Waltz 0f The Wallflower (Delicate Hearts Book 1)

by Catherine Mayfair

  ***

  It was only when the hands on the clock moved to twenty-five past three—five minutes before the Duke was to arrive, that Lydia realized she had made a tragic mistake—she should never have agreed to go on an outing with the man. What she feared was a repeat of the mishap during the dance the week prior, and she could not stand being forced to relive that experience even one more time. Perhaps she could feign illness or devise another excuse that would allow her to remain at home, thus protecting her from further humiliation.

  “Have no fear,” Helen said, reaching out and taking Lydia’s hand. “It will be a wonderful outing, beautiful, and one I believe you will remember for some time to come.”

  Lydia stared at the woman in wonder. “You know I am worried?”

  “You breathe as a woman about to give birth,” Helen said with a laugh. “You see, even Mrs. Ridge can sense your worry.”

  They turned to the old woman, who snored softly in a nearby chair. Lydia had asked Mrs. Ridge if she would rather remain home to rest, that Helen could take her place as chaperon, but the woman would not hear another word about it.

  “You are my responsibility, child,” she had admonished. “If you believe I cannot perform my duties, then perhaps you believe I should step down from my position?”

  Lydia had assured the woman she did not believe such things, but now as she giggled with Helen, she began to have second thoughts. Yet, if she rested now, maybe she would be more alert during their outing.

  “You see,” Helen said once they had both stopped giggling, “there is happiness inside you. It will only grow with the Duke.”

  Lydia nodded. “I do not doubt your words,” she said. “I worry I will make another mistake. What if I fall again? Or tear my dress?” She could not stop the images that flashed through her mind.

  Helen rose and gave her the familiar look that preceded a short lecture. “What if you stumble into the Duke?” she asked, her hands on her hips. “What if you pull him into a puddle and the whole of the ton watches on in horror?”

  Lydia gasped. “Do not say such things! It would be extremely embarrassing.”

  “It would,” the woman agreed. “Yet, the Duke would not leave your side if that were to happen, I can guarantee it.” When Lydia gave her a confused expression, she continued. “See here, with the rumors making their circuits, you toppling over at dances, and the two of us sharing in trysts in alleyways, William has remained loyal in his pursuit of you all the same.”

  “I suppose so,” Lydia whispered as realization came over her. Then she smiled. “He cared enough to follow me in order to save my virtue.” She laughed quietly as she glanced at Mrs. Ridge, who continued to snore in her chair. “I still cannot believe he thought I would do such things.”

  “Yet, that did not stop him from trying to put an end to it.” Helen squatted beside Lydia so she was at eye level with her. “Do you not see? Even when he misunderstood the situation, he still fought for your honor. He cares for you, enough to risk his life. Do you believe tripping and falling at a dance can stop that?”

  “No,” Lydia replied. “You are right.”

  “Of course I am,” Helen said with a wide smile. She groaned as she stood once again, her knees crackling as she did so. “Now, there’s one request I want you to swear to me you will do.”

  Lydia scrunched her brow. “Of course. Anything.”

  “Enjoy this outing. Don’t worry about anything but you and the Duke, for there is something special guiding you two.”

  Lydia felt her cheeks burn, and she hugged the woman.

  “Now, I had best leave before he arrives.”

  “Thank you for your advice,” Lydia said. Helen simply smiled and left the room just as Mrs. Ridge stirred from her sleep.

  “Oh, you look wonderful,” the old woman said. “Now, make sure you do not embarrass yourself again today.”

  Lydia smiled and returned to her chair. “I can assure you that will not happen, Mrs. Ridge.”

  In her heart, Lydia knew Helen’s words to be true. Even if she were to make the Duke fall into a puddle, he would continue to care for her, and at that moment, Lydia understood that she cared for the man in her own way, as well.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was known as the Fashionable Hour, a time in which ladies and gentleman strolled or rode in open carriages through St. James Park in order to see and be seen. Though Lydia did not care if those people gazed upon her, she did find that whether the Duke took notice was of great importance to her. And the truth of the matter was, he looked at her with appreciation quite often as they strolled through the park, Mrs. Ridge in step behind them.

  Lydia could not help but look at the array of dresses, all with varying degrees of design, with appreciation. Women with lacy parasols or wide-brimmed hats decorated with flowers or fruit shaded their delicate features—no respectable woman allowed her face to freckle!—walked or rode beside men in tailored coats and breeches, stylish hats on their heads. Some sat upon blankets placed on the ground as one person read aloud from a book while the others in their party listened. The people, coupled with the rich green surroundings, created a walking painting, a sight to behold, and one Lydia doubted she would ever forget for as long as she lived.

  “Every year, I come to the Park,” William said as he walked beside her, “and I find the crowds growing in size. Have you noticed the same?”

  Lydia shook her head. “I have only come here with my father when I was quite young,” she replied. “Though I must admit, I do not recall there being this many people back then.”

  A couple walked past, the woman smiling as though she had not a care in the world, and at that moment, Lydia wished to be her. Though she had promised Helen—and herself—she would not worry, she could not help but do exactly that.

  “Last Season was the worst,” William said. “It seemed that everyone in London made their appearance all at the same time. Of course, Clancy complained the entire time, to the ire of the Lady he was accompanying.” Then he let out a laugh. “I apologize. I do not mean to ramble.”

  “No, please. Continue. I enjoy hearing your stories.”

  The Duke smiled at her, and for a brief moment, Lydia felt a strange feeling of wanting to collapse into his arms. Her mind returned to the night in the alley, when she stood scared for her life and how his strong arms held her and brought her comfort. It was strange that his smile could bring on that same sensation.

  “There were six of us, including Barnard,” William continued. “Clancy had brought along food in his pockets, as the man is apt to do.”

  Lydia giggled at the thought, remembering the man who had abandoned her during their dance in order to partake in food that had been set out on the refreshment tables. This story explained much.

  William chuckled. “Lady Louise had asked for his handkerchief after an exceptionally brisk dance, and when Clancy obliged, he brought the woman to tears.”

  “Tears?” Lydia asked in surprise. “How so?”

  “Oh, yes. Tears. You see, he produced the handkerchief, and acting the gentleman—or at least attempting to do so—he went to wipe her forehead.” He glanced around and let out another laugh. “The raspberry tart that had been resting beside the cloth left a streak of red stickiness across her forehead.”

  Lydia joined the Duke in his laughter and was pleased when they came to a stop at the canal, where Mrs. Ridge went to look over the railing. When Lydia and William’s eyes met, the laughter faded into smiles, and for a moment, neither spoke. It was as if the world around her at stopped, as if only she and William existed and that in that space there was nothing about which to worry or fear.

  “I am glad you accepted my invitation,” he said, breaking the sudden silence between them. “This has been a wonderful outing.”

  Lydia did not know what came over her, and the words shocked her to her core as they left her lips: “I do hope you are not hinting that it is time to leave.” She knew she was outright flirti
ng with the man and doing so left her with a mixture of courageous horror, if such a condition existed. Never had she wanted nothing more than to remain in the company of a man, at least in a romantic fashion, but she could not imagine herself anywhere but there in St. James Park beside the canal with William Montgomery.

  “Only a fool would leave your presence,” he replied in a soft tone that caressed her soul, the significance behind his words making her shiver.

  ***

  Having a chaperon who was hard of hearing had many advantages, including the ability to speak freely in her presence, for which Lydia was quite thankful. For the last hour, she and William had shared in stories and laughter, the older woman only interrupting once.

  “Perhaps you should not be walking so closely together,” she had admonished as she pushed them apart. They had not been touching, except where Lydia’s hand sat in the crook of his arm. There was one moment when she had moved from the path of an oncoming cart of a man selling small pasties and other food items, and at that time, she may have bumped into William, but otherwise they had been quite respectable in their distance between one another. However, Mrs. Ridge did have her old-fashioned ideas. How Lydia’s father ever expected the woman to be of any help in finding Lydia a suitor, she did not know, for if it was left up to her, Mrs. Ridge would have walked between Lydia and William to keep them apart.

  Lydia, however, did not care what the old woman thought. What interested her was listening to the man beside her and the fact the man beside her listened to her. And with interest! He smiled encouragingly as she spoke, and for the first time she felt comfortable in conversation that did not include Helen, or Mr. Lancing’s philosophy group. For once, she felt she belonged, and it was a wonderful feeling.

  “So, when will your father be returning?” William asked when she explained that her father had gone out of town for a business meeting.

  “He will return tomorrow,” she replied. “His new ships are keeping him very busy, so I believe he will be away more often now than in the past.”

  They walked past a resting carriage occupied by an elderly couple, and a fleeting thought of she and William becoming that couple entered her thoughts. She pushed them away; it was much too early to be thinking in such a manner. He had not even asked to court her!

  “I had heard about his ships,” William replied. “To take over what the Bartholomew brothers had run for so long is quite an accomplishment. Your father will become quite wealthy controlling those goods.”

  A spark of worry ran through Lydia, and doubt came crashing in. From where had this newfound interest in her father’s wealth come? Then a terrible concern washed over her. Had he planned some sort of delusory plan to charm her in order to one day gain her father’s wealth? Then she reconsidered such foolishness; no thief smiled in the way William did when he smiled at her. Nor did a devious person risk his life in order to save a woman simply because he wanted to get into her good graces. No, the idea was ridiculous.

  William came to a stop. “Are you well?” he asked, the concern clear in his eyes and in the tone of his voice.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I tend to allow my mind to drive across strange oceans of thought.” She gave a weak laugh. “I believe I should return home soon, though it is not what I want to do.”

  As if her thoughts had synchronized with Lydia’s, Mrs. Ridge also said, “We should be leaving soon. It is not proper to be out too late, even with a chaperon.”

  Lydia could not stop a giggle but nodded when the older woman looked at her. “Yes, I believe you are right.”

  “I told you earlier about the apology Barnard made,” William said as they made their way to where the carriage was parked. “And with what we shared today, I would like to make a request.”

  “Oh?” Lydia asked. “And what would that be?”

  “I realize that many consider me a rogue.” When Lydia went to argue, he put up his hand to halt her. Then he sniffed under his own arms, which made her widen her eyes. “And though I know my stench is great,” – This made her laugh aloud. — “I would like nothing more than to seek your permission to court.”

  All moisture left Lydia’s throat, and her body tightened. For three Seasons, she had wished for a man to at least call on her, but to have one ask to court her was beyond belief. A man with a heart and mind, one who cared and listened to what she had to say only made the request that much more extraordinary.

  He must have misinterpreted her lack of response, for he looked down at the ground and said, “Forgive me. I tend to speak with more bluntness than I intend.”

  “No,” Lydia said with a wide smile. “I accept.”

  As the words left her mouth, Lydia found that something more important than words or fancy dresses existed. It far surpassed wealth or any holdings of land. It was the smile two people shared that spoke a thousand words, and Lydia realized those smiles, including those she and William shared, also showed a future in them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  William patted his stomach and sat back in his seat. Barnard and Clancy had arrived an hour earlier, and the trio had feasted on lamb.

  “Let us go and have a drink,” William said with a wide grin as he pushed back the chair from the table. “Or three!”

  The guffaws of his friends resounded in the room as they, too, scraped chair legs across the floor and followed William into the parlor. Barnard and Clancy sat before the fireplace and were soon in a debate over politics, one of their favorite subjects, and one that William despised. It was his opinion that it mattered little who was in power; the poor would remain poor and the rich would become richer regardless. He rarely voiced his opinions, however, for few wanted to believe their peers were as duplicitous as a snake with two heads.

  Plus, William had other, more important, items on the agenda that evening.

  “Gentlemen,” he said as he handed each man a glass of port, “I hate to break up this wondrous discussion, but I would like to share an important piece of news with you.”

  Barnard raised an eyebrow. “Do tell,” he said as he crossed an ankle over his opposite knee.

  William studied his friends. He was fortunate to have these men in his life. Granted, they had upset him greatly at times, but their willingness to step forward and admit their wrongdoings and apologize demonstrated the type of men they were. In doing so, they showed how much they thought of him, which was why he was excited to share this important news with them.

  “It is with a happy heart that I inform you that, during our outing at St. James Park yesterday, I requested a courtship with Miss Lydia Fortescue, and she gladly accepted.” He could not remove the smile that erupted on his face.

  “Why, that is wonderful news!” Clancy said as he sat forward in his chair. “Have you spoken with her father yet?”

  “No. The man is away on business, but I know he will agree with the arrangement.”

  Barnard chuckled. “So, tell me,” he said as he swirled the port in his glass. “How did you win such a prize?”

  William thought he detected a bit of sarcasm but shook off the feeling. Barnard was a friend, and despite whatever he might have done in the past, that was exactly what it was. The past.

  “Was it your poetry?” the Marquess continued. “Or perhaps it was you babbling on with that philosophy nonsense with which you try to torture Clancy and me.” This made all three laugh, for it had always been an ongoing joke that William was much too good for his friends; it was their way of taking it all in stride.

  “I will be honest,” William replied, “it was both.”

  “Both?” Clancy asked.

  “Indeed. And more. The woman is marvelous in so many ways. The way she smiles, her insight on the world, her ideals, all of it continues to draw me in as a bee to a flower.”

  Clancy snickered, and William cleared his throat. Perhaps he had said too much, and judging by the incredulous look on Barnard’s face, he had.

  Barnard raised an eyebrow. “It is help
ful her father is now the largest shipping merchant, is it not?”

  William felt a return of his previous anger at this man. “Do you accuse me of using Lydia in order to get hold of her father’s wealth?”

  The Marquess shook his head. “No, of course not,” he replied with a sigh. “I’m sorry for my poor wording. What I meant was, with the man busy with his new business, you will not have to worry about appeasing him every moment.”

  “My apologies,” William said as he let go of his anger. He was jumping at shadows for no good reason. “I misunderstood.”

  Barnard waved it off. “It’s nothing.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is true what you say. When I called over last week, the man spoke continuously about his business and even mentioned the possibility of the two of us working together in the future. And this was before I had spoken with Lydia about courting.”

  Barnard nodded. “Then you could potentially make out quite well with this relationship. Good for you.”

  William leaned forward in his chair. “That is just it. Though I find the possibility of the man making such a lucrative offer appealing, I do not care either way if he does or does not. If there is one thing I have learned since taking over after Father died, it was that the best way to maintain both business and friendship, one must keep them separate. The same goes for romance, as well.”

  “Well,” Clancy said, “I must admit, I would take the man up on his offer. To think he has taken over such a profitable trade…” He sighed dreamily, more than likely wishing it was he who was in William’s situation.

  “More important things than money exist,” William said, raising his glass to his friends. “Such as friendship.” The other two raised their glasses in reply.

  Hughes walked into the room and bowed. “Your Grace, you have a guest.”

  “Guest?” William asked. “I was not expecting anyone.”