by Lucy Adams
And then, an image of Miss Wells thrust itself into his memory with such sharpness that he caught his breath. His heart began to pound furiously, a trickle of sweat running down his back as he tried to regain his composure. What was it about Miss Wells that continued to plague him? Why had he thought of her at the very moment he told himself he did not wish to seek a wife?
“Lord Weston?”
Lady Reid’s tone was a trifle angry now, clearly irritated with his manner.
“Your beauty takes my breath from me, Lady Reid,” he croaked, pulling out his handkerchief and dabbing lightly at his brow. “I am overcome.” It was a foolish excuse and one that he knew she would not believe, but it was all he could say. Fully aware that he was making a cake of himself, Thomas stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket and cleared his throat, doing his utmost to rid his mind of any thought of Miss Wells. He was here with Lady Reid, and therefore she should be the sole object of his consideration.
“Perhaps we might stop for a few minutes,” Lady Reid said, her tone suggesting that he would be best to do as she asked. “Look, there is Lord Gladstone and Lord and Lady Phillips.”
Thomas murmured his assent and stepped from the path to lead Lady Reid over to the three acquaintances, only for his eye to catch sight of someone else entirely. Someone who had their gaze fixed upon him, so as not to miss even a single moment.
Miss Wells.
“If you will excuse me for a few moments, I have just seen someone that I wish to speak to most urgently,” Thomas said suddenly, unable to resist the urge to go out after Miss Wells and speak to her about what had occurred the night of the ball. For some reason, he had a deep urgency to explain to her that he had not meant to suggest that he had wanted to further his acquaintance with Lady Reid, even though, he realized, as he hurried towards her, that it appeared that this was now precisely what he was doing. Most likely, Miss Wells would simply turn away from him and retreat before he even had the opportunity to speak to her.
Much to his surprise, Miss Wells did no such thing. Instead, she remained precisely where she was, standing close to her mother who was in conversation with someone Thomas did not recognize.
“Miss Wells.” He bowed deeply, feeling her eyes lingering on him as she bobbed a quick curtsy.
“Lord Weston,” she murmured, no smile on her face nor a look of disdain. “You are out walking with Lady Reid this afternoon I see. Are you having a pleasant walk?”
He did not know what to say, looking down into her pale face and wondering why he found himself at such a loss when he did not feel such a way with any other lady of his acquaintance. Was he embarrassed that he had been seen by her walking with Lady Reid? He had no need to feel such mortification—surely!
“You seem a little at a loss for words, Lord Weston.” A slight tinge of pink had come to Miss Wells cheeks, her eyes flicking from his face to his shoulder and back again. “Perhaps it is I who ought to speak first.”
Thomas tried to smile, tried to say that there was no need for such a strain between them, but Miss Wells had begun to speak again before he had the chance to say a word.
“I must apologize for my sharpness with you at the ball, Lord Weston,” she said, her words coming out in a torrent, still unable to keep her eyes fixed to his. “I believe that I misunderstood what you were saying and, as such, made the mistake of insulting you in a most improper fashion.” She swallowed hard, pressing her lips together for a moment. “Forgive my foolishness, Lord Weston.”
Thomas did not know what to say. He was astonished not only at her honesty but what it was that she said. A flood of questions rushed into his mind, but he could say nothing, his mouth opening and then closing again.
“After all that has occurred between us thus far, Lord Weston,” Miss Wells continued, her voice somewhat tremulous as she attempted to speak with the same openness with which she had begun, “I cannot imagine what you must think of me. I spoke to you with the very same rudeness of manner for which I berated you. You must truly think me ridiculous.”
“Not ridiculous, Miss Wells,” Thomas murmured, finding something quite lovely about her current manner. The vulnerability she displayed spoke to him in a way that nothing had before, making his heart soften. It was a most unexpected sensation and one that he allowed to penetrate through his whole being. A genuine smile of appreciation spread across his face as he looked back at her, seeing the question in her eyes and finding himself eager to answer it. “You have nothing to concern yourself with, Miss Wells,” he continued, aware of how she seemed to relax in front of him. “I can well understand why you thought I referred to Lady Reid—for my character fully deserves such consideration. I have not been the gentleman that I have been expected to be.”
He blinked, astonished that such words had come from his own mouth, and not only that, but that they had been said to Miss Wells, who was now looking at him in surprise. Sand filled his mouth. Why had he said such a thing? There was no denying that he had fallen far short of the standards set for gentlemen of the ton and certainly in terms of what his father expected, but that had never concerned him before. Why had he admitted such a thing to Miss Wells? Was it because he somehow wanted her to believe that he was a gentleman seeking to change? It would, he supposed, make her more inclined towards him, and therefore give him better opportunity to win his wager. From that particular perspective, it was perhaps a good thing to have said.
“You surprise me greatly, Lord Weston,” Miss Wells replied, after some moments of silence had passed between them. “I had not expected you to be so honest with me.”
“You lead by example, Miss Wells,” he replied, trying to convince himself that he had said such a thing simply to further his own opportunities with Miss Wells and not for any other reason. “Might I say that this conversation has brought a great rest to my heart. Thank you for your openness. It has encouraged me to do so also.”
Miss Wells smiled and, for the first time since they had been introduced, Thomas saw a softness in her expression. He wanted to cling onto the moment, to hold it close to him so it would not pass him by with the swiftness that he knew would take it from him. It was a strange desire indeed, but Thomas did not allow his mind to question it. It was too beautiful to throw aside.
“I do hope you enjoy the rest of your walk with Lady Reid,” Miss Wells said, looking at something behind him, her smile beginning to disappear. “I should allow you to return to her, of course.”
Before she could turn away and without having had prior intention to do so, Thomas stepped forward and grasped her hand. He did so with such swiftness that Miss Wells caught her breath; her gasp audible. It was only for a moment, for he could not be seen to do such a thing in public, but it was enough to grasp her attention.
“Might I be permitted to walk with you, Miss Wells, one afternoon?” he asked urgently. “Might I call upon you with my carriage?”
Miss Wells’ eyes flared for a moment, her light green eyes seeming to darken to emeralds. Thomas felt his heart quicken, his hands clenching into fists as he waited for her to reply. There was a desperate hope in his heart that she would accept him, almost praying that she would do so in order that his pursuit of her might begin.
“I-I think….” Miss Wells trailed off, biting her lip, and Thomas could not help but close his eyes, waiting for what he feared was now her inevitable refusal.
“If you wish to, Lord Weston, then I would be glad to accept you.”
His eyes opened at once, staring at her as astonishment flooded him.
“I should like to very much,” he stammered, feeling vastly unlike the confident, suave gentleman he knew himself to be. “Thank you for your kindness, Miss Wells.”
She laughed and the tension that had been swirling between them washed away in a moment. “You have not proved yourself to me yet, Lord Weston,” she said, with a hint of teasing in her voice. “But nor have I.” Her smile softened, and she looked at him again. “Thank you, Lord Weston.”<
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“I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Wells,” he replied honestly, smiling back at her before she turned away to re-join her mother.
“You seemed greatly caught up in your conversation with that plain creature.”
Lady Reid’s voice caught Thomas’s ears, her voice loud enough for Miss Wells to hear. Thomas had not known that she had drawn near to him, recalling how Miss Wells’ gaze had been drawn to something over his shoulder. Miss Wells clearly heard Lady Reid’s words for her back stiffened and her steps faltered for a moment – and Thomas felt himself tense.
“I would not call her plain,” he replied, a trifle more loudly than Lady Reid. “Her eyes, for example, are remarkably beautiful.” He kept his gaze upon Miss Wells as he spoke, seeing her throwing a quick glance over her shoulder as she looked back at both himself and Lady Reid. Her cheeks were bright red, and she turned away quickly, hurrying to her mother’s side and leaving Thomas battling with his anger.
“Your tongue can be more than cutting, Lady Reid,” he told the lady, turning back to face her. “There was no need for such a remark.”
Lady Reid’s delicate brows rose. “Are you defending such a lady?” she asked, sounding more than a little surprised. “She is not the sort of young lady you often seek out for your company, Lord Weston.”
Thomas shook his head, remembering that he was meant to be courting Miss Wells out of nothing more than winning a wager and that Lady Reid could be a much greater conquest than Miss Wells. Why did he feel so angry over Lady Reid’s harsh words to Miss Wells? Miss Wells was meant to mean nothing to him, for he was meant to be feigning his interest in her, was he not?
“You have a kind heart underneath all of your grandeur and bluster,” Lady Reid continued, now sounding rather mirthful. “You hide it well, Lord Weston, I must admit.”
Pushing aside his desire to state that he was speaking in such a way in order to defend Miss Wells as best he could, Thomas simply gave Lady Reid a rueful smile and tried to return to his playful, jovial appearance that he had so often held. It was more difficult to return to than ever before, for a vision of Miss Wells and her reddened cheeks kept nudging at his heart, making his anger continue to flare.
“Come, Lady Reid,” he said, offering her his arm and seeing her accept it at once, a thin smile on her face as though she knew she had succeeded in this matter. “We should return to your friends. I have not spoken to them as yet.”
“That is because you were so eager to speak to Miss Wells that you practically ran from my side,” Lady Reid replied tartly. “Might I ask what was of such urgency that you could not resist going to her?”
His mind began to whirl with responses, trying to find a good excuse that would satisfy Lady Reid.
“I-I am acquainted to her brother and sought to discover whether he was to come to London this Season,” he replied, lying quickly and easily. “It seems he is not however.”
Lady Reid threw up an interested glance. “Her brother?” she replied. “The newly titled Lord Whitehaven, I believe.”
“Indeed,” Thomas answered, aware that should she question him further, he would have no answer as to the character nor even the description of the gentleman’s features, for he had never once met the fellow. “However, as I have said, it seems he is not to attend the Season this year.” Silently, he prayed that such a thing would not occur, for then Lady Reid might become suspicious of him and his reasons for seeking out Miss Wells. “There is nothing to concern yourself with there, Lady Reid.”
She laughed then, a slight tinge of mockery to the sound that set Thomas’s teeth on edge.
“I hardly think I should concern myself with someone as plain and as uninteresting as Miss Wells,” she replied, her arrogance once more showing its face. “But I thank you for your concern, Lord Weston.” Her hand tightened on his arm, as if she could see the displeasure that he was battling so hard to hide. “Come now, let us enjoy the rest of the afternoon with no more talk of this creature.”
Thomas’s smile was tight, but he placed it upon his lips anyway. The urge to come to Miss Wells’ defense still rattled around within him, but he pushed it aside with an effort. The only thing he needed to do was concentrate on Lady Reid. Miss Wells would not mean anything to him in the long term, whereas an arrangement with Lady Reid could last a good deal of time and would be most satisfactory.
The only thing that that held him back from feeling satisfaction at the present moment, however, was the realization that he was now looking forward to meeting with and walking with Miss Wells whenever he could arrange it. In fact, he realized, his smile slowly fading, he was looking forward to it a great deal more than he had been in walking with Lady Reid.
What was happening to him?
Chapter Ten
“You have a letter, Merry.”
Merry got to her feet at once, reaching to grasp the letter from her sister’s hand as a flurry of expectation brushed over her.
“Something you have been expecting, mayhap?” Catherine asked with a small sidelong glance, as she moved to sit by the small fire in the grate, for the day was not particularly warm.
Looking down at the letter, Merry ignored the glance and turned to sit in the window seat, her heart fluttering a little. Was this letter from Lord Weston? She could not forget how he had hurried towards her in the park only yesterday, for she had seen the urgency of his steps and the eager expression on his face as he had done so. What had made it all the more interesting was that he had been walking with Lady Reid at the time and had left her side in order to come towards her. Lady Reid had appeared to be quite disgruntled, for she had begun to approach Lord Weston soon after he had begun to speak to Merry herself but, surprisingly, Merry had not felt any jealously nor irritation towards either Lady Reid or Lord Weston. Instead, she had felt herself aglow with pleasure at Lord Weston’s willingness to not only speak to her but also to listen to her apology. He had been very gracious and considerate – gentle, in fact, in his manner towards her. It was markedly different to the first time they had met, and Merry found herself beginning to be inclined towards him. That was why she had accepted his request to call upon her and walk with her in the park one day soon.
And mayhap this letter was to arrange such an invitation.
Catching her breath, Merry told herself quietly to quell her excitement before breaking open the seal. Unfolding it quickly, she spread it out and began to read.
‘My dear Miss Wells,’ the letter began. ‘I must apologize profusely for any embarrassment that was caused by Lady Reid’s unfair words yesterday afternoon. I must also hope that you have not set your mind against me because of it, for I would be grievously disappointed if that was to occur.’
Merry let out her breath slowly, feeling it shudder out of her. Her cheeks grew hot as she recalled what Lady Reid had said within her hearing. Most likely, it had been said in order to bring shame and embarrassment. Had it not been for Lord Weston’s determined and robust defense of her, perhaps that was what she would have felt. It had not been mortification that had warmed her cheeks then, but rather a gentle delight. He had spoken well of her, had made sure to defend her against the harsh words of Lady Reid, who had never once been introduced to Merry nor she to her. Why Lady Reid should care that Lord Weston had been speaking to Merry, she did not know, but it seemed that the lady wanted to make sure that Merry knew how little she thought of her.
‘If your answer is still as it was yesterday, then I must ask your permission to call upon you tomorrow afternoon, whereupon I propose a quiet walk in the park – or to any other place you wish to go. I look forward to your response at your earliest convenience.’
Closing the letter slowly, Merry allowed a small smile to catch her lips. She had her answer already formed in her mind, knowing precisely what it was she wanted and having no desire to do otherwise. Lord Weston had proven himself to be genuine in his yearning to show her that he was not the rude, arrogant gentleman that she believed him to be
at the first. He had accepted her own apology with good grace and, on top of which, Merry could not pretend that she herself did not have a desire to further her acquaintance with him. It was most peculiar to feel such a thing for a gentleman she had initially decided to dislike and certainly Merry would not allow herself to even admit such a thing to her sisters nor her cousin, but the desire was there at least. She could admit that to herself and found that she did not find such a desire to be in any way displeasing.
Getting up from her chair, and without a single word to Catherine, who was still sending questioning glances in her direction, Merry hurried to the writing desk in the corner of the room and sat down at once. Her words flowed quickly as she wrote, her hands trembling slightly as she sanded the letter and then folded it carefully. Once it was sealed, she rose and rang the bell, pacing up and down the room, as she waited for one of the maids to arrive. She did not look at Catherine nor at Dinah, who had come into the room with a book in her hand, looking for a quiet place to read. Once the maid had arrived, she handed the note to her with specific instructions that it was to be delivered at once.
“Goodness, Merry!” Catherine exclaimed, one eyebrow lifted in surprise. “You are certainly in a hurry. Whatever is it about?” A slightly hopeful look came into her eye. “Can it be that Lord Whitaker has–?”
“It is naught to do with Lord Whitaker,” Merry replied swiftly, for whilst the gentleman was attentive should they meet at a social gathering, he had not yet suggested that he call upon her as Lord Weston had done. Gathering her courage, she looked Catherine directly in the eye. “It is Lord Weston who has asked me to walk with him, Catherine; that is all.”
Catherine’s evident surprise grew all the more. “And you are eager to accept him?”
“I have already accepted him,” she replied, feeling a blush catch her cheeks. “But I pray that you do not begin to ask me many questions about the matter nor seek to know everything that I think and feel as regards him. All you need know is that I shall be stepping out with Lord Weston come the morrow.” She lifted her chin as her sister looked back at her, no smile on her lips.
