by Alec, Joyce
“I will explain all come the morrow,” Percy replied, diving into the crowd and searching desperately for Lady Frederica. “Pray forgive me, Lord Greenford, but I must leave you now.”
He did not wait to hear his friend’s reply but, keeping his head low, weaved his way one way and then the next, needing to find Lady Frederica and telling himself that he could not leave without bidding her farewell.
Thankfully, he finally caught sight of both her and the duchess speaking quietly together near the back of the ballroom. His heart flooded with relief as he made his way nearer to her, bowing low as he did so.
“Lady Frederica.” She turned to him, smiling warmly as she did so.
“I must beg your pardon,” he continued, before she could speak. “But there is a somewhat desperate situation, and I am forced to return home.”
Her smile faded immediately, and she frowned hard, looking back at him with cool, green eyes. “Return home?” she repeated as he nodded. “Goodness, Lord Wetherby, whatever has happened?”
Hesitating, Percy shook his head. “Would that I could explain,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “But if I am to protect myself, then I must take my leave. Please forgive me for missing our second dance together, Lady Frederica. It is not what I would wish, but in the circumstances, I—”
A sudden pain slammed hard into his head and Percy pressed one hand to his temple as he grimaced. He could hear Lady Frederica speak his name, could feel the duchess’ hand on his arm but, squeezing his eyes tightly closed, could do nothing but endure the pain that now sliced into his forehead.
And then he saw it.
He was stepping into his carriage, only to see a young lady sitting there, waiting for him. She tilted her head but, with his blurred vision, Percy could not make out her face. He stumbled back from the carriage, turning quickly and rushing away from it, clearly desperate to escape from her—just as he was at present.
The pain faded and Percy opened his eyes, his chest heaving with exertion as though he had just run very far indeed.
“Lord Wetherby!”
Lady Frederica and the duchess were both staring at him with concern, but Percy knew he had no time to explain.
“I—I have remembered something about the night I found myself at the duke’s townhouse,” he stammered, passing one hand over his eyes as sweat began to run down his back. “Forgive me—might I call tomorrow, Lady Frederica? Your Grace? I am sure that I can explain a little more then.”
“But of course,” Lady Frederica said quickly, before the duchess could reply. “If you must leave, Lord Wetherby, then I certainly will not prevent you from doing so.”
He nodded, stepped back, and, without another word, turned on his heel and hurried toward the door. Panic still clutched at his chest and it was all he could do not to run toward it, so eager to depart that desperation took a hold of every part of him. This evening had been yet another disaster and Percy was all the more frustrated that he had been required to step away from Lady Frederica, unable to stay at the ball so that they might dance their second dance together.
Who was that lady in the garden?
The thoughts and questions that poured into his mind as he waited for his carriage to appear began to pain his head all over again. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Percy closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Whoever it was, they had clearly mistaken him for someone else. Someone who had already, it seemed, taken advantage of that particular young lady and had promised her matrimony—most likely in the hope of stealing a few kisses from her. Her reputation had not been ruined, that much was certain, but clearly, she now expected this gentleman to do as he had promised.
Except that gentleman is not I.
Relieved that his carriage had come to the front of the house, Percy hurried forward and climbed inside without waiting for the steps to be brought. Closing the door tightly, he rapped on the roof and, almost at once, the carriage rolled away, leaving the ball and the young lady, as well as Lady Frederica, far, far behind. Percy settled his head back against the squabs and let out a long breath of relief, his eyes closing tightly. Whatever had occurred, at least he had escaped. Nothing could be demanded of him now, nothing could be said of him that might then force his hand. For the moment, at least, he was safe.
9
Frederica bit her lip and tried not to sigh aloud as Lord Morningside continued to drone on about his many, many horses that he had back at his estate. It was not that she could not ride, or that she had no interest in horseflesh, but rather that she had been able to think of nothing and no one other than Lord Wetherby since last evening.
Even now, she found herself thinking of just how he had looked as he had approached her. His face had been grey, his eyes, normally so vivid, were nothing more than a dull green. They had not looked toward her but, instead, had turned this way and that, as though he feared being seen by someone. Quite who that someone was, Frederica had very little idea, but her heart had filled with concern for him. For the rest of the evening, she had found herself wondering what had occurred and why he had been forced to leave so hastily, although no one else seemed to notice he had departed. She had not heard anyone asking for him, wondering where he might have gone. Even Lord Greenford, when she had spoken to him about Lord Wetherby, had merely brushed her question aside by stating that Lord Wetherby had simply had to return home and had done so some time ago.
It was all very strange, and Frederica was eagerly looking forward to the earl’s arrival, so that she might make sense of it all. It was strange, she reflected as Lord Morningside launched into a description of one particular gelding, that she now felt a good deal more for Lord Wetherby than before. Given just how much he wanted to improve her impression of him and the lengths he had gone to, she found herself quietly respectful of his efforts. Yes, not all had been successful and, indeed, matters with Lady Preston and her daughter might well have turned things on their head all over again had she allowed them to, but, on the whole, Frederica knew that he truly was attempting to express his true sorrow over what he had done and to impress upon her that he was not that sort of gentleman. It seemed, she considered, tilting her head to one side as she thought, that he was doing all he could to improve himself and that, certainly, spoke well of him.
“And with that, I fear that I shall have to take my leave.”
Relieved—but making certain to hide it well—Frederica rose from her chair and curtsied. “Good afternoon, Lord Morningside,” she said as the duchess smiled at him. “Do call again.”
Lord Morningside beamed and Frederica hid her amused smile, aware now that the gentleman hoped for nothing more than another opportunity to talk about his horses. Perhaps she had made a mistake in making such a remark.
“I thank you, Your Grace,” Lord Morningside said, bowing toward the duchess. “And you also, Lady Frederica.”
She kept her smile fixed in place until Lord Morningside had quit the room, only to tumble back into her chair in a flurry of skirts.
“I do not think I could have endured another minute of listening to his description of his horses,” she said as the duchess laughed and sat down a good deal more carefully than Frederica had done. “Perhaps I should not have encouraged him to return.”
The duchess chuckled softly. “I fear he may,” she warned. “But then, we have had a very pleasant afternoon.” One eyebrow lifted in Frederica’s direction. “Lord Blakely was very glad to see you again.”
Frederica nodded but was surprised that there was no stir of awareness in her heart. Lord Blakely had called, yes, and indeed had sent a very large bouquet of flowers for her for what was now the second time. Their conversation had been pleasing enough, certainly, but Frederica had not been as attentive as she ought. Her thoughts had struggled to depart from Lord Wetherby.
“And Lord Wetherby is still to call,” the duchess continued, and Frederica looked up, seeing the twinkle in the duchess’ eye. “You are eager to see him, I think.”
; “I am,” Frederica replied, not hiding her true feelings. “I should very much like to know what occurred last evening to make him depart in such a hurry.”
“It was very good of him to come and find you,” the duchess commented as Frederica nodded. “Otherwise you might have been standing quietly and waiting for his arrival.”
“Which would never have come,” Frederica agreed softly. “Yes, it was good of him to do so.” Her eyes turned back to the duchess, who was sitting quietly but watching her closely. “I believe that, despite his first appearances, Lord Wetherby is a considerate gentleman.”
“It would appear so,” the duchess agreed, glancing at the clock. “Although if he does not come to call upon you soon, then it will be much too late and—”
A quiet rap on the door prevented her from saying any more and Frederica rose to her feet, her heart beating a little more quickly as the butler came in to announce Lord Wetherby. The duchess had already informed him that Lord Wetherby was to be shown in at once and so he entered the room close behind the butler, stopping to bow before he came any closer.
“Lord Wetherby,” Frederica murmured, dropping into a curtsy. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon.” There was a tiredness about his eyes now, a weariness that had not been there last evening. His smile, whilst present, was lackluster and when he lifted his head from his bow, it seemed as though he was a little hunched in his stature.
“Please, do sit down,” the duchess said, gesturing to Frederica to ring the bell. “Might I say, Lord Wetherby, that you appear rather fatigued this afternoon.”
Lord Wetherby did not take insult at this but instead gave the duchess a small smile and, after a moment, let out a heavy sigh.
“I am fatigued,” he admitted. “Last evening, something untoward occurred which, thereafter, brought to mind something that happened the night I set foot in this very house.” He looked back at Frederica, who found herself leaning forward in her chair, feeling a great swell of tension rising up within her. “I am, as you know, deeply sorry that I was forced to remove myself from the ball last evening in such haste, Lady Frederica. I would have very much liked to step out with you again.”
Frederica smiled quickly, not wanting him to think that she was at all angry or upset. “I quite understand, Lord Wetherby,” she assured him. “In truth, I was a little concerned for you. You appeared to be quite distressed.”
“I was,” Lord Wetherby replied honestly. “I would be glad to share with you what occurred, should you wish to know?”
Seeing the duchess nod, Frederica quickly expressed her consent. “Yes, of course. If you are willing?”
Lord Wetherby nodded, although waited for some minutes until the tea had been brought in and served. Once the maid had left the room, he took a deep breath and began.
“I beg you not to think ill of me as I say this, Lady Frederica, Your Grace, but it is the truth. Last evening, after our first dance, Lady Frederica, I went to the gardens and found Lord Greenford. We talked for a while and then decided to return to the ballroom.” He cleared his throat as a flush of red crept up his neck and into his face. “As I made my return, someone pulled me from the path and into the dark shadows. I confess I did not let out any sort of exclamation and left Lord Greenford in a great deal of confusion.”
“I can imagine,” Frederica replied as Lord Wetherby took a sip of his tea. “Who was it that pulled you away in such a fashion?”
Lord Wetherby set his cup back down carefully and then looked up at her, his gaze steady. “I do not know,” he said quietly. “It was a lady of the ton, certainly, who told me without hesitation that not only had I evidently done such a thing before, but that I had also promised her matrimony.”
Frederica went very still, looking back at Lord Wetherby and finding a swell of uncertainty rise in her chest.
“I could not have done so when I was in my cups, given that I was with Lord Blakely and Lord Faraway, I believe, as well as being under the watchful eye of Lord Greenford,” Lord Wetherby continued, referring to the time when he had first been introduced to Frederica. “I told the lady repeatedly that she was mistaken, but she was most insistent.”
“Could you not simply have stepped back from her?” the duchess asked, speaking the question that had formed in Frederica’s mind. “Returned to Lord Greenford?”
Lord Wetherby grimaced. “If I had been able to, I would have done so without hesitation,” he stated, his jaw tense. “But the lady had a very tight hold of me, and if I attempted to remove myself from her by force, I feared that I would draw attention to myself.”
A tremble shook Frederica’s frame. “And, in doing so, force you into a situation that required matrimony as the only satisfactory conclusion,” she said as the earl nodded. “Good gracious. I have heard, of course, of gentlemen seeking to do such a thing—although their intention is not matrimony, I should not imagine—but I have never heard of a lady lying in wait for a gentleman.”
“You are as astonished as I,” Lord Wetherby replied, grimacing. “I shall not go into particular detail, but I did, eventually, manage to extract myself—but only when I had seen another person approaching us. Someone who, I believe, intended to supposedly catch us together and, thereafter, make certain that this promise of marriage I had supposedly made was then fulfilled.”
Frederica swallowed hard, not quite certain what to make of such a remark, and instead looked toward the duchess, who was also sitting with an expression of shock rippling over her features.
“Thereafter, I recalled something about the night I made my way to this house,” Lord Wetherby continued, only for the duchess to rise suddenly.
“Might I ask the duke to step in?” she asked as Lord Wetherby looked up at her in surprise. “I am certain he will be more than interested to hear what you have to say, Lord Wetherby.”
The earl nodded. “But of course,” he answered at once, spreading his hands. “I have nothing to hide from anyone present.”
Frederica watched him closely as the duchess quickly spoke to one of the footmen that lingered just outside the door. Lord Wetherby had run one hand over his eyes a good many times these last few minutes and the lines on his forehead were a constant presence, given just how often he frowned.
“You do not doubt me, Lady Frederica?”
The way he looked up at her, the hope and the fear mingling in his expression, made Frederica want to reach out to him, to take his hand in hers and to press it hard so that he might feel nothing but reassurance.
“Lord Wetherby,” she said gently as the duchess continued to hover by the door, “I accept your words without hesitation for, as you have said, there is nothing about this lady’s expectations that could have come from you. If you were in company, then why would you have stepped away? And with Lord Greenford being such a considerate friend, I am certain that he would have stepped in to make sure that you did nothing improper.”
The relief that poured into Lord Wetherby’s expression made Frederica smile. The lines lifted just a little and his jaw no longer remained as tense. In fact, a tiny smile lifted one corner of his mouth and Frederica could not help but smile back at him, knowing just how reassured he must now feel. She spoke honestly, for there was nothing in her that encouraged her to consider him guilty of what he had told her. The concern in his expression, the worry in his eyes, and the doubt in his voice had expressed his fear that she and the duchess would instantly believe the lady’s demands of him, that they might then think him just as terrible a rogue as this unknown lady thought him to be. If Frederica could have done so, she would have reached out and touched his hand in order to reassure him further. Indeed, the desire to do so increased all the more as she looked into his eyes, but Frederica was prevented from doing as she wished by the return of the duchess and, a few moments thereafter, the appearance of the duke.
“Lord Wetherby.”
Lord Wetherby rose quickly. “Your Grace,” he said, inclining his head. “I did no
t mean to disturb you from your business, but I have recalled something about the night I was here. Something that, for whatever reason, will now no longer leave my mind.”
The duke sat down near to his wife and nodded. “Pray, continue.”
“The evening I left the soiree,” Lord Wetherby began quietly, “I made my way to the carriage and, seeing the door open and waiting for me, stepped inside. I sat down contentedly, thinking that the evening had gone very well, only to become aware of another in the carriage itself.”
Frederica caught her breath, her eyes widening. “Someone was waiting for you?”
Lord Wetherby nodded, his eyes catching hers for a moment before darting away, fixing themselves to the floor as he continued to speak.
“I cannot recall her face or her voice,” he said as Frederica gasped, realizing that it was a lady who had been sitting within. “All I remember is the fright that filled me as I realized she was there, followed by my demands that she quit my carriage.”
“But she did not?”
Lord Wetherby shrugged. “I cannot say, Lady Frederica,” he replied quickly. “What I do recall is practically throwing myself from the carriage and telling the driver I would make my own way home.”
A measure of understanding lodged itself in Frederica’s mind. “And thus, you sought out a hackney.”
Lord Wetherby nodded before passing another hand over his eyes. “I did,” he said quietly. “But as I climbed in, I saw another carriage coming behind the hackney and waiting for it to depart. Not quite realizing what was occurring, I climbed inside and instructed the hackney driver to drive to my townhouse. It was only a short time later that I realized the carriage was following me. Thereafter, I encouraged the driver to make his way a little faster along the London streets—which, I know, upset you all greatly.”
Frederica looked at her uncle, who had now reached across and taken his wife’s hand in his own.