by Rose Pearson
“Lady Croome!” he exclaimed, finally able to make out her features as she drew closer. “How very good to see you!” He took her outstretched hand and bowed low over it, wishing that he could embrace her in a much too familiar fashion. “You are returned to London, then?”
Lady Croome laughed, her brown eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunshine as her dark curls blew lightly in the wind, framing her face as they did so. “It appears I have,” she answered as he begrudgingly let go of her hand. Quickly, she reminded him of his previous acquaintance with her friend, Lady Ashbrook, greeting Lord Jennings before continuing their conversation. “And you are back in London also?” Her eyes studied his face, although her lips remained in a small smile.
“Yes, yes, I am here for the Season,” he confirmed, grinning at her as she beamed at him. “I very much hope to be in your acquaintance again, as we have been these last two Seasons.”
Sighing, Lady Croome put a hand on her heart in a most dramatic fashion as Lady Ashbrook giggled, her cheeks going a little pink as Oliver glanced at her.
“Well, Lord Yarmouth, I am not entirely certain that I shall be able to do so,” she said in a dramatic tone. “Lady Pellingham has only just informed me that I should seek out a husband this Season, stating that it is not quite the thing for a lady to remain widowed without any hope of further prospects,” she told him with yet another sigh. “And given that it is Lady Pellingham who has spoken this decree, I feel quite obliged to do as she states.”
Oliver chuckled, shaking his head at her. “Is that so?” he replied disbelievingly. “Do you fear you will be thrown from society otherwise?”
“Good gracious, I do hope not!” Lady Croome replied, her eyes widening now. “You do know, of course, that I have no intention of doing what Lady Pellingham asks, but I certainly hope that she will not think poorly of me for refusing to do as she thinks best.”
Considering this, Oliver paused for a few moments to reflect before lifting one shoulder in a half shrug. “Lady Pellingham will, I am sure, be very distracted by all the other young ladies who have never yet been wed,” he said, as Lord Jennings and Lady Ashbrook began to speak quietly to each other, leaving him to speak freely to Lady Croome. “I do not think that you have anything particular to worry about.”
This seemed to bring a great relief to Lady Croome, for she let out a long breath and gave him what appeared to be a genuine smile of relief.
“It was shocking, I will admit,” she said, taking a small step closer to him and speaking in a lower tone of voice so that she would not be overheard. “I was shopping with Lady Ashbrook, only to be approached by Lady Pellingham and told, directly, that this was what I should do this Season. She appeared quite confounded when I stated I had no intention of finding another husband!”
“I do not know why she believes she has such power,” Oliver replied in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “Ignore what she stated and go about the Season as you have planned. It shall all come aright soon enough, I am sure.”
Lady Croome studied him for a moment or two before she smiled and nodded, looking away from him so that she might look out over the park. It gave Oliver time to study her familiar features, grateful beyond measure to see his dear friend again.
She had not changed even a little, he realized, taking in her oval face, her slender neck, and delicate frame. Her eyes were just as warm as they had always been, her smile ever ready and her countenance as delightful as ever. Seeing her again brought a warmth to Oliver’s soul and, for a few minutes at least, his troubles seemed to be fading away.
“Tell me, Lord Yarmouth,” Lady Croome said, looking back at him with what appeared to be a concerned expression. “Have you found any further wills?”
Shaking his head, Oliver glanced at Lord Jennings but saw, much to his relief, that his friend was busy conversing with Lady Ashbrook still.
“None,” he replied, aware of the hint of bitterness in his words that left a sharp taste in his mouth. “I am to be engaged by the sixth month; else I shall not receive the rest of my father’s fortune.”
Lady Croome’s expression filled with sympathy, and she put one hand out to rest on his arm for a moment. “I am sorry,” she said kindly. “If there were anything I could do, then I can assure you that I would do so.”
“I know that your good heart is eager to assist me,” he told her, grateful for her consideration. “But it seems as though I have no choice.” Sighing, he looked out across Hyde Park, unwilling to speak the words he knew were now before him, unwilling to release him from their grip. “It seems that, this Season, I must find myself a bride.”
“Then I shall do all I can to advise you,” Lady Croome replied with a firmness in her voice that made him smile. “Although I cannot be sure that any of my judgments will be useful!”
He laughed, seeing the twinkle in her eyes and knowing that she was doing all she could to encourage him. “I will be grateful for them all the same,” he answered, as Lady Ashbrook and Lord Jennings finished their conversation and returned their attention to them both. “Tell me, Lady Croome, will you be attending Lord Barchester’s ball tomorrow evening?”
“I intend to, yes,” Lady Croome replied, the smile on her lips and the gleam in her eyes telling him that she remembered the many enjoyable evenings they had spent together last Season. “Shall you seek me out, mayhap?”
“I shall do so the moment I enter,” he told her as she laughed softly. “Then, you can do as you have done before and save me from the many young ladies who come to seek me out—or whose mothers come to do so!”
“And you shall protect me from Lady Pellingham!” came the swift reply. “It is not only you who shall need to hide oneself away for a time this year, Lord Yarmouth! It seems I may have to do so also!”
“Then we shall be of assistance to each other,” he told her as she inclined her head in evident thanks. “Until tomorrow evening, then. Good afternoon, Lady Croome. Lady Ashbrook.” He inclined his head, and the two ladies dropped into a quick curtsy.
“Good afternoon, Lord Yarmouth, Lord Jennings,” Lady Croome replied, her smile still fixed to her lips as she made her way past them both and continued on their walk through the park.
“There is your answer!”
Oliver blinked rapidly, looking at his friend in startled confusion. “Whatever do you mean?”
Lord Jennings threw up his hands in exasperation. “Wed Lady Croome!” he explained, just as Oliver began to laugh. “Why should you think that such an idea is foolishness? She is a widow, which means she is not a debutante, nor someone who seeks to put on fine airs in order to catch a husband. She is very much inclined towards your company, as you are to hers, and, besides which, she has a great deal of beauty, which I am certain you cannot deny!”
“I do not deny it,” Oliver replied with a grin. “But Lady Croome is nothing more than a friend. Surely you have seen how our acquaintance has developed over the last two Seasons?” He smiled to himself, remembering the first time he had been introduced to Lady Croome. She had none of the confidence that practically exuded from her today but had been quiet and, in fact, a little shy. Her husband had died, and, after her year of mourning, she had been attempting to find her role in society as a widow. Something about her vulnerable state had spoken to his heart, and Oliver had found himself wanting to improve their acquaintance. That acquaintance had grown into a friendship that he very much enjoyed, and there had never once been any sort of suggestion between them that they might consider something more. To do so now, he reasoned, would bring an end to the wonderful friendship that they both currently enjoyed, and that was a thought he could not bear to even consider.
“I have seen your acquaintance and your friendship, yes,” Lord Jennings replied, “but that does not mean that you should not consider her in a different light!” He stopped dead, and Oliver was forced to stop walking also, turning to Lord Jennings with a heavy sigh issuing from his lips.
“You are only requ
ired to be engaged, is that not so?” Lord Jennings asked pointedly, his eyes flaring with excitement that Oliver could not understand.
“Indeed, that is the agreement,” Oliver replied, spreading his hands. “As you well know.”
“Then why not engage yourself to Lady Croome?” Lord Jennings asked. “It need not last. It need only satisfy the terms made in the will, which means that once you receive the remainder of the wealth, then there will be no further need to continue with the engagement.”
Oliver opened his mouth to refute the idea, only to close it again. His brow began to furrow as he considered all that Lord Jennings had suggested, realizing, with shock, that it was an almost perfect solution.
One glance towards his friend told him that Lord Jennings was all too aware that his idea held a great deal of merit and, indeed, he himself had to admit that there was no flaw in the plan. Lady Croome would be open to helping him, he was sure, for she had said so herself only a few minutes ago. Whether or not he could convince her to engage herself to him—albeit quietly—he was not certain, although surely, if she knew that it would soon come to an end, she would not have any particular reason for disagreement.
“I should only have to engage myself to her for a few short weeks,” he said aloud as Lord Jennings nodded eagerly. “I know the date well enough that I must find myself engaged and could, therefore, propose even a day or so before then.”
“Meaning that you would have only a week’s engagement before you could bring things to a close,” Lord Jennings agreed. “And thus decided, the Season is laid out before you just as it has been before—with merriment, enjoyment, and excitement rather than anxiety, worry, and a requirement to seek out a bride.” His brow lifted, and his eyes twinkled and, despite Oliver’s determination not to tell Lord Jennings the truth about just how good his particular suggestion was, Oliver found himself grinning broadly, reaching out to slap his friend on the shoulder.
“Capital!” he exclaimed as Lord Jennings chuckled. “A capital idea, Jennings!” A long breath of relief escaped him. “I believe you have saved me entirely.”
“I do hope so,” Lord Jennings replied, his mouth quirking. “For mayhap, now you will stop with your moping and your melancholy and instead return to the Season with the expectation of enjoyment rather than dread!”
“I can think of nothing better,” Oliver replied steadfastly. “And now I need only approach Lady Croome!” His stomach twisted at the thought, but he took a deep breath, steadying himself as he did so. “I am certain that she will agree.”
Lord Jennings laughed and began to walk forward again. “If anyone is willing to do so for your sake, it will be Lady Croome,” he told Oliver, reminding him of Lady Croome’s loyalty towards him in her friendship. “Let us hope, for your sake, that her loyalty will prove itself to you in this.”
“Indeed,” Oliver breathed, feeling a sense of relief wrap itself around his shoulders like a warm blanket. “Let us hope it will be as you say.”
Chapter Two
“Lord Yarmouth has not yet arrived?”
Tabitha looked across the ballroom once more, but her attempts to secure Lord Yarmouth failed miserably.
“He has not,” she answered with a grimace. “And I am quite sure that Lady Pellingham remains close to me in order to make quite certain that I am engaging myself with suitable gentlemen.”
Lady Ashbrook glanced up at her husband, who merely rolled his eyes but said nothing more. Tabitha smiled to herself but kept her gaze roving around the room, wanting desperately to find Lord Yarmouth’s familiar features. Lord and Lady Ashbrook were the very best of people, she considered, and very well suited in their match together. Lord Ashbrook was a gentleman who spoke very little, but what he did say was always very profound. He clearly adored his wife, for his eyes would linger on her face whenever she looked away from his, his mouth lifting into a half-smile, and his gaze warm. In return, Lady Ashbrook cared for her husband, her gaiety bringing him out of that staid appearance that so often shrouded him from society.
Would that her own marriage had been so! Tabitha had never been happy in her match, which, having been made for her by her father, had never once allowed her to have any say in the matter. Her husband, Lord Croome, had cared only for himself and his own pleasures and, whilst he had never been cruel towards her, had never shown any delight in her company or had been eager to seek her out.
“You are very dear friends, I think.”
Looking back towards Lord Ashbrook, Tabitha nodded, a smile in her voice. “Lord Yarmouth and I have known each other for what is now three Seasons,” she told him by way of explanation. “My first Season, he was very kind to me, and I discovered a strength and determination through his encouragement.”
“And there is no sort of attachment between you?” Lord Ashbrook asked in an interested voice, which bore no condemnation. “You have nothing more there?”
Shaking her head, Tabitha kept her smile hidden. “No, indeed not,” she replied evenly. “I am aware that it is not the done thing to have such a friendship between a lady of the ton and a gentleman, but I have discovered that, with my current status, I can do such a thing without too much fear of reprimand or reproach from others.” Reminded of Lady Pellingham, she glanced over her shoulder only to see that the lady was still standing in the very same spot, although her eyes were fixed to someone who was, at present, conversing with another.
“I see,” Lord Ashbrook replied with a small lift of his shoulders. “You are quite right to state that it is not the expected thing, Lady Croome, but that does not mean that it cannot take place.”
“I am very glad you think so,” Tabitha replied with a genuine smile of thanks. “I should not like to bring any sort of shame to either myself or to Lord Yarmouth, but there is nothing of importance between us, save for an excellent friendship I am very grateful for.”
Lady Ashbrook let out a small sigh and shook her head. “I do not think such a friendship will last, however,” she warned as Tabitha frowned, not understanding what her friend meant. “Once he is wed, there can be none of what you have at present.”
Tabitha’s eyes flared, and her cheeks began to warm with embarrassment, fully aware of what her friend meant. “Of course, I quite understand that!” she exclaimed, eager not to give the impression that she intended to continue with her close friendship with Lord Yarmouth once he was engaged or wed. She had already thought of such a thing and had decided that she would, of course, step away from Lord Yarmouth the moment he began courting a young lady in earnest. It would not do for her to continue her friendship with him in such a way, for no doubt, society would think worse of them both for it. Crude suggestions would be made, whispers and rumors would chase them both, and she did not want that for him or for the lady he would one day marry.
“That is wise of you to have thought of such a situation before, then,” Lady Ashbrook replied with evident relief in her voice. “Now, Lord Ashbrook, are we to remain standing here all night, or do you wish to waltz with me?”
Tabitha watched as Lord Ashbrook started gently, clearly unaware of the fact that the music was a waltz. His face flushed just a little, and he bowed towards his wife, offering her his hand, which she took at once, an eager smile on her face and a brightness in her eyes that made Tabitha’s heart squeeze with happiness for her friend. She was glad indeed that there was such contentment in Lady Ashbrook’s marriage and, watching them leave to dance together, felt a sudden sting of envy.
“You should not stand there in such a forlorn manner.”
Tabitha laughed, turning her head to see Lord Yarmouth standing behind her, just lifting his head from a bow, his hand outstretched.
“We have not waltzed in a long time, Lord Yarmouth,” she replied teasingly. “What if you stand on my toes and bring about such pain that I will be forced to limp from the floor?”
He grinned at her, his brown eyes seeming to light with flecks of gold for a moment or two. “That is a risk yo
u shall have to take, Lady Croome,” he told her, as she took his hand. “Although I think you shall find that I am just as good at waltzing as I have ever been.”
Tabitha laughed and allowed him to lead her onto the floor. It was just as well, given that she had seen, out of the corner of her eye, Lady Pellingham beginning to advance towards her, no doubt ready to ensure that Tabitha’s dance card was sufficiently filled.
“You have rescued me once again, it seems,” Tabitha chuckled as the music began. “I see Lady Pellingham was about to speak to me again.”
“I do not think that she will consider me to be suitable company for you, however,” Lord Yarmouth replied with a grin, one hand settling on her waist. “For you know very well that I am a gentleman who has been in London for some years and still not yet thought to court a single young lady!”
Dimpling, Tabitha caught her breath as he spun her around the floor. Lord Yarmouth had always been an excellent dancer, and this evening, it seemed, was no different. The brightness of his eyes and the quirk of his lips told her that he was pleased with their success on the dance floor, garnering some glances from the crowd who noticed them on the floor.
“You are quite right,” she told him, managing to get her breath back enough to speak. “You certainly would not be suitable company, according to Lady Pellingham.” Her own lips curved as Lord Yarmouth tutted loudly, his hand still clasping hers tightly. “Although, if you would be so good as to deposit me somewhere other than near to the lady once the dance is ended, I should be very grateful.”
“I will remain by your side, if you wish it,” Lord Yarmouth replied, his steps still sure and swift as he held her tightly. “Just as we have done many times before.”
Tabitha’s eyes twinkled. “But this Season is very different, is it not?” she pointed out, one eyebrow arching. “You are to find a young lady to propose to so that you might fulfill your father’s wishes.”