Not Quite a Lady; Not Quite a Knight

by Isabella Thorne

  She looked at him strangely as he continued.

  “That I might call upon you in London. That I might court you properly, as a gentleman rather than a vagabond.”

  Addie smiled. She found she rather liked her vagabond.

  “And that I might once again see the stars in your eyes, and the magic in your smile. That we might discover what adventure awaits us around the next turning in the road, and the next turning of the year.”

  Addie caught her breath. “And how do I know you are true and that this isn’t another charade?”

  He reached into a pocket and withdrew an object that he dropped into the palm of her hand. It was hard to see in the moonlight, but she knew it well enough to recognize it all the same. “It is my father’s signet ring. I had thought he had lost it…”

  “Your cousin sends it with his regards. He is not able to travel, an infirmity keeps him in London.”

  “I will go,” she said, blinking back sudden tears. “I would know this cousin.”

  “And the rest? Will you allow me to call upon you?” He reached out and caught one of her tears with his thumb, and for a moment she was transfixed.

  “You are the fortune-teller,” she said breathless. “You tell me.”

  “I believe your cousin hosts a Christmas Ball. I hope you will save me a dance,” he said.

  Addie couldn’t think of anything she would rather do.

  10

  Autumn was near spent. The last leaves clung to the trees with a stubborn tenacity as the coach left Upper Nettlefold. Whether anyone noticed the girl who climbed aboard with a hired companion, and thought her the same as the Autumn figure from the ball the night before, she had no way of knowing. In truth, Trudy was the only one who was there to wave her goodbye.

  Somewhere on the road ahead of her, lay London, and a man with stars in his eyes who would join them at the next stop. He’d left in the night to make arrangements for the caravan, and once settled, would join them for the rest of the journey.

  And for the rest of her life, she hoped.

  She wondered briefly whether they would ever return to Upper Nettlefold. She suspected they would. There was something about the village that called to a person. Addie wondered who she would be when she returned.

  The ring she carried in her bag along with a letter of introduction from her cousin. He had seemed eager to know her, and to provide her a home for however long.

  Not long, her heart told her as she leaned against the window to stare at the passing scenery. Not long at all.

  They were well on their way when she saw him, her Phineas, waiting at the crossroads ahead. He was already there as promised. Whatever the future held, they would find out together.

  Magic had found her after all.

  She couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

  1

  Miss Addie Walker waved her fan as she searched the crowd for her fortuneteller, Mr. Phineas Ainsworth. She could not spot him in the crush, but it seemed everyone saw her. Since Addie had moved to London with her cousin, she was no longer invisible. She was no longer just Addie Walker. She was called Miss Waltham now.

  This was a hard fact of life; one she would not have thought of as being a problem only a short time before.

  “Truly, you are kind,” she murmured, lifting her gaze to each of her new suitors in turn. “But I fear I must sit out this next set. If I danced but one more step my poor feet should never forgive me.” She tried to peer between the gentlemen to find her Phineas, but he was nowhere to be found.

  There were, however, three very earnest young men bent on convincing Addie that she should dance with each of them. Throughout the night, this number had never varied. This caused no small amount of consternation to the other young ladies in attendance, and fatigue on the part of Addie. She had nothing against the well-titled lot who had quite suddenly found her fascinating, but the absence of the one young man she had very much hoped to see tonight was very much noted.

  Addie sighed and fussed with her skirts, thankful all three young men turned away. That is until she realized that they had only retreated only a short distance and were creating a scene at the punch bowl where they fought for the honor of bringing her a glass of refreshment. Addie covered her face with her fan, not wanting to watch. It was all entirely too humiliating. She knew that the trio was not truly entranced by her. They were enamored with her cousin’s money.

  “Now Addie, is that any way to behave?” The chiding voice could only belong to The Lord Livingsten, Elton Waltham, the very benefactor who had been the cause of Addie’s abrupt shift in social status. While Lord Livingsten was her father’s second cousin. He had declared the relationship entirely too complex to explain and since the Season had begun, he’d invited her to call him ‘Uncle’ which she did, albeit in perplexed frustration.

  “Uncle Elton, have you no notion of my position? It is absolutely mortifying!” Addie cried out from behind her fan held within her white gloved hands. Life had been so much simpler as a serving maid at the inn in Upper Nettlefold, even if the work had been hard and the wages meager.

  “What is the fuss, Adelaide? That you are seen as an eligible young lady?” She felt hands at her wrists, tugging gently at her fan until she was forced to meet her Uncle’s kind eyes, which twinkled merrily at her plight.

  “It is difficult,” she said “remembering who belongs with whom, and all the proper address.”

  “You are a young woman. It is I who am enfeebled.”

  “Enfeebled,” she muttered crossly and sat up straight to look at him. Lord Livingsten had been described as crippled surely, but for one considered old by all standards, he certainly did not act the part, his attitude that of a man half his age, even if such efforts cost him dearly.

  Addie was glad to see that he had sat next to her, his cane cradled in hands. She noticed that those hands shook. She noted for the first time his pallor and the fine sheen of sweat upon his forehead. “We should retire for the evening,” she said and started to rise.

  “Now? When you have not yet even seen your suitor?” Elton asked, his heavily lined face crinkling further in amusement.

  “What is it that you call them?” she asked crossly, noting that all three young men at the punch bowl had come to a truce of sorts. To her abject horror she saw them now, each one balancing a glass of punch in his hands as they approached in a line that looked entirely too much like some ridiculous parade. They would expect her to choose, she realized, and she had entirely no idea how to reject them without causing offense.

  Her Uncle Elton laughed. “Fools, every one. Thankfully here comes your Mr. Ainsworth. I would suggest beating a hasty retreat to the dance floor with your favored young man.”

  Addie’s head shot up as she followed her uncle’s gaze. Sure enough Phineas was approaching. He was a slender dark-haired man, his dark eyes so intent upon her, that Addie found herself blushing even as she rose to her feet. “But what about you, Uncle? We should take our leave…you are tired.”

  Her uncle laughed at her hesitations. “Go on, my dear. I am well enough resting here. I shall bide awhile.”

  Addie nodded though she was already in motion. She met Phineas halfway across the floor, realizing only belatedly that the more ‘proper’ response would have been to let him come to her.

  “Miss Walker…er..Waltham if I might have the honor —”

  “Of a dance? Yes, you might. But I believe we shall have to make haste. It is about to begin.”

  Phineas’ hand was warm in hers as she all but towed her escort into the chaos of dancers taking their positions, abandoning her unwanted suitors and their punch.

  Phineas Ainsworth went along willing enough though he laughed as she all but set him into his place in front of her and retreated to stand in the line between the other ladies who waited in shy excitement for the music to begin. Thankfully they did not have long to wait before each group stepped forward, hands clasping and unclasping as they began the first s
teps of the pattern.

  Addie felt her skirts bell around her as she twirled, the fabric moving against her legs in a way that felt graceful…beautiful even. Or was it Phineas who left her feeling so? She lifted her eyes to his as they came in close and caught her breath at the look in his eyes. They might well have been the only people in the world as they moved around each other, meeting and parting and meeting again.

  How was it that a heart could come to life within the space of a few bars of music? That she had been about to request that she and her uncle retire early was forgotten as she danced, trying to think how to respond when Phineas asked how she was keeping. How could she admit that she pined for him day after day? That she had not laughed once in his absence, though the Season was meant to be a time of joy.

  “I…I am fine, but I feel very…” she glanced around at those dancing near them and leaned in to whisper the word, “lost.”

  Thankfully in all the changes she’d experienced in her short life, Phineas was the one person who reassured her. He was ever her anchor.

  “You are overwhelmed,” he said gently. “It shall pass. You have had neither fortune nor position for a while now, and none of the benefit of the other ladies here claim of having been ‘out’ for any length of time. Your situation will improve.”

  “I think it is improved already,” she said warmly and Phineas squeezed her hand before parting to step back as they waited on another couple to take their turn in the center.

  Addie sighed and waited, feeling colder somehow without him near, despite the warmth of the ballroom and the press of people around her. He stood so tall and regal, with the air of one who was comfortable within his own skin. She saw more than one lady glance at him with curiosity that faded quickly when they realized that he was a second son of a second son. Phineas held no grand title, and seemed the happier for it. Did anything rattle him? She wondered.

  Addie stepped forward again, meeting him, hands intertwining briefly, wishing she was half so calm, that she could enjoy this night without worrying about bothersome young men. Men who only cared how large a dowry she held now that it was determined that she had a rich relation who wished to see her well married.

  A very rich relation who had been trying to pretend that he was not half so weak or ill as he actually was, a relation that should have gone home an hour ago she realized suddenly.

  Her feet faltered. The dance was drawing to a close and the partners were forming for the next set. What should have been soft conversations, sounded loud in her ears. Phineas leaned in. He was saying something to her, but she had no idea what it was. “I beg your pardon,” she said, reaching to draw him away from the dancers. “I really do think I should go. My uncle…”

  He nodded at once, understanding. Dear Phineas to understand! To take no offense. “Let me send the footman to inform your driver to bring your carriage around.”

  “Oh, would you?” Addie watched him go with relief, thinking how dear he had become to her in such a short time. She thought what foolishness filled the other young men who pursued her. To think she would give any of them so much as a look when she held in such high esteem her daring fortune-teller. It was Phineas who had rescued her from a life of servitude and brought her to London for Christmas. How could she slight him now that her own fortunes had improved?

  Her gaze went to the holly hanging around the room. Christmas she thought was another thing to worry about. She did not know her Uncle Elton well, and yet she wanted to give him a special gift. She had been fretting for days now, anxious to find the perfect gifts, first and foremost for her uncle, and secondly…if she were daring enough…one for Phineas as well. Only she’d had an absolute dearth of ideas, and nothing in this room, in the crowd of silks and jewels, gave her any inspiration at all.

  Addie was nearly back to where she had left her uncle when a movement to her left gave her pause. A man caught her eye. She knew him from somewhere. She studied his blond head, fine carriage, and exquisitely tailored jacket. A man of means certainly, only she had not always seen him so. There was something about him that set her heart to racing, and a faintness to steal over her. For a moment the room swam and then she recognized the blackguard. She had to be sure. Was it him?

  “’Tis Lord Whittondon,” a girl in a mauve silk whispered to her.

  Addie caught her breath at the name. Unwittingly she had stopped near a cluster of young ladies a few years younger than herself. The girl’s companions tittered behind their hands at the pronouncement. “There is not a one of us here who is not interested. He is both handsome and rich, and yet, there is not a one of us that he takes interest in.”

  No wonder she thought. He was only interested in women he considered chattel. A woman with no recourse. That would not be so of a woman of means.

  The girls tittered and laughed though there seemed to be a touch of resentment in their expressions that told a different story, one of being rebuffed cruelly. Addy had no doubt.

  It was him. “You are better off without such a man,” she said, surprised at the fierceness of her tone as she slipped back into the crowd. Frantic now, to put as much distance as she could between Lord Whittondon and herself she slipped behind a marble pillar and tried to remember how to breathe.

  Whittondon! If he should see her it would ruin everything! Her new life here in London, would be over in an instant. The resulting scandal would not only remove her from polite society but would destroy her uncle in the process.

  For it was Whittondon who had seen her shame, who knew her from the most revolting moments of her life, when all dignity was stripped from her and she had been sold to the highest bidder.

  Which would have been horrifying enough if in that same instant she hadn’t discovered the perfect Christmas gift for the man who knew her secrets and not only did not care, but loved her all the same.

  Lord Whittondon was probably the one person in the world who knew what had become of Phineas’ sister. Addie was determined to find the secret.

  2

  Addie noticed a girl in a green dress watching her. A grave expression was on the young woman’s face, her blue eyes clouded with concern. Addie smiled feebly, positive that she was making an absolute spectacle of herself. She gave the girl a rather strained smile, and pushed away from the pillar, shaking out her skirts with trembling hands.

  “Have you ever,” she asked, slightly breathless, “seen a stranger and felt like you knew them from somewhere?” Addie laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt to her. “My name is Addie … Adelaide Waltham and if you would be a friend to me for but a moment, I would be most appreciative.”

  The girl laughed, her eyes bright and merry. “Rachel Turner. Would I be unwise to venture a guess that the pale-haired gentleman just yonder might be the cause of your consternation?”

  She would faint. She would surely faint. “Tell me he is not looking at me,” Addie begged, grasping the other girl’s hands in her own. “Tell me he has noticed me…”

  Rachel laughed. “Making a fool of yourself? Silly thing, do you not know the very nature of a ball is to make a fool of yourself, especially over a handsome gentleman.”

  “But is he looking?” Addie asked, terrified of turning around and finding out for herself.

  “He is and seems most delightfully interested. Would you care for an introduction? Oh, Freddie…” She grasped the sleeve of a man talking to someone next to her. “Freddie, would you be a dear and arrange an introduction between my dearest friend…what was your name again? Oh yes Miss Adelaide Waltham…and Lord Whittondon?”

  No. Addie stopped breathing. He is looking at me? With interest? Has he truly has not recognized me? Do I dare? What if…what if I…She could not finish the thought. It was too daring. Too impossible.

  “Should I not be introduced first?” the man asked, giving Addie a frank assessment with blue eyes so like Rachel’s it was clear they were somehow related.

  Rachel huffed out an impatient breath. “Adela
ide Waltham, please allow me to present you to my brother, Sir Frederick Turner, who will in turn introduce you to Lord Whittondon this instant, for my brother understands if he fails to do as I say that I will tell Mother just how much of his allowance he gambles away.”

  Frederick shot her a look that was equal parts hurt and dismay.

  “As you say, sister.” He bowed at Addie and offered her his arm. “Miss Waltham, please allow me to introduce you to a dear friend of mine.”

  Addie bit her lip and fought to keep from shuddering because she was sure that any friend of Lord Whittondon was not any man she wished to be friends with, however nice his sister seemed.

  “I really could not put you out so…” Addie said cautiously as Sir Frederick Turner took her arm and laid it upon his elbow. She was suddenly afraid, but Frederick was already leading her across the short intervening space between herself and the man she had seen in too many nightmares.

  Freddie waved her feeble protest away. “Nonsense. An introduction is no trouble at all. Though I think my sister most unkind not introduce the two of us properly. Why I know nothing of your family.”

  Addie very nearly rolled her eyes, Sir Turner was quite clearly fishing to find out how titled or rich she was. Why could the gentlemen not just see her for who she was instead of being so interested in family name and money? She very nearly chastised him. Thankfully Addie caught herself just in time for they had stopped, and Lord Whittondon was looking her up and down in indifferent interest, until he heard her name. She froze in sudden fear. Surely it was one that he knew even if Sir Turner did not, but Whittondon did not seem to remember.

  That she shared her uncle’s name was fast becoming a curse. The Ton had been rife with gossip when she appeared, her dowry the stuff of legends. Now here was another most unwanted suitor, who took her name with an obsequious bow, and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Thankful for the gloves that covered her skin, she drew away quickly in what she hoped was maidenly modesty. She suppressed a shudder and wondered at how she was still standing upright in his presence when she felt sick inside.