The Beauty

by Connolly, Rebecca

  Caroline held her breath and waited, wondering where the flash of hope had come from. She hadn’t hoped for much in her life, but now…

  “Miss Perkins.”

  A rush of breath escaped in an exhale as she turned to see Mr. Debenham coming to her, a faint smile on his handsome face. He bowed perfectly before her, his dark hair darker despite the resplendent number of candles in the room. When his green eyes clashed with hers, and he extended a hand towards her, Caroline swore her knees would give way, though they were as stable as ever.

  “The first two dances, I believe,” Mr. Debenham said, still smiling.

  Caroline put her trembling hand in his, the gloves between them doing nothing at all to dampen the heat between them. “Yes, sir. As I understand it.”

  His hand closed around hers, and a similar pressure squeezed about her heart. “Then we had best be about it.” He led her out to the center with the other couples, lining up in the proper formation.

  Caroline’s heart pounded furiously within her, though nerves about the dance itself had nothing at all to do with it. It was the man standing across from her, staring with an intensity that tickled something deep inside of her. Something she could not explain or express, and something had never in her life expected.

  Dancing with him was beyond anything. He was a graceful dancer, despite rarely being seen to do so, and he put her at ease at once. They had a little conversation, none of which she could later recall. The only thing that remained in her mind was the look in his eyes, which were trained on her the entire dance.

  For her part, it was impossible to look anywhere but at him.

  The touch of his hand awoke whatever part of her it landed on, be it her waist, her hand, or brushing against her hip on a particularly close pass between them. So many sensations and ripples cascading through her, and she was to dance a second with him?

  Surviving that would be a triumph all its own.

  “Would it be too much flattery, Miss Perkins,” Mr. Debenham asked as the first dance finished and they prepared for the second, “to tell you that you are a picture of loveliness this evening?”

  “It would, yes,” Caroline murmured, her cheeks feeling warmer than she could ever recall.

  He nodded once. “Then I shall not say so.”

  She bit down her lip, the urge to giggle rising. She never laughed, but with him, she found herself tempted.

  If that were not a sign of something significant, she could not say what was.

  “You seem a trifle more comfortable than the last time we danced,” Mr. Debenham mentioned as the next dance commenced. “Though not altogether quite at ease.”

  “I feel as though everyone is staring,” Caroline admitted freely. “I am all dressed up and giving an impression of finery that does not suit. Everyone knows what I am, and yet they look.”

  “Let them look,” he insisted as he passed her. “Let them see. Some of us are fortunate enough to see you for who you are, not what. And who you are puts what you are quite to shame, not that the what matters at all. Take yourself on the whole, Miss Perkins, not as your parts. Believe me, the whole is stunning in the extreme.”

  Her breath vanished in its entirety at that, and she could not manage another word throughout the dance. She could only look at him, stare in wonder and delight. Yet she knew full well her path lay along another course than his. A tradesman’s daughter from the docks could not do for a man like him. Still, it was heavenly to dream for a while.

  She had so little experience with doing so.

  The feelings she had for Mr. Debenham were becoming more and more something other than respect, something far deeper and less easy to define. And she could not pretend that there was nothing on his side, though she could certainly doubt it anything but kindness.

  Yet those rare smiles of his, when directed at her, the sincerity in his eyes when he looked at her, the honor and respect that she felt from him, all led her to hold him in the highest regard. And her heart, traitorous thing, was beginning to melt a little more and more with every look.

  Soon enough, and yet all too soon, the dance was over. Mr. Debenham returned her to her previous position and smiled as he bowed his farewell, though he didn’t say a word.

  Caroline watched him go, unable to complete a full thought. There was too much she felt, and too much she did not understand.

  “Miss Perkins!” came the cheery voice of a young woman. “I was hoping to see you tonight!”

  She turned to see Kate Mayfield coming to her, the girl looking the perfect vision of a young Society miss. She would not want for dance partners tonight, if Caroline was any judge.

  Not that was particularly experienced in these matters.

  “Have you danced yet?” Miss Mayfield asked, her eyes bright with excitement. “I do hope so, it would be such a shame if you did not.”

  Caroline nodded as she smiled at the younger woman. “I have, yes. Do you hope to dance as well?”

  Miss Mayfield nodded eagerly. “I have been practicing all week. I love to dance, when there are partners enough to get a chance.”

  “Why would you not have a chance?” Caroline queried with a frown. “You’re a lovely girl, and a pretty one as well.”

  “You are kind.” Miss Mayfield dipped her chin modestly. “But I lack the open temperament desired by Society. I am told it can be off-putting.”

  Caroline nearly smiled at that. She was far more reserved than was ideal, and she understood the sentiment all too well. She had never particularly wished to dance, but she had also not been raised in a situation where that might be encouraged.

  A pity that Miss Mayfield would likely not have much of a chance to dance this evening, especially if she remained near Caroline. No one had approached her since Mr. Debenham had left, and the ladies who had been so devoted to introducing her to potential partners were now dancing themselves. With the way other guests were skirting around them, and more particularly Caroline, it grew uncomfortable to simply stand there and wait. Neither she nor Miss Mayfield were prone to much talking, so they stood in almost near silence.

  Thankfully, Mr. Gates danced soon approached and offered for a dance with Miss Mayfield, so she did not suffer for Caroline’s lack of popularity. She might have been mistaken, but Caroline thought she saw a spark of attraction there.

  That would be well done indeed. Mr. Gates was very intelligent and witty, spoke his mind plainly, but with respect, and had been very sincere in his regards with Caroline. He, at least, saw her as a person and not a project. Her background did not deter him from kindness or friendship, though he would never see her as a prospect, and nor would she wish him to. But she would be quite content with his apparent pursuit of Miss Mayfield, should it be the case.

  After their dance, Mr. Gates took Miss Mayfield elsewhere, making excellent introductions for her, but leaving Caroline to stand there alone.

  Several dances passed without her taking part, and Caroline found herself edging closer and closer to the chairs where Lady Ashby and the other women of a certain age or constitution. It would have been lovely to sit among them and listen to their conversation or to simply watch the dancing and enjoy the music. Standing about without friends to associate with or partners to dance with left her feeling exposed and somehow lacking.

  “Caroline?”

  She whirled to face the voice, her jaw dropping when she saw Penelope approaching, her eyes bright. “Penelope?”

  They hugged quickly, and Penelope pulled back to look her over. “Oh, Caroline, you look so lovely! What a perfect gown for you! Of course, you look lovely in anything…”

  “Are the others here, too?” Caroline asked, suddenly eager to see the rest of them.

  Penelope’s shoulder slumped. “Not that I can see. I’m not sure Addy is in London yet, and Jo…”

  “Miss Perkins, I was just coming to find you,” came the tight voice of Miss Sheffield, and, for the first time, Caroline could have shrieked at her.

 
She only knew a handful of people that would bring her joy to see, and Penelope was one of them. Now she would be interrupted from spending time with her? But Caroline was well-behaved, as always, and turned with a smile. “Miss Sheffield, may I present my friend, Miss Foster? Penelope, this is Miss Sheffield, Lady Ashby’s niece.”

  Miss Sheffield eyed Penelope speculatively from the tips of her rich black hair to her pristine slippers, and it was clear she doubted the two of them could be friends. Still, she curtseyed politely. “A pleasure, Miss Foster. And how do you know our Miss Perkins?”

  Penelope quirked a brow. “She is one of my best friends from school, Miss Sheffield. We were together at Miss Bell’s, and I am very fond of her, indeed.”

  Caroline knew that tone in Penelope, and bit the inside of her lip, unsure if she were delighted at hearing it or terrified.

  “And are you in London for the Season, Miss Foster?” Miss Sheffield asked in her too-superior tone.

  Caroline almost shook her head in warning at Miss Sheffield, but decided, ultimately, to let Penelope do as she would. After all, she was no fool.

  Penelope smirked in the way that only Penelope could. “I am, Miss Sheffield, and in the care of my guardian, the Duke of Blackbourne. I intend to take every advantage I can of the Season, and particularly wish to encourage my friends to do the same.”

  Miss Sheffield’s eyes widened at the same rate as the color faded from her cheeks. She swallowed twice, then managed a weak smile. “Of course, of course.” She turned the smile to Caroline. “Would you be a dear, Caroline, and find my aunt? She was asking for you earlier and would not tell me what she wished. You are so dear to her, you know, and she only trusts you.”

  Lady Ashby did no such thing, fond as she was of Caroline, and no one in the entire house called her by her given name. What a game Miss Sheffield was playing for Penelope. No doubt she would question her mercilessly on the subject of the duke, who was unmarried, and see what sort of advantage she could make from Caroline’s connection to Penelope.

  “Of course,” Caroline murmured, going along with the game. She turned to Penelope, who looked less than pleased. “If I do not see you later, I will send you a note.”

  “I look forward to it,” Penelope replied through clenched teeth.

  Caroline mouthed an apology once Miss Sheffield turned back to Penelope, and then made her way to Lady Ashby, who needed nothing.

  Not wishing to rejoin Miss Sheffield for anything, Caroline merely stood by and watched the dancing again.

  Miss Smythe and Miss Fairchild joined Caroline in short order and were rather put out that she had not been swarmed by partners, though Miss Sheffield, who eventually joined them, to Caroline’s dismay, did not appear surprised at all. Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Rhoades roamed about the room and flirted shamelessly, dancing grandly and with much enthusiasm with any woman who would give them the slightest attention. Miss Sheffield herself was a very popular partner for the dance, and she did not restrain her triumphant smile every time.

  Caroline did not dance at all for the next hour, though all of the other ladies did, and she could not escape to go back to Penelope, as she was almost always engaged in conversation with someone, though her actual participation in the conversation was stilted at best.

  Then, quite shockingly, Mr. Debenham approached and asked Caroline to dance for a third time. Miss Sheffield gasped, but she could hardly scold her dear Deb in front of everyone at the ball.

  Caroline accepted, of course, and again, almost quivered as he led her out. Miss Smythe had been speaking of Mr. Debenham incessantly, and now Caroline’s mind whirled with newfound knowledge, useless though it was for dancing with him. He was not a particularly powerful man of Society or anything so popular, but he was from a good family and had ties to a powerful set of relatives whose circle was in London. He had a very attractive fortune, an enviable country estate, and was the epitome of gentleman. As far as Miss Smythe knew, the only reason he had not married as yet was because no woman was good enough for him.

  It sounded rather superior or selective, but Caroline could not think that Mr. Debenham’s particular wishes in a wife would be something impossible to attain. He was such a kind, warm man, and so comfortable to be with, despite his reserve. Surely it would not be so impossible to be his wife.

  No, indeed, as she caught her breath looking at him, she thought it might be rather lovely to be the wife of such a man. But what did he wish for? What did he expect? With such family ties to be had in Society, was he as free as he liked? Did he have duties to fulfill?

  What did he think of her in truth?

  “What do you see that makes you appear so thoughtful, I wonder,” Mr. Debenham mused as he took her hand to lead her around the nearest couple.

  Caroline swallowed hard. “Only more questions, Mr. Debenham.”

  “Anything I could give answers to?” he asked.

  She shook her head, not trusting herself to be bold. “I do not have the intrepid nature enough to even ask them, sir.”

  Mr. Debenham squeezed her hand tightly as he moved her through the final motions. “I would happily answer any question you asked me. Any at all.”

  “I cannot ask,” she whispered, her throat going instantly raw.

  The pressure at her hand increased for just a moment, the pressure racing into her chest. “Someday, Miss Perkins, I pray that you will.”

  * * *

  “When I asked you to call upon us regularly, I didn’t intend for you to come daily.”

  Will glanced over at Sheffield as his friend lounged in one of the chairs in the study. “I have not come daily.”

  That earned him a derogatory glower. “Would I have said you had if you had not?”

  “Probably, yes.”

  Sheffield considered that, then nodded. “Point taken, however…” He held up a finger, then leveled it at Will. “You have been remarkably attentive to us, and I don’t believe it is due to your affection for me.”

  Will smiled very tightly. “Fond as I am of you, Sheffield, you are correct.”

  His friend gestured as if that were obvious. “Care to share?”

  “No.”

  Now Sheffield looked more disgruntled than anything else. “Deb, it’s just us. Gates, Jacobs, and Rhoades will be in here any moment, and then we’ll have to join the ladies. You cannot expect me to remain silent.”

  “I can, and I do.” Will shrugged and folded his hands together. “I have nothing to tell, not even to you.”

  And the truth of it was, he wouldn’t have had anything to tell anyone else either. What could he say? That his mind utterly refused to dwell on any subject other than that of Miss Perkins? That he was actively seeking additional invitations to balls just for the chance to dance with her again? That his feet knew the path to Ashby House better than he could ever admit?

  All of those things were true; what it meant was far less clear.

  He could have claimed he was in love with Miss Perkins, but it wouldn’t have been entirely true. He could be in love with Miss Perkins, but he wouldn’t extend to that extreme yet. He wanted to be in love with Miss Perkins, but her reserve gave him pause.

  It wasn’t a hindrance, it only made things less clear.

  He adored her reserve. He found deciphering her expression a challenge impossible to resist. He could have devoted his entire life to the pursuit of making her smile.

  And he would have died a contented man to hear her laugh only once.

  Ideally, he would hear it more than once, and several times at that, but once would be enough.

  He could very easily love Miss Perkins. He just wasn’t sure he was prepared to.

  Will Debenham had never been in love before, but if it was as tossed about as he had been for the past few weeks, he understood the rush to Gretna Green so many couples undertook.

  What was a mad jaunt of an elopement in the face of an equally mad future?

  Miss Perkins would never have gone off to Gretna Green.


  Alas for his attempts at less gentlemanly behavior.

  Aside from all of that, Will wasn’t sure he trusted Sheffield where Miss Perkins was concerned either. After Will had danced with Miss Perkins a third time, she had danced with Sheffield, which peeved his sister greatly.

  Will could approve of that, even if he glared at Sheffield the entire dance.

  A few other gentlemen approached her after that, apparently nonplussed by her fortune in trade, despite the inanity of the other gentlemen in the room. The woman was a beauty of unrivaled proportions, and yet she had stood about like a spinster most of the night. He would never understand Society, he was sure of it.

  Will had watched each of the dances with interest, and none were anything to be considered a success, by the standards of their group. Yet it could certainly have been, enough to give her some hope at securing a match in the future. Mr. Clarke, in particular, had Will concerned. He was a curate in Cheshire, Will had discovered, and the man was in London visiting his cousins. He had treated Miss Perkins with the respect and deference she deserved.

  He could only hope that Clarke was lacking in wit and spark, and that he perpetually smelled of brandy.

  But even if that had been the case, Miss Perkins might not have minded. She was such a different sort of creature, so calm in demeanor and tranquil in manner. She was above and beyond the other women of his association, and certainly of their present party. She was rare, and she was perfect.

  Perfection. Exactly what the proper gentleman would want in a wife.

  Pity.

  “Sheffield, Debenham!” one of the other men called. “We’re going to the music room with the ladies!”

  Will rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “And these are the men your sister chose to adopt into her circle?”

  Sheffield shrugged as he rose from his chair. “Gates isn’t so bad. And the Season isn’t forever.”

  No, it was not forever, but it was certainly long enough.

  The music room wasn’t particularly grand, but it would suit the group for now, although he wasn’t quite sure why they had chosen the music room unless the ladies were going to perform.