by Archer, Kate
“I cannot thank you enough for your kindness to me,” Lily said. “All of you—Cassandra, Penny and yourself. I wear one of the gowns from your own modiste.”
Sybil examined the deep green silk with a pearl studded net overlay with an approving eye. “Very close to Tudor green, most fetching, I wish I’d had the notion. Now, I am very glad to see you, as my husband and I have only come down for Lady Hathaway’s evening. We are at sixes and sevens with redecorating at the moment, but I could not stay away from a Tudor ball. My father claims a winding descent from Margaret Beaufort, so family honor you see.”
“I am very glad you’ve come and we’ve had the chance to meet,” Lily said. In fact, she was delighted with Lady Lockwood and could see how Cassandra had so easily fallen into friendship with her.
“Mrs. Hemming,” Sybil said, “if you do not mind it, I will steal Miss Farnsworth away. The ball will open with a pavane and Lord Lockwood and I will be showing the steps to those bold enough to try it. We have been practicing for weeks and my lord will even now be gathering us all in the ballroom.”
“I do not mind a bit,” Mrs. Hemming said. “I’ve a mind to seek out the card room. A few games of whist will suit me.”
“You will find my father already there,” Sybil said, “Lord Blanding does enjoy his cards.”
“Lord Blanding is your father?” Mrs. Hemming said. “Oh yes. I know him. Very good player. I wonder if he’s matched up yet?” With that, Mrs. Hemming hurried off, set on seeking out a skilled partner.
Sybil grasped Lily’s hand and led her into the ballroom.
As had the great hall, the ballroom had been transformed from what it must usually be. It was all dark-paneled wood and overarching beams. The musicians were in Tudor court dress. While most of them had charge of the usual instruments for an orchestra, there were a few standing to one side that held lutes, while an enormous harpsichord stood in a corner.
A crowd of people of an age to dance were gathered at the far end of the ballroom. As Lily approached, she noted Penny there, with Lord Cabot by her side. Lord Grayson was there too, as well as some other acquaintances.
Lily had been so distracted, first by the unique entry to the house, then all its wonders and her introduction to Lady Lockwood, that she’d hardly had time to think. Now, her thoughts reverted back to Lord Ashworth. Those thoughts followed the same pattern they had all the day long. Certainly, he would not miss Lady Hathaway’s ball. Though, if he did choose to stay away, it must speak to his horror of having led her to believe in any sort of attachment. She had even heard of gentlemen thinking themselves gained of the unwanted affection of a lady hastily retreating to the countryside to allow things to cool off.
She put on her card player face and looked about.
He was not there.
*
Though both Cobb and Molton had expressed how very much against the idea they were, Hayes had been determined to go out. The wound was nearly healed and only a small spot bled from time to time—something that could be easily managed with the right bandaging under his coat. It still ached, that could not be helped, but the danger of infection was long past and he did not think it would fully open under stress. He must make an appearance in public soon to avoid talk of his dying, or worse, rousing speculation that it was something other than a passing illness that kept him away.
Much longer in hiding and he would be accused of meeting another for a duel and becoming injured. Were that idea to go round, the speculation over who exactly he’d met would prove inconvenient. Why should he not go to Lady Hathaway’s ball? It was always amusing and he would put a stop to rumors before they started.
He had, at least, given in to his butler and valet regarding the means of his conveyance to the evening. It would be more usual that he rode his horse to such a crush—it was far simpler and very much quicker to get in and then back out again when it was only he and Horus. Cobb had outlined all the advantages of a carriage, including the idea that the grooms would be remarkably slow to saddle his horse, though remarkably fast to hitch up his carriage. Molton had only stood with crossed arms and nodded vigorously.
His whole house was in revolt over a horse. It was tedious, but he knew they were right. Into his carriage he went.
Sitting in the vehicle behind a long line of other carriages gave him time to think with no distractions. He could not claim the time was particularly welcome—he had found recently that his thoughts had got in the habit of going in only one direction. He had found it convenient to blame it on laudanum, but he took so little of the stuff now that it was less convincing.
He was certain Miss Farnsworth would attend the ball. He was also certain, as his thoughts had gone round and round on the subject, that he did not wish Miss Farnsworth to marry another. Especially not Grayson. He was not worthy of the lady.
He had tried to avoid the truth—that he minded what Miss Farnsworth did. However, he did mind. He minded very much.
But what did that mean in real terms? Was he to throw over all his ideas and pursue the lady?
He was very glad Dalton could not read his thoughts at this moment. His friend would jail him, just as he’d attempted to do with Lockwood.
And then, he’d been so disparaging of both Hampton and Lockwood for marrying. They’d both let their friends down. They had all sworn they would take at least two more years as bachelors. They would come and go as they pleased with nobody inquiring when they might be expected back. They could set off for Salt Hill with only a moment’s notice. They could go to a play, find it tedious, and leave for a gambling hell with no thought of transporting wives back to houses.
Over the years, all of them had kept a keen eye on their parents. All of them had seen what power a wife really yielded. The idea that the man was to go unquestioned was nonsense. Wives generally had nothing but questions. In the country, his father spent half his time hiding from his duchess. It was only bachelors who went on unquestioned. They had been agreed—they would be free for now, though not forever. The six of them were meant to stand united against their fathers—was he to be the third traitor to their cause?
As if a veil lifted from his eyes, Hayes suddenly saw the truth of it. What business had he to join in this foolish game they all played? Was he really to throw over any future happiness for the satisfaction of a few of his spoiled friends? Or, more stupidly, for a run to Salt Hill?
And would he be throwing over his future happiness?
Yes, he knew he would. There would not be another Miss Farnsworth. There would be an endless parade of pleasant females happy enough to become a duchess. There would not, however, be another Miss Farnsworth.
His friends would rail against him once his attitude was known. Dalton might go so far as to beat him about the head.
Hayes began to laugh. It occurred to him that he had very much decided that they could rail themselves to hell and back for all he cared about it. As for Grayson, he could rail himself to hell and stay there.
His carriage had finally reached the front of the house. He leapt down before Freddy could open the door. He had a lady to see and a future to plan.
*
Lily sometimes thought it was unfair that a female must wait to be chosen, rather than make the choice herself. Had she been able to make her choice, she might have passed over Lord Grayson. She had not had the luxury though and was just now attempting to pay attention to the demonstration of the pavane by Lord and Lady Lockwood, while trying to ignore the overblown compliments Lord Grayson saw fit to whisper. Eyes like the night sky, indeed.
Suddenly, she felt Lord Grayson’s fingers remove themselves from her own. Behind her, Lord Ashworth said, “Shove off, Grayson.”
Lord Grayson said, “My good fellow, do not be cross because you were delayed. I had the good fortune of arriving first and securing Miss Farnsworth for the pavane.”
“The pavane is a Tudor dance in which the lady chooses the partner,” Lord Ashworth said, as Lily slowly turned toward him
.
“Is that so, Lord Scholar?” Lord Grayson said, with faint irritation in his voice. Lily got the idea that the lord had never heard such a thing, and neither had she.
“Yes. It is so,” Lord Ashworth said.
“Well, Miss Farnsworth,” Lord Grayson said smoothly, “it seems you must choose between a gentleman who admires you greatly, or the sullen figure just arrived.”
Lily felt her cheeks burn. What should she do? She had vowed she would convince Lord Ashworth that she held him in no particular regard. But why would he put himself forward in such a manner? Why push in when he might have asked another lady?
She did not know, but she was inclined to follow her heart and find out.
“Sullen and just arrived will suit, I think,” Lily said gaily, attempting to pass it all off as a joke.
Now, it was Lord Grayson who took on the mien of sullenness. He stepped aside, though not with particular good grace.
Lord Ashworth gently took her fingers and they turned to Lord and Lady Lockwood.
As they attempted to copy the steps, Lord Ashworth said, “I highly doubt ladies chose their partners in the Tudor court. Though, perhaps they did—I wouldn’t know.”
Lily could feel her heart beat a little faster. The lord had completely invented the idea.
“Lord Grayson,” Lord Ashworth went on, “is a friend to me, such as he is. But I do not view him a friend to any innocent lady.”
Lily’s heart clutched in her chest. Did he mean to say that he only stepped in because he thought Lord Grayson a bit of a villain? Was it only his perceived duty to shield her?
Boldly, she said, “The gentleman’s compliments are absurd and do not affect me in the slightest. A moment ago, I was to know my eyes were as the night sky.”
“Ridiculous,” Lord Ashworth said. “They are far more like a lake at midnight.”
Lily momentarily froze her steps. The lord’s fingers tightened on her own and they began the steps again.
The ballroom had filled and the musicians were tuning. Lord and Lady Lockwood led them through the pavane one more time. Cassandra had told Lily some of Sybil’s history with the gentleman who was now her husband. It seemed extraordinary that they’d faced any difficulties at all. Just now, they seemed a perfect pair. Certainly, the lord doted on his wife—at least it would seem so. She scolded him mercilessly for missing a step and he seemed delighted with it.
As they came to the end of their practice, Lord and Lady Hathaway formed the head of the column. The music struck up, the tempo much more sedate than a modern dance. Lily could almost imagine Henry the VIII leading the procession. It was a pleasant thought, until her mind drifted to which queen might be found on the king’s arm. Where would that queen be in her history? At a glorious beginning or a fatal end?
Lily and Lord Ashworth had been silent since the remarkable comment upon her eyes. Lily attempted to put all her concentration on the steps of the dance. It was a blessing that it was a slow-moving processional without an endless array of changes. Even so, Lily had not paid enough attention to Lady Lockwood’s instruction—she had been too distracted by Lord Grayson and too engrossed with Lord Ashworth. Then, there was the further complication of finding her thoughts racing. Why would he compliment her eyes? Surely, he’d meant to drive her off, not lure her in. Had he changed his mind?
She must know the truth of it. As they stepped lightly to the side and then back again, she said, “My aunt and I were sorry to hear that you were indisposed.”
Lord Ashworth did not respond but only nodded slightly. Mrs. Hemming was right, he was not a very voluble person.
“Of course,” she went on, “my aunt has been anxious to know the details of the circumstance of our mutual acquaintance.”
“Are you anxious?”
“Yes,” Lily said, “I will admit that I am.”
“Then I will tell you the whole of it. Someday.”
Lily was baffled. The lord was being very mysterious. And then, was it her own wishful thinking to read too much into the word someday? Was she foolish to think that meant there was to be some sort of ongoing connection between them?
Whatever had happened since his disappearance and rather curt note, he seemed to have changed his stance. Certainly, he did not run from her as she had expected. But, what was he doing? She could not make it out but wished desperately to discover it.
If she did not know the truth, if she was left in this limbo, her heart would always hang in the balance. She would inevitably allow herself all sorts of fantasies that might collapse into a heap of ash at any moment. She might be having a pleasant conversation at a dinner, and then someone would suddenly mention his engagement to another. Miss Blaise, perhaps. Or maybe she’d hear of it by letter when she was back in Surrey. She must know where she stood.
Lily was so distracted by her roiling thoughts that she missed their time to turn. She stumbled and clutched at Lord Ashworth’s arm to keep herself upright.
He winced, and her hand came away with a wetness. A trace of wetness had seeped through his dark coat. “My Lord!” she whispered close to him. “I believe you may be bleeding!”
Lord Ashworth glanced down at his coat. “It is nothing, only an annoying scratch that has taken it’s time to heal.”
Lily searched his face for the truth. She had looked on that face often enough and thought she saw a flicker of prevarication.
“I do not believe you,” she said, as they made their way down the final procession.
Lord Ashworth revealed a moment of surprise that was just as quickly hidden. “In any event, it might be prudent that I leave off dancing for the rest of the evening,” he said. “I might play cards.”
Lily was a mix of worry and disappointment. What had happened to him? Did it have anything to do with why he had been missing for over a week? Did it have anything to do with Mr. Shine?
“If you would think to play cards,” Lord Ashworth went on, “you might claim a twisted ankle from your stumble. You have told me yourself that you are no stranger to claiming a sore leg when cards might be had.”
He wished to play her again. Why? Why would he when he generally found it irritating? Did he suppose she would allow him to win?
Though, wouldn’t she?
The pavane came to an end. As the audience that had gathered round them clapped, Lily said, “I do feel my stumble has strained my ankle. I suppose it would not be sensible to stress it more.”
Lord Ashworth nodded and led her toward the doors of the ballroom. Mr. Gentry, he of the disastrous piquet skills, halted their progress. “Miss Farnsworth,” he said, eyeing her dance card dangling from her wrist, “might I prevail upon you?”
Lily had no intention of being prevailed upon by anybody save Lord Ashworth. She said, “I am sorry, Mr. Gentry. I have strained my ankle and retreat to the card room.”
After she’d said it, she wished she had not. As she passed by the gentleman, she heard the whispers. Miss Farnsworth and Lord Ashworth would play. She had almost forgotten that it was of such interest to the ton.
Quietly, she said, “I suggest we play whist. It will not be nearly as interesting to any onlookers.”
“Yes,” Lord Ashworth said.
The card room was lively—tables had been set up, each to accommodate four players, and a small adjoining room contained a sideboard with refreshments. Let it never be said that those who viewed themselves too old for dancing were without spirit. Lily’s aunt was surprised to see her there, but happy just the same. She had partnered with Lord Blanding and handily trounced Mr. and Mrs. Beltemham, who declined another round. Lily and Lord Ashworth would take the couple’s place.
Their table had the advantage of being at the far end of the room, with a wall behind. They might have some onlookers peering at their game, but they would not be surrounded.
Lily was introduced to Lord Blanding, though it appeared that Lord Ashworth was already known to him. Lord Blanding was rather stiff on the greeting and s
he supposed he maintained certain attitudes of the young bucks in town. Lily thought him friendly enough to herself, especially when her aunt pointed out the connection between Lily, his own daughter Sybil, and Cassandra.
That there were a few that came to view their game had seemed inevitable to Lily. Lord Blanding seemed to take it as a compliment to himself. When he took a trick he issued vague mutterings along the lines of “As you see, that is how it is played.”
Lily had no great wish to win the hands. She was quite content sitting across from Lord Ashworth. Though, they seemed to be in sync and did win often. It seemed they both instinctively played the same strategy and though she doubted the lord’s memory as good as her own, it was superior to most.
When Lord Blanding began to seem annoyed at his losses, she exchanged glances with Lord Ashworth and they altered their play. The wager was only a pound and so it was nothing to lose the hands, but it seemed a great deal to Lord Blanding. And to Mrs. Hemming, for that matter.
Sooner than she expected, Lord Blanding quit. He claimed he wished to see his daughter dancing, as he missed having her by his side ever since she’d married. Though Lily did not doubt he missed his daughter, she also was certain that Lord Blanding liked to spend most of his time winning. It seemed he would quit while the cards still went his way.
Lord Blanding offered to escort Mrs. Hemming to the refreshments. The lady had hesitated and looked at Lily.
“I am quite all right, Aunt,” Lily said, not wishing for her aunt’s care to force her from the table. Or from Lord Ashworth. “I am surrounded by matrons, you see.”
In truth, Lily was chaperoned well enough. There could not be a safer place for a young lady than a card room at a ball. Every older lady of consequence was there to ensure nothing untoward went on.
Mrs. Hemming had seen the sense of it. Though, she may also have been swayed by Lord Blanding’s description of the cakes on offer. It seemed there was a particular cake with raspberry preserve that was exceptional. Mrs. Hemming had a fondness for raspberry preserve, as long as it was well-sugared. Lord Blanding had assured her that he would hardly recommend a preserve that was not. He put his arm out as they went in search of that marvelous confection.