by Rose Pearson
So that you do not have to consider any young ladies of the ton?
“My dear Hosmer, we have been friends for a long time,” Ramsbury said, finally pushing himself out of his chair and going to pour himself a whisky, then bringing one over to Benedict also. “I know that you did not mean to insult Lady Ramsbury but yet, in stating such things in a cold and calculated manner, you have done so. It is not something that will trouble me, however, for I quite understand why you have chosen to speak so and therefore, I will not hold a grudge or demand that you apologize.”
“Thank you,” Benedict muttered, taking the glass from his friend and seeing the small smile spreading across Ramsbury’s face.
“However,” Ramsbury continued, “I would ask that you think on what I have said, Hosmer. Consider that there might be another lady such as Lady Ramsbury out in London. One who might not be as eager to claim fortune and title as you suggest. One who might be open to finding a happiness with a gentleman of her own choosing, rather than being satisfied with an arrangement. One who might come to care for you as deeply as you once cared for Lady Frederica.”
Benedict’s lip curled as pain slammed into his chest.
“I care nothing for her now, of course,” he stated, firmly. “And I feel that to allow myself to do such a thing again, to allow my heart to be so involved, would be nothing short of foolishness.”
“That is where you are mistaken,” Ramsbury replied, with a grin. “Quite mistaken. It may have been deeply hurtful and, I will not pretend that it did not bring you a great deal of sorrow and suffering, but to simply push aside the possibility of future happiness because of being so gravely injured is not wise.”
Benedict shook his head but did not answer. He did not want to speak of Lady Frederica, the lady he had once believed himself to love with such a deep and ardent affection that it had taken over his entire being. He had never felt such pain as when he had discovered that, instead of accepting his offer of marriage, she intended to permit the Marquess of Norwich to court her. She, who had given him so much hope, who had practically given him her promise, had proven fickle and, with that had come a great deal of pain. Of course, in due course, Lady Frederica had wed the Marquess of Norwich, leaving Benedict to his own misery and grief and, since that moment, he had vowed never again to permit himself to trust a lady of the ton. Never again would he allow one of them to invade his heart, or allow himself to feel anything for a lady who drew near to him. They were all just as Lady Frederica had been, he told himself. There was nothing of truth in any of their words, in any of their looks or their declarations.
And yet, he had to admit that Lady Ramsbury was not so. And if he was to admit to that, then that meant that there might be other young ladies who were also as she was. That was a thought he did not want to consider at present, finding it much easier to wallow in his own grief and upset, to linger in his pain and to find himself settling there rather than seeking out a new path.
“I have confused you by my words, I can tell,” Ramsbury said, his expression now back to one of joviality. “But that is a good thing, I think. Better for you to consider what has been said rather than believing that you are entirely in the right.”
Benedict wanted to shake his head and state that he would much have preferred to have been permitted to remain in such a frame of mind rather than being challenged by Ramsbury but instead, he simply lifted his glass of whisky in a toast and then took a sip.
“And you are attending the ball this evening, are you not?” Ramsbury asked, before taking a sip of his own whisky. “The ball at the assembly rooms is usually a very fine one indeed.”
“I have a ticket,” Benedict replied, glad that they would no longer be discussing Lady Frederica or his own feelings towards the ladies of the ton. “I intend to join you there.”
“Capital,” Ramsbury grinned. “Who knows? You might even step out to dance this evening, and then what shock shall go around London!”
Grimacing, Benedict shook his head.
“I can assure you that I shall not do so,” he stated, quite firmly. “I am not as easily changed as all that, Ramsbury, despite your best efforts.” Seeing the smile fade just a little from his friend’s face, Benedict let out a long sigh. “I am very glad for you, Ramsbury. I am happy that you have found such a beautiful contentment for both yourself and Lady Ramsbury. But that, I believe, is a very rare thing indeed and something that must be treasured, as I know you do. However, whilst I will confess that I have been persuaded to rethink my words and my belief that all ladies of the ton are just as Lady Frederica, that will not, at present, permit me to change my ways. I still dislike this time of year, regardless of whether or not I feel any differently about the ladies that surround me. It is best for me to be here in London so that I do not sink into a dark pit of despair, but that does not mean that I shall have anything to do with the ton. I shall not dance, shall not converse, shall not give any young lady even a hint that I am interested in her in any way.” Taking another sip of his brandy, Benedict shook his head. “No, Ramsbury. I shall remain just as I am at present. Of that, I am quite determined.”
Chapter Five
Charity could not help but feel a swirl of excitement run through her as she made her way into the assembly rooms. They had been done up very well, with green ivy snaking up the pillars near to her and holly berries entwined with fresh greenery that ran all along the sides of the room. The large fire and the many guests present meant that she could step out of her cloak rather quickly and, whilst there was still a slight chill in the room, Charity was quite certain it would not linger for long.
“A wonderful sight, is it not?” Lady Hayward said, happily. “I recall what it was like when I was present in London as a debutante. To see such decoration as this always made me very happy indeed.”
“As it does now?” Charity asked, as Lady Hayward laughed and nodded. “I confess that I was a little disheartened that I should not be coming to London in the spring but, now that I am here, now that I have attended balls, soirees and the like, I have found it to be all quite wonderful.” She smiled back at her chaperone, who had begun to nod in understanding. “It is not that I am ungrateful, you understand.”
Lady Hayward shook her head. “I should never think you ungrateful,” she said, firmly. “I quite understand that you were hoping for a spring Season but given that both your younger sisters will soon be out, I believe your father hoped to have you wed and settled very soon indeed.” Her eyes twinkled. “But if there is no-one of interest in London at present, then I will be very glad indeed to return with you to London in the spring, my dear Lady Charity. I am certain that you will make an excellent match, although I would also hope that any gentlemen who approach you will be well considered and very well acquainted with you, before you would even think of accepting anything from them.”
What had started as an easy conversation now grew into something a little more serious and Charity found herself nodding, wanting to reassure Lady Hayward that she understood precisely what she meant.
“I have had my sister Selina speak to me about such a thing,” she said softly, as surprise jumped into Lady Hayward’s eyes. “She stated that she had found such great happiness with Lord Barrington that she could never even imagine marrying a gentleman for nothing more than practicality.” Seeing the gentle smile cross Lady Hayward’s face, Charity let out a long breath and continued on. “She encouraged me to find a gentleman who was not just suitable in terms of his title and his fortune, but to seek out someone who might affect my heart also. Someone who is considerate, kind and generous. A gentleman who shows interest in my wellbeing rather than simply thinking that I will be an excellent adornment on his arm.”
“Precisely,” Lady Hayward agreed, happily. “I can only hope that you are willing to seek out such a gentleman, Lady Charity? It may take a little more time and certainly it can sometimes be difficult to ascertain whether or not a gentleman is being entirely honest in the character h
e presents, but I believe, truly believe, that it is worth the struggle.”
“And that is why you would be glad to return with me to London in the spring Season?” Charity asked, as Lady Hayward nodded. “That is very good of you, Lady Hayward.”
Her chaperone smiled back at her although, for a moment, Charity was sure that she saw a hint of sadness in the lady’s eyes.
“My dear, I was blessed with such a gentleman myself,” she told Charity, who quickly realized that Lady Hayward spoke of her late husband. “He cared for me deeply, as well as for the children. The love that he had for all of us was not something that I took for granted, for I knew that not every marriage was blessed with something so wonderful. And yet, those years were the happiest of my life, Charity. Now that I am without him, I feel such a great, lingering pain within my heart - but I shall never regret having such an openness and a love between us. It flooded my life with all manner of wonderful things and, therefore, that is what I would wish to see you find also. A gentleman who has a willingness and an openness to love you with his whole heart, rather than seeing you simply as the daughter of a Duke, whose dowry and inheritance will suit them very well indeed.”
Charity scowled, her eyes sharp for a moment as she looked about the room.
“Indeed, I should not like that either,” she stated, firmly. “Lord Amundsen was precisely such a gentleman and I confess that I thought very poorly of him.”
“As did I,” Lady Hayward replied, solemnly. “But that does not mean that all gentlemen are as he. There may be some who are eager to make your acquaintance simply because they have a genuine interest in you.”
For a moment, a vision of Lord Hosmer flashed into Charity’s mind but, quickly, she pushed it away. Lord Hosmer had been interested in her wellbeing, but not for the reasons she might have thought. He was simply doing so to be a gentleman, unwilling to see an acquaintance of his brought into ruin or sorrow by the likes of Lord Amundsen.
“And what should I do if Lord Amundsen seeks to dance with me again this evening?” Charity asked, as they made their way across the large room so that they might fetch themselves something to drink. “Should I refuse him?”
“That is entirely your choice,” Lady Hayward replied, just as two other ladies turned and, on seeing them, began to draw near. “Lord Amundsen must be discouraged, certainly, but there is no particular need to give him the cut direct. I am sure that, in time, he will understand that there is no eagerness within your heart to draw near to him – if he has not done so already! Still – if you can manage to fill your dance card quickly, before he approaches you…”
Charity nodded slowly, glancing down at her dance card and recalling just how swiftly Lord Amundsen had appeared at the last ball she had attended. He had been on her heels in a few minutes and had written his name down for two dances, including the waltz! She did not want him to do so again, for to be seen waltzing with the very same gentleman at two balls in a row would surely set tongues wagging!
“My dear Lady Hayward, Lady Charity!”
Being quickly drawn into conversation with two of her new acquaintances – a Miss Roberts and her cousin, Miss Stevenson, Charity let her dance card drop from her hand and dangle from the silk ribbon around her wrist. The young ladies’ chaperone, Miss Roberts’ mother, quickly fell into conversation with Lady Hayward, leaving Charity to speak to the cousins. Laughing and smiling, the two ladies turned quickly and gestured to a small bough which was hung from the ceiling, a few inches above the heads of those who were, at present, dancing.
“Have you seen such a thing before, Lady Charity?” Miss Stevenson asked, as Charity looked at it. “It is a kissing bough!”
Heat instantly rose in Charity’s chest.
“A kissing bough?” she repeated, having heard of such a tradition before, but certainly never having once partaken. “Goodness, I did not think that there would be such a thing present!”
The two ladies laughed together, as though Charity was being a little ridiculous.
“But it is to be expected!” exclaimed Miss Roberts, her eyes dancing. “It is near to Christmas Day and so such things will soon be at every ball or soiree that you attend!”
Charity felt her face flush with embarrassment, not wanting to even imagine what she would do if a gentleman she danced with should stop underneath the bough.
“And tis bad luck to refuse a kiss from a gentleman!” Miss Stevenson reminded her, now appearing a trifle more somber. “You cannot do so, Lady Charity, for fear that you will never make a suitable match!”
This, however, was not something that Charity accepted.
“I hardly think that is true,” she answered, permitting a smile to cross her lips. “I am not at all likely to accept such a thing from just any gentleman who wishes to take me underneath the bough! I shall be very careful indeed.”
This seemed to astonish the two cousins, for they looked at each other with wide eyes, their smiles quickly fading.
“But do you mean to say that you do not want such attentions, Lady Charity?” asked Miss Roberts, clearly quite amazed. “I, for one, am very eager indeed to step out to dance, in the hope that a gentleman will be very much inclined to stop under the bough!”
Charity shook her head.
“I confess I am not at all hopeful of such a thing,” she replied, a little embarrassed and wondering if her lack of eagerness was to be considered ridiculous. "But I do wish you both every success!”
Miss Stevenson made to say more, only for two gentlemen to approach them and, bowing, asking if they might be able to request a dance from each of the ladies. Having been already acquainted with the gentlemen, Charity had no hesitation in giving them her dance card, and was more than relieved to discover that one Lord Walbridge had secured the waltz for himself. It seemed that Lord Amundsen was not going to be able to take that particular dance, as she had feared.
“Good evening, Lady Charity.”
Charity turned quickly and smiled in welcome at Lady Ramsbury.
“Good evening, Lady Ramsbury,” she replied, before the lady waved a hand in frustration.
“Come now, Lady Charity, you must not be so formal with me. I think that we are to be considered friends now and thus, you are more than welcome to address me as merely ‘Sophia’.”
She smiled brightly at Charity who, a little overwhelmed, struggled to find what to say to such a remark. Lady Ramsbury had been very kind to her these first two weeks and Charity had been in her company almost every day – but to be so considered was very pleasant indeed.
“That is very good of you, Lady Ramsbury – I mean, Sophia,” Charity replied, her cheeks flushing. “You are more than welcome to call me ‘Charity’, if you wish to do so.” Her heart lifted and she smiled at her friend. “I am very grateful indeed to you for such consideration.”
“Think nothing of it,” Lady Ramsbury replied, as both Miss Stevenson and Miss Roberts stepped away with the two gentlemen in order to dance. “You are not to dance the cotillion, then?”
Charity shook her head.
“I have not yet been asked,” she replied, “but I do not mind particularly. I have other dances that have been taken and, to be quite truthful, Sophia, I have been attempting to avoid Lord Amundsen for fear that he will take the waltz for himself.” She glanced down at her dance card. “Not that it can be so now, for it has been taken by another.”
Lady Ramsbury frowned, her eyes a little narrowed.
“Lord Amundsen was paying you close attention, I understand,” she said, as Charity nodded. “Lord Hosmer was right to speak to Lady Hayward about the fellow. He would not have been a good match.”
“And yet I fear he is not inclined to give up,” Charity answered, her eyes catching a glimpse of the very gentleman they were speaking of, who was standing only a short distance away. For whatever reason – perhaps feeling Charity’s gaze upon him, Lord Amundsen looked in their direction, and Charity jerked her head to the right in order to avoid his
gaze.
“Now, I fear he is to attend you,” Lady Ramsbury muttered, a little darky. “What will you say, should he ask you to dance?”
Charity hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder.
“I shall accept, but only for one dance,” she said, quickly, as Lord Amundsen drew near. “And thereafter, not linger in his company.”
“Very wise, Charity,” Lady Ramsbury agreed, softly. “Very wise indeed.”
Moments later, the gentleman was beside them, and inspecting her dance card.
“This is to be our dance, Lady Charity.”
Charity tried to smile as Lord Amundsen came towards her, bowing just a little as he held out his hand.
“But of course, Lord Amundsen,” she replied, glancing to Lady Hayward, who gave a small nod, although her eyes remained quite fixed upon Lord Amundsen. “The country dance, is it not?”
He grinned at her, seemingly delighted.
“It is,” he replied, as he led her to where the other couples now stood. “It is not my favorite dance, Lady Charity, but your waltz was already taken!”
“Indeed it was,” Charity replied, glad when she was able to drop his arm and curtsey, although she was soon back beside him when the music started. Keeping her eyes low and her expression rather vacant, she danced the steps, but showed no interest in permitting a conversation to flow between them.
“And now we are nearing the kissing bough, Lady Charity,” she heard Lord Amundsen say, and she felt her eyes widen as her gaze flew to his, seeing the brightness in his expression and the hope that lingered there. “I do hope you will not refuse me!”
Heat climbed up Charity’s spine as she faltered in her steps, almost treading on Lord Amundsen’s toes and, in the process, making him laugh.
