by Joyce Alec
Of course, had she decided to remain as she was, she would never have allowed herself to accept an invitation to dance with Lord Ancrum, but, given that she was attempting to behave in an entirely different manner to what she was accustomed to, she had decided therefore to do something she knew was not wise.
She had danced with Lord Ancrum.
The way his face had lit up with relief when she had accepted him had told her more about what he was feeling inside than any words could express. He was, it seemed, quite ashamed of the fact that he had such a poor reputation, although he had stated very clearly that he was all too aware that it was his own behavior that had brought about such a change. She had found herself mildly curious, wanting to know the entirety of what had occurred and what had made him so desperate to act in such a fashion, but had not asked him a single thing. As yet, Lydia did not know whether she would be continuing her acquaintance with the gentleman, although she would be more than willing to do so if he wished it of her.
He was handsome, she considered, walking quickly along the pavement and passing the many shops that lined the street. When she had allowed herself to study him, she had seen the strength in his broad shoulders and back, seeing how he held himself straight with his head lifted so as to exude a confidence he perhaps did not truly feel within. His face was rather angular, with a firm jaw and a Roman nose that accompanied dark grey eyes. It was those eyes that had caught her attention, for they seemed to swirl with mixtures of grey and black, changing almost every moment as she had looked into them. Fair hair and brows had added to his slightly foreboding appearance, although when he had smiled at her, that had dissipated somewhat.
Why are you giving him such consideration?
A faint blush touched her cheeks as Lydia thought on this for a moment. Lord Ancrum was, of course, an interesting character and had a handsomeness about him that could not be denied, but that was, at present, all he was. She could not allow herself to be caught up with him simply because he was the first gentleman she had been introduced to now that she had decided to behave in a different manner. If things continued as they were, then she would hopefully be introduced to a good many other gentlemen, and thereafter, might even have one showing a specific interest in her that she could return. Lydia considered the fact that an arrangement of husband and wife was not something she wished for, given that her parents’ marriage had been an arrangement between the two families. Their discontent and continued anger towards one another were not what she wanted to see repeated in her own life. Therefore, she had to hope that a gentleman who was amiable, refined, and, at the very least, kind would consider her. If she felt a fondness for him, then she would accept any offer that was given to her. However, if he was cruel and seemingly disinterested in her, then she would have no hesitation in refusing him, even if it meant that she would leave London this Season with no interest from any particular gentleman.
So caught up was she in her own thoughts that Lydia did not notice the gentleman hurrying towards her. Her thoughts were pulling at all of her attention, her eyes looking ahead but seeing nothing.
The gentleman in question was in a hurry, his eyes darting from here to there. His hat was pulled down low over his forehead as though to hide himself from view, even though he wore the attire of a gentleman.
A sudden jolt caught Lydia entirely unawares. Someone had slammed hard into her shoulder, knocking her completely off balance. With a small cry of pain, she staggered backwards, her hands flailing as she tried to regain her balance, but air was all she could cling to. She caught sight of a gentleman turning back towards her, his dark eyes looking into hers—and then, before she was truly aware of it, Lydia was flat on her back, looking up at the sky and feeling her head and shoulder begin to throb.
“Good gracious!”
A gentleman hurried towards her, bending down nearby and offering her his hand. Two ladies came with him, each with her hand pressed to her mouth as though in shock.
“Can you sit up, miss?” the gentleman asked as she took his hand. “You took quite a nasty fall there.”
Lydia held on tightly to the gentleman’s hand as he began to lift her carefully, making her wince as her head began to ache terribly.
“You have quite ruined your gown!” one of the ladies cried, as though this was of much greater concern to Lydia than that of her painful head and sore shoulder. “Goodness, what could that gentleman have been thinking of?”
Lydia blinked hard, looking into the gentleman’s face and realizing that this was not the man she had seen as she had fallen. He had light eyes and a round, boyish face instead of the dark eyes and grim expression she had caught sight of as she had fallen. Looking down at her gown, she saw the tear to the hem and the dirt and dust that covered her and felt heat rise into her cheeks. She must look a sight.
“I—I thank you,” she stammered, realizing that a small crowd of onlookers had gathered as she rose, still clinging onto the arm of the gentleman who had come to her aid. “I do not know what occurred.”
One of the ladies tutted loudly. “A gentleman knocked you over!” she exclaimed, gesturing behind her. “I do not know where he is gone, but I am quite certain it was a gentleman.”
“Impudent fellow,” the gentleman who held her hand replied, looking into her eyes with concern. “Could I catch him, I would ensure that he be brought back at once to make amends.”
Lydia tried to smile, resisting the urge to press one hand to her head. “I am quite all right, I assure you,” she said, seeing the ladies glancing at one another. Most likely, this story would be all through society by the end of the day. “I am very grateful to you for your kindness, sir, although I do not know your name.”
The gentleman smiled and let go of her hand slowly, as though to make sure she would not faint and collapse if he did so. Lydia stood quite calmly, not showing a single trace of pain in her expression as she held the gentleman’s gaze, thinking that he had a kind face which suited his chivalrous nature.
“Lord Paulson,” he declared eventually, giving her a quick bow. “Viscount Paulson, if you wish to know the title.” He chuckled and lifted his head again. “I am very glad to have been able to assist you…” He trailed off, clearly waiting for her to introduce herself also.
“Miss Whitaker,” she replied quickly, a little embarrassed. “I thank you, Lord Paulson, for your kindness in assisting me to my feet. I shall not hold you back from your path any longer.”
“Oh, but I should not allow you to leave without any assistance,” the gentleman said, looking all about her. “Your maid, where has she gone to? Or mayhap you are out with a friend or a relative?”
Lydia could not quite bring herself to say that she had been out walking without relative or friend, although she had no idea as to where her maid had gone.
“I did have a maid with me,” she murmured, looking all about her but not seeing the creature anywhere. “I am currently making my way to call upon an acquaintance and thought to walk instead of taking the carriage since the sun was so bright and the day so fine.” She did not know why she gave such a detailed explanation to a gentleman who had no reason to know such a thing, but she did so anyway, making Lord Paulson smile.
“Then I should be glad to accompany you,” he replied gallantly, offering her his arm as the crowd began to disperse. “Come now, I shall not allow you to refuse me. Where is it you go?”
“To Lady Irwin,” Lydia answered, seeing Lord Paulson nod. He clearly knew where she was to go. “You are very kind, but…”
Her words trailed off and Lydia found that she could not refuse, for the kindness of his expression and the awareness that she should not walk on alone were too much to bear. Therefore, she accepted his arm with a murmur of thanks and began to walk again, feeling no other pain except for the ache in her head and the throbbing of her shoulder.
The sound of hurried footsteps behind her made her turn her head before she could even begin another conversation with Lord Paulson
, surprised to see her maid reappearing.
“I chased after the gentleman, my lady,” the maid explained, her eyes huge and her face a deep shade of scarlet. “I thought to catch him since he seemed to care nothing for you.”
Lydia blinked, stopping in her steps to turn and face her maid. “I see,” she replied, not quite certain whether she was pleased that the maid had done such a thing or angry that she had left Lydia’s side when she was needed the most. “And did you discover him?”
“He went into White’s, my lady,” the maid replied, hanging her head. “I am sorry if I done wrong.”
Lydia’s head began to pound all the more, forcing her to close her eyes and drag in a long breath.
“I shall go to White’s the very moment I have seen you to Lady Irwin’s house,” Lord Paulson answered, before Lydia could say anything. “I shall seek out this gentleman, for I, too, saw a glimpse of him.” He patted Lydia’s hand as it rested on his arm and then slowly brought her back around so that they might keep walking. “Mayhap I might call upon you to inform you if I discover anything.” He glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Or even if I have been entirely unsuccessful.”
“You—you wish to call upon me?” Lydia repeated, a trifle confused. “We have only just become acquainted.”
“And yet I find myself quite entranced,” Lord Paulson said easily. “And it would not be gallant of me not to ensure that you have recovered from this nasty incident now, would it?” He chuckled and despite the strangeness of the entire situation and the ongoing pain in her head, Lydia could not help but smile back. She felt quite flattered that the gentleman wished to see her again, finding him to be utterly charming and more than considerate.
“I should be glad of that,” she replied softly, seeing his smile spread all the further across his face. “Thank you, Lord Paulson. You are very kind.”
3
It was to Joseph’s shame that he had not stopped the moment he had bumped into that young lady. He had received such an urgent note that he had been entirely set upon his course and had not even seen the lady until it was too late. Nor had he had the time to stop and ensure that she was all right, to offer his profuse apologies, and to beg her to forgive him, for the urgency of the note had called him to Lady Starling’s side immediately.
He had been unable to refuse her, of course, although he knew full well that going to see the lady was not in keeping with what he had promised Lord Irwin. In fact, it would be best for him to remain as far away from Lady Starling as possible, given that he was trying to keep his reputation as pristine as he could, but he could not turn away from her desperate request that she call upon him at the very first moment he was available.
Just quite what was wrong, he had very little idea, but the words contained within the note had seemed frantic. There had been no carefully curved and delicate writing but rather a hurried hand, with blotches of ink marring the page all the more. His heart was racing frantically by the time he reached the front door of Lady Starling’s townhouse, sweat trickling down his spine. Why he had not hailed a hackney, he could not quite understand, for then at the very least, he would not have arrived in such a state as he must appear now. He had not had the time to call for his carriage to be brought around but had simply hurried from the house, jamming his hat down on his head as he had done so. Thoughts had tumbled about his head so hurriedly that he had practically run through London towards her townhouse.
“Ah, Lord Ancrum.” The butler opened the door without any attempt at swiftness, surprising Joseph entirely. “Lady Starling is expecting you.”
“Where is she?” Joseph asked, a little out of breath as he removed his hat and handed it to the man. “What is it that has occurred?”
A flicker of a frown caught the butler’s expression, although it faded almost the moment it had appeared. “I do not think that there is anything untoward, Lord Ancrum,” he replied slowly, looking back at Joseph as if he were the one confused. “Is there something that concerns you?”
Joseph hesitated, his brows furrowing. He did not want to tell the butler about the note Lady Starling had sent him, but it was most peculiar that the butler himself did not know if there was anything wrong. “I—no,” he stammered, his confusion growing steadily. “If you will just direct me to her, then I shall be glad to call upon her.”
The butler cleared his throat and then nodded, gesturing for Joseph to follow him. He led the way to what Joseph presumed was the drawing room, having not been in Lady Starling’s residence for some time. The door was opened in front of him and his name murmured to the lady within, and Joseph lost no time in walking through to greet her.
Much to his surprise, Lady Starling was sitting quietly in a chair by the fire, although he did think it was a trifle unusual for a fire to be lit in the grate on what was a beautiful summer’s day. He bowed deeply, hearing Lady Starling rise to her feet with her gown rustling, before instructing the butler to bring up some refreshments.
“Lord Ancrum,” she cooed, the moment Joseph lifted his head. “How grateful I am to you for calling upon me with such swiftness.”
Joseph blinked in confusion, taking a few steps closer to Lady Starling. “I received your note, Lady Starling, and thought you to be in severe trouble of some sort. I do not understand what has occurred.” His frown deepened as he recalled the note, stating that she was in dire trouble and required his presence. “I thought you to be in some sort of danger.”
Lady Starling sighed heavily and reached out for his hands. “You have arrived only a few minutes too late, Lord Ancrum,” she told him sadly. “I was afraid that a certain gentleman would press his attentions upon me when I did not seek it.”
“Oh.” Joseph’s frown remained, not truly understanding why she had written a note to him instead of simply calling for a footman to remove the fellow. “Your staff could not…?”
Lady Starling gasped, as if he had suggested something truly abhorrent. “I could not do such a thing!” she exclaimed, sounding horrified. “Lord Paulson is not a gentleman to be trifled with.”
Trying to recall who Lord Paulson was, Joseph remained silent, whilst becoming slowly aware that Lady Starling was now holding onto his hand, her fingers tight as she looked up into his face.
“I do not know the gentleman, Lady Starling,” Joseph replied after a few moments of silence. “But I am sorry you had to endure such a thing.”
She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “My note was written with such haste that I could barely get the words to the paper,” she said, each word appearing to be an effort to speak. “I had the butler delay him for some minutes whilst I wrote, but he could not be prevented from seeing me.”
Joseph let out a long breath, still feeling a trifle uncertain as to why she had chosen to call upon him instead of any other. Surely Lady Starling could call upon a good number of gentlemen to come to her aid, particularly those who might share a closer acquaintance with her than he.
“You wonder why I sought you,” Lady Starling said softly, as if she could see what was in his thoughts. “I confess, Lord Ancrum, your face was the first that came to me when I heard that Lord Paulson was to call upon me. I cannot explain it but it was as though something within me knew that you would come at once.” She blinked rapidly, a breathy sigh leaving her lips. “As though I knew you would protect me.”
Joseph let the last of his unease slip away, looking down into Lady Starling’s face and feeling his heart swell with pride. To know that he had been the one she had thought of, even though their acquaintance was not of a particularly long duration, was pleasing indeed. That must mean that she, at least, considered him respectable and trustworthy.
“I am honored that you thought of me,” he told her, glad to see the small smile of relief creep across her face. “Now, why do we not sit down and I shall make sure that you are quite all right and you can tell me all about this Lord Paulson fellow.” He smiled reassuringly at her and Lady Starli
ng let out a long breath, closing her eyes for a moment before nodding and releasing his hand.
His chest a little puffed with pride, Joseph ensured that Lady Starling was sitting comfortably before taking a seat himself. The maid arrived only a moment later with the tray but Lady Starling ushered her away so that they would not be interrupted.
“Tea shall restore me very well, I think,” she murmured softly, her hand trembling as she reached for the teapot. “And there is a tray in the corner if you prefer the very best French brandy—oh!” The teapot slipped from her hand and crashed back down onto the tray, although, much to Joseph’s relief, nothing appeared to be broken. He leapt to his feet at once and grasped the teapot, pouring the tea for Lady Starling at once, seeing her press one hand to her forehead.
Mayhap she was more shaken than he had thought her. Adding a dash of milk to the now filled china cup, Joseph lifted the cup and saucer and held it out to her, feeling a rush of guilt that he had ever questioned whether or not there was something wrong.
“I thank you, Lord Ancrum,” Lady Starling replied heavily, opening her eyes as she dropped her hand to her lap. “You are very kind.”
“It is the very least I can do, of course,” he said gently, looking down at her for a long moment to ensure that she was quite recovered. “Now, do tell me about this Lord Paulson.”
Lady Starling sighed heavily and winced. “He is not the sort of gentleman that allows anyone to refuse him anything,” she replied, her voice low. “Lord Paulson is well known to be a gentleman disliked by almost everyone within high society.”
“And why is that?” Joseph asked, recalling that he still did not know who this gentleman was. “What is it that he has done that causes so many to turn against him?”