by Fanny Finch
Would he be proud of how she handled herself this evening? She liked to think that he would be. Not that she would ask him. She wanted to ask him of course and even a few days ago, perhaps even yesterday, she would have.
But she had to remain strong. She had to…
Maria woke again when she felt Georgiana gently shaking her.
“Oh my dear, you really have exerted yourself this evening.”
She could hear the amusement in Georgiana’s voice and blinked her eyes open slowly.
Lord Reginald was already out of the carriage and arranging things for the evening, unlocking the front door and such. Georgiana helped Maria out of the carriage.
She couldn’t believe that she had fallen asleep. She felt terrible. But Georgiana simply seemed amused by the entire thing.
Under such circumstances, she hoped that Lord Reginald would understand why she didn’t bid him a proper goodnight. She could hardly remember getting up to bed.
“You wore yourself out,” Georgiana said, helping her get tucked into bed.
Maria nodded, so tired she could hardly speak. “It seemed to be…a success.”
“Oh my dear,” Georgiana replied, an oddly knowing tone in her voice. “You have no idea how much of a success it was.”
That was the last thing she knew before falling asleep.
Chapter 20
Edward sat down in front of the fire, in a daze.
It felt as though he were almost outside of his own body. Floating. Lightheaded except all over.
He loved her. He loved her. He loved her.
Not that he had doubted what Georgiana had said before. Not that he hadn’t already had his suspicions, had been trying to decipher the workings of his heart.
But it hadn’t hit him, truly, until tonight. And it had felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped onto his head.
First, there had been when Miss Worthing descended the stairs.
Edward suspected Georgiana had purposefully ensured that all the stops were pulled out for Miss Worthing’s outfit that night. She had looked like a vision.
Of course, Edward had already been aware that Miss Worthing was pretty. How could he not be? He had spent quite a lot of time around the woman and he was not blind.
Besides, she was possessed of a different kind of beauty than most. Perhaps it was her upbringing but there was a wildness to her, a striking sort of look to her, that made her stand out from the crowd.
So, yes, he was aware that Miss Worthing was possessed of a lovely face and form. But never before had he been dumbstruck by her.
As she had descended the stairs in her white dress, her hair done up to expose her face and elegant neck…he had found himself without breath.
Small crystals or other sparkling stones had been set in her dark hair so that it looked like a nest of stars in the night sky. And while her skin had gotten paler since coming to England, it was still dark enough to create a lovely contrast against the white muslin of her dress.
His breath had caught in his throat and he had suddenly found it quite hard to even imagine getting any words out.
Miss Worthing must have noticed something odd in his manner, for she had taken care not to address him too much as they made their way to the ball.
Edward could hardly blame her. Thinking back on how he had behaved he must have looked like quite the fool. He had forced himself to look out the window in order to prevent himself from simply staring at her.
It was as though he had been trying for ages to solve a complex math problem, and he finally understood the logic of it. He did care for her, he did, and not as a brother or as a friend, but as a lover. As a husband should.
He could have put off the subsequent ball as merely his own bias, but he was certain that something in Miss Worthing’s manner had changed that night.
It could not merely be his own revelation. It must color his perception of her behavior, to be sure. He was not denying that. But he could not be so imaginative as to conjure up everyone else’s behavior.
He was not necessarily a jealous man. He was not prone to envy. And so he did not think that he imagined the looks that the men were giving Miss Worthing as they danced with her.
Nor could he say that he was the sort of man who gave a person more credit than they were due. Indeed, if his sister was to be believed—and he did believe her—he was more inclined to give someone less credit than they were due.
And so he could not be imagining how Miss Worthing was more confident. More outgoing. How she managed to be more cheerful and confident, without becoming thoughtless and catty the way that she had last night.
No, he could not be imagining that. But what, then, had caused such a change in her?
Perhaps it was her father. She had gone to see him that day, after all. That was where Georgiana had finally told him that Miss Worthing had gone to after Edward had nearly torn his hair to pieces worrying about her.
That should have been another clue. Of course it would be natural for him to worry about a woman he had promised to take care of. But if his sister knew where Miss Worthing was going, that should be reason enough for him to relax.
Georgiana was, after all, an eminently sensible woman. She would never have allowed Miss Worthing to go anywhere or do anything that was unsafe or untoward. There was, therefore, no reason for him to have been so worried.
But he had been. And that should have been a sign.
In any case, it must have been Miss Worthing’s visit to her father that had put her in such a wonderful mood at the ball that night. His condition must have been better than she had feared. Perhaps his illness was not so severe as the doctors had predicted.
It was wonderful news, of course, but Edward dared not presume. It was all that he could guess at, however, when it came to Miss Worthing’s renewed spirits.
He dared not consider it his own apology to her. While he did not doubt her when she said that she took it in good grace, he had noticed that she avoided him all night.
He had not even been able to find her for their customary dance together.
That had troubled and upset him more than he could admit out loud. He had grown used to their dance. He had come to see it as a touchstone of his evening. A way to genuinely enjoy himself and to relax after dealing with people he disliked, and a way to bolster himself for the next half of the evening.
But he certainly couldn’t march across the ballroom and demand that she fit him in for a dance. As much as he might want to do just that, he had to respect her wishes. If she, for some reason, did not want to dance with him then he had to accept it.
It could be that while she had accepted his apology, she needed a bit of space. He could not blame her for that. If she needed some time to acquaint herself with the fact that he was no longer angry with her—that indeed he had no right to be quite as angry as he had been—then that was her choice.
But it had been like a blow to the chest to realize just how much he had come to rely upon that dance to anchor him at these occasions.
Of course, if they were married, he could not necessarily dance with her. But he could have her by his side for much of the ball so that would balance it out. And he wouldn’t have the likes of Miss Hennings after him anymore either.
It had struck him, then—and struck him again now, thinking back on the evening, staring into the fire as though it could hold the answers—how easy it was to imagine.
How easy, how simple it would be. How already similar to their current situation it would be. Miss Worthing already lived with them, after all.
She already spent almost all day, every day with him and with Georgiana. He had to be called away to work on things from time to time but such was the life of a landowner and nobleman. His wife would have to contend with the same thing.
And he knew that he would be comfortable around her. That she would respect the fact that he was not truly inclined towards social gatherings. That he wanted honesty in a partner.
He
could trust her to run the household. Miss Worthing had run her father’s household and indeed the plantation itself back in the Caribbean. As her father’s health had failed she had taken on more and more of it.
After all of that, and an ailing father on top of it, Miss Worthing would certainly be able to run the household. Edward could trust her far more than he trusted any other young lady that he knew.
But even with all those sensible reasons…they were not why he was now sitting in front of the fire, recalling every moment of the evening, trying to sear into his memory the vision of her dancing.
It had nothing to do with sense. He liked to think that sense was part of why he cared for her. After all, no matter how deep an infatuation, he had his land and his family’s future to consider when choosing a wife.
But sense was not involved when he had looked at her on the dance floor and missed doing that with her. Sense was not there when he had felt a pang of sorrow and frustration as she had laughed at something her dance partner had said.
He had wanted to make her laugh like that. To be the one bringing that smile to her face. To be moving about the ballroom with her.
He wanted people to see Miss Worthing in the middle of the dance floor, shining like a star, and say, “That is the Duke of Foreshire’s wife.”
For she was a star. A lovely one. He wondered if she had been able to see it. Had she noticed? Had she realized how something about her energy drew every eye in the room to her that night?
Miss Worthing had always been lovely. He would never deny that. It was not as though she had been this…ugly duckling that became a swan.
But she had been awkward. Afraid. Unsure. And those traits had rendered her either invisible or a target.
That night, it had been different. She had possessed a confidence and ease of manner that made her transformation complete. For the first time, he overheard people speaking of her looks, how lovely she was. How fine her dress was.
Suddenly, everyone could see what Edward had been seeing and taking for granted all along.
For he had taken it for granted. And now he feared there was no chance of him earning a special place in Miss Worthing’s heart the same way that she occupied a special place in his.
Her newfound confidence had extended even to Miss Hennings. The lady had come up to Edward at one point during the ball. She had, apparently, just come from speaking to Miss Worthing.
“I see that your shadow has at least abandoned you,” Miss Hennings had noted. “You must be quite relieved to no longer shoulder such a burden.”
“If you are referring to Miss Worthing,” Edward had said, as coldly as he could manage while still being polite, “I can assure you the care of her was never a burden.”
“Oh but of course,” Miss Hennigns had said. “You are too generous in spirit to ever see it that way. But you must admit that you are freer now to think of your…other impending responsibilities.”
Oh, how he had longed to turn to her. To say coldly and with finality, if you are speaking of marriage, Miss Hennings, I fear you will forever be barred from that conversation in my thoughts.
It would have given him such satisfaction. To call helping out a young lady a burden. To insinuate constantly about his needing to marry, as if it were not gauche to do so.
It fairly made his blood boil.
“She is quite a strange creature,” Miss Hennings had gone on. “She was very polite to me. Almost as if someone had put her up to it. Did you finally install some manners in her?”
“I can assure you, Miss Hennings, that if Miss Worthing was polite to you it was certainly not because of my influence.”
Miss Hennings had stared at him, her mouth agape.
Edward smirked in recollection. He had not been able to smirk in the moment. That would have been taking it too far. That would have been cruel.
But he had certainly felt like doing so. It had taken quite a lot to maintain a stoic face.
“We have been distant as of late,” Miss Hennings had said, trying again. “I ought to call upon your lovely sister. I suppose that you will also be at home—”
“I’m afraid I will not be. I have much business to attend to in town in the mornings.”
Miss Hennings had looked rather as though she had swallowed a lemon. She had looked back through the crowd to the dancers.
“I suppose that I ought to congratulate you.”
“Upon what, Miss Hennings?”
“Oh, do not make me say it aloud,” she had said. Or spat, rather. She had been in quite a state. “Everyone has been speculating on it. Of course I refused to believe it. I knew that you could do so much better for yourself.
“But it seems that I was mistaken, and so I must offer you my congratulations. I am sure that your choice will provide you with what you deserve.”
Edward had sighed then. He did not take pleasure in this. He might be harsh but it was also almost sad how Miss Hennings behaved. She must have had a very empty and lonely existence if she clung to him, and to her meanness, in such a fashion.
“I am not engaged to anyone, if that is what you are hinting at,” he had told her firmly. “I do wish that you would speak more plainly in your manner, Miss Hennings.
“But if you did, perhaps we would have struck up a better friendship than the one that we have. As it is, while I am not currently engaged to Miss Worthing, I would rather be engaged to her than to any other woman in this room.”
There were many other things that he could have said in that moment. Things that he honestly wished that he could say then. But that would have been straying from honesty into needless cruelty.
He did not need to be cruel to make his point. And if he was, then he would have to take back everything he had said in chastising Miss Worthing the other night. For he would have become a hypocrite.
Miss Hennings had looked…appalled was probably the best word for it.
Edward had bowed to her as politely as he could. “I must bid you good evening, Miss Hennings. I believe I see my sister.”
And so he had left her.
Oddly enough, it had not left him with the feeling of triumph that he would have expected.
Instead it left him feeling sad. Pitying, even.
For Miss Hennings must have been living such a terribly empty life, he thought. For her to be so focused upon marrying him that she would be heartless and cruel to others. For her to make such despairing remarks about other women. To be so blind as to her own behavior and how it looked to others.
He could not help but wonder what sort of empty life she led. He pitied her for it. His own life was rich and wonderful. Even more so now that Miss Worthing was a part of it.
As he had walked away, Edward had found himself genuinely hoping that Miss Hennings would learn her lesson from this. That she would become better.
Perhaps she would find someone who would see through the anger and pettiness that she projected. Someone who would give her the love and understanding that she seemed to need. Someone who would validate her and find the softness lurking inside of her and bring it out into the light.
Maybe, he had realized in that moment, Miss Worthing had changed him.
A few weeks ago, he would never have had such a thought about Miss Hennings. He would have been pleased at taking her down a peg. He would not have mustered such sympathy for her.
But Miss Worthing believed that people were inherently good. That everyone had good motivations.
Certainly, if someone as good as Miss Worthing could be tempted to behave poorly, as she had the other night…could there not be good in the other people that he felt were such a torment to him?
It was something odd to think about but not in an unpleasant way. It had gotten him to think that perhaps he really ought to be less harsh on people. Perhaps he ought to be kinder.
A little confidence had clearly gotten Miss Worthing a long way that evening. But as he had watched her, he had seen that the foundations for her popularity w
ere already laid down. Her kindness had done that.
The people around her must already remember how well she listened. How anxious she was to make friends. How much she cared.
Without those, Edward doubted that the rest of the night would have gone as well. He was sure it was her previous actions that lent her such an easy time of it tonight. All that she had needed was that final boost of determined confidence.
Whatever her mission was that night, she had succeeded in it. She had truly been the belle of the ball.
Edward did not think that she had sat down once that night. He had seen her constantly being pulled from group to group and from dance to dance. Everyone had wanted to get a piece of Miss Worthing.