by Joyce Alec
Ellen, who was aware that such an evening allowed for young ladies to prove their talents on the pianoforte, or indeed, with singing, settled back in her chair and waited for the first young lady to get to her feet.
“Now,” Lord Matthews continued with a bright smile. “This is a trifle unusual, but we are to have no lady to start off this evening. Instead, we are to have Lord Hartley performing for us.”
Frozen in place, Ellen heard the whispers of astonishment, the murmurs of surprise. Lord Hartley chuckled quietly, evidently having expected such a reaction.
“Lord Hartley?” Lord Matthews called, scanning the crowd. “Wherever you are, come out here and start us off!”
Ellen watched in astonishment as Lord Hartley rose from his chair and walked around to the front of the room. She had not expected him to ever take part in something like this, having never seen him at any occasion other than a ball. Had he not said to her on one previous occasion that he found no pleasure in anything other than dancing? That all other events were a waste of his precious time? So, what then was he doing standing up in front of the guests, apparently ready to perform?
“I know this is rather untoward, and I am sure that some of you are vastly surprised to see me here,” he began, his eyes on Ellen. “But as some of you might know, I wish to reform my character, and that means doing such things as a gentleman ought." There were a few whispers, a couple of titters, but Lord Hartley waved them off. “Now, you will forgive me if I am a little rusty when it comes to singing, but I do hope that you will find some enjoyment in my attempts at a song.”
Ellen’s mouth fell open as Lord Hartley launched into his song, accompanied by a young lady on the pianoforte. His voice was loud yet tender, taking each word and making it his own. The song was of a lost love, and Ellen felt her emotions swirl with each verse he sang, finding his warm baritone soothing to her disquieted heart.
When the performance came to an end, she simply sat there in astonishment, only managing to applaud for a few seconds before Lord Hartley came to take his place next to her. She did not know what to say other than to commend him on his performance, not wishing to reveal any of her astonishment to him.
“You have a very good voice, my lord,” she said eventually, as the next young lady rose to take her place at the pianoforte.
He chuckled. “You are surprised, I think.”
She did not reply immediately, keeping her face turned away from him and her gaze directed toward the front of the room. “I think you are playing a very good game, Lord Hartley,” she said eventually, speaking the truth of her thoughts that were going around in her mind. “Although I will commend you on your performance. It was very good and very well done.”
Lord Hartley cleared his throat gruffly, making Ellen wonder whether she had truly unsettled him.
“I thank you,” he muttered, sounding a trifle despondent. “You are very kind.”
Ellen said nothing more, the next performance already beginning. She was a little relieved when Lord Hartley took his leave of her – and of the event itself, wondering whether it had been her words that had chased him away, or whether, in fact, he realized that he had been found out. Was he still the rogue, pretending to be the gentleman? Or was there any possibility that he might, truly, be trying to change his ways? Ellen simply could not decide.
6
Over the next few weeks, Ellen found herself looking for Lord Hartley more and more, as though wanting to convince herself that he was, in fact, simply playing a part. She could not help but be surprised at his apparent transformation, hearing it often mentioned as she made her way through town or when walking with Charlotte through Hyde Park.
She had no reason to be interested, of course, other than the fact that Lord Hartley had told her that she was the catalyst behind his change in character – which was a fact she was not quite sure she believed. In the back of her mind, there remained the recollection of how upset and angry he had been at her dismissal of him, her outright rejection, and she could not help but continue to think that this all might be some outrageous façade in order to have her change her mind about him.
That did, of course, suggest that she thought rather highly of herself, as though she was somehow important to the gentleman, which she did not believe herself to be. Unless, it was simply that she had hurt his pride and he wanted to get his revenge. She pondered on that for some time, wondering if there was any suggestion that he might be so cruel.
“Did you hear about Lord Hartley?”
Drawn from her reverie, Ellen looked over at her friend, Lady Charlotte, who had been walking alongside her through the park.
“No,” Ellen said, wondering what the news could be this time. “Has something happened?”
“Yes, it has,” Charlotte exclaimed, as though she were about to impart the most delicious news. “He has, this very day, paid off all of his debts!”
Ellen’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”
“You do not understand, of course,” Charlotte said, with a broad smile. “You see, Lord Hartley is well known to have men all over London chasing after him, determined that he is to pay them what he owes. He claims that he simply forgets, but the ton have been whispering that he is, in fact, entirely out of funds. We have thought him as poor as a church mouse for some time, but now, it seems, he truly did forget to pay them his dues.”
“Or he enjoyed the chase,” Ellen suggested, with a small sigh. “I do not think this is so great an achievement as you think, Charlotte. A gentleman ought to pay his debts in a timely manner.”
Charlotte laughed, linking arms with Ellen. “But that is precisely what I mean,” she replied with a smile. “He has never been considered a true gentleman before now, and here he is, doing just what he should have done in order to try and make amends. I believe his transformation is almost complete – and who would have thought that such a rogue would have changed in such an astonishing way!”
Ellen chewed her lip thoughtfully, her gaze drifting around the park as more of the ton came to walk along the paths. “I am not so sure that I believe him,” she admitted quietly. “What if he is not as he seems? What if this is all some kind of ruse?”
“Ruse?” Charlotte repeated with a frown. “What would he gain from doing such a thing?”
Ellen could not answer, giving a slight shake of her head. “I do not precisely know, but something does not sit well with me about all this, Charlotte.”
Charlotte frowned and tossed her head. “I think you are being much too severe with him, Ellen. I, for one, am delighted to see him consider his life and his future with a great deal more severity than he has ever done before. I think it best for his title and his extended family.”
“Of course,” Ellen said soothingly. “I suppose I am a little less trusting than you, Charlotte, simply because I have not been within society for as long as you.” It was a poor excuse, but one that her friend seemed to accept, her frown fading away.
“Then I think you may have to express your doubts about his character to him in person,” Charlotte said, after a few minutes of silence. “Look, is that not him coming this way?”
Ellen’s whole body tensed at once, as she saw him striding toward them, although he did not immediately look in their direction. He was gazing at someone – or something – across the park and, when his gaze returned toward them, she saw him hesitate for a moment before smiling broadly, coming to a stop just in front of them.
“Good afternoon, Lady Charlotte. Good afternoon, Lady Ellen.”
Ellen curtsied, surprised that she felt a little disappointment in that he did not allow his gaze to linger on her.
“Are you out to take the air?” Charlotte asked, with a bright smile. “I confess that I enjoy the sunshine, although I am always careful to hide my face from its light.”
He chuckled. “Freckles are not to be borne, I understand.”
“No, indeed,” Charlotte replied firmly.
Lord Hartley smiled. “You wou
ld be just as beautiful with freckles, I daresay, Lady Charlotte.”
She returned his smile, shooting a sharp glance toward Ellen, as though proving to her that Lord Hartley was, in fact, now a true gentleman.
“Might I walk with you for a time?” he asked, glancing from one to the next.
“You do not wish to continue on your way?” Ellen asked, aware that he had been walking in quite the opposite direction.
A flash of hurt crossed his face, but he immediately smiled to hide it, leaving Ellen feeling rather guilty.
“It was just an acquaintance I wished to talk to,” he explained, “but from how slowly they are walking, I would guess that they will be here for some time.”
“Then you are most welcome to join us,” Charlotte replied, with a sharp look toward Ellen. “We were just talking about what truly makes a gentleman. Perhaps you might give us your thoughts?”
Ellen felt her face burn, as he fell into step beside her, Charlotte’s frankness bringing her nothing more than embarrassment. Would he guess that they had been talking of him?
He cleared his throat, shrugging his shoulders. “I confess that I cannot say much about what a gentleman should be, since I have been failing to live up to such standards for some time.”
“But you are making amends now,” Charlotte protested brightly. “Everyone is aware of it.”
“Are they?” He sounded surprised, making Ellen frown. “I would have thought that such a thing would have been glossed over by another piece of gossip.”
“Maybe there has been nothing juicier,” Charlotte said and laughed, making him chuckle. “However, I must say that I think it a very good thing, my lord. You have surprised us all, and I am quite sure you do not intend to return to your previous way of living.”
He shook his head, his expression and words firm and sure. “Certainly, I do not,” he declared, his voice ringing with truth. “I have seen the error of my ways and turned my back on them forever.”
Charlotte and Lord Hartley continued their conversation for some time, leaving Ellen to walk alongside, remaining utterly silent. She was not quite sure what to make of Lord Hartley, and especially what to do with Charlotte’s warmth toward him. Her friend had no doubt of his intentions, believing him to be honest and true when he stated clearly that he had seen the error of his way. And yet, she could not find the same belief.
“Oh, there is Lady Martha!” Charlotte exclaimed suddenly, turning to face Ellen. “You will not mind if I hurry ahead to catch her?”
“No,” Ellen replied automatically, suddenly realizing she would be left to walk with Lord Hartley alone. “I will follow behind until you are ready to return home.”
Charlotte grinned and bid Lord Hartley good day, before hurrying up the path toward a resplendent young lady in a sapphire walking dress.
“You do not know Lady Martha?” Lord Hartley asked, as Ellen continued to walk slowly.
She shook her head. “No, not yet. I am sure I will be acquainted with her soon, however. Charlotte sometimes forgets that I do not know all those she does.”
“I see,” he said quietly. “To be truthful, Lady Ellen, I am glad to have you alone for a moment.”
“Oh?” Her heart quelled in fright for a moment, wondering if he would either berate her for her distinct lack of belief in him – although she did not know how he would be aware of such a thing – or if he might try to press his attentions on her again.
He cleared his throat and gave her a sidelong glance. “I am throwing a ball in a few days’ time,” he began quietly. “I have an invitation for you here.” He patted his breast pocket but did not remove it. “I was not sure whether or not you would be pleased with such an invitation, and so I have kept it with me in the hope that I might speak to you about it and decipher your feelings on the matter. I did not want to offend you.”
Ellen blinked, trying to make sense of what he had said. He thought she would be offended to receive an invitation from him? Was she truly appearing to be that callous, that cold hearted, when it was clear that he was making as much effort as he could to change?
“I would not be offended with such an invitation,” she said, after a minute or two. “It is very kind of you to think of me.”
“Your friend, Lady Charlotte, has an invitation too, of course,” he continued, sounding quite relieved. “I would be very glad to have you both join me at the ball – along with your mothers, of course.”
“Of course,” Ellen echoed, realizing that she had just accepted his invitation. They walked in silence for a few minutes, with Ellen scrambling to think of something to say, something to ask. For whatever reason, she found herself confused by his presence, struggling to align her thoughts into coherent order. To be asked to his ball was one thing, but to consider attending was quite another – and yet, somehow, she had managed to accept.
“I am very glad that you appear to have forgiven me for my past misdemeanors,” he said after a time. “Your kindness and compassion I do not deserve.”
“You need not continue to mention it, Lord Hartley,” Ellen replied, with a touch more firmness than she had intended. “That is all in the past, and as you can see, I have just accepted an invitation from you, which should inform you that I have quite forgotten the matter.”
He paused in his steps and looked up at her, making her come to a sudden stop. She turned to face him, seeing the uncertainty in his expression.
“Might I hope that you will be willing to dance with me at the ball?” he asked softly. “Just one dance, of course. It would truly mean the world to me.”
Her throat closed up. She could not think of a response. Her heart was hammering, her thoughts loud and clamoring to be heard.
“I will give you time to think about it,” he said, evidently seeing her struggle. “Thank you, Lady Ellen. I bid you good day, and I very much look forward to seeing you at my ball in a few days’ time.” So saying, he took the invitation from his breast pocket and handed it to her, bowed, and then without another word, took his leave.
7
George looked down at the ballroom miserably.
This was his own ball, his very own event, and here he was, filled with melancholy.
She had not come.
Cursing under his breath, Georg threw back the rest of his champagne and set the glass down on the small table to his left. By rights, he ought to be down there, filing up as many dance cards as he could and making as much of the night as he could.
And yet, all he had hoped for was for Lady Ellen to appear.
Passing one hand over his eyes, George tried not to berate himself for his foolishness, reminding himself that this was all to achieve his aim of being proven right and so that he would not have to pay for Lord Morton’s tab at White’s, which, he was sure, was quite substantial. The money, of course, mattered not a jot to him, but it was his name, his standing, his reputation as a man who could have any lady he wished, that he desired to secure.
Or was it?
Hating the sudden question in his mind, George tried to find pleasure in the things he usually did – the beautiful, innocent debutantes, the shy smiles, the fluttering of their fans – but nothing made him smile. All he wanted was to see Lady Ellen.
She had not come to his ball.
Why did that bring him such a degree of pain? He felt almost hurt by her absence, as though she had not yet forgiven him even though she had promised him she had. But given that his apology and all of his actions since then had merely been a ruse in order to get her into his arms, why should he mind if her acceptance of his apology had been nothing more than a lie of her own?
Groaning, George leaned heavily on the rail and drew in a few long breaths. It was as though he were changing from the outside in, although his mind was unwilling to accept such a change. His fine clothes, cut and styled to the latest fashions, had merely been an attempt to show that he was now much more serious, much less ridiculous, but it appeared to have had more of an influence on hi
m than he had expected. He did not want to change and certainly did not want to have any kind of sentiment for Lady Ellen. Once he had kissed her, once the bet had been won, then George had planned to return to his former life. He had no intention of continuing with this façade of a sensible, boring gentleman.
The way Lady Ellen had looked at him, as he had handed her his invitation came to his mind. She was tremendously beautiful, with a gentle vibrancy that had caught his eye. The stunned look in her eyes, the tremor of her mouth, as she had struggled to think of what to say in response to his invitation, had made her appear vulnerable and soft. Not the hard-hearted, brutally spoken Lady Ellen he had once known. George had often found himself thinking of her in a tender light, as he had made the final preparations for the ball, but each time he had shaken his head and tried to rid her from his thoughts.
Mayhap it would be best to admit to Lord Morton that he could not do as he had said. The bet would be lost, his money due to White’s, and Lord Morton would, of course, laugh himself silly before telling anyone he could what had passed between them. It would mean a little embarrassment for a time, but at least then he would not have to continue thinking of Lady Ellen. His mind would be emptied of her, his thoughts entirely fixed on where he might find his next card game or which lady he hoped to press his attentions on. He could return to things as he liked them, with no concern for his foolish heart any longer.
Lifting his chin, George stared out across the ballroom, his eyes lifting above the guests to linger on the candles lit all across the room. Could he bring himself to be that kind of man? To lose the bet, to have his reputation spoiled, his friends and acquaintances laughing at his inability to steal a single kiss from a young lady?
“I shall tell Lord Morton tonight,” he muttered to himself, his hands loosening on the rail as his resolve grew. “Once the ball is over, I shall find him out and speak plainly.” Hurrying toward the staircase that would lead him to the ballroom, George descended quickly, his jaw firm. Tonight would be an end to all of his games. His old life beckoned him, and he was not about to ignore its call any longer.