, she curtsied, never taking her gaze from him.
“Mrs. Burrowes. I am honored to meet you again.” Nathan bowed and relinquished Miss Burrowes to her mother.
“How nice to see you, my lord, after all these years.” The lady shifted her gaze from him to her daughter. “Amelia? What has happened? Mr. Burke said you were overcome and would be here directly, but when you did not appear, he went in search of you. I feared you…” She glanced again at Nathan. “I feared you had become indisposed.”
“My fault entirely, Mrs. Burrowes.” Nathan spoke up before Miss Burrowes could put forth any excuse. He wanted his version of the events to be the one she heard first. “I came upon your daughter and Mr. Burke unawares. The shock of both being surprised and of seeing me after so many years caused Miss Burrowes to become lightheaded. I suggested Mr. Burke procure her some refreshment and we would meet him here. Unfortunately, your daughter took several more minutes than expected to be restored. But here she is now, and much improved, I believe.”
“Are you quite all right, my dear?” Mrs. Burrowes peered at her daughter, who nodded.
“I am fine, Mamma.” Miss Burrowes shot him a look, not quite gratitude, but not anger either. “Seeing Lord Ainsley after so many years did give me a bit of a start. But we have been reacquainting ourselves.”
“Thank you, my lord, for looking after her.” The woman’s tone was doubtful, but sincere.
“My pleasure entirely, ma’am. I only hope my appearance didn’t cause Miss Burrowes any undue distress.” He raised his eyebrows at the lady in question, who had the grace to blush.
“No, of course it didn’t, my lord.” Mrs. Burrowes looked sharply at her daughter, then back to him with a perturbed countenance.
And now for the coup de grace. “I think Miss Burrowes told me that she is unused to crowded dance floors and ballrooms. So I have suggested she take a ride with me in my curricle early tomorrow afternoon, before the fashionable hour. I am certain the air will do her good. And then she will not need to worry about too many people being about.”
A furious frown appeared on the lady in question’s face, while her mother’s countenance became thoughtful.
“I do not think it a good idea, Mamma.” With a firm step, Miss Burrowes left his side and flounced over to her mother. “I told Lord Ainsley that earlier when he suggested the outing.”
“I see nothing wrong with a carriage ride with the viscount, Amelia.” The calculating look in the lady’s eyes told Nathan the woman understood well the advantages of her daughter having a titled suitor over an untitled one.
“But Mr. Burke—”
“Mr. Burke must understand that you are not betrothed to him yet, and therefore may accept any invitation your father and I deem appropriate.” Mrs. Burrowes beamed at him. “Lord Ainsley’s suggestion is quite unobjectionable and will likely result in your continued good health as well. I insist that you accept, my dear.”
Opening her mouth, likely to object once more to the invitation, Miss Burrowes caught her mother’s pointed glare and closed it again. She struggled to turn her lips up in a smile as she said, “Thank you, Lord Ainsley. I would be delighted to ride with you tomorrow.”
“Splendid.” Nathan bit back a chuckle as the lady almost gnashed her teeth in frustration. That mattered little to him. Almost from the moment he’d recognized her, he’d wanted to renew his acquaintance with Miss Burrowes. If he’d thought she wouldn’t flee the premises, he’d have asked for the supper dance, although Burke had likely taken that already. Never mind. Tomorrow was his. “I shall look forward to seeing you again most eagerly, Miss Burrowes. We have so much to talk about.”
The lady looked daggers at him. Excellent.
“Until then, ladies.” He bowed just as Mr. Burke appeared at the entryway behind them, a glass of lemonade in his hand and a scowl on his lips as he glanced about the room.
With a smile, Nathan turned and left. Timing was, as always, everything in a courtship.
CHAPTER THREE
“What have you done, Mamma?” Dismayed, Amelia glared at the broad back and wide shoulders of Lord Ainsley as he disappeared into the crowd. “I thought you wished me to marry Mr. Burke.”
“I wish you to marry as well as possible, my dear.” Her mother, too, watched Lord Ainsley’s progress, a new light in her eyes. “Why settle for plain Mrs. Burke when you could perhaps be Lady Ainsley?”
“I assure you that will not happen. He doesn’t…” Amelia hated to speak the words. “He doesn’t know about me, Mamma. About the scandal. He was out of the country when it happened and only knew that I was betrothed. Not until just now did he learn that Carrington died. He’s thought me married all these years.”
“So much the better.” The delighted tone of voice assured Amelia that her mother would not set aside the notion of a proposal by Lord Ainsley any time soon. “If I read the signs right, I daresay he will be calling on Papa to ask permission for a formal courtship.”
“He must discover the truth, Mamma. He has only to mention my name to anyone and the whole sordid mess will rear its head again. Do you want that?” It was the last thing Amelia wanted. Lord Ainsley seemed to remember her with fondness. She would like that to continue, but feared the next time she saw him, he would look at her with distain, believing her to be a ruined woman.
“Of course not.” Mamma sniffed, but also smiled. “However, if his l
ordship is taken with you, he might choose to ignore or disregard the scandal. I seem to remember you were quite fond of him your first Season.” She suddenly peered closely at Amelia. “And he of you. That spark may well be nigh onto kindling once again.”
The one thing Amelia hoped did not happen. She could not bear for Lord Ainsley, whom she’d developed a tendre for those many years ago, to think ill of her now. Better to leave the past in the past where it could remain golden in her memory, rather than tarnish it with the scandal that had plagued her for years. Her safest course, though certainly not the one she wanted, would be to marry Mr. Burke and settle for respectability while she still could. Put all thoughts of Lord Ainsley firmly away. Of course, having become reacquainted with him would make that a more difficult task. A more handsome and intelligent gentleman she had never met, with a wit that had drawn her to him long ago. If only he had not gone away…
“Miss Burrowes, at last.” Mr. Burke had finally come upon them, his frowning face dark as a rain cloud. He handed her a glass of lemonade. “I was beginning to fear Lord Ainsley had absconded with you for some nefarious purpose.”
Amelia had to bite her lip to keep from giving him a sharp retort. The pot calling the kettle black, indeed. “No, Lord Ainsley was a perfect gentleman. He took me outside for a breath of fresh air, which did restore me remarkably well. We may have lingered a moment or two as I particularly enjoyed the cool air after the heat inside.” She gave him a pointed look and was mollified when he dropped his gaze from hers. “Then he returned me to Mamma as promised.”
“Well, I am glad to hear he behaved himself.” Mr. Burke’s bluster returned as he spoke to Mamma. “I would not wish for my future wife to be put upon by a rogue with a title.”
“Prospective future wife, Mr. Burke.” Her mother rapped his arm sharply with her folded fan. “There have been no settlements signed as of yet, if you recall. My daughter is still free to accept the suit of any man who presents himself as suitor.”
“Mrs. Burrowes, you cannot mean that!” Burke’s voice rose above the din of the ballroom and a hush fell over the area where they stood. All eyes turned toward them, curious and suspicious.
Hoping no one would register who she was, Amelia fled toward the ladies’ retiring room, her violet slippers drumming a tattoo on the hardwood floors in her haste. Along the way she thrust the untasted glass of lemonade into the hands of a startled footman, scarcely caring if it slopped onto her dress or not. If only she could spend the balance of the evening hiding there, perhaps this ill-omened re-entry to society would not be deemed a total disaster.
* * * *
“May I ask you something, Haversham?” Nathan had just finished a fine afternoon’s work deviling his best friend, the Earl of Haversham, by arranging for him to court his sister Kate, who was in her third Season and with no prospects for a husband. He had the sneaking suspicion that the animosity the two held for one another masked kindred spirits who would ignite a blazing passion if given the right circumstances.
“By God, I think you’ve asked enough of me for one day.” The earl eased back into his chair, sipping on this third whiskey.
“This has nothing to do with Kate, so smooth your feathers.” He set his own glass on the table. “It has to do with a lady I met last night.” After he’d escorted his sister home last evening, he’d not been able to get the thought of Miss Burrowes out of his head. The hints she’d given him spoke to something having happened to her, though he couldn’t for the life of him conclude what it might be. Perhaps his friend might be able to shed some light on the situation.
“Ah, the truth comes out. You wish me to be leg-shackled to your sister in order to keep you company.” Haversham grinned, likely enjoying turning the tables on him.
“I have no idea of marrying the woman.” Then why had he thought about her since last night like a moon-struck calf? “I met her briefly last evening, although we met initially over ten years ago, just before I took my Grand Tour.”
“She’s a widow?”
“No, although she was once betrothed it seems. A Miss Amelia Burrowes.”
Haversham sat bolt upright, spewing whisky over himself and Nathan’s best Italian leather chair. “Miss Burrowes?”
“What the devil’s the matter with you?” Grabbing his handkerchief from his pocket, Nathan attempted to save his favorite seat.
Haversham mopped his face and clothing with his own linen. “You did say Miss Burrowes, didn’t you?”
“I did. You say her name as though the lady was an ogre of some sort. I can assure you she is not.”
“Ogre no. Outcast, yes.” The earl tossed the sopping handkerchief onto the table and set his glass next to it. “I am amazed she’s back in Society, even after all this time.”
“We cannot be talking about the same lady.” Nathan finished scrubbing the leather cushion and stood. “This is Miss Amelia Burrowes. A sweet but rather spirited lady even when I first met her.”
“I was acquainted with her when she first came out. You had made such startling remarks about her beauty I wanted to see her for myself and scraped an introduction.” He peered down at his cravat, baptized with dark stains. “Gads, Ainsley. I shall have to hurry home and change my linen before heading to the club. I’m not fit to be seen.”
“Tidy yourself later. What about Miss Burrowes?”
“Well, you were, of course, right about her beauty. So it’s no surprise that not long after you left that she was snapped up by Lord Carrington.” Settling back in the chair once more, Haversham took up his drink again. “The most fashionable couple of the Season. They seemed very happy together…and very affectionate. Until Carrington suddenly fell gravely ill.”
“Deucedly bad luck.” Nathan couldn’t help but think how Miss Burrowes must have been mad with worry. He remembered her as being very tenderhearted.
“In more ways than one.” A pinched expression came over Haversham’s face. “Lord Carrington lingered for some weeks so that eventually Miss Burrowes and her family requested that the marriage go forward despite the gentleman’s infirmity. To insure, they said, that the lady would be provided for. And had they married she would, even now, be the wealthy widow of an earl. But Carrington died before the nuptials could be arranged, and so she remained Miss Burrowes.”
An unexceptional story, so far. Certainly not one that would produce a scandal of the magnitude to cause Miss Burrowes to become a pariah in Society. He wished very badly that he’d known of her unmarried state when he’d returned from his tour. A renewal of their acquaintance then might have led to a continuance of their courtship. Frowning, Nathan poured another tot of spirits into his glass. “I do not see the point, Haversham. She was betrothed and the man died. If she was not suspected of poisoning him, I do not see how scandal came into it.”
Swirling his libation slowly, Haversham kept his gaze on his glass. “That came afterward, Ainsley. Miss Burrowes seemed prostrate with grief at Carrington’s death. She and her family retired to their estate in Dorset where she fell ill herself for a time.”
“I still see no hint of scandal here, Haversham. A woman’s grief is no reason for her to be disgraced.” Was this a storm in a cream pot after all?
Casting a look of disbelief at Nathan, his friend sat forward in his chair. “Perhaps none of your family or friends has become betrothed in the last ten or so years?”
Nathan shook his head. What was Haversham getting at?
“Are you not aware then that from almost the moment couples agree to marry they feel it is permitted to anticipate the wedding night?”
“Well, yes, of course I know that.” Then with dawning realization… “So the ton believed that Miss Burrowes and Lord Carrington…?”
“Exactly. It would explain her family’s frantic desire to have them marry before he died. And her illness afterwards.”
“Her illness?”
Haversham paused. “The on-dit at the time put it about that she had either born or lost a
child.”
“Good God.” As though a rug had been pulled from beneath his feet, Nathan’s world shifted. The Miss Burrowes he had known would never have done such a thing.
His traitorous memory, however, suggested otherwise.
He was back under the cherry tree, in Lady Hamilton’s garden, moonlight streaming around him and the lady with a thousand stars shining down on them. They had danced a spirited reel and afterward he’d suggested some fresh air on the veranda would revive them both. She’d agreed, although they both understood it could be dangerous to her reputation.
They had been introduced at Lady Somerville’s ball the week before where Nathan had been immediately struck by Miss Burrowes’s grace and beauty. Her witty conversation had been an unexpected boon when he had asked for and been granted the privilege of the supper dance. Every night for that week he had partnered her, at every chance had taken her for a carriage ride or called upon her. In that very short week he’d come to have very affectionate feelings for the lady, and at Lady Hamilton’s he’d suddenly craved more.
The soft breeze had made her ballgown billow out over the new grass as they stood behind the trunk of the largest cherry tree, hopefully hidden from sight. He’d gently stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, the smooth skin inciting a riot of desire throughout him. She’d tipped her head back, her eyelids half closed, her lips poised in a perfect bow. Passion had raged in him as he sank his mouth onto hers, her lips warm and welcoming as he pressed himself to her and sought to deepen the kiss. To his surprise, she opened like the petals of a flower, and he had plunged in, delirious with the taste and feel of her.
When at last he had broken the kiss, they stood together in the glorious night air, a whole new world within his grasp. “I will speak to your father,” he had told her, and she had smiled and taken his arm as they returned to the house.
“Ainsley? Ainsley.”
Haversham’s insistent voice brought him up short out of his reverie.
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