by Bree Wolf
Taking a deep breath, Ellie smiled at Madeline as they walked through the grand foyer side by side. Not hindered by unseemly scars, her friend had chosen a more revealing dress, its shades of dark violet enhancing the glow of her raven-black hair. Next to her, Ellie felt devoid of colour. Her own pale blond curls sat atop a simple, white dress, a light blue sash tied around her slender waist.
As they entered the ballroom and the music reached her ears, Ellie smiled. Oh, how she loved the lively atmosphere of such an event! The laughing and dancing filled her heart with such a vibrant energy that she hardly knew how to contain herself. As though of their own accord, her feet started tapping to the rhythm, and she longed to dance.
Her gaze followed the smiling couples as they spun across the dance floor, and a wistful glow came to her eyes. If only she could dance again. At least one last time.
Ever since her accident, men generally treated her like an old matron, someone who watched the proceedings but did not participate. They treated her with respect, offered to fetch refreshments and enquired if she required anything, but they didn’t see the young woman she was: the young woman who longed to dance, who wanted nothing more but to forget the past for a few hours and enjoy herself.
As expected, eligible and not so eligible gentlemen crowded around Madeline as soon as they entered the ballroom. All smiles, they sought her attention and asked for the next dance. With a dazzling smile of her own, Madeline drew their interest, and yet, avoided promises she did not care to make. Ellie admired the ease with which her friend manoeuvred through the sea of admirers that met her at every event.
“Do you never tire of all the attention?” Ellie asked as they headed for the table of refreshments set under a looming arch by the French doors leading out onto the terrace.
Madeline chuckled. “Certainly, I do. Even I do not care for the regard of a man I have no interest in. I merely seek to draw out the one man who deserves my undivided attention.”
“Is that so?” Ellie smiled, pouring herself a glass of punch. “And have you made any progress?”
A hint of disappointment in her eyes, Madeline scanned the crowd. “I’m afraid not, which I find rather frustrating. It is not like my expectations are so unreasonable. However, so far it seems like there is no man in the whole of England whom I would even consider.”
“That is disheartening,” Ellie mumbled suppressing a laugh. As much as she adored her friend, Madeline had a tendency for dramatics; and as far as her expectations were concerned, they were, indeed, rather unreasonable. Not that Ellie would ever tell her that.
Her eyes still sweeping the crowd, Madeline suddenly froze. Then she spun around, grabbed Ellie by the arm and pulled her to the side.
“What is the matter?” Ellie gasped, wondering what had brought on such a strange behaviour. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, certainly,” Madeline stammered, her eyes straying to the crowd beyond Ellie’s shoulder. “I just thought…I saw…a mouse.”
Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “A mouse?”
A sheepish grin came to Madeline’s face, and she reluctantly met her friend’s eyes. “Maybe it was just my imagination.”
“Madeline, what is going on? What did you see?” Ellie tried to turn around, but Madeline once more grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Staring at her friend, Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “What could you possibly have seen that would explain this rather extreme behaviour of yours?”
Feigning surprise, Madeline released her arm. “Me? Nothing. How about we take a turn about the room?” she asked, steering Ellie farther away from the dancing couples. “This way.”
“All right.” Pretending to follow her friend, Ellie only took two steps before turning back. Before Madeline could stop her, she spun around, her eyes scanning the crowd.
As she spotted them, the blood froze in her veins.
“I’m sorry,” Madeline whispered beside her.
Ellie swallowed, unable to tear her eyes from the man she had wanted to marry as he danced with another woman. As he looked down at her, a deep smile came to his face. A smile that Ellie recognised. A long time ago, that smile had been meant for her.
A heavy lump settled in her stomach.
“Who is she?” Ellie asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.
“Abigail Turnton, Lord Smithen’s daughter.”
Ellie nodded as her eyes filled with tears. Blinking them away, she took a deep breath. “This is not a mere dance, is it?” Ellie asked. “What do you know?”
Madeline sighed before reluctantly answering Ellie’s question. “They are betrothed. He asked for her hand a fortnight ago.”
Closing her eyes, Ellie once more drew in a deep breath. As the world began to spin, Made-line’s hand closed around hers, squeezing it gently. “Come,” her friend whispered. “You don’t have to look at them.”
“Yes, I do,” Ellie stammered, knowing that there was no way for her to avoid seeing them while at the same time enjoy herself out in society. If she did so, she might as well return home and never set another foot outside again. “I have to make my peace with it. There is no other way.”
As her eyes followed the happy couple as they spun around the dance floor, Madeline’s hand remained on hers, a lifeline that would keep her sane when her mind threatened to spin out of control and her heart ached so fiercely that Ellie thought it would burst into a million pieces.
Until a familiar face drew her attention, and the breath caught in her throat.
“What?” Madeline asked, looking at her with worried eyes.
“He’s here,” Ellie gasped as her gaze swept over his tall stature as if a magnetic pull held them trapped. He stood to the side, his elder brother, the marquess, and his wife as well as his friend Oliver Cornell at his flanks. Although he looked every bit the gentleman, with his hair neatly brushed back and his attire meticulously groomed, he still seemed somehow out of place considering the exuberant gaiety of the evening. His eyes were hard, troubled even, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Whenever someone would walk up to him, he bowed his head in greeting. However, the hint of a smile that came to his features seemed forced, and it disappeared as quickly as it had come.
Despite the joy that had flooded her heart upon seeing him, Ellie was not blind to the pain so apparent in his eyes. What had happened to him? She wondered, glimpsing the thin scar running down his left temple. What nightmares had he witnessed?
“Who’s here?” Madeline asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Ellie swallowed and then nodded her head in his direction. “Lord Frederick Lancaster.”
Following her friend’s gaze, Madeline smiled. “He is a handsome man, is he not?” she mused. “Easily distracts from the more important men at his side.”
Ellie’s eyes snapped to her friend’s face and found a teasing smile curl up her lips. “Why do you tease me?”
“Because I can see that you care for him,” Madeline said, squeezing her hand. “Is that not the reason why you defended him so passionately the other day?”
Feeling a blush warm her cheeks, Ellie averted her eyes. “I do like him, yes. Or rather I did.” Seeing the curiosity in her friend’s eyes, Ellie added, “Years ago, he did me a service, and it endeared him to me.” She smiled shyly. “But that was years ago. I have no way of knowing what kind of man he is today.”
Madeline shrugged, a conspiratorial smile on her face. “In my experience, people rarely change. At our very core, we are who we are. If you liked him then, he must be a good man.”
For a moment, Ellie stared at her friend in surprise. Never would she have thought Madeline to be capable of such deep musings. And yet, her friend was one of only a handful of people who was able to see past her scars. “Yes, I believe he is.”
“Do you wish to be reacquainted with him?”
Ellie shook her head. “No,” she whispered, eyes straying to his tall form once again. “I could not compete.” A small stab pierced her heart as she watch
ed other young ladies vie for his attention, their smiles and glowing eyes untainted by ugly scars.
“If you believe in love as you say you do, then there is no competition,” Madeline objected. “Either he is your match or he is not. The scars you bear, either one of you, do not matter. Maybe because of them, you’re all the more suited for each other.”
Looking up at her friend’s glowing eyes, Ellie smiled. “You have a hidden depth, Madeline, that very few people ever get to see.”
Eyes opening in feigned shock, Madeline gasped, “I would certainly hope so! After all, I have a reputation to protect.” Laughing, she took her leave and joined the other couples on the dance floor, now and then glancing back at Ellie, letting her know that she was not forgotten.
While Madeline danced and flirted for the rest of the evening, her cheeks flushed from exertion and excitement, Ellie remained hidden in the shadows of the large room, her eyes involuntarily straying to the one man she felt certain could heal her broken heart. And yet, she did not dare speak to him. Would he even remember her?
Hushed whispers floated to her ears when the music stopped, and although Ellie did her utmost not to listen, her heart could not shut out the words she heard.
“Look at her. Even after all this time, you can still see where the fire touched her skin.”
“I know, poor thing. What do you suppose she is doing here?”
“Maybe her mother urged her out of the house for some entertainment. It cannot be beneficial to be alone all the time.”
“Are you certain? The baroness is not even here. I heard she is ailing.”
“The poor girl does not look happy, does she?”
“How could she?”
Ellie sighed and for a moment closed her eyes. When the musicians began to play a lively country tune, drowning out the next pitying remark, she felt herself relax. Watching the couples take their positions, she once more glanced across the room.
This time, a number of gentlemen crowded around Frederick, their faces eager and laughing as they chatted, occasionally turning to the returned war hero in hopes of new stories to repeat for years to come. Ellie had seen it before. Men who returned from the war were often hounded by those who had remained behind as they eagerly sought sensational anecdotes to enrich their otherwise uneventful lives. They were like blood hounds, which had caught the scent of their prey.
Ellie shivered, thinking about the insensitivity people often displayed. Could they not imagine the pain that their thoughtless remarks caused? Had nothing painful ever happened to them?
As her eyes returned to Frederick, she found the marquess by his side. Seeing the strained expression on his brother’s face, Leopold stepped forward, arm sweeping to the side, holding back the men that sought his brother’s attention, and ushered Frederick through the crowd. Oliver spoke up then, and the heads turned back to him as he drew their interest with an entertaining story. Soon, the men were laughing, allowing Frederick to escape.
Ellie smiled, relieved to find that he was not alone in his pain. Maybe one day, he would be able to smile again, the same heart-felt smile she remembered from so long ago.
Chapter Five − Loss
Standing on the terrace, Frederick drew the chilled night air into his lungs. He felt smothered by the crowd of people who refused to leave him alone, completely blind to the agony their thoughtless remarks dragged to the surface.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and wished himself far away.
“Better?” Leopold asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Frederick shook his head. “Why won’t they leave me alone?” He spun around, eyes fixed on his brother. “You might as well inform them that I have no intention of ever revealing any details with regard to any battles I have found myself in. It is not for them to know, and I swear, next time someone asks, I will not be so lenient!” Feeling steam come out of his ears, he gulped down another breath, savouring the slight tingling in his chest as the cold air touched his lungs.
“I know how you feel−”
Frederick’s brows rose into arches.
“Fine,” Leopold relented. “I don’t know how you feel. However, I am telling you that it is most unwise to snub the people you will find yourself dealing with for the rest of your life. These are your friends and neighbours, and despite their eager thoughtlessness, they do not mean any harm by asking you these questions.” Again, Leopold placed both his hands on his brother’s shoulders, his eyes intent on Frederick’s. “Please, be patient, and wait it out. They will stop. It will not be like this forever.”
Frederick snorted. “I do not know how much longer I can bear this.”
“I know. But that is what I am here for,” his brother said, an affectionate smile curling up his lips. “I will keep them away from you as best as I can.”
Frederick nodded. “Thank you, Brother.”
“Think nothing of it,” Leopold said before giving his brother an encouraging pat on the back. “I’ll go back inside.” His eyes found Frederick’s once more. “Do not stay out here for too long.” Turning back to the festivities, Leopold reached for the handle when the door swung open. He stepped back, and a smile spread over his face. “Oliver,” he said, sounding pleased. “Good! He could use some company.”
Frederick sighed when his friend came to stand beside him, taking his brother’s place. “Do you have more encouraging words to say? For I am not sure I want to hear them, much less if they would do any good. I am not really in a receptive mood right now.”
“Unfortunately, I am not the bearer of good news,” Oliver said, tension lending a slight quiver to his voice.
“What is it?” Frederick asked, feeling a wave of apprehension wash over him at the sight of his friend’s slumped shoulders and distraught face.
For a moment, Oliver hesitated, his eyes fixed on Frederick’s face as though trying to determine whether or not to share with him what he had learnt. Then he swallowed and drew in a deep breath. “Charlotte is here.”
The blood froze in his veins as Frederick stared at his friend, unable to believe his ears. “Here?” he croaked. “She is here? Right now?”
Oliver nodded. “She wants to talk to you.”
Closing his eyes, Frederick took a deep breath as the world began to spin.
“You cannot avoid her forever,” Oliver pointed out. “She has a right to know.”
“I know,” Frederick mumbled. Then he opened his eyes and looked at his friend. “How am I to face her after what I’ve done to her?”
Oliver shook his head. “She will not blame you. After all, it was not your fault, and I believe she knows that.”
“All right,” Frederick nodded. “I’ll talk to her.” From the moment, Kenneth had died, Frederick had known that one day he would have to face her.
“I’ll fetch her,” Oliver said, and Frederick watched him return inside and cross the ballroom until he was lost from sight.
Thinking about Charlotte, Frederick’s hands balled into fists, and he gritted his teeth. What was he to tell her? What would she ask of him? He shook his head, trying to clear it. Then he spun around and began pacing the length of the terrace, raking his hands through his hair.
“Frederick?” Oliver’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
Swallowing, Frederick slowly turned around.
In the light of the moon, she looked paler than he had ever seen her. A handkerchief clutched in her small hands, she lifted her chin, and her hazel eyes looked into his. A shiver went through her, but Frederick doubted it was from the cool night air.
“Charlotte,” he whispered and stepped forward.
Oliver cleared his throat. “We’ll be over there.”
Momentarily shifting his gaze to his friend, Frederick found him retreating to the other end of the terrace, Charlotte’s mother at his side.
“It is good to see you,” Charlotte said, her voice echoing of emotions held in check. Unshed tears clung to the corners of her eyes, and the hint of a smi
le she forced on her lips almost broke his heart.
“It is,” Frederick agreed, not knowing what else to say. He ought to be able to help her, ease the pain, and yet, his own held him trapped.
Stepping around him, she walked over to the banister and looked out into the night. “After it happened, I thought you would write to me,” she said, not looking at him.
Nevertheless, Frederick felt the full weight of the accusation she laid at his door.
“At first, I thought that you had been injured, too, but then…” She turned her head, her hazel eyes looking into his. “Why?” A tear rolled down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. “With no word from you, it didn’t seem real.” A sad smile crossed her face. “Do you know what I mean? A part of me felt certain that he would return, that one day he would come walking through the door.”
Frederick nodded. “A part of me still believes that.”
“I don’t anymore.” Her eyes held him captive as he witnessed the harsh truth spread over her face. “When you returned without him, I knew.” She swallowed, dabbing the handkerchief to her eyes. “Now, all hope is lost.” Eyes fixed on his, she stepped forward. “Why didn’t you come to me? When I learnt that you had returned, I felt certain you would finally call on me.” A frown drawing down her brows, she shook her head. “But you didn’t. Why didn’t you?”
Taking a deep breath, Frederick still didn’t know what to say. After all, there was no explanation, no rational excuse to make her understand. Guilt had been holding him back as well as the insane notion to hope that maybe what he knew to be true was not, after all. Delivering the news of his friend’s death to his fiancée would have confirmed the truth. And despite everything that had happened, a part of Frederick hadn’t been ready to accept the fact that his friend was truly gone.
Now, seeing the truth on her face, loss once more hit him with the full force of its tragedy.