The Viscount's First Love: Regency Romance (The King's League Book 2)

by Lucy Adams

  “Very well, Lord Templeton,” she said, setting down her cup carefully on the saucer. “I will return home at once and ensure that I am fully prepared for my return to society.” She gave him a wry smile. “My sister will be quite overcome, I assure you.”

  He chuckled, then rose to his feet as she got out of her chair. “I am very glad to welcome you into the League, Miss Williams,” he said, as she curtsied. “Although you may be in a very inconspicuous role, I assure you that your actions will be just as important as any other undertaken in this matter.” Holding her gaze for a moment, he let out a long breath before giving her a small smile. “And let us hope that it will be successful.”

  “Indeed,” Daisy answered, her heart still beating a little quicker than usual. “I will do all I can, Lord Templeton. You know very well that all I want is to find those who took the life of my father so that they might be brought to justice.”

  “As do I,” he stated, before Daisy curtsied again and took her leave, feeling a good deal more hopeful than she had since her father’s death.

  Chapter Four

  “You do not look at all cheerful.”

  Matthew resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Lord Fraser, a baron from Scotland, eyed him speculatively.

  “I am not cheerful,” he stated blandly. “I do not want to go to Lord and Lady Humphries’ ball, but yet I must do so in order to circulate amongst the ton.”

  “As must we all,” Lord Fraser said, glibly, as they walked into the house. “I am certain that there must be some enjoyment for you here this evening, however. Ladies to dance with, good conversations to be had, and very little else to do otherwise!”

  Matthew said nothing, his heart still aching furiously within his heart. He knew very well that everything Lord Fraser said was true, but still his despondency grew. He did not want to be here this evening. He did not even want to be in London. Everything within him wanted to curl up into a ball and to cry out in pain over the evident loss of Miss Williams and over his own foolishness.

  He had not the time to do so, however. His duties remained much the same as before, requiring him to ingratiate himself with his peers, to attend balls, soirees, the theatre, and extravagant dinners, whilst all the while continuing to search out those four men who might have been involved with the death of Lord Harrogate.

  Having met with Lord Templeton earlier that afternoon, he now knew that two of the four men had either returned or would be returning to London very soon. Other gentlemen from the League had been dispatched to America, in order to discover the whereabouts of the other two – although such a task Matthew knew would be very difficult indeed. They had been gone for some time, however, which meant that there might be a message from them received at any time. It was all rather unknown.

  Frowning to himself as the receiving line shuffled forward just a little, Matthew recalled the tea tray that had been sitting on a small table in Lord Templeton’s drawing room, as Matthew himself had entered. It had been cleared away almost at once, but not before Matthew had noticed the single china cup and the cold tea sitting within it. Lord Templeton had obviously had a lady calling upon him, although Matthew could not think as to who such a creature might be. Lord Templeton himself had made no mention of it, and whilst it was not Matthew’s business to pry, he was still a little curious. Given last Season’s difficulties, he was still somewhat on his guard, although he could not believe, even for a moment, that Lord Templeton was anything other than loyal to the King’s League – and to the King himself.

  But just who had he been entertaining that afternoon? From what Matthew knew, Lord Templeton had been a widower for many years, with only a single son born to him in that time. That son was now in Eton and, from what Matthew knew, doing very well indeed. So who was this lady that had met with Lord Templeton?

  “Ah, Lord Watt!”

  He had no more time to think, for it was now his turn to greet his host and hostess. Putting on a warm smile, he bowed low over Lady Humphries’ hand, charming her with his manner.

  “Thank you for inviting me this evening, Lady Humphries,” he said, with a cheerful smile. “It is one of the most beautiful balls I have attended thus far, and I am sure will be a most excellent evening.”

  “You tease me,” Lady Humphries said, as he let go of her hand. “I know very well that you have barely attended any ball at all thus far, which is why you speak so highly of mine, I am sure.

  “Not at all,” Matthew chuckled, reassuring her. “And Lord Humphries? How do you do this evening?”

  Lord Humphries smiled down at his wife, who was blushing a little, and then gave Matthew a broad grin. “Very well indeed,” he said, clearly taking no offense at Matthew’s ability to charm Lady Humphries so easily. “I am glad to see you back in society again, Lord Watt. It has been some time, has it not?”

  “I was present last Season,” Matthew protested weakly, “but perhaps chose not to involve myself as much as I ought.”

  Lord Humphries nodded, quickly losing interest in the discussion as he made to greet his next guest. Matthew moved on quickly, not wanting to further the conversation any more than he had to, seeing Lord Fraser waiting for him.

  “That was not as bad as you expected, I think,” Lord Fraser murmured, as Matthew joined him. “Now, where are we to go?”

  Matthew sighed inwardly. “Into the crowd,” he muttered, waving a hand towards the other guests who were milling about the ballroom. “To discover if either of these two gentlemen are present this evening.” And if they are not, he thought to himself, I have every intention of returning home without waiting for the ball to come to an end.

  Lord Fraser chuckled, slapped Matthew on the shoulder and then moved forward, clearly not wasting any time. Lord Fraser was quite delighted to be present this evening, even if Matthew was not. That was a good thing, Matthew decided, for at least then, someone from the League would remain here for the duration of the evening. The only thing he wanted to do was return home so that he might retire to bed and come to terms with all that he had learned the last few days.

  Memories began to crawl through his mind as he looked about him. The music, the dancing, the gowns, and the decorations all transported him back to the time when he had been dancing with Miss Williams, when he had been permitted to take her in his arms and waltz with her across the floor. What joy he had known then! What happiness! There had been such an understanding between them, the like that he knew he would never know again. She had been intelligent, witty, and utterly delightful. The moments he had spent watching her, the way his heart had warmed whenever her gaze turned towards his – it had been more than just a gentle affection. It had been nothing less than love.

  Sighing, Matthew turned to the left and began to make his way towards the side of the room, picking up a glass of ratafia on the way past. He had no desire to speak to anyone, no eagerness to involve himself in conversation or to sign his name on anyone’s dance card. Even though he knew it was expected of him, even though he knew that this was what he ought to do, the desire to do so was lacking. There was an apathy there that he could not shift, torn apart by his grief over the loss of his dear Miss Williams.

  “You look much too glum this evening, Lord Watt!”

  He turned, groaning inwardly at the sight of Lady Forester, who had not only one but two daughters, who were, from what he knew, as yet unmarried. They were not particularly interesting young ladies nor were they particularly beautiful, and yet Lady Forester continued to push them towards any gentleman she could in the hope that someone might find them a little enticing. They stood a little behind her at the moment, although he could practically feel their eyes fixed upon him.

  “Good evening, Lady Forester,” he mumbled, only just remembering to bow. “How good to see you again.”

  Lady Forester eyed him keenly. “You have not been seen in London for a time, Lord Watt,” she said, with a sharp voice. “And now can we hope that you have returned to society?”

&nbs
p; “I was present last Season, if you recall,” he answered, a little more sharply than he had intended. “But I confess that I found myself rather caught up with a few weighty matters that took precedence over enjoying the company of the young ladies of the ton.” He said this quickly so as to cover his initial annoyance and, thankfully, Lady Forester seemed to accept it without hesitation.

  “But this year you shall be entirely without any such matters to bother you, I am sure,” she said, making Matthew wince inwardly. “And my daughters would be very glad to have your company for one of their dances.” She smiled and stepped back, gesturing to her two daughters to step forward. Matthew could do nothing other than accept their dance cards from them, writing his name down for a dance each – although he did not even consider the waltz, for fear that they would then think him a little interested in furthering his acquaintance with either one.

  “You are very kind,” Lady Forester said, stepping close once he had let the second dance card go. “I look forward to seeing you dancing with each of my pretty girls later this evening, Lord Watt.”

  He muttered something and bowed, turning away just as quickly as he could in the hope that no other young ladies would soon accost him, having seen him sign dance cards already. Rubbing one hand over the back of his neck in an attempt to ease his frustration and general irritation at being present at this ball which he did not want to be at, Matthew moved quickly into the shadows near the edge of the ballroom and leaned back against the wall.

  This was not what he was meant to be doing, of course. He ought to be mingling with the others present this evening, making good conversation and doing all he could to present a jovial front, but his heart would not allow him to do so. This evening brought back far too many memories, filling his head with far too many thoughts and making him struggle to think of anything else other than Miss Williams.

  A sudden laugh made his head shoot up in surprise, the sound reverberating through his mind and making his heart quicken furiously.

  “Stop it,” he told himself dully. “That is not her. You know it is not.” Even though it was nothing more than a rumor that Miss Williams was now lain in her grave, Matthew found it hard to disbelieve it. There was so much regret, so much doubt and sorrow in his mind that he could not chase the idea from his thoughts. To be hearing her laugh now, to have his mind filled with that pleasant memory which only tortured him further, was nothing more than an agony.

  “You are very kind.”

  Her voice floated towards him, making Matthew stiffen. Whoever the young lady was that was speaking so, she sounded very much like Miss Williams, to the point that he had to turn away and move back through the crowd, removing himself from his spot in the shadows. He could not bear the torture of having the memory of her thrown back at him time and again.

  “Lord Watt!”

  Forced to come to yet another stop, Matthew plastered a smile on his face as he bowed. It was none other than Lord and Lady Westbrook, however, which meant that he did not have to feign his delight for long.

  “I am very glad to see you again, Lady Westbrook,” he said, taking in her blossoming figure and seeing her blush just a little. “I hear you are soon to return to your husband’s estate to begin your confinement.”

  Lady Westbrook rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. “I am,” she admitted, evidently irritated. “And just when the Season has begun. I wish I could remain for longer, but I will admit to you, I suppose, that I find myself getting rather tired of late.” She laughed and nudged her husband, who was looking at her adoringly. “Although I will not allow myself to be removed from this ball until I have decided it is time for me to retire.”

  Lord Westbrook chuckled, and Matthew could not help but smile. The friendship and love between the two of them was more than apparent and, whilst he was glad to see it, it also made his heart ache for what he could have had.

  “You do not appear to be enjoying yourself thus far, however,” Lady Westbrook said pointedly. “I can tell a feigned expression of happiness, Lord Watt, and you do not wear it very well.”

  He winced, then shrugged. “I confess that I am not as contented as I am trying to appear,” he answered. “I am struggling to have any sort of enjoyment from this evening.”

  Lord Westbrook frowned. “I am sorry to hear that,” he said, quietly. “I know it must be difficult indeed to be looking into such a difficult matter, especially when Lord Harrogate’s daughter is present this evening.”

  For a moment, a sudden thrill of hope ran up Matthew’s spine and he stared at Lord Westbrook, breathless with anticipation – only to recall that Lord Harrogate had three daughters and that one was married to Lord Northgate, who was currently in London with her.

  “You will manage to bring the perpetrators to justice, I am quite sure,” Lady Westbrook said gently, reaching out and pressing Matthew’s arm for a moment. “Do not let your heart become burdened, Lord Watt.”

  He sighed and felt like telling her everything that was on his heart but knew that now was not the time to do so. Of course, the ton had known that he had formed an attachment with Miss Williams, but given all that had occurred, her mourning period and then her lack of interest in returning to society, it seemed as though everyone had merely assumed that things had come to a very natural end. The beau monde did not know that he still cared for her, did not know that he had once had every intention of proposing to her and of making her his wife. They could not tell that he still had that longing within his heart, as well as being overcome with regret, disappointment, and sorrow. Whilst he appreciated Lady Westbrook’s concern for him, he knew he could not do as she suggested. His heart was already burdened.

  “Ah!” Lord Westbrook exclaimed suddenly, pulling Matthew out of his own, morose thoughts. “The cotillion.” He looked down at his wife, a slight look of hope in his eyes. “Is that much too difficult for you in your present state?”

  Lady Westbrook laughed, as though her husband was being quite ridiculous. “I am not unwell,” she teased, looping her arm through his. “Just so long as I do not exert myself too much, I shall be quite all right.”

  Matthew watched them go, his eyes rather dark with sorrow. He had so often stepped out with Miss Williams, had so often reveled in the brightness of her company. It would not be so again.

  “Lord Watt?”

  He jerked in surprise, turning around to see one of Lady Forester’s daughters looking at him enquiringly. “Yes?”

  Her face was bright pink as she gestured to her dance card. “The cotillion,” she stammered, looking away. “I believe you agreed to dance it with me?”

  “Oh, yes,” he answered, feeling suddenly awkward. “Yes, of course. Of course, Miss…Miss…” He winced, realizing he could not recall her name.

  “Miss Stutton,” she replied, turning her face away just a little as she put one hand on his arm. Matthew, flushed with embarrassment, led the lady onto the floor, and joined the other couples standing there, hating every single moment.

  Midway through the dance, Matthew happened to look across the room at the other couples dancing, having absolutely no interest in speaking to his own partner, and she, evidently, having no desire to talk to him either, which, given his own lack of manners in forgetting her name, he quite understood.

  His heart stopped in his chest. His feet stumbled, and he knocked into his partner but not a single word of apology passed his lips. It could not be. It could not be her!

  “Lord Watt!”

  Jerking his eyes away from the vision that he was sure was none other than Miss Williams, he realized that he had come to a dead stop and was holding up the rest of the dancers. Miss Stutton’s face was scarlet with embarrassment, but Matthew did not care. All he wanted to do was cross the room and pull Miss Williams into his arms, to hold her there tightly until he finally began to believe that she was real.

  “Lord Watt, if you please!” said one of the other gentleman, and Matthew had no other choice but to start dancing again
, twisting his head this way and that so that he might keep sight of Miss Williams.

  It was no good. As much as he tried to keep his eyes on her, the way of the dance meant that he was forced to step this way and that and, in the end, had to focus entirely on Miss Stutton so that he would not step on her toes or knock into her again. A little embarrassed that he had not behaved particularly well, he forced himself to give every ounce of attention to the remainder of the dance, telling himself that he would find Miss Williams immediately after.

  The minutes passed agonizingly slow, tearing into him and forcing Matthew to grit his teeth with frustration. Finally, the dance came to an end – but still, he was not free. He could not let Miss Stutton stand there alone on the dancefloor, could not let her make her way back to her mother whilst he disappeared after Miss Williams. The last thing he needed was for the ton to start speaking disparagingly about him – and thus, he forced himself to give Miss Stutton his arm and, walking in the very opposite direction from where he wished to go, led her back to the rather angry-looking Lady Forester.

  “Thank you, Miss Stutton,” he said, bowing quickly. “I apologize for my lack of skill in the dance. I was quite lost for a few moments.”

  “Ridiculous!” Lady Forester exclaimed, before her daughter could say anything. “You are quite ridiculous, Lord Watt! And now the ton will be talking of it all without hesitation.”

  Matthew apologized repeatedly, whilst looking out of the corner of his eye in search of Miss Williams. Lady Forester must have seen that he was rather less than genuine in his apologies, for she grasped her daughter’s arm and marched away from him, leaving Matthew free to go in search of her.

  “Miss Williams,” he whispered to himself, making his way through the crowd and not caring whether or not he bumped into or knocked against others. His only thought was to find Miss Williams again.