by Lucy Adams
“You have sought out Miss Wells,” Lady Reid hissed, her eyes narrowing. “I thought you were a gentleman who had better taste in ladies than that, Lord Weston!”
A surge of anger rippled through him. “I think Miss Wells to be an excellent lady,” he informed Lady Reid, his brows furrowing together. “I have been glad to further my acquaintance with her.”
“You choose her acquaintance over mine?” Lady Reid asked, her eyes widening and her cheeks flooding with color. “Truly, Lord Weston? It cannot be that you have fallen in love with the creature, surely?”
The mention of the word “love” brought Thomas to his knees. His anger began to die away, heat climbing up his spine as he looked into Lady Reid’s beautiful face and saw the scorn there. He could not bring himself to admit to her or even to admit aloud that he cared for Miss Wells. It was too frightening a prospect to own.
“Of course I am not in love with her,” he scoffed, waving a hand as though Lady Reid talked nothing but foolishness. “It is a wager only.”
Lady Reid’s scornful expression changed in an instant. “A wager?” she purred, suddenly moving closer and putting a hand on his arm. “You have made a wager to capture Miss Wells’ attentions?”
“I mean to have her accept my courtship,” he told her, knowing that he ought to prevent himself from saying more but finding that his mouth was working of its own accord, such was his urgency to defend himself against the accusation that he was in love. “Then I shall win the bet, defeat Lord Wiltshire, and all shall be as it once was.”
Lady Reid seemed to purr, her eyes glowing gently as she looked up into his face. “Why did you not say so before?” she asked, her hand creeping up his arm towards his shoulder. Thomas tensed, his skin crawling as she brushed her fingers over the back of his neck. “Then I would not have grown concerned. You are still to be mine after all.”
“Yours?” Thomas repeated, wondering why he didn’t feel any delight at this prospect, but rather, a growing disdain for the beautiful lady before him.
Lady Reid laughed softly, shaking her head as though he were being ridiculous. “But of course,” she replied, running her hand down his back. “You did not think that I have permitted your attentions and forgiven your mistakes without having the intention of allowing you to further them.” Her lips curved, her lids lowering into a most alluring gaze. “I do hope you will accept, Lord Weston.”
Thomas opened his mouth to state that nothing would bring him greater pleasure, but the words stuck in his throat. He could not answer her. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat and tried to smile but even that proved much too difficult. His whole body was rebelling against the idea of going to Lady Reid for such pleasures, his mind filling with thoughts of Miss Wells.
“You are overcome, of course,” Lady Reid said easily, looking up at him coyly. “I shall leave you for a time, Lord Weston. I do hope the surprise will have worn off somewhat by the time I return to you.” She let her hand linger on his arm for another few moments before moving past him, letting him free to breathe more easily.
* * *
Thomas rubbed his hands over his eyes, struggling to get his thoughts into coherent order. It had been a good hour since Lady Reid had left him, but he had not been able to escape from his own thoughts to even summon a moment of enjoyment from the evening. The eagerness he had once had to seek out Lady Reid’s affections and attentions had gone from him completely, removed by the thought of Miss Wells. It was she that he wanted to pursue. It was she that held his every thought, and as much as he had been unable to say as much aloud, he was beginning to care for the lady very deeply. It was why he had been so tormented of late, struggling to know what was best for him to do. His own desires were muddled, his mind confused. What was it he wanted? Was he in love with Miss Wells, as Lady Reid had suggested? It could explain the strong reaction he had experienced when she had stated it, although he certainly should not have said anything about the wager. That had been foolishness in itself.
“Lord Weston?”
He looked up, surprised to see Miss Wells hurrying towards him. Her eyes were wild, her face pale, save for two spots of color in her cheeks. Her hands were clenched, her ringlets bouncing about her temples.
“Is it our dance, Miss Wells?” he asked, pushing himself away from the wall and inclining his head. “I must apologize. I–”
“A wager?”
Her words froze him in place, seeing the tears glistening in her eyes and feeling himself sinking slowly to the floor.
“You have a wager with Lord Wiltshire that I will accept your courtship?” she asked, blinking back her tears, her voice breaking with emotion. “That is why you have been seeking me out? That is why you gave me so much of your attention?”
“Miss Wells,” Thomas stammered, reaching out to her as though taking her hand would somehow assure her that he was not the ogre he now appeared to be. “It is not as it seems.”
She took a step back from him, preventing him from grasping her hand. “You are telling me that this wager is not as it seems?”
He could not answer that truthfully, his eyes downcast. “Lady Reid informed you of this?”
“She did,” Miss Wells whispered, her voice no longer able to speak with any force. “She warned me that if I continued to accept your attentions, then she would make certain that there were consequences for such a thing.” She lifted one shoulder, a single tear falling onto her cheek. “I presume this is what she spoke of.”
“Lady Reid did not know of it until only an hour ago,” he said rapidly, as though this would change her consideration of him. “I must tell you, Miss Wells, I have been in a quandary over what to do. I have this wager, yes, but I have found myself so drawn to you that I cannot pretend that I do not have a growing affection for you.” He took a step closer, his eyes fixed on hers so that he would not lose her attention. “Pray, do not turn from me now. The words I said to you in the park only yesterday are the truth!”
A harsh laugh ripped from her mouth. “You must think me a fool,” she told him, shaking her head. “You seek to keep up your pretense so that I will fall into your arms, accept your offer of courtship, and you, therefore, shall win your wager.” Dashing away her tears, she closed her eyes tightly and dragged in a deep breath of air. “I will not be so mistreated, Lord Weston. I will not allow you to use me as your plaything. How foolish I have been to allow you to do so thus far!”
His desperation grew steadily. He wanted to fall at her feet, wanted to beg her to listen to him and to believe what it was he said, only to see her anger and to feel himself fading away to hopelessness.
“You have no reason to think well of me,” he admitted, his voice low as his hands fell to his sides. “I have behaved appallingly. I have treated you as though you mean nothing, Miss Wells. I should have no expectation that you will believe my words now. If only I could prove to you in some way that you have changed me, Miss Wells. Where I was once selfish, cruel, and unkind, seeking the attention of others, I now only seek your attention, Miss Wells. I want to be your only consideration, and yet, despite this urgency, I have failed utterly. How much you must despise me and how much I deserve that scorn.” His eyes lowered to the floor, his heart aching furiously. “It will do no good to tell you of the truth of my affection, Miss Wells, for you have no reason to believe me, but I will say it regardless. My heart has begun to yearn for you in such a way that it has never done before. I did not know what to do with it, nor how to express it, especially when the foolishness of the wager hung over my head. I am utterly ashamed of myself, Miss Wells. I am a coward and a fool, but I will never pretend that what I feel in my heart is not genuine.” Looking up at her, he saw how she stilled, her tears drying on her cheeks. “I believe myself in love with you, Miss Wells,” he finished, the words bringing both pain and gladness to his heart as he finally told her the truth. A weight rolled off his shoulders as he continued to hold her gaze, aware of how pale and wane she now appeared. “But I
shall not pursue you, not for my sake. I will not seek your company again. I will lose the wager. I will give Lord Wiltshire the money and accept the consequences thereafter. And I shall do my very best to protect you from the shame of it all.”
Miss Wells let out a snort of disdain, her eyes still glassy. “I hardly think you will be able to do so, Lord Weston, since Lady Reid is already informing all she knows of what it is you have done,” she replied unsteadily. “It seems I am destined to return to the shadows of society, where I once was before. At least there, I know I shall receive a true welcome.”
And with that, she turned around and made her way through the crowd towards the door of the ballroom, leaving Thomas crushed with shame and bearing the weight of a broken heart.
Chapter Fourteen
Merry had never experienced a pain such as this. It had been three days since Lady Reid had told her all, three days since Lord Weston had stood there and confessed that it was as Lady Reid had said. Three days since her heart had shattered terribly and she had been left to deal with the agony that came thereafter.
What made things all the worse was the memory of their kiss; it would not leave her. It pricked at her memory, mocking her, teasing her, and deriding her until she could take no more. It had filled her with such sensations that she had not known what to do with all that she had felt, for it had been the most wonderous of moments – and yet, Lord Weston had been playing her false.
“My dear girl, how fare you this afternoon?”
Merry closed her eyes tightly and turned towards the window, opening them to look down at the street below. She did not want to speak to anyone of what had occurred for fear that she would break down completely.
“You are still sorrowful, I understand,” her mother said gently. “But it is only right that I inform you that another beautiful bouquet has arrived for you. A note has been sent with it.”
Merry shook her head, her lips trembling as she fought to keep her composure. “I do not want to have any gifts from Lord Weston, Mama,” she said unsteadily. “He has used me ill.”
There was a short pause. “That is so,” Lady Whitehaven replied slowly, “but there is also the chance that what he has said to you thereafter is the truth, Merry.”
Blinking rapidly and forcing in a quick breath, Merry lifted her chin and turned to face her mother. “Pray, do not defend that gentleman to me, Mama.”
Lady Whitehaven looked a little surprised. “I am speaking only what I think, Merry,” she replied candidly. “I seek your happiness, truly.”
“My happiness cannot be found with Lord Weston.”
Those words rang out across the room, silence following thereafter. Merry wanted to rail at her mother, wanted to scream aloud that she did not want to hear another word about Lord Weston, but instead she simply remained standing quietly, her hands clenched by her side.
“The man has made a dreadful mistake, Merry,” Lady Whitehaven said softly, coming closer to Merry and looking sympathetically into her eyes. “I will not pretend that I am not furious with him for what he has done. However….” She trailed off, hesitating, as she struggled to find the words to explain what she meant. “However, I think some consideration must be given to what he has said to you, Merry,”
“They were nothing more than lies,” Merry replied bitterly, her tears beginning to form again. “I know them to be nothing more than that, Mama. I was foolish to believe him.”
Lady Whitehaven shook her head. “I believe that is where you are mistaken, Merry,” she said gently. “Lord Weston is not behaving as I would expect, given that he has been successful in his wager.”
Merry’s head shot up, her heart pounding furiously. “I did not ever accept his courtship.”
“I am aware of that,” Lady Whitehaven replied carefully. “But the time you have spent in his company has not gone unnoticed. Lord Wiltshire, I believe, refused to accept that Lord Weston had lost, given what has occurred between yourself and Lord Weston. From what I understand, this came after great pressure from other gentlemen, who all believed Lord Weston to have been entirely successful. They stated that he had the intention of asking you to allow his courtship, but that Lady Reid had prevented that from occurring. They stated that should he have asked, you would have accepted.” She let out a long breath, looking suddenly weary. “The rumor mills are hard at work, Merry, as they always are when something such as this comes out, but what I have heard is that Lord Weston did not wish to accept Lord Wiltshire’s money.”
Merry closed her eyes and wondered how it could be that, even in his absence, Lord Weston could fool her mother. “I am certain he protested most artfully,” she replied, turning around towards the window again. “But he would have had to accept in the end.”
“He did,” Lady Whitehaven admitted gently, “but he did not keep the money for himself.”
“I do not care what he did with it,” Merry replied harshly, dashing tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Why do you say this to me, Mama?”
Lady Whitehaven said nothing for some moments, as Merry closed her eyes to battle against her tears. Why had her mother come to speak to her of Lord Weston? She did not want to listen to what was being said of him, nor to hear of the gossip that surrounded them both. The only thing she wanted was to be left alone, to retreat into the shadows and allow her pain to slowly begin to heal.
“Catherine?”
Confused, Merry opened her eyes and turned her head to see the door open and her sister Catherine to step inside. She did not understand why Lady Whitehaven had instructed Catherine to hide herself behind the door, praying silently that it would not be simply another person Lady Whitehaven would use in order to try and convince Merry that she needed to reconsider Lord Weston.
“How are you, Merry dear?” Catherine asked softly, her expression deeply sympathetic. “Dinah has been praying for you quite unceasingly, although I confess that I have not been as pious as she.”
Merry managed a small smile. “Thank you, Catherine.”
“Catherine,” Lady Whitehaven said, interrupting their conversation. “Tell Merry of what occurred only this morning.”
Catherine shot Merry a slightly apologetic look, as though she had been forced into speaking and had not thought it for Merry’s best, but Merry merely shrugged and gestured for her to continue.
“I go to aid those in need, as you know,” Catherine began quickly, as if she wanted to say everything as quickly as she could. “Do you recall the charitable house I took you to when we went out into the town together?” A quick look towards Lady Whitehaven showed that their mother did not care about what they had done, for she merely continued to watch Merry closely, no expression of distaste or disapproval on her face.
“I do recall it, yes,” Merry replied. “The lady there was very pleased to see you and thanked you for your donations.”
Catherine nodded and then began to smile, her hands clasping tightly together. An expression of sheer joy came over her face, and she took a small step forward. “I was visiting there only this morning and, as I drew near the doorway, a gentleman hurried out without seeing me. I had to dart out of the way so as not to be knocked over!” She shook her head, a light smile on her lips. “I recognized him, of course, but did not have the courage nor the quickness of mind to speak to him.”
A small flicker of curiosity captured Merry’s heart and, as much as she wanted to ignore it and to remain entirely disinterested, she found she could not. Obviously, Catherine was speaking of Lord Weston, but why would he have been in a charitable house?
“It was Lord Weston,” Catherine continued, seeing Merry’s questioning look. “When I went into the house, I found the lady who oversees it all – Mrs. Stevenson – to be in a flood of tears.”
A gasp escaped from Merry’s throat. “Oh, goodness! What had he done?” She could not understand why Catherine smiled so, why her eyes seemed to glow with happiness, when her friend Mrs. Stevenson had apparently been so very dis
traught.
“He has given the charitable house his winnings.”
Merry’s breath left her lungs in a rush, and she found herself unable to take another one for some moments.
“You see, Merry,” Lady Whitehaven said gently. “That is not the action of a gentleman who is delighting in his success and who cares nothing for you.”
Merry drew in air to her starving lungs, her whole body racked with a sudden trembling. Stepping forward quickly, she sank into a chair whilst her sister and mother drew near to her, with Lady Whitehaven tugging a bell as she passed. Most likely, Merry would be given a cup of tea to restore her, if she did not faint first.
“The Lord Weston I know would not have done such a thing.”
Now it was Titania who spoke, having come into the room without Merry noticing.
“He was entirely selfish, proud, and entitled,” Titania continued, coming to stand in front of Merry. “I knew he treated you ill, but I was glad to see how attentive he became thereafter.” Her lips thinned, and her emerald eyes flashed. “Although if I were a gentleman, I would have called him out over what he has done to you, Merry.”
“I-I cannot believe this,” Merry whispered, not quite certain what to make of all that she had heard. “Lord Weston gave his winnings to a charitable house?” She looked from her mother to Catherine and then to Titania, who all nodded to confirm that this was, in fact, the truth. Merry could not seem to make herself believe it. She wanted to continue thinking that Lord Weston was a rogue and she a fool, that he was callous and cruel, and that every word he had said to her had been nothing but a lie.
Except that now, a flicker of doubt came into her mind and lingered there, sending a flurry of questions into her thoughts.
“Should you have told me some weeks ago that Lord Weston had given his winnings to a charitable house, I would have laughed and told you that you were quite mistaken,” Titania said, after some minutes of quiet had passed. “But to see him do so now, when I know that he cares for you, Merry, convinces me that he is genuine in his affections.”
