A Lord Undone: The Spinsters Guild (Book 5)

by Pearson, Rose

  “Thereafter,” Lady Smithton continued, “you will have to go to Whites and the like in order to ensure that any sort of critical talk about Lady Beatrice does not go unnoticed.”

  “You wish me to defend Lady Beatrice’s honor?” Lord Havisham asked, suddenly sounding a little doubtful. “You know what sort of suggestions may follow thereafter, Lady Smithton, do you not?”

  Beatrice’s stomach dropped to the floor and she looked frantically at Lady Smithton, suddenly afraid that the ton would start speaking of Lord Havisham’s attentions towards her and fearing what such rumors might then lead to.

  “I am aware,” Lady Smithton said, softly. “But, in order to counteract such rumors, you and I shall start courting.”

  Beatrice’s stomach flew back up within herself and she shuddered, seeing how Lord Havisham reacted at once to what Lady Smithton had said. He stared at her as though he had not heard her correctly, trying to work out in his own mind about what she had stated. Lady Smithton said nothing more but merely smiled at him, leaving Lord Havisham in very little doubt as to what had been suggested.

  “We shall start courting?” Lord Havisham repeated, his voice rather hoarse. “Are you quite sure, Lady Smithton?”

  Lady Smithton’s gentle smile remained, her eyes glowing just a little. “I am quite certain,” she said, calmly. “That is, unless you have no wish to?”

  “No, no, you mistake my hesitation entirely!” Lord Havisham, with such fervency that Beatrice felt as though she ought to quit the room at once so as to leave Lord Havisham and Lady Smithton to themselves. “I would be delighted….more than delighted, to do as you ask.” His voice grew a little tender. “You know it has long been my dearest wish.”

  Lady Smithton blushed a gentle pink but did not lose any of her composure. “Very good,” she said, looking back to Beatrice. “Then it is settled.”

  “I am very grateful,” Beatrice answered, still feeling more than a little embarrassed. “I have no-one else to turn to and for you to be so generous with both your time and your efforts on my behalf is truly wonderful.”

  “You have no need to thank me,” Lady Smithton answered, quietly. “I know what it is to struggle, Lady Beatrice. I know what it is to have society looking at you with questions in their eyes. And I know what it is like to rise above it and to prove to the ton that their opinion of you is quite mistaken.”

  All the more encouraged, Beatrice let out a long breath of relief and smiled back at her. “Then I look forward to our first outing into society, Lady Smithton,” she said, with a good deal of trepidation still within her heart. “For to know that both you and Lord Havisham will be there by my side brings me a good deal of courage.”

  Lady Havisham nodded. “Good,” she said, briskly. “Then we must ensure that you are quite prepared for the ball tomorrow. If you would permit, I would like to call upon you tomorrow afternoon to assist you in selecting your gown and the like.” She smiled at Beatrice’s immediate nod of acceptance, evidently seeing her delight. “And then I shall have Lord Havisham call for you once he has called for me,” she finished, looking towards Lord Havisham who nodded quickly. “And from that moment on, you shall not have a single moment alone at Lord Masterton’s ball.”

  * * *

  Beatrice could practically feel every eye turning towards her as she walked into Lord Masterton’s ballroom, with Lady Smithton on one side and Lord Havisham on the other. She did as Lady Smithton had instructed; ignoring the turbulent emotions that ran through her and instead, lifting her chin just a little and putting a small yet determined smile on her lips. She would not allow the beau monde to push her back, regardless of what they thought of her. As far as she alone was concerned, she was still the daughter of a marquess, and even if her own companion had left her side due to the doubt that had been cast upon it, Beatrice knew she had to find the strength to ignore such aspersions. It had hurt her most grievously to hear of her father speaking such words, and all the more painful it had become when he had refused to set it to rights, evidently suggesting that her mother had played him false at one time or another, but thanks to Lady Smithton, Beatrice knew that she had no other choice but to ignore such things and simply press on.

  Without Lady Smithton, she did not believe she would ever have been able to do so.

  “Now,” Lady Smithton murmured, as Lord Havisham cleared his throat. “There is a cotillion first, I think.” She glanced at Lord Havisham, who gave a short nod. “And then a short promenade around the ballroom.”

  “Might you care to dance, Lady Beatrice?” Lord Havisham asked, a warm smile on his face as he gave her a small bow. “I should very much like to partner you for the first dance of the evening.”

  “You are very kind, Lord Havisham,” Beatrice answered, aware that she was a little on edge still and rather tense with it, knowing she would have to step out onto the floor with him. “Yes, of course.”

  Lord Havisham bowed again and then offered her his arm, which Beatrice accepted without hesitation. Her whole frame trembled as they walked towards the center of the dance floor, with Lord Havisham finding some other couples in order to make up their set. Beatrice expected one or two of them to turn around in search of other, more suitable matches, but whether it was from their own sense of propriety or from the hard steely look in Lord Havisham’s eyes, each lady and gentleman gave their acquiescence and so the set was formed.

  It was not until she was dancing that Beatrice realized she recognized one of the gentlemen, although she could not quite place him. It took almost all of her concentration to focus on the steps of the dance and so she struggled to give any thought to the identity of the gentleman. When the dance came to an end, Beatrice gave Lord Havisham the customary curtsy but kept her eyes fixed on the gentleman she recognized. A gentleman with fair hair and piercing blue eyes. Blue eyes that she seemed to know but could not quite place.

  “That went very well indeed, Lady Beatrice,” Lord Havisham murmured, as they walked from the dance floor and back towards Lady Smithton. “You are an excellent dancer, I must say. You did not put a foot wrong and the others seemed more than contented to have you in our set.”

  “I believe that is because you were present, Lord Havisham,” Beatrice answered, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder at the other gentleman. “Had it not been for your stern gaze, I do not think they would have been quite so willing.”

  Lord Havisham shrugged but smiled. “Regardless, society must be made to understand that you are not to be so shamed,” he said, firmly. “And dancing is one way to prove to them that you are refusing to hide from it all.”

  “I thank you,” Beatrice answered as they reached Lady Smithton. “It was a wonderful start to the evening.”

  “Good evening, Lord Havisham.”

  Beatrice turned her head, just as Lady Smithton was about to say something, only to see the very gentleman in question now speaking directly to Lord Havisham. The same sense of familiarity was still present, still growing within her, but she turned her head away at once, knowing that it would be very rude indeed to stare and to eavesdrop onto a conversation that she had no part in.

  “That seemed to go very well indeed,” Lady Smithton murmured, glancing behind Beatrice. “And I cannot help but wonder if this gentleman present is now seeking an introduction to you.”

  Beatrice closed her eyes as a sudden recollection hit her.

  “Lady Beatrice?” Lady Smithton asked, taking a small step closer. “Do you know this gentleman?”

  Beatrice opened her eyes, just as Lord Havisham said her name. There was no time now to explain. Turning back, she looked directly into the eyes of the gentleman whose carriage she had clambered into a little over a month ago, when the news of her father’s behavior had swarmed all through London. The gentleman who had seen her sobbing as though her heart would break, who had seen her in such a state of distress that he had been given no other choice but to take her back to her father’s townhouse rather than forcibly
remove her from his carriage.

  “Lady Beatrice,” Lord Havisham said grandly, clearly entirely unaware of her growing mortification. “Might I present to you the Earl of Greaves? And Lord Greaves, might I present Lady Beatrice, daughter to the Marquess of Burnley.”

  Beatrice swallowed hard and dipped into a curtsy. “Lord Greaves,” she said, aware of just how furiously her heart was thudding. “How good to meet you.”

  “And not for the first time, I think,” Lord Greaves murmured, as she rose from her curtsy. “I knew I recognized you, Lady Beatrice.”

  She blinked, aware of how Lady Smithton came to stand by her side, a silent encouragement. “Yes, of course, Lord Greaves,” she stammered, now feeling more than a little awkward. “I was grateful for your assistance some weeks ago, when I was a little distressed.” She watched as Lord Greaves nodded, his expression almost grim. Why had he come to seek an introduction if he thought so badly of her?

  “How wonderful that you were so kind to my dear friend,” Lady Smithton interrupted, stepping forward and fixing a firm eye upon Lord Greaves. “And now mayhap, you might wish to seek out a dance from Lady Beatrice? Her dance card is –”

  “Not this evening,” Lord Greaves interrupted, in a haughty manner. “Do excuse me. I think I can see another of my acquaintances eager to greet me.” With a quick jerk of his head, he hurried past Beatrice, leaving her feeling as though she wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor so that she might hide herself from the rest of the guests.

  “Good gracious!” Lady Smithton exclaimed, her upset more than obvious. “Is that gentleman a friend of yours, Lord Havisham?”

  “No,” Lord Havisham answered at once, his voice dropping low. “No, he is not a friend, Lady Smithton, merely only an acquaintance.” His expression was grim. “I am sorry he appeared so rude, Lady Beatrice. Had I known he would behave so, then I would not have taken the time to introduce him to you.”

  Beatrice shook her head and tried to smile, even though it felt as if every part of her was burning with shame. “It is not your doing, Lord Havisham,” she said, as Lady Smithton linked arms with her. “I thank you for your kindness thus far.”

  “You must put Lord Greaves’ rude manner behind you and think of it for not even a moment longer,” Lady Smithton instructed, even though her eyes blazed with anger. “Now, we are to take a turn about the room and I will ensure that you are introduced to a few particular acquaintances, who will not turn their back on you.” She put a warm smile on her face and Beatrice could not help but smile back, feeling the heat leave her cheeks.

  “Very well,” she agreed, as Lady Smithton took in a long breath – perhaps to chase away the last of her upset. “I shall think of him no longer, Lady Smithton.”

  “Pray do not,” Lord Havisham agreed. “And I shall dance with you again later this evening, Lady Beatrice, have no fear.” He gave her an encouraging nod. Beatrice took in a calming breath and, remembering what Lady Smithton had instructed previously, lifted her chin and put a small smile on her face once more.

  “Very good,” Lady Smithton said, encouragingly. “You are doing very well indeed, Lady Beatrice. Now all you must do is keep your courage until this evening is complete.”

  “And avoid Lord Greaves,” Beatrice muttered, drawing a chuckle from Lady Smithton.

  “Indeed,” she agreed, as they began to walk through the crowd, arm in arm. “He is not worth your time nor your consideration, Lady Beatrice. Come now, let us see what the rest of the evening has for us!”

  Chapter Three

  “What young lady have you to suggest for me this evening, then?”

  Frederick sighed heavily and threw his brother a sidelong glance. “Adlington, you have rejected each and every suggestion I have given you over the last four weeks,” he told him, as a footman brought over yet another glass of brandy for them both. “Therefore, what is it that you seek from me?”

  Adlington grinned, his eyes lighting up despite the dark corner of Whites that they currently sat in. “Brother, you are much too unwilling,” he said, berating Frederick in a rather teasing manner. “You expect me to find a young lady within only a few weeks!”

  “I expect you to take at least one of my suggestions further than a mere glance and then refusal,” Frederick muttered, growing even more frustrated with his brother’s lack of interest in any of the young ladies Frederick had considered more than suitable for him. “In short, Adlington, I am beginning to suspect that there is not a single young lady in all of London that you will accept!”

  Adlington shrugged, looking about him disinterestedly. “I do not think that such a remark is fair,” he stated, unequivocally. “You yourself have not chosen a bride.”

  “That is because I…..” Frederick trailed off, narrowing his eyes at his brother. He saw Adlington smirk and closed his eyes in irritation. He knew full well what his brother was trying to do. In stating that Frederick himself had not found himself a suitable young lady due to his own, very specific requirements, he therefore could not become frustrated with Adlington for rejecting those that Frederick had suggested.

  “It is because you have been spending a good deal of time thinking only of who might be most suitable for me,” Adlington supplied, when Frederick said nothing. “Is that not so, brother?”

  Frederick cracked open one eye and rested his head back against the chair. “Indeed it is,” he muttered, still a little suspicious of his brother. “Unless there is something more that, as yet, you have not chosen to share with me?”

  A long sigh came from Adlington. “There is much I have not shared with you as yet,” he stated, making Frederick frown. “But that is for your own good, old boy. Now,” he continued, sitting forward in his chair and looking eagerly back at Frederick, “tell me which other young ladies you might consider?”

  Frederick rolled his eyes.

  “I care nothing for their reputation!” Adlington exclaimed as Frederick guffawed at such a remark. “Only that they are elegant, genteel, well-mannered and –”

  “And have an excellent dowry, no doubt,” Frederick interrupted, as Adlington muttered something under his breath. “Although I do not believe that you care nothing for their reputations, for I know very well that you would expect any wife of yours to have a practically spotless reputation – else I would have suggested……”

  Frederick trailed off, the smile fading from his voice and being slowly replaced with a slight air of concern. There was something he wanted to say but could not quite bring himself to do so – although why he felt such restraint, he simply could not understand.

  “Greaves?” his brother said, enquiringly. “Is there a young lady in your thoughts that you now think you might do very well to suggest to me?”

  Frederick shook his head. “No,” he answered, firmly. “No, indeed not. I do not think that the lady in question would be at all suitable.”

  “And why is that?” Adlington asked, chuckling. “Does she have a poor dowry? Is she very plain?”

  “Neither,” Frederick answered, crossly. “She is quite lovely and has an excellent dowry, I am sure.”

  “Then why will you not tell me her name?” Adlington asked, with a slight air of interest. “You are keeping her from me and I can only surmise that it is because you wish to have her for yourself.” He chuckled as Frederick swung his head around, ready to challenge his brother, only to stop himself short as Adlington continued to laugh. It was not at all because he wanted to consider Lady Beatrice, he told himself, but rather that he was protecting a young lady who clearly had a weakness of character.

  “I met this young lady when she was in a state of distress,” he said delicately, choosing his words with care. “I do not think that a young lady who demonstrates such a sorrowful spirit and an inclination towards melancholy would be the sort of young lady a joyful and overt gentleman such as yourself might desire.” He arched one eyebrow at his brother, whose smile was already beginning to fade. Silently, Frederick congra
tulated himself on what was an excellent explanation, considering himself to be quite safe now from his brother’s demands.

  “All the same,” Adlington murmured, looking at Frederick thoughtfully. “The very reason that you have kept her from me makes me wonder if there is something about the lady that might intrigue me.” He chuckled as Frederick’s brows lowered. “Might you introduce me to this young lady?”

  Frederick sighed inwardly but shrugged, telling himself that the slight needling in his heart meant nothing. “I shall do what I have done with each and every other young lady I have suggested,” he said, dryly. “I shall point her out to you at the first and, thereafter, you can tell me, as you have done with some of the other young ladies, that she is not pretty enough for you.” Sighing, Frederick waved a hand nonchalantly. “Or, if you consider her tolerable, I shall make introductions only for you to determine that there is something about either her character, her manner, her conversation or her family that you dislike intensely. Shall that suit you?”

  Adlington chuckled and lifted his glass in a mocking toast. “That will suit me very well indeed,” he said, grandly, as Frederick attempted to roll his eyes in derision, whilst hiding his strange sense of unwillingness that he could not explain. Adlington soon left Frederick’s company to go in search of some acquaintances that he might converse with in Frederick’s place. He found his brother much too dull and boring given that Frederick was always quite determined to ignore all gossip and refused to engage in rumor. Thus, Frederick found himself alone.

  He swirled the rest of his brandy in the bottom of his glass, looking down at it and thinking about the time he had greeted Lady Beatrice. It had only been a few days ago but yet still, every time he thought of her, Frederick found a sense of shame pricking at his conscience. At first, he had seen her on the dance floor and had not quite been able to place her, even though he was sure that he recognized her. Once the introductions had been made and he had placed her as the lady who had quite lost her composure in his carriage, he had found himself both eager to stay and determined to remove himself from her. As such, he had chosen the latter. He could not explain why he had behaved in such a rude manner, for given that he was always a stickler for propriety, to turn his back on a lady and refuse to so much as glance at her dance card was more than a little embarrassing. It was downright shameful on his part, in fact.