The Rise of a Forsaken Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  The excuse was weak and by the slight smile on Mr. Moore, she knew he knew it. “Try to hold on tightly this time, My Lady.”

  Ducking her head, she took Edward’s offered arm while Mr. Moore assisted Martha out.

  Upon her entrance in the ballroom, Penelope marveled while Edward handed the invitation to the butler. The room was done in shades of white, bronze and dark-brown wood. They were announced, and Edward whisked her into the front room. Her eyes shot up to the line of ten large chandeliers, dripping with crystals and lit by gas.

  A corner held a marble bust of a lady she did not know, but from the fresh flowers surrounding it, it must have been a loved family member. Muted silk wallpaper adorned its walls and reflected the lights up ahead.

  They stopped briefly, exchanging pleasantries with the host and hostess, Lord and Lady Blackwood, who both wished them a good evening. They were not too far when another voice interrupted them.

  “Allerton.”

  She stilled as Edward greeted the other man. She kept silent as they spoke and observed the newcomer. His maroon waistcoat was perfectly fitted over his rotund belly and shrewd blue eyes rested under heavy brows.

  “Not surprised to see you here, but I don’t think I have ever seen this lovely lady.”

  The compliment was borderline inappropriate, and her brows furrowed as she wondered why he was comfortable taking such liberties when her brother cleared it up for her.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” Edward said reverently while removing his hand from hers and shook the Duke’s hand. “May I introduce my sister, Lady Penelope Dawson, Penelope, Oliver Stratham, the Duke of Quinton.”

  She curtsied. “Pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”

  “The pleasure is mine, My Lady,” the older man said with a regal bow. “Allerton, have you seen Hillbrook this night?”

  Edward’s brows furrowed, “I have not…which is strange. He is usually the first to be at balls like this.”

  “Unless he wants to make a majestic entrance,” Penelope said before she could censor her words. Instantly, her hand shot to her mouth while mortification colored her face.

  Tact, Penelope! Drat! Where is your tact!

  The Duke’s eyes were on her but instead of being laden with censure any lord would have given a clumsy comment coming from anyone—much worse a lady—they were amused. “Spoken like a true observer, Lady Penelope. He does have a flair for the dramatic.”

  She was still embarrassed, “Even so, I apologize, Your Grace.”

  “You don’t need to apologize for speaking the truth, Lady Penelope,” the Duke said before making his excuses and moving off.

  Deliberately looking at everyone else except her brother, Penelope, scanned the people around her trying to remember half-familiar faces.

  There was a lady with dark-auburn hair pinned into a lovely chignon and a simple ivory dress. Her mind rifled through memories of faces and names and lit upon one—one she shouldn’t have forgotten in the first place. But in her defense, the lady had changed from the slightly-pudgy woman in pieces of unflattering fabric to a slender woman in lovely silk.

  “Isn’t that Lady Cheltenham…the one you were sweet on a few years ago?” she asked Edward. “She’s certainly…changed.”

  Edward looked over to the lady and his cheeks pinked. “I had…in a past lifetime, yes.”

  “Then, why didn’t you…” then she saw a man, with golden hair, take Lady Cheltenham's arm. “oh, who’s he?”

  “Marquess Witherton,” Edward breathed out bitterly. “The son of Duke Rochford, a man with three times my wealth and as much influence over the rest of our peers. As I said, I did fancy her in another lifetime, but then I had to take over Father’s estates and I did not have much time. Besides, she—or her parents rather—had a vision for her that I cannot provide.”

  There was not as much pain in his voice as regret. Was it that her brother was still in love with her, but seeing his competition, had given in easily? Since when had her brother become a coward?

  “Eddi—Edward,” she corrected herself, “did you even try? If I remember right, she was smitten with you too.”

  Her brother’s jaw stiffened, “I won’t speak about this anymore, Penelope. Come along now.”

  Shooting a look over her shoulder to the lady, Penelope saw her look up to them with a particular disappointed look before she went back to the Marquess.

  I’ll have to speak to her sometime during this night.

  Edward took her among the throng of people dressed in their beautiful best. She got reacquainted with people she really should not have alienated by her dislike of the Ton and its nonsensical and unending balls. When she and Edward got a moment, a question, she should have asked an hour ago, darted the forefront of her mind.

  “Er, Edward, who is managing my dance card?”

  He looked quickly at her, “Miss Bell is.”

  “Oh,” she blinked and spun to look over to her maid who was seated at the sidelines with a stoic Mr. Moore behind her standing with a soldier-like posture. His head, however, slowly twisted to one end of the room to the other. He was taking her brother’s orders of keeping her safe to heart.

  She got a break when she excused herself to the privy and nearly bumped into Lady Cheltenham. “Oh, my apologies.”

  “Lady Penelope,” the older lady smiled. “I have not seen you in a while.”

  “I have not been that enthused with these things, honestly,” Penelope replied. “I find them so…exhausting and monotonous.”

  Lady Cheltenham titled her head, “There are times when I find them the same,” she sighed. “It’s not enough that we women have to endure this for the sake of gaining a husband.”

  Tact, Penelope, tact.

  “Marquess Witherton,” she said slowly. “Is he your intended?”

  The lady took a long while to reply, and when she did her voice was soft. “No.”

  She blinked, “Are you sure? He looked very…fiancé-ish.”

  Fiancé-ish? Fiancé-ish? Had that just come out of her mouth? Her tact had disappeared in the thin air, and she cringed. “Sorry. That was not remotely sensible of me.”

  “It’s all right,” Lady Cheltenham waved. “I remember your eccentricities, Lady Penelope. You were not one to beat around the bush much.”

  “So…not him then,” Penelope said uneasily.

  Her head shook regally, “No…not him.”

  She nearly asked ‘Who then’?” but then the ghost of her dead tact rose up and even though she wanted to ask Lady Cheltenham if she was willing to try again with her brother, she did not say a word about it. “Well, I wish you all the best.”

  “I wish the same for you, Lady Penelope,” she replied and walked out with a regal gait fit for a princess.

  After relieving herself, she washed and went back to the ballroom in time for the call for the first dance to begin. Martha came up to her in a rush. “My Lady…your first dance is—”

  Before Martha could say a word, she knew exactly who her first dance was—Lord Hillbrook.

  “Lord Hillbrook,” she said intuitively albeit, emptily.

  She had not seen him enter, but then again, she had not been looking. After Duke Quinton’s inquiry of the man, she had not felt pressed to ask about him, hoping, that the Lord would not show. Now, with Martha’s agreeing nod she realized her hope had been in vain. Lord Hillbrook would have never let go of a chance to clutch her to him.

  “Wonderful,” she grumbled and flicked out her fan.

  Looking around, she spotted her brother speaking to two other men at the sideline and Lady Cheltenham with her not-fiancé. She looked around for Mr. Moore and found him helping an old lady to her seat from the direction of the refreshment room.

  He bent down to her mouth as she spoke something in his ear and came back up flushing. He shook his head and said something. The matron patted his hand and he pulled away. Then a lady came up and touched his hand. She was pretty with soft reddish-golden curls
and a shapely figure, but the worst thing was the coy look on the lady’s face. An unrequited jab of green jealousy ran through her chest.

  “Lady Penelope,” Lord Hillbrook’s smooth voice cut through her unfounded envy. She forced her eyes away from Mr. Moore and turned to her brother’s friend.

  “Lord Hillbrook,” she greeted.

  “Stephen,” was his automatic refrain.

  “Lord Hillbrook,” she said stubbornly. “I must tell you that I have not danced a few of these songs in years.”

  The beginning introductions of the waltz slithered through the air and she internally groaned. “It will come back to you,” the Lord said while holding out his hand. She took it and was whisked away to the dancefloor.

  Lord Hillbrook was in sterling-while breeches, dark-grey waistcoat, and an immaculately-tied cravat. His blond hair was combed just as immaculately as his tie and his blue eyes were gentle. With his hand in hers and the other around her back to her shoulder blade, they prepared for the dance.

  “I hope so,” Penelope said while trying to squash the regret in her stomach.

  She spotted Mr. Moore over the Baron’s shoulder and while she danced with him, she wished deeply, Rescue me.

  Chapter 11

  That’s the fifth proposition, Heath groaned.

  He had first been asked if he was really only a footman at the Allerton home, but now after he had brushed it off as an anomaly, he had gotten four more at the Blackwoods’.

  Music had started in the room while he took his place back along the wall behind Miss Bell. He looked over to where Lady Penelope was dancing with Lord Hillbrook. She was the one lady in the room that was not overdone in dress or jewels. Her dress was simple, and her single line of pearls was enough ornamentation, Heath decided.

  She is beautiful enough without them.

  Lord Masseur’s balls were much more lavish with crystal sculptures and food made from French chefs, but they all boiled down to the same thing. Women needed husbands and men needed wives.

  It was more civilized than the olden days when a father would force his daughter to marry anyone he chose, but the lines of society were still drawn bright and clear. A lady, though she had the freedom of choice, still had to marry a man in her class who was able to give her the pleasures she had always enjoyed. Breaking ranks and marrying out of class was social suicide.

  He spotted Lord Allerton who was dancing with a lady in deep magenta. Thankfully, Lord Swanville was not there, and he sighed in relief. He shifted on his feet, while he carefully looked around the room, detailing every open window and every open door.

  If someone had been able to kill Lord Shirlling on the ground floor of the Allerton manor, who knew what could happen in the midst of this ball. He was charged with protecting Lady Penelope, and that was what he was going to do.

  His eyes lit upon Lady Penelope’s once more and his gut tightened. She clearly did not want to be in Lord Hillbrook’s arms, but she had vowed to do put herself back under the social lights. A spin took her eyes from his, but they never left. Whenever she came back to his line of sight, her eyes met his.

  It is not proper.

  But he did not move his eyes away. Perhaps she was drawing his strength or looking to him for an assurance of safety. Whatever it was, he did not know, but did not fight it either. Since she had shown him her wild side, hair a wild tangle over her back, he had felt admiration for her and when she had kept her silence about his spying, his esteem for her had grown.

  The dance was coming to an end and he dared to look away. He had surveyed the room over a dozen times but what could one more hurt? The constables had gone to Lord Allerton’s home over three times, but there was not much they had done or could do. No one had seen the shooter, and there was no way to guess where the shot had come from as the two lords were in the open air.

  “Mr. Moore?”

  He turned to the voice and saw Miss Bell at his elbow. The petite woman was smiling as she joined him then they looked on the dance floor where Lady Penelope was curtsying.

  “Yes, Miss Bell.”

  “She trusts you,” the lady maid said. “In all the years I have known her, she rarely trusts. You should be honored.”

  He suspected how she knew Lady Penelope had developed trust in him but asked anyway, “How do you figure that?”

  “She looked at you more than she looked at Lord Hillbrook,” Miss Bell said and before Heath’s blood could run cold or drop to his feet, she said, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. You are tasked to protect her and now with all that…kerfuffle at home…you don’t need more troubles on your mind.”

  “Thank you.”

  Training his eyes back on the dance floor, he did not see Lady Penelope. Instantly, he was on guard. He skirted the mingling patrons and went to the nearest doorway which was to the refreshment room—she was not there. He went to the next door that led to a balcony—she was not there, thank God. He then eyed the staircase and remembered that there was a library, a solarium and a sitting room in that part of the house.

  He took the stairs up and checked the library first, it was shadowed and empty. The sitting room was empty too and that left the solarium. If that was empty, he was going to call in the cavalry.

  The doorway to the solarium was halfway open and to his relief, he heard Lady Penelope’s voice inside. She was not alone, and the voice of another lady was there too. He cringed at knowing that he was eavesdropping again.

  “Forgive me for prying,” Lady Penelope said. “But I must be frank. I remember how you and my brother were so…wonderful together. He lost focus when your name was mentioned and when you two were in a room, your eyes would meet even halfway across it. Like lodestones. I was so sure you would get married. I must ask, and be free to call me out on me being too invasive, do you not have any feelings for my brother again?”

  Heath’s eyes darted up. Instead of looking about her own marriage, she is trying to fix her brother’s.

  “I do,” the lady said hesitatingly, “but there is not much I can do about it. Lord Allerton, Edward, was—is—the only one who I connected with for years, but my father drew me back from the season for a year. They changed my wardrobe and got me on slimming diet with absolutions for my skin, and with my new look they decided I needed a new suitor.”

  “So, Marquess Witherton,” Lady Penelope said a bit sadly.

  “I wish it was not so, but my father will not be dissuaded,” the lady said, and she could hear the regret in her voice. “I truly love Edward, but…my father made up his mind, and I am tied to what my parents say.”

  Heath placed his back to the wall and leaned on it as the Lady continued. “I wish I was like you, Lady Penelope, you might not know it, but your independence is something I wish I could have.”

  If only you knew, Heath shook his head slowly, she might look strong, but she is very fragile underneath.

  “My independence?”

  “You would not be afraid to run to Gretna to marry the one you loved, would you? That’s what I mean, I don’t have that strength.”

  A poignant silence stretched, and Heath could picture Lady Penelope’s pink face and her eyes down to her feet. She did not take compliments, however backward, well.

  “And you cannot refuse Marquess Witherton?” Lady Penelope finally asked, while the strains of music for the next dance floated up to the stairs. He hated having to interrupt the two, but he had to. Pushing off from the wall he knocked the door loud enough to get their attention and entered with the sudden silence.

  “Forgive me for the interruption, My Ladies,” he said with a bow. “Lady Penelope, you are needed for your next dance. And I would assume you also, My Lady.”

  Penelope’s companion stood with elegance, and the folds of her silk dress fell with grace. “He’s right, Lady Penelope.”

  She was about to leave when Lady Penelope reached out for her. Her swallow was visible, and her voice wavered, “Helena, er, Lady Cheltenham, may I visit you?”r />
  “Yes,” Lady Cheltenham added without hesitation while rooting in her reticule and producing a card. “Here is my direction. I am in London for the next few months with my mother. Please come whenever you want.”

  Taking the card, Penelope smiled and nodded, “Thank you.”

  Heath stepped aside as the lady swept by him with a smile, and then he went to Lady Penelope who was securing the card into her reticule. Heath smiled, and she looked up in time to catch him in the act. She flushed.

  “What?” she looked defensive.

  He shook his head, “Nothing, My Lady.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Lady Penelope said with a slight huff, “You are not fooling me, Mr. Moore. I can see…something in your eyes.”