by Rose Pearson
“An excellent dance indeed,” he murmured to himself, stepping apart from Lady Marina and allowing her to find her position.
It was only then that his eyes, straying from Lady Marina for a few moments, found Lady Croome. She was speaking with Lady Ashbrook, and, as he watched, he realized that she was, in fact, upset. There was a sadness in her expression that had not been there before, and Lady Ashbrook settled a comforting hand on her arm, which only made Lady Croome’s head bow forward, shaking her head slightly as she did so.
His heart sank as the happiness and pride he had been feeling only a moment before evaporated completely. In seeing Lady Marina, Oliver had completely forgotten Lady Croome. It was as though even the recollection that she was there with him had flown from him in an instant—and that shame bit down hard at him now. How could he have been so unfeeling? To simply forget about his dear friend’s company after speaking to her in a harsh manner? It was rude, indeed, and, more than that, clearly injurious to Lady Croome’s spirits.
“Lord Yarmouth?”
Dragging his attention back to Lady Marina, he realized that the music had begun, and the couples had started to take their steps. Forced to throw Lady Croome aside yet again, he forced himself to focus entirely on the dance itself, trying his utmost to enjoy the few minutes he had in Lady Marina’s company, attempting to regain the happiness that had filled his heart but a minute ago but finding that he could no longer do so. There was still the delight of being in her company, in knowing that the other gentlemen of the ton might even be a little envious of him, but it was tainted now. Tainted with the knowledge that he had injured Tabitha, that he had brought her pain, and, in doing so, had shamed himself also.
That is not the way one ought to treat one’s friend, he told himself severely. You must make amends.
Quite what he was to do, Oliver did not know, but the resolution to do so was already within him. No matter how well this evening went, no matter how enjoyable his time with Lady Marina was, Oliver knew that the only thing he needed to focus on was restoring his relationship with Lady Croome. The rest would come later.
Chapter Ten
Tabitha looked at herself in the mirror as her maid finished setting her hair into a simple chignon. Given that she did not expect any afternoon callers and had herself no particular engagements, there was no requirement for her to make any particular effort with her appearance. If she were to be truthful with herself, Tabitha would admit that she did not wish to have company this afternoon either, finding that she almost had to steel herself when it came to considering the dinner party she was to attend this evening.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?”
Looking at her reflection again and noting the dark smudges under her eyes, Tabitha gave her maid a somewhat wan smile. “No, I thank you,” she said as the maid dropped her head, clearly appreciating Tabitha’s thanks. “You may lay out my things for this evening, however. I shall be in the drawing-room or library until later.”
Rising, Tabitha made her way downstairs, quite looking forward to a quiet afternoon. Lady Ashbrook had insisted that she be permitted to call, but Tabitha had managed to encourage her not to do so, particularly since the dinner party that evening was to be hosted at the Ashbrook’s townhouse. Lady Ashbrook would have more than enough to do and certainly did not need to waste her time trying to encourage Tabitha in one way or the other.
“Especially since I am being foolish,” Tabitha murmured to herself, walking into the library and picking up the book she had tossed aside on to the table only last evening. She had returned from the evening assembly feeling faint of heart, despite her apparent success with Lady Marina. She had not been able to speak to Lord Yarmouth about Miss Bartlett, but, it seemed, she would have no need to do so. He had been quite taken with Lady Marina, for she had seen the way his eyes had rounded and his mouth had hung a little ajar for just a moment or two as she had approached. And all after he had spoken to her in a very sharp manner, simply because she had been doing what he had asked of her!
Returning home early from the assembly, she had tried her best to retire to bed given the lateness of the hour but had found herself quite unable to do so. Her mind had been filled with none other than Lord Yarmouth. She had seen his face over and over again, recalling how he had stared in astonishment at Lady Marina and finding that, the more she thought of it, the more pain seemed to flood her soul. Despite telling herself that she ought to be glad that there was a clear attraction towards Lady Marina, given that Miss Bartlett was now well on her way to Scotland and certainly would not be returning to London any time soon, there had been a heavy weight on her heart that had not dissipated all through the long hours of the night. She had risen in an attempt to read for a time, so that she would cast her mind away from Lord Yarmouth, only to find herself struggling to read even a single sentence with any sort of concentration or clarity. Frustrated, she had returned to bed but had tossed and turned until finally slipping into an exhausted sleep, just as the sun had begun to rise above the rooftops of London.
She felt no better this morning.
Sighing, Tabitha sat down heavily in a chair, having just rung the bell for tea to be brought to her. Picking up the book, she flipped it open and attempted to begin to read the very next chapter simply so that she might distract herself from her tumbling thoughts.
It took a great deal of effort, but, finally, Tabitha began to find a little solitude in the pages of her novel. It pulled her away from her own life and difficulties into such a story of adventure that she quite forgot all about Lord Yarmouth. Even the tea tray being brought to her did not cause much of a distraction, and thus, Tabitha spent an enjoyable hour in solitude, relieved that she had finally found a little respite.
A respite that was, unfortunately, soon interrupted.
“My lady?”
Tabitha looked up, a trifle irritated that she had been pulled from her solitude. “Yes?”
The butler came a little further into the room and bowed his head, perhaps sensing her displeasure. “Lord Yarmouth wishes to see you, my lady,” he said, as Tabitha swallowed hard, her contentedness fleeing her in an instant. “What are your wishes at present?” Clearly aware that she had expected not to entertain guests this afternoon and was, at least for the moment, tucked up in the library with a book and her tea tray, the butler looked at her hesitantly as though worried she might rail at him for allowing Lord Yarmouth entry in the first place.
Tabitha swallowed hard again, feeling herself grow tense as she placed her book down carefully. “But of course, I will see him,” she said quickly, trying to dismiss her own feelings of anxiety. “Thank you, allow him in at once. And fetch whatever he requires to drink.”
The butler nodded and retreated, with Lord Yarmouth being shown in only a few seconds later. Tabitha rose from her chair at once, astonished at the way her stomach tightened and her heart began to quicken as he came towards her, his hands outstretched.
“My dear Tabitha,” he said, a look in his eyes that she had not seen before. “You left the assembly early last evening, and I did not get the opportunity to speak to you before you were gone.”
Tabitha took his hands in her own but did not say a word, finding her throat constricting tightly as she looked up into his eyes. Why had she never noticed before just how captivating they were?
“I spoke harshly to you yesterday, and I am sorry for it,” he continued, standing close to her now and searching her face, his hands tightly holding hers. “I practically berated you for something that I had asked you to do, and that was very wrong of me, Tabitha. I only pray that you can forgive me.”
Nodding inanely, Tabitha tried to smile but felt her lips stick fast together, refusing to move.
“I can see that I have caused you pain that has not yet left,” Lord Yarmouth continued, dropping one of her hands and, much to her astonishment, reaching up to press his hand against her cheek, his eyes now fixing tightly to hers as thoug
h he were desperate to convey just how regretful he really was. “I should never have spoken to you in such a manner. It was entirely unfair of me. I want you to know that I am truly grateful for all that you have done.”
Forcing air into her lungs, Tabitha drew in a long breath and let it out slowly, aware of the tingling in her skin from where his hand had rested upon her cheek. “I quite understand,” she said, stepping to one side and releasing his other hand so that she might resume her seat again. “It was something of a surprise to me also, the way that Lady Sutherland came towards us both. It was not at all what I had expected.”
“But it worked out marvelously,” Lord Yarmouth declared, beaming at her. “Lady Marina is to accompany me to the theatre tomorrow—along with her mother, of course! I shall be quite the envy of almost every gentleman in London.” He tilted his head and studied her for a moment. “I do hope that Miss Bartlett will not be too upset if I set her aside.”
Something like anger burst through Tabitha’s chest as she studied Lord Yarmouth. “You mean to say,” she began, choosing her words with great care and deliberation rather than giving way to all that she wanted to say. “You mean to say that you will no longer give any attention to Miss Bartlett, even though you considered doing so before?”
Lord Yarmouth shrugged. “It is of no great consequence, I am sure. Miss Bartlett was, as you know, someone who was difficult to converse with, even though I sympathized with her situation regarding her mother. But Lady Marina is quite the opposite of Miss Bartlett! She is quite able to converse with me, listens well to what I have to say, and is quite beautiful also.” A smile of contentment spread across his face, but this only added to Tabitha’s anger. Rising from her chair on unsteady legs, she planted both hands on her hips and glared at him.
“You mean to say that it is Lady Marina’s beauty that has captured you rather than any true knowledge of her character?” she said, her voice rising slowly. “I had not expected such shallowness from you, Lord Yarmouth!”
From the expression on his face, Tabitha knew such words surprised him. His smile had shattered, his eyes had flared, and a slight paleness had come into his cheeks, but Tabitha felt no guilt in what she had said. This was just as she saw things, just as she saw him to be, and that, in itself, was something of a shock.
“I—I do not know what you mean, Tabitha,” Lord Yarmouth said, his voice faltering. “I have been considering Miss Bartlett for some days, as you know, but I do not think that I can permit myself to consider her any further, given what I know of her.”
“And when did you come to this decision?” Tabitha asked sharply, her fury like a burning fire that simply grew in strength with every second that passed. “Was it before or after you set eyes on Lady Marina?” Lifting her chin, she saw him flush and drop his gaze and felt disappointment sear her. “For before you saw Lady Marina, I am certain that you spoke to me of Miss Bartlett, stating that you had not seen her as yet and expressing a small amount of dissatisfaction over such a thing. Is that not so?”
Lord Yarmouth opened his mouth to speak, and then, after a moment, let out his breath in a long hiss, running one hand through his hair as he kept his gaze fixed to the floor.
“You may have come to apologize, Lord Yarmouth, but I believe you have done more harm in your visit,” she finished, desperate for him to remove himself from her presence. “I have never once thought you vain, hoping that other gentlemen will see the lady on your arm and be filled with jealousy because of it. You have never expressed to me a desire simply to find a lady whose beauty outshines every other, so that you might have her as a bride. I had thought better of you than that, Yarmouth.” Walking to the door, she yanked it open, heat and rage burning through her veins. “Depart, if you please. I must have some time to think on all of this.”
Lord Yarmouth stared at her for a long moment, his mouth having dropped open at her final announcement. It was as though he expected her to change her mind, to slowly close it and state that she had overreacted, but Tabitha remained steadfast. She wanted to be entirely alone, and Lord Yarmouth seemed unable to comprehend that.
“Tabitha,” Lord Yarmouth said, taking a step closer to her, his hand outstretched as he began to frown. “Please, I—”
“I will see you this evening,” Tabitha interrupted sharply. “But for the moment, I should like to be alone. There is much I must think on.”
Again, Lord Yarmouth simply stared at her in evident astonishment at her reaction, but slowly, as he saw that she was not inclined to change her mind, he began to move away. His head low, he made his way towards the door.
“Tabitha,” he said again, pausing just as he came to pass by her, his eyes searching her face. “I—I am sorry.”
Tabitha turned her face away from his, finding herself somewhere between wanting to express her fury towards him and wanting to break down into sobs. It was a relief when he left the room and all the more of a relief when she was able to shut the door behind him. Sagging against it, she closed her eyes tightly and felt the anger begin to drain away from her almost at once, leaving a weakness in its place. She had not meant to react with such anger, but it had been within her regardless, sending spikes of ire all through her. Every word she had said to Lord Yarmouth was quite true. She had never expected him to speak in such a way, to express such a shallow sentiment about a lady, and yet he had done so without hesitation. There had not even been the opportunity to tell him the truth about Miss Bartlett, but there was no need, evidently, to even mention her name again since he was now set on courting Lady Marina.
Closing her eyes, Tabitha pushed hard against the tears that threatened to flood them. She would not permit herself to cry. This was nothing more than foolishness, for what need did she have for Lord Yarmouth to behave properly? It was his decision what young lady he chose to wed, and, if that was to be Lady Marina, then what did it matter to her?
Pushing herself away from the door, Tabitha turned to open it, glancing out quickly to make certain that Lord Yarmouth was not waiting for her to emerge, and then quickly returned to her room.
“I am going to take a short walk,” she told her maid, who was busy laying out her things for the dinner party later that evening. “I shall not be long.”
Quickly, the maid helped her change into her walking dress, and within a few minutes, Tabitha found herself outside, drawing in great lungfuls of air. The walk, she told herself, would do her good. Her anger would fade completely as she walked, her mind would settle as she took in the sights and sounds of London. To remain at home, to pace and cry and grow frustrated with all that had occurred, would do her no good at all. Better to walk outside for a time so that she might grow a little weary, and, in turn, bring a quietness to her mind.
One hour later and Tabitha was quite exhausted. She had walked much further than she had intended and found herself in a small park where she might rest a while. The difficulty had been that, as she had been walking, her mind had been so busy with all that she had been thinking of that she had not been aware of where her feet were taking her.
Sinking down onto a bench, Tabitha closed her eyes and wished that she could rub her feet. It had, perhaps, been a little foolish to allow her anger to push her so far from home, although, of course, she could simply take a hackney back to her townhouse.
She was not quite ready to return, however. When she did, she would immediately have to make certain she ate something before beginning preparations to go out to the dinner party. The prospect of seeing Lord Yarmouth again was not a pleasant one, and Tabitha knew she would struggle to contain her feelings in proper company.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
Tabitha looked up in surprise, having not even realized that an older lady had approached her. She looked a little tired, and immediately, Tabitha made to rise, but the lady gestured for her to remain seated.
“I am sure there is plenty of space for us both,” she said, coming to sit down beside Tabitha with a contented sigh escapi
ng her. “I thought to come out walking this afternoon, but I have walked a little too far.”
Tabitha’s lips quirked ruefully. “As have I,” she said as the lady laughed. “But I shall take a hackney home.” She smiled at the lady, aware that she had not yet introduced herself. “And you?”
“I shall do the same,” the lady replied, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunshine. “Once I have rested for a time, at least.” She studied Tabitha for a moment. “I hope you do not mind, but I must ask—are you quite all right?”
A frown rippled across Tabitha’s brow. “What do you mean?”
“Only that you look troubled,” the lady replied carefully. “I do not mean to pry, but I should be glad to listen to you if you wish to unburden yourself.”
Tabitha tried to laugh, tried to state that it was quite all right and that she was not at all troubled, but neither of her intentions came to fruition. Her laugh died in her throat, and the words she wanted to say refused to come to her lips.
“You may have noticed that I am a little older than you,” the lady continued with a small smile. “I do have some wisdom in certain matters. I was married myself but have also lost my husband and many others that were dear to me. I have raised a family of my own, and, these last years, have set to assisting those who have had very little aid from any other quarter.” Her head tipped to the left, her eyes assessing Tabitha carefully. “I may not be able to say very much at all, but I would be glad to listen to anything you have to say.”
“It is nothing but foolishness on my part,” Tabitha found herself saying, unable to prevent herself from speaking to this older lady despite the awareness that she might very well seek to then take whatever Tabitha had said and whisper it to her friends within the beau monde. “It is a matter of my own making, in a way. Perhaps I never should have...” She trailed off, looking at the older lady with a sense of wariness beginning to swoop around her. “It does not matter.”