by Abigail Agar
“See something interesting?” the nobleman asked her.
“Oh, forgive me, I was just noticing that my dear friend appears to have found her match,” Beatrice said.
“You mean that young lady there? Yes, she is with my closest friend. Honestly, I am surprised to see him looking so contented as well. It looks as though they truly are a good match,” he said.
“You know him? Is he a good man?” Beatrice asked.
“The best of men. Honestly, your friend is in good hands with him. He is the most loyal and trustworthy person I know. Never have I questioned his intentions,” the man said.
“I am glad to hear it. She is such a lovely, kind woman. She does not care about someone’s status or their place in society. She just wants to do good unto others,” Beatrice said.
“In that case, I do think it would be good for the pair to continue talking. I know that he has been hoping for just such a woman,” the man said.
“And a loyal man is perfect for her. And it is no wonder that her father would want her to be with someone who is loyal,” Beatrice said.
The man looked at her inquisitively, but he brushed the question away before it reached his lips.
“Anyway, I—”
He was interrupted by the clinking of a glass. Everyone quieted and turned to where Lord Seton stood.
“Good evening, friends and guests. I am so glad to see you all here. I do hope that you are enjoying yourselves. And I hope that there is not too much brandy flowing…Lord Vermore, I am looking at you,” Lord Seton said, teasing his friend who laughed.
“But, truly, I am delighted that you all made it a priority to come here this evening for our little party. I know that many of you have had to travel to get here. The Marquess of Walford and his lovely wife came all the way from Greemton. It means a great deal that you should all be here,” he said.
“Now, as you all know, my family is entering into a rather exciting season. As it happens, my very own daughter is soon to be married! Without further ado, I would like to call my darling Isla and also my good friend, Lord Peter Hawthorn, the Earl of Willoughby,” he said.
Beatrice started to clap, excited for Isla. But when her new nobleman friend stood, she was curious.
The man started to walk, but then turned to wait for Beatrice. She stayed seated, looking at him questioningly. His own brows drew together as he waited.
It took a long, painful moment of eyeing one another before it slowly began to dawn on Beatrice. She realised, with horror, that Lord Peter Hawthorn, Earl of Willoughby, was having the same understanding.
“Isla and Lord Hawthorn?” Lord Seton said again, eyes scanning the crowd.
Beatrice didn’t want to take her eyes off this man before her, but she had to find Isla. When her eyes landed upon her dear friend, it was clear that Beatrice and Lord Hawthorn were not the only ones who had made a grievous error in assumption.
Isla was looking at the man she had been speaking with and was clearly in distress of her own.
But with one final glance at Beatrice Lord Hawthorn tore himself away, clearing his throat, and made his way to the front, reaching Lord Seton at the same moment as Isla did.
“Ah, there you are. Now, we have the joy of presenting the two of you to all of our friends. Have you had a chance to speak at all this evening?” Lord Seton asked, evidently unaware of everything that had just taken place.
“N-no, Lord Seton, we have not,” Lord Hawthorn said.
“Well, here you are! An introduction to be seen by everyone. Lord Hawthorn, this is my lovely daughter, Lady Isla Seton,” he said.
Isla curtseyed and Lord Hawthorn bowed in kind.
Beatrice was miserable. She could not have fathomed it turning out this way. Had he really thought that she was Isla all along? They did both have brown hair, although Isla’s hair was much lighter. And she had been instructing a maid when he came over to her. Was that enough to have made him believe her identity?
Why had she not introduced herself properly? It would have prevented this whole mess!
When she looked over at Lord Hawthorn’s friend, the one with whom Isla had been speaking, she saw how sad he was. Clearly, he had been hoping for a happier outcome as well.
But it was not difficult to see how the mistake had been made. Like Lord Hawthorn, this man had blonde hair. He was tall. He was certainly leaner, but that had never been a part of the description and there could be no way of knowing the difference between the two without having met them.
“Now, we must celebrate the fact that these two are going to be wed. How about a waltz, hmm? Just the two of you,” Lord Seton said, looking between Lord Hawthorn—whose eyes went wide with horror—and Isla, who was known for being an exceptional dancer.
“Oh…um…I do not think it would be interesting to your guests if only the two of us were to dance,” Lord Hawthorn said.
“Nonsense, anyone would be happy to see it. After all, these are my friends and they are happy about this union as well,” Lord Seton said. “Miss Cloud, please be a dear and strike up the keys.”
Beatrice was quite hidden behind a number of guests, but she could see through the heads that Lord Seton was looking for her. Rather than make her presence known, she shuffled the short distance to the pianoforte and simply began to play, hoping that no one had seen her at all.
It was better, sitting there and playing. She could barely sneak the slightest glimpse at Isla and Lord Hawthorn, even when she was tempted to. She could hardly see the stiffness that he had mentioned and she did not have to suffer to see Isla in his arms.
It was awful. She had spent the whole evening with hope and excitement in her heart, only to be relegated to hiding behind the guests. She loved the pianoforte, but that hardly made up for the disappointment of the evening or the fact that this was not exactly what she had expected of her night.
As the waltz came to an end and she heard a light clapping, Beatrice slipped out of the hall and rushed to the stairs. She ascended them quickly and desperately, needing to get to her own room as quickly as possible.
Only once she was inside did she throw herself on the bed and close her eyes, begging for sleep to overcome her.
She had known better than to get her hopes up about finding a kind man. And certainly, she would never end up with a nobleman.
Still, was it so hard to believe that she could be happy? Was it so hard to believe that things could turn out right?
As it happened, yes. It was far too difficult to believe.
Chapter 4
Peter was still in shock the following day. How had he spent his whole evening with that lovely young woman and still not managed to confirm that she was, indeed, Isla Seton? What a foolish thing to have done!
He had spent the rest of the evening in a terrible state of anxiety, wishing that he could find out who the other young lady was. She certainly seemed confident in the home and she had made that comment about living there. But Lady Seton had only very young sisters.
He couldn’t even begin to figure it out, but Peter knew that the best course of action was to let it go. After all, he was engaged to be married. And to a completely different woman than the one he had met the previous night. It would not have been right to allow himself to have feelings for another.
As for Lady Seton, she was certainly nice enough. And beautiful, as well. He would have to try and get to know her, of course. So far, they had danced—she was a far better dancer than he was and all of the relief he had felt with the other woman’s confession had dissipated once he saw Lady Seton’s fluid, easy motions.
Following that he had tried to refrain from searching the crowd for the other young lady, all the while talking and engaging. It had been exhausting. All he wanted was to beg Lord Seton to reconsider, to let her return to her conversation with Andrew.
He wanted to beg to go back to that young lady who had suddenly vanished.
“Are you quite all right?” Andrew asked.
Pete
r snapped his head up. He had been in a complete daze. Sitting there at the breakfast table all he could do was replay the evening before, wondering what he could have done differently. He had completely forgotten that it was a new day and that he was dining with Andrew.
“Oh, of course. My apologies. I am still quite tired,” Peter said.
“Yes, I can see that. And why wouldn’t you be? You had a late night, dancing with Lady Seton,” Andrew said.
Perhaps it was the fog of morning, or maybe the sensitivity which Peter was feeling, but he detected the faintest hint of bitterness in Andrew’s voice.
It was probably just from the curiosity that he felt regarding Andrew’s feelings on the matter. He was terribly worried. After all, Andrew had spent the entire evening speaking with Isla, just as Peter had been with the young woman at the card table.
Was Andrew upset? Was he wishing that things had been different as well? Or that Peter had said something to Lord Seton in order to end this?
No, Andrew must have known that there was nothing now to be done. Peter’s father had been friends with Lord Seton and then, after his father’s death, Lord Seton had taken Peter under his wing. The two were quite connected.
It only made sense to accept when Lord Seton spoke with Peter and told him that he and his father had spoken about arranging the match. Peter figured it was a reasonable enough request, as his father had even mentioned the possibility to him once or twice when he was younger.
However as Peter and his mother spent most of their time in the country, and Lord Seton’s family had been away traveling during the two previous London seasons, the two had never crossed paths.
Until last night.
“Did you enjoy the evening?” Peter asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
“Yes, I did,” Andrew said, looking sad.
“It was not quite what I had expected,” Peter said.
“Nor I. And who was the young woman that you were speaking with?” he asked.
“I am afraid that I don’t know her name. You may find it funny, but I actually thought that she was Lady Seton the entire time. It was not until Lord Seton called us to the front that I learned that she was not,” Peter said, trying to make light of the situation by laughing at himself.
“Really?” Andrew asked, looking relieved to hear that.
“Yes. I was certain that the young woman I was speaking with was my intended. And I saw that you were speaking with Lady Seton. Did you know who she was? Or were you just enjoying getting to know a young woman without asking her name?” Peter asked.
Andrew shrugged.
“She came up to me and was very friendly. She must have thought that she was approaching you. It would not be the first time that someone has confused us,” Andrew said.
“No, it would not. How strange it is that we both ended up speaking to other young women. Lady Seton appeared to enjoy talking to you,” Peter said, wondering if he was putting a balm on the wound, or adding salt.
He wanted Andrew to know that Lady Seton had seemed disappointed by the turn of events as well, but he didn’t know if that was only going to make their situation that much more difficult.
“Yes, well, it was a lovely conversation. Anyway, are you returning today?” Andrew asked, changing the subject.
Peter sighed.
“Yes. I should. I am not particularly eager to, but I must return,” he said.
“Why are you not looking forward to it?” Andrew asked.
Peter caught himself too late. He shouldn’t have said that. It made him sound ungrateful for the woman that he had been instructed to marry.
“I only meant that I am tired and that Lord Seton enjoys putting on a good show, which causes a great deal of pressure. But I know that it is my duty to spend time with Lady Seton and get to know her so that we might better prepare for marriage,” Peter said.
“I am sure that you will enjoy the time that you spend together. Honestly, she is truly spectacular. Lovely in every way,” Andrew said, a sigh playing upon his voice.
Peter felt a wave of guilt all over again. How was he meant to handle this? Poor Andrew was struggling a great deal.
“Yes, well, I’m sure she is. Anyway, you are right and I ought to be on my way,” Peter said.
“I will still be here when you come back,” Andrew said.
“Perfect. The housekeeper will make sure you are fed,” Peter said.
With that, he left the townhouse that his father had often stayed in whenever he was in London. Peter and his mother travelled there only occasionally, but now, it seemed, he would be there more often.
When Peter reached the Seton Estate, he was more than ready to put on a smile and work to entertain Lady Seton and her father.
The door opened after he knocked and the housekeeper welcomed him inside.
“I will inform Lord Seton that you have arrived,” the housekeeper said.
“Yes, thank you,” he replied.
She disappeared and Peter started looking at the portraits along the walls in the hallway. They were magnificent. Great paintings of all of the former Earls of Dutton.
He heard the sound of girlish laughter and assumed it to be Lady Seton’s younger sisters. The door was just ahead and he wanted to see the girls, possibly even greet them.
Peter walked up to the door of the classroom and looked in, a smile on his face.
Instantly, it faded into shock.
There she was. The young woman from the party. Instructing the two younger girls.
The governess.
She looked up at him and her own expression melted into one of horror. With evident shame she looked away, instructing the girls to continue with their work.
Peter wanted to say something, anything. A greeting, at the very least.
But the clipped heels of the housekeeper were coming straight for him and he turned to the woman.
“Lord Seton is waiting for you in the parlour,” she said.
Peter turned back to the governess, who glanced up for only a second before looking away. He realised he had no other choice but to give up and follow the housekeeper.
Peter was filled with wonder and anxiety. How had he missed this detail?
In the parlour, Lord Seton stood and greeted him with a smile.
“Ah! There you are. Isla will be down in just a moment. The two of you really seemed to get along well last evening, just as I knew you would. She is beautiful, isn’t she?” he asked.
“Yes, Lord Seton, very beautiful,” Peter said.
“Good, good. And lunch is very nearly ready, so I imagine we will go to the dining hall soon and then we might retire to the study for a brandy. How does that sound?” Lord Seton asked.
“Ideal, Lord Seton,” Peter replied.
“Such a good young man. I am thrilled that you are going to be marrying my daughter. Any father hopes for a good husband for his daughters but I wish there were three of you, as my younger girls are constantly talking about their very own dukes and earls and princes,” he said with a laugh.
“Ah, well, I fear there is only one,” Peter said.
Just then, Lady Seton entered the room, looking elegant as she had the night before. She smiled politely and curtseyed. If she held any resentment over the mistake the previous evening, it didn’t show.
