by Lucy Adams
“You look very well, Merry,” her mother said and laughed, as Merry turned to check her reflection in the large glass mirror that hung above the drawing room fireplace. “Goodness, I am surprised to see you behaving in such a fashion! I would have expected it from Titania, but you….”
Closing her eyes, Merry froze in place, one hand reaching up to press a curl a little further into the rest of her ringlets, realizing what it was she was doing. She was trying to look her very best for Lord Weston’s visit and, in doing so, had surprised not only her mother but also herself. When had she begun to consider such a thing? She often thought very little of what she wore or how she looked, but for Lord Weston’s visits, Merry realized that her attitude was changing somewhat. In her heart, she wanted to look her very best for Lord Weston. Was it because she was afraid he would look differently at her if she wore her hair in its usual chignon and chose a dull gown? Would he think less of her? Would his interest fade? Merry lifted her chin and looked at herself again, taking in the resolute tug of her lips and the way her eyes shone with determination. No, she knew within her heart that Lord Weston would not turn away from her no matter what she wore or how she looked. The time they spent together of late had been filled with conversation, and she had shared more with him than she had spoken of even to her sisters. The way he sought her to tell him the truth of what was in her heart behooved him, and she had found herself doing so without question – and he had, it seemed, welcomed it.
“He is here!” Lady Whitehaven hissed, hearing a murmured voice floating towards them. “Do prepare yourself, Merry, and stop gaping at your reflection. Lord Weston is come!”
* * *
“Might I ask you something, Miss Wells?”
She looked up into Lord Weston’s face, her hand under his arm as they walked together. “But of course, Lord Weston.”
“You – you would say there is a furthering of our acquaintance of late, yes?”
Nodding, she put a smile on her face and ignored the quickening of her heart. “Yes, of course.”
“And would you say that you have been glad of such a thing?” Lord Weston threw her a quick glance before letting his eyes return to the path in front of them. He seemed uncertain all of a sudden, which was very different to his usual proud and determined nature.
“If you are asking me whether or not I have been glad to know you better, Lord Weston,” Merry began slowly, glad that Hyde Park was, at the present, fairly quiet, “then of course I would say yes.” She squeezed his arm, feeling a concern for him rising up in her chest. “I have been glad to know you better, Lord Weston.”
This did not seem to satisfy him, however, for no smile caught his lips and no sigh of relief came from him. Instead, he merely nodded but kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.
“What troubles you, Lord Weston?” she asked gently, slowing her steps so that she could look up into his face and caring nothing for the fact that they were, by now, surely out of sight of the carriage and of Dinah, who was seated within as she had been before. Their steps took them away from the path itself, wandering towards a few large oak trees. “Are you unwell?”
A bark of a laughter came first, with Lord Weston then sighing heavily and shaking his head.
“I am not unwell, Miss Wells,” he told her, turning to look at her and forcing her to drop her hand from his arm as they stood by a large oak tree, hiding them from the view of anyone walking by. “It is only that I am deeply confused and conflicted.”
“Oh.” She did not know what else to say to this, finding her heart aching within her as though she were the cause of his confusion.
“I was once a very proud, arrogant sort, who cared nothing for others,” Lord Weston continued, his honest words ripping his façade aside and showing the truth to her. “I was content with that life, Miss Wells. And then, I met you.” His mouth twisted into a half smile, a wry expression catching his eye. “You confused me greatly with your refusal to see me as so many other ladies did. I know I behaved terribly but you were willing to forgive me thereafter. It made me question what I knew of myself and what I have become.” He shook his head, letting out a long, pained breath. “And now that I see myself for what I am, I find that I am greatly troubled by my character.”
Merry swallowed hard, seeing the pain in his expression and finding her heart softening all the more. She had been holding a part of herself back from Lord Weston for some time, she knew, for a part of her still feared that he was not to be trusted, but as she stood here in front of him and saw his expression and heard his broken words, she let her heart go out to him. Her affection for him began to burn and change into something more, something wonderful that coursed through her veins and forced her to catch her breath. Could it be? Was it possible that there was something truly wonderous between herself and Lord Weston?
“Do you regret meeting me, Lord Weston?” she asked, unable to prevent herself from reaching out and taking his hand, squeezing his fingers gently as he looked up at her sharply. “Is that what you are trying to say?”
“No!” he exclaimed at once, moving immediately closer to her and reaching up to let his free hand run down her arm before catching her other hand. “No, Miss Wells, I do not regret a moment of our acquaintance. Do not misunderstand me. The only thing I regret is my own selfish, idiotic behavior.”
Merry swallowed hard, feeling heat rush through her before pooling in her belly, her hands now held tightly by both of his. She could not speak as her mouth went dry, looking up into Lord Weston’s face. His hazel eyes, a mixture of greens and browns, darkened just a little, his gaze growing in intensity as they stood there together.
“There is more I must say, Miss Wells,” Lord Weston continued, his voice coarse and dry as though he, too, were finding it difficult to speak, such was the intensity of this moment. “But I would have you know that there are such emotions growing within my heart that I do not know what I am to do with them.” He closed his eyes and shook his head, struggling to speak coherently. “I have never experienced anything like this before.”
“Nor I.”
The words came from her heart and ran towards Lord Weston, who opened his eyes and looked back at her in astonishment. Merry could say nothing more, sparks bouncing up her arms from where their hands were joined, her heart aching with a beautiful, extraordinary affection that she could no longer contain. Her breath shuddered out of her, as she tugged one hand from his and placed it carefully against his chest, looking up into his eyes and hearing how he caught his breath. Her future began to brighten as she held his gaze, seeing the possibilities laid out before her.
“I cannot pretend I feel nothing, Lord Weston,” she told him, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “For these last days I have found myself eager for your company. I cannot get you from my mind.”
“But I shall fail you.”
She shook her head, a smile tipping the corners of her mouth. “I know that, should I wear the dullest of gowns and tug my hair into a tight bun, you would still look at me in the same way,” she said, seeing how he closed his eyes tightly at her words. “There is an intimacy between us that I have found with no other. The way we share our hearts, the way you have opened yourself up to my prying eyes…I have no such intimacy with any other, Lord Weston. Not even with my own sisters.”
Lord Weston opened his eyes and reached up to press his hand against hers. “You are much too good for me, Miss Wells,” he whispered, his head lowering. “I should not do such a thing, but my heart will not allow me to remain unmoved.”
When his lips brushed hers, Merry had not expected such a flood of sensations to wash over her. It was light and heat and color all at once, her heart pounding furiously as he withdrew. It had only been momentary, but it had been enough to send her to the clouds in delight. Her heart was his, she knew, and if she could continue to trust him as she had allowed herself to do now, then it might be that Lord Weston could become more to her than she had ever expected.
&nb
sp; “I care for you very deeply, Miss Wells,” he told her, brushing his fingers down her cheek before taking a step back. “I pray that you will not forget my words.”
“I cannot,” she replied, wondering at the grave expression on his face. “They are seared into my mind, Lord Weston.” She smiled at him and saw, much to her relief, that he managed to smile back. “I can hardly believe that such a thing is true.” She closed her eyes and gave herself a slight shake as though, when she awoke, Lord Weston would be gone and she would awake from a dream – but he was still there, still looking at her with that gentle expression that warmed her heart all the more.
I am in love with you, I think, she thought to herself, walking to take his arm once more and return to the path. The thought brought no concern with it, no fear nor trouble. Instead, Merry felt herself overwhelmed with happiness, quite certain that, in a few days’ time, Lord Weston would seek to court her, and she would, of course, accept. Their future, then, would be settled and their happiness could continue into their shared life, lived together.
It was almost too wonderful to believe.
Chapter Thirteen
“You look terrible.”
Thomas rolled his eyes, looking at Lord Henderson with a weary gaze. “What is it that you wish to put to me now, Henderson?”
Lord Henderson chuckled, gesturing to the many guests that crowded into Thomas’s ballroom. “You are hosting a ball and, therefore, should be preening like the proud peacock you are. Instead, your eyes are heavy, and there is a grey pallor to your cheeks.” His smile began to fade as Thomas said nothing. “Goodness, there is something the matter with you. Are you unwell?”
“No, I am not unwell.”
“Then, are you dealing with the effects of drinking too much of your fine brandy last evening?” Lord Henderson asked, his voice growing concerned.
“No, indeed not,” Thomas replied, shaking his head. “There is nothing to concern you, Lord Henderson, truly.”
That was, of course, not at all true, for Thomas had not been able to escape from the torment of his mind for the last sennight. He had taken Miss Wells out almost every day and spent a good deal of time with her both on their private outings and at the social occasions they attended in the evenings, and given that he only had a sennight left in which to win the wager, things appeared to be going rather well. Unfortunately for Thomas, an attack of conscience had left him utterly exhausted, for he had barely been able to sleep these last few nights what with all the thoughts of Miss Wells, the wager, and his confusing emotions as regarded the lady.
Lord Henderson muttered something under his breath, his eyes narrowing still further as he looked back at Thomas.
“I am just a little tired, that is all,” Thomas protested weakly, hoping that this would be enough to satisfy Lord Henderson. “There is no need to concern yourself, Lord Henderson.”
Just then, the sight of Miss Wells dancing with another gentleman came into view. Thomas’s gut twisted immediately, his eyes following her as she was swept across the room. His jaw clenched, his brows lowering as his gaze narrowed. Yes, he had managed to write his name down for two dances with Miss Wells, with one being the waltz, but it irritated him to see her dancing the first waltz with another gentleman, a gentleman who appeared to be Lord Whitaker.
“Good gracious,” Lord Henderson said slowly, his eyes widening as if he had been able to see into Thomas’s heart and knew what was troubling him so. “You are conflicted over Miss Wells, are you not?”
Thomas closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of Miss Wells entirely. “No,” he replied, somewhat unsteadily as he looked back at Lord Henderson. “Not at all. Not in the least.”
Lord Henderson looked more than astonished, a broad grin settling on his face as he shook his head in surprise, reaching up to rub at his forehead. “I would not have expected to see such a thing from you, Lord Weston!” he exclaimed, clearly ignoring Thomas’s firm response that he felt no such thing for Miss Wells. “It appears you are caught up with the lady. All the time you have spent with her has ensured that your heart has become engaged.”
Thomas shook his head, opening his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips.
“And what are you to do about the wager now?” Lord Henderson asked, his voice hushed as he leaned a little closer to Thomas. “If you tell her of it, even if you bring it to an end and lose the money, then she may still turn from you. Unless,” he continued, evidently thinking quickly. “Unless you are able to wed her before she discovers the truth. It will mean that you will lose a substantial amount of money, but at least your father will be placated somewhat by the news that you are to wed.”
“Hush, I beg you!” Thomas pleaded, holding up one hand to stifle Lord Henderson’s words. “You do not know how much I have been troubled of late, and I beg of you not to say more.”
Lord Henderson’s grin, however, only spread further. He clapped Thomas on the back and guffawed loudly, drawing the attention of those around them.
“This is most astonishing,” he cried, refusing to listen to Thomas’s pleadings to quieten his voice. “You have never found yourself caught up with a lady before.”
“Miss Wells is unlike any young lady of my acquaintance,” Thomas found himself saying, making Lord Henderson shake his head in evident amusement. “I do not know what I am to do, Henderson. Meanwhile, Lady Reid continues to dog my steps, and I have to continually placate her.”
The smile faded from Lord Henderson’s face at once, his expression suddenly grim. “You are also seeking Lady Reid’s attention?”
Thomas did not know what to say, for his thoughts and feelings as regarded Lady Reid had also, of late, been very conflicted indeed. He had wanted to avoid her completely but had continued to greet her, converse with her, dance with her upon occasion, and had twice called upon her. He had told himself repeatedly that he would be glad of Lady Reid’s company once his wager had come to an end, even though his heart was no longer willing to bring Miss Wells so much pain and embarrassment. It was as though his old character and his new were at war with one another within him, bringing him nothing but torment.
“I see,” Lord Henderson murmured, even though Thomas had not said a word. “You struggle with what you have in your mind and heart then. It must be a vast change, Weston, although I will not pretend that I am not delighted to see it. I am your friend, yes, but I have long thought that you ought to put an end to your roguish ways.”
Thomas closed his eyes, not wanting to hear a set down from Lord Henderson, who had always been more sensible and thoughtful than he.
“I do not mean to repeat the words of your father, Weston, but mayhap it is time to consider matrimony,” Lord Henderson continued, ignoring Thomas’s audible groan. “If Miss Wells has affected your heart, then why would you turn from that?”
“Because I will lose a great deal of money!” Thomas protested, hearing the words as they came from his mouth and wincing inwardly at how callous he was. “And my reputation…”
Lord Henderson shook his head. “You fear your reputation will suffer,” he stated harshly, making Thomas scowl. “That used to be of the greatest importance to you, I know, but does it matter so very much now?” He looked directly at Thomas, who could not quite meet his friend’s gaze. “If it does not, then you must consider what it is that truly matters to you, Weston.”
Thomas nodded but turned away, not wanting to show Lord Henderson just how much his words had affected him. What truly mattered, he knew, was Miss Wells and the affection that was growing in his heart for her. His reputation, which he had once clung to with such force that it was as though his life was dependent upon it, now shriveled away and began to blow away like the dust. The way he had been clinging onto Lady Reid, despite his feelings for Miss Wells, seemed ridiculous now. That kiss, as brief as it had been, had caught his heart and burned her name there. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her again, to claim her as his own, and to make her his bride. But t
o go to Miss Wells and ask her to court him would, in fact, bring an end to his wager, but it would also declare him the victor, for he did not expect her to refuse him. Could he claim the winnings and then go on to seek her hand in marriage? Surely she would not need to know of it, if it was kept to himself and Lord Wiltshire? His father would be delighted that he was to be wed, and even if she discovered the truth whilst they were engaged, he could surely convince her that it meant naught to him now.
“I must go to her,” he murmured aloud, as Lord Henderson let out a soft chuckle behind him. “My heart has been conflicted terribly of late, and now I must –”
“I must say, I am surprised you have not come to seek me out, Lord Weston.”
Just as Thomas was about to move away, he turned to see the Lady Reid standing behind him, her expression cool although a smile was painted on her lips.
“Lady Reid,” he stammered, suddenly feeling quite at a loss as Lord Henderson stepped away, apologizing that he had to go in search of the lady to whom he was promised for the next dance. “Good evening.”
Lady Reid accepted his greeting and quick bow with a small inclination of her head, although her eyes remained sharp. She said nothing more, waiting for him to give her some explanation as to why he had not yet sought her out.
“I have been caught up with my guests,” he answered, scrambling for a response. “I am very glad to see you here, Lady Reid.” Smiling at her, Thomas ignored the way his lies ran from his tongue with ease, finding that he suddenly considered such a skill to be to his detriment.
“You have not been able to write your name upon a single dance card as yet, then?” Lady Reid enquired, her gaze stern and unrelenting. “Not a single one?”
Thomas began to stammer, wondering if she knew that he had sought out Miss Wells almost at once and written his name for two dances. By the look on her face, he presumed she must know of it.
