by Joyce Alec
“Indeed you are,” he replied, a flicker in his eyes as he took her in—and the look brought a flush of color to Lydia’s cheeks. She was not quite certain that she liked being regarded in such a way, for the obviousness of his attention as it roved up and down her frame brought her more embarrassment than pleasure. She cleared her throat delicately and looked away, which evidently seemed to bring Lord Paulson up short.
“Might I dance with you, Miss Whitaker?” he asked, spotting her dance card. “I do hope your spaces have not yet been entirely filled by eager gentlemen.”
She could not help but laugh at this, although it was somewhat rueful. “You would be the second gentleman only to enquire after my dance card, Lord Paulson,” she admitted, handing him her card. “But I would be glad to dance with you.”
He grinned at her before letting his gaze fall to the card. “How glad I am to see that you have another waltz free, Miss Whitaker,” he murmured, hurriedly writing his name there. “And mayhap the cotillion.”
A smile settled on her face as he handed her back the dance card. “I thank you, Lord Paulson. That sounds quite delightful.”
Inclining his head, Lord Paulson surprised her by offering her his arm. “Might I escort you to the other side of the ballroom?” he asked, one eyebrow lifted in question. “I have some dear friends I should like to introduce you to.”
Lydia hesitated, recalling how she was meant to be standing and conversing with Lord Ancrum, for it was with him that she had the agreement. This evening, Lord Ancrum was to be the one to introduce her to as many of his acquaintances as he could and, being an earl, he had a good many of them. However, given that Lord Paulson seemed so eager and that she found him, for the most part, fairly amiable and charming, there did not seem to be anything particularly wrong with accepting such an offer.
“I shall bring no harm to you,” Lord Paulson promised, showing a slight touch of frustration at her delay. “Besides which, you have no particular chaperone, Miss Whitaker. That means your judgment can be trusted.”
It means that my mother cares nothing for me, Lydia thought sadly, but the thought then served to remind her that she was to behave vastly differently this Season than she had done before. Besides which, had she not just reminded herself that Lord Ancrum was not to become of particular interest to her?
“I think that would be quite delightful, Lord Paulson,” she replied, glancing over his shoulder and realizing that Lord Ancrum was still standing there, but for some reason now glowering furiously at Lord Paulson. She hesitated, wondering if she had insulted him by accepting Lord Paulson’s invitation or if he was displeased with her for not introducing him to Lord Paulson, but before she could say anything more or change her mind, Lord Paulson had taken her hand, placed it on his arm, and pulled her away.
Although Lydia had been a little irritated with Lord Paulson’s manner, she soon found herself enjoying his company and had been delighted to be introduced to his acquaintances. Her social circle increased by almost double within the first half hour of her time with Lord Paulson and she soon found that, as Lord Paulson had predicted, her dance card was filled to the brim. Lydia was not quite sure what to make of Lord Paulson, however. He was cheerful and amiable, with a ready smile and a teasing laugh that seemed to be directed at each of his acquaintances in turn, although Lydia noted that not everyone returned his smiles.
Studying him for a moment as he spoke to another gentleman, Lydia took in his boyish face, round cheeks, his thicket of fair hair that did not seem to fall in any one direction, and his deep green eyes that were constantly moving, as though he wanted to take everything in whilst still in conversation with another. She did not know him particularly well at all, of course, but there was something about him that intrigued her. Besides which, Lydia recalled, he had been more than kind to her in stopping to help her stand after her fall and accompanying her to Lady Irwin’s door.
“Do not be so ridiculous, Davidson,” she heard him say, slapping the other gentleman on the back. “You will have to come to White’s with us after this ball is at an end. I absolutely insist upon it.”
The other gentleman looked about him uncomfortably. “I—I do not think I should wish to, Lord Paulson,” he replied, although there was no particular firmness to his voice. “As I have said, I am rather fatigued already and I—”
“Nonsense!” Lord Paulson interrupted loudly. “You may think that I have forgotten, Lord Davidson, but I assure you, I have not.” Glancing about him for a moment and perhaps realizing that others could hear him, Lord Paulson chuckled. “It is your round, is it not?” he asked jokingly. “Do you not recall, Lord Davidson, how you promised to buy each of us here a glass of the finest French brandy the next time we met at White’s? Surely you cannot have forgotten!”
Lydia frowned, seeing how Lord Davidson dropped his gaze to the floor and then shrugged, wordlessly.
“You shall come to White’s after all, I think,” Lord Paulson finished, with a broad grin at the other gentlemen. “I have been looking forward to that brandy for some time, I confess.”
Someone else murmured something that sounded as though it were an agreement with Lord Paulson, and it seemed all Lord Davidson could do was agree.
“But of course,” he muttered, so quietly that Lydia could barely hear him. “The brandy. I quite forgot. Of course I shall attend White’s once this ball has come to an end. You need have no doubt of my intentions now, Lord Paulson.”
Lord Paulson grinned, a look of triumph in his eyes. “Capital!” he boomed, clearly now well aware that he had an audience and that it was not only Lord Davidson to whom he spoke. “Do you hear that, all? Lord Davidson has remembered his dues and will buy us all the finest brandy White’s has to offer this evening!”
A small yet dulled cheer went up from some of the other gentlemen, whilst the ladies amongst them simply turned their faces away from Lord Paulson. Lydia’s frown remained unchanged, looking at Lord Paulson and finding that she could not quite make him out. She did not know what sort of character he truly was, for it seemed as though he had somehow shamed Lord Davidson into doing what was asked, although Lydia could not quite work out how he had done such a thing. Her frown lifted somewhat as she considered that mayhap a promise of buying brandy for those about you was of great importance to gentlemen, which was something she could not really know for certain given that she had very little experience of the goings on within gentlemen’s clubs.
“Miss Whitaker.”
She turned, seeing Lord Ancrum standing a little behind her, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
“Oh, Lord Ancrum,” she said, trying to smile and wondering if he was still displeased with her in some way since he did not look as if he had enjoyed any part of the evening thus far. “Is it to be our dance?”
He nodded, not looking anywhere but her face. “Yes, indeed,” he said, offering her his arm. “Might you attend with me, Miss Whitaker?”
Excusing herself from her new acquaintances, Lydia allowed Lord Ancrum to lead her to the dance floor, feeling a tension radiate from him that she could not quite understand.
“I am sorry if I have done you wrong in some way,” she said, suddenly feeling the urge to apologize even though she had no particular reason to do so. “You appear to be upset over something and I must wonder if I am to blame.”
Lord Ancrum swallowed hard but said nothing. Instead, he led her to her place with the rest of the set and then stepped back into his own position. The music began and Lydia was forced to drop her attention from the questions burrowing into her mind and instead focus on ensuring that she danced every step correctly without putting a foot wrong. Lord Ancrum remained tight-lipped throughout, not smiling at her nor showing any sort of enjoyment. A flare of shame burned her cheeks, realizing that this would surely then become a piece of gossip for the beau monde to chew upon. For a gentleman to show no pleasure in dancing with a lady suggested that he did not particularly enjoy her company and that
was mortification indeed.
The music came to its torturous end after some time and Lydia wanted to hurry away from Lord Ancrum almost at once, but propriety forced her to remain by his side as he escorted her from the floor. Her mortification was so great that she could barely find the courage to speak openly to him, fighting the urge to once more slip into the shadows and remain there until the ball came to an end.
“You seek me to beg forgiveness from you, Lord Ancrum, is that what you wish?” she asked in a hard whisper. “I do not know what it is I have done to wrong you, so how can I plead forgiveness?”
“You quite mistake the situation, Miss Whitaker,” came the sharp reply. “It is not you that I am frustrated with but rather your awareness of one Lord Paulson.” He shot her a dark look, sending a shiver through Lydia’s frame. “You have been introduced to him before, I believe.”
She nodded. “In a most peculiar fashion, I will admit,” she replied slowly, not understanding his evident anger. “He stopped to help me when you did not.” She arched one eyebrow in his direction and saw Lord Ancrum begin to slump, his shoulders falling about his ears. “Lord Paulson is the sort of gentleman a lady might depend on when a difficult situation arises,” she continued, feeling her own irritation begin to burn to anger at his attitude. “He came to my aid, ensured I could stand without swaying, and insisted on accompanying me to Lady Irwin’s townhouse, where he did not stay for tea despite my urging.” Blowing out her breath, Lydia tried to contain her frustration. “That is how I am acquainted with him, Lord Ancrum, and I can see no reason for you to think poorly of that.”
Lord Ancrum said nothing for some minutes as emotions surged across his face one at a time. He first appeared to be regretting his behavior, then grew angry with either himself or her and then closed his eyes tightly and let out a quiet groan. Lydia watched all this quietly, feeling her own irritation begin to fade away and being replaced with tumbling questions as to why Lord Ancrum seemed to dislike Lord Paulson so.
“I am sorry for my clear irritation,” Lord Ancrum muttered eventually, passing a hand over his eyes as though he could not look at her, such was his embarrassment. “I must confuse you greatly with my behavior as changeable as it is.”
“I just would like to know your reasons for appearing so disturbed by the presence of Lord Paulson,” Lydia replied evenly. “I did not think, from your reaction, that you were very well acquainted with him.”
“I knew of his name but had never been introduced,” came the confusing reply. “Do not go near that fellow again.”
A surge of irritation forced Lydia to draw herself up, glaring indignantly at Lord Ancrum. “You have no right to tell me what I should or should not do, Lord Ancrum,” she stated, her voice growing louder with every word she said. “You may be assisting me but this is not the expectation I had. I did not once think that you would allow yourself to speak so decisively and in such an authoritative a manner towards me, especially when I have not asked you to do so.” She sniffed and lifted her chin again, turning her head away. “You are quite right to state that your behavior confuses me greatly, Lord Ancrum, for that is precisely what you are doing. One moment I think you one of the kindest gentlemen I have ever had the opportunity to be acquainted with, and the next I discover you still have the arrogance and pride that provoked you to behave so intolerably towards Miss Grey last Season.” She heard him mutter something under his breath but did not look at him. “If you will excuse me, Lord Ancrum, I feel the need to remove myself from your presence for a time, so that I might regain my composure.” Without giving him a moment to respond, without demanding that he explain to her the reasons for his dislike of Lord Paulson, Lydia made her way past Lord Ancrum and back into the crowd, suddenly feeling more confused than ever before.”
7
“Shall we take the carriage, Lord Ancrum? It is a fine day, I know, but I am somewhat weary after last evening’s enchanting ball.”
Joseph blinked, his thoughts having been pulled in an entirely different direction and rendering him quite deaf to whatever Lady Starling had said.
“I—”
“Oh good, I am so glad you agree,” Lady Starling said, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing it gently. “The carriage is already prepared. Come, let us depart.”
She flashed him a bright smile and then hurried past him, making her way to the door and clearly expecting him to simply follow her thereafter. Not quite realizing what it was he had agreed to, Joseph went after her at once, realizing that there was very little else he could do. Lady Starling was already waiting for him by the front door, her bonnet tied carefully and her gloves already on. Clearing his throat and thinking that Lady Starling seemed to be in a much better frame of mind than when he had last called upon her, Joseph put a smile on his face and followed her out to the carriage.
“If you would oblige me, Lord Ancrum?” she cooed, holding out her hand as the steps to the carriage were set in place. Joseph offered his hand to her at once, a slight heat catching him as he spotted one or two onlookers staring at not only himself but at Lady Starling. Most likely they knew precisely who the lady was and would surmise that, since he was to accompany her in the carriage, they had something of an understanding. Even though that was not the case—and could never be so—Joseph felt himself a little embarrassed at the attention that was being drawn to them.
Hastily climbing inside, he sat back against the squabs and ensured that he sat opposite and a little away from Lady Starling, so that not a single part of them came into contact.
Lady Starling laughed softly, as if she were aware of what he was doing, and then rapped on the carriage roof for them to depart.
The carriage rolled away almost at once, heading directly towards Hyde Park. They made slow progress, for the fashionable hour was soon to be upon them and all those eager to be seen were moving in one direction. Without intention, a vision of Miss Whitaker appeared in Joseph’s mind, recalling how she had thought they would not be attending Hyde Park during the fashionable hour, expecting that he would not want to be seen with her. His heart twisted in his chest, reminding him of how foolishly he had behaved towards her at the ball last evening. Their supper dance had not gone well either, for it had been a quiet, stilted affair and he had been forced to seat Miss Whitaker next to another two couples so that there would, at the very least, be some conversation. He had not meant to order her about, to insist that she stay away from Lord Paulson, but a furious fear had captured him when he had realized who the gentleman was and he had found himself demanding that she do as he ask.
“You are lost in thought, Lord Ancrum,” came Lady Starling’s teasing voice, her eyes roving about his face. “I do hope they are centered on me.”
Joseph cleared his throat, knowing full well that his thoughts had not strayed to Lady Starling in some time. He had spent the last few days considering what he might do in order to protect her, yes, but had not come to any particular conclusion. He had also attempted to seek out Lord Paulson with great discretion, but had become somewhat distracted with Miss Whitaker in the process. He sighed heavily. He had two weighty affairs to deal with at the same time and it was becoming rather burdensome.
“I have discovered Lord Paulson,” he told Lady Starling, seeing her smile fade almost at once. “I have not made myself known to him as yet, but I know his appearance.” He leaned forward, his jaw working for a moment as he recalled the arrogance of the fellow. “Has he come to you again?”
Lady Starling sighed heavily and nodded, looking out of the carriage window instead of into his face.
“Why did you not inform me at once?” he asked, a trifle surprised that she had not done so.
She sighed again, pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, and dabbed at her eyes. “I have troubled you enough already,” she told him softly. “Besides which, it was only more of the same requests and threats as before.”
Joseph let out a long breath and shook his head. “He seeks money from you.�
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“Money which I have given him,” she said miserably, not looking at him. “I could do nothing else. I had no choice.”
Closing his eyes in frustration and anger, Joseph felt his heart go out to Lady Starling. On the outside, she appeared to be a vision of beauty, confident and determined in her own right. However, he had no doubt that she was now feeling afraid and alone, with no one present to help her. He was grateful that she had thought to come to him for assistance, although as yet, he still did not know what to do.
“It will not be the last amount he demands, of course,” Lady Starling insisted, looking at him now with a degree of desperation in her eyes. “What he will say next is that I am to give him even more, for the threat remains the same.”
“He will tell society of the truth of your husband’s death,” Joseph replied, recalling what Lady Starling had said. “I must ask you, Lady Starling, would that be so terrible an ordeal to bear? I know that you would struggle initially, but the gossip would soon die down, would it not?”
Lady Starling dropped her head, her shoulders beginning to shake. “No, Lord Ancrum, it would not be something I could endure,” she said brokenly. “My acquaintances would turn from me, my friends pretending they never were close to me.” She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes again, her grief evident. “What should I do then? I must have companions if I am to survive in this society.”
Joseph hesitated, wondering if she spoke of also having the protection of a gentleman, who would, of course, lavish her with expensive gifts and trinkets so that she would give her affections to him alone.
“Do not ask me to endure such a thing, Lord Ancrum,” she finished, looking up at him with glistening eyes. “I could not bear it.”
“No,” Joseph agreed, trying to comfort her. “No, that was a foolish suggestion for me to make.” He tried to smile at her reassuringly and, thankfully, Lady Starling managed to smile back, albeit a watery one. “Then mayhap I might reason with the fellow.”