“I’m sorry, Miss Heath. I hope those are not a desperate need.”
She had expected him to walk off when the others had, but he’d stayed with her and stood just behind. She drew a long breath and let it out. “I shall survive, my lord.”
Firmly he gripped her elbow and drew her back to standing. He studied the crushed wire and glass in her hand. “Do not injure yourself on the glass, miss.”
Ladies of worth didn’t care if they could see or not. It was more important to be lovely and snare a fine husband with money and power. Mercy preferred to see and read. She needed to read the music of the masters as much as she required breath. Still, her weakness was too obvious in his presence and heat crept up her cheeks. Plunking the ruin spectacles back in her reticule, Mercy forced a polite smile. “Thank you, my lord. I am uninjured. I enjoyed the dance.”
She turned and strode toward the hallway where she could rush to the ladies’ retiring room and recover herself.
Wesley stayed at her side. “To whom may I deliver you, Miss Heath?”
Halfway across the wide grand foyer, she stopped and turned to him. “You need not concern yourself, my lord. I am a grown woman and can manage to keep myself safe. My friends and my aunt are here tonight.”
Stepping until he was inches from her, his warmth spread through her. “I can see you are upset and I only wish to help.”
It was impossible he could know her mind. She had practiced the indifferent mask she wore to these events and it had never failed her. The fact that she couldn’t afford to replace the spectacles was bad enough. His knowing she was distressed was unbearable. “I am not upset. They are only a meaningless object. You need not worry.”
“It is too late for that, Miss Heath.” His soft voice brought her head up.
Even slightly blurred he was more handsome than was good for her. “I thank you for your concern, my lord. I shall just retire for a few minutes and be right again.”
He shifted from one foot to the other, his frown obvious. “Shall I find your friends and send them to you?”
“That is not necessary.” Though she had to admit, it was a very kind idea. “I am fine. It was a vigorous dance and I need to rest.”
The air thickened in the moment where he made no reply. He bowed. “As you wish, Miss Heath. I thank you for the dance.”
After making a quick curtsy, she tried to think of something to say, but instead rushed away and closeted herself in a small parlor to catch her breath.
Once she had thoroughly inspected her ruined spectacles, she returned them to her reticule with a sigh. Perhaps she could ask her aunt for a few extra pounds to replace them. No. She would see if she could take on a few new music students and earn enough wages to buy a new pair.
That decided, she left the parlor and popped out into the cool night for some air. She was in a part of the house unused by the ball attendees and reveled in the quiet. The gardens were lit and she heard voices on the other side of a tall hedge. Several couples were hidden from her view, but she heard them chatting on the larger veranda that flanked the ballroom. Staying hidden, she circled a baluster and stepped onto a stone path.
A perfect night, Mercy took a deep breath. She had to return, but not yet. Her mind bustled with questions about why the Earl of Castlewick would ask her to dance, care about her broken eye-wear, or her state of distress. It was all very odd.
Another set of footsteps sounded from behind.
Mercy spun around to find Wesley quickly approaching. “My lord?”
“Miss Heath, when you didn’t return, I became concerned.” He bowed.
She stepped back. “Why would such a thing concern you?”
“I beg your pardon.” His tone sharpened.
Keeping her distance, Mercy regretted stepping so far from the safety of a crowd. “I mean you no offense, my lord, but why should my state of being be of any concern to you? I am nothing to you save a dance partner. To be honest, I’m still trying to fathom why you asked me to dance in the first place.”
It was rude. She should have kept her questions to herself, thanked him for his attention and walked away. Yet she wanted to know and had little to lose.
Another man in his position might have walked away or become affronted and given her a setting down. Wesley smiled. “I asked you to dance because you are a lovely woman and I thought it might be a pleasant way to spend part of the evening. As for my concern”—his face grew serious—“I should have protected you better during the dance and after. What happened to your belongings should never have occurred.”
He felt responsible. How odd. Mercy hadn’t met many men of his ilk who were so solicitous of their dance partners’ feelings. He likely wanted to steal a kiss or more and had followed her to get her alone. Mercy feigned patting her hair, but pulled a long hat pin she kept tucked in her elaborate bun. “My lord, I appreciate your attention.” It was difficult to not sound sarcastic. If necessary, she would jab him and run. “You may rest assured; I am in no immediate danger. I just wanted some air.”
The way his laugh rolled around the garden and caught on the breeze brought Mercy nothing but delight. “I think the weapon is a fine idea, Miss Heath. I shall instruct my two sisters to have exactly such an item placed in their hair for balls, trips to the theater and the like.”
Mercy raised her brow and smiled, but didn’t sheath her weapon against overly amorous admirers. “You might tell them picnics and walks in the park are better suited to several pins in one’s stays or actual hats. One never knows when a man of means will try to take advantage of a woman below his station. Of course, your sisters have your title to protect them.”
She had no need for spectacles or better lighting to see that her words had angered him. His fists clenched at his sides and his shoulders went rigid. “I have no intention of taking anything that is not offered freely from any woman, regardless of her station.”
“Then you had better go back to the house, my lord, before someone sees you and me in the garden alone and I am ruined. Or do you intend to marry me, should we be discovered?” She made a scoffing sound that was not very ladylike.
The moon shone on him like a god of old as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I have no intention of marrying you, Miss Heath. Though I have to say, your candor is refreshing after so many inane hours of debutantes who connive after my attention.”
“Conniving is not really in my nature. And in any event, I am not of your station. I am only Miss Heath, an orphan whose father had no title and whose lands were entailed elsewhere. If not for my aunt’s kindness, I would be someone’s governess or worse. You may be sure I have no designs on a man like you.” She carefully and deliberately put her pin back into her hair without poking herself.
“I’m not sure I like the way you say, ‘a man like me.’ In fact, I didn’t like any of what you just said.” He scowled.
“And yet it was all true.”
Giving her a nod, he said, “Good evening, Miss Heath.”
She made a quick curtsy and rushed back toward the house.
Meet the Author
A.S. Fenichel gave up a successful IT career in New York City to follow her husband to Texas and pursue her lifelong dream of being a professional writer. She’s never looked back. A.S. adores writing stories filled with love, passion, desire, magic, and maybe a little mayhem tossed in for good measure. Books have always been her perfect escape and she still relishes diving into one and staying up all night to finish a good story. The author of The Forever Brides series, the Everton Domestic Society series, and more, A.S. adores strong, empowered heroines no matter the era, and that’s what you’ll find in all her books. A Jersey Girl at heart, she now makes her home in Southern Missouri with her real-life hero, her wonderful husband. When not reading or writing, she enjoys cooking, travel, history, puttering in her garden and spoiling her fussy cat. Be sure to wr
ite visit her website at asfenichel.com, find her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter.
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