“Mrs. Alice Pendleton,” the butler announced.
“Alice!” William exclaimed as he hurried over to the woman who he had not seen in more than a year. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“William!” She removed her hat and coat, which she handed to Hughes. Then she laughed and kissed William on the cheek. “It has been ages.”
“Barnard, Clancy, you remember Alice Pendleton,” he said, though he knew they would. They, along with Alice’s husband George, had all been quite close at one time in their younger years, though Alice and George were several years their elder, so all need for formalities had long since been discarded. However, he did not miss the smile Barnard wore as he gazed at the woman, for it held the same warmth William’s did when he smiled at Lydia.
Just as I suspected; Barnard still has a romantic interest in the woman, does he? William thought. Perhaps he and Alice would share in some conversation and therefore allow Barnard to keep that smile fixed on his face for a while longer. It certainly looked better than the scowl he had adopted in recent years.
“Barnard,” Alice said as she kissed the Marquess on his cheek. “Clancy.” Another small kiss, to which Clancy reddened considerably.
“Please, have a seat,” William said as he walked her to one of the empty chairs. “It is wonderful to see you again. Might I offer you a drink?”
“Yes, please,” she replied. “Wine if you have it.”
As he poured her a glass of red, he asked, “So, what brings you here?”
She smiled as she thanked him for the drink and then said, “I arrived in London only yesterday, and when I heard the rumors circulating about you, I knew I just had to see you right away.”
William groaned. “Rumors?” he asked. “What rumors?”
“The ones that spread quickly,” she replied with a laugh.
***
William sipped at his port as he listened to the tale Alice wove. She had always been a wonderful storyteller, and soon she had everyone in the room laughing. It brought back memories from when the five of them—he could not forget George, and never would—had been close friends who spent a considerable amount of time together. She had always been a kind woman, and her raven dark hair drew the eye of many men, including Barnard, whose smile grew wider with every word she spoke.
“So, when I heard of a certain Duke strolling through St. James Park, I had to come over and congratulate him immediately. You are courting her, I take it.”
William laughed. “I am. I just shared the wonderful news with Barnard and Clancy not ten minutes before you arrived.” He then explained some of the mishaps and misunderstandings that had taken place, to which she gave Barnard a playful glare.
He moved the focus away from the near tragedy, however, to the more joyful information, explaining how he saw Lydia in much the same manner as he had shared with Barnard and Clancy. When he was done, he let out a sigh. “Alice, it is good to see you again. You look happy.”
Indeed, the woman did appear content despite all that had happened. With the loss of her husband, she had fallen into such sorrow she was unable to get out of bed many mornings. It was during those low moments that William had spent time with her, helping her through her grief. The bond they had already shared became stronger, and though he cared deeply for Alice, his affection was that of a brother for an older sister and not as a man for a lover. Unfortunately, the ton did not see it as such. A string of rumors that could not have been further from the truth were born, and the gossipmongers consumed the lies like melons, spitting out the seeds to cultivate even larger gardens of untruths.
“I must admit that I am,” she said with a laugh. “Oh, Clancy, I heard that your cousin Patricia…”
As Alice and Clancy talked, William leaned over and whispered to Barnard, “I see how you look at her, for it is the same way in which I look at Lydia.” He gave his friend a mischievous wide grin.
Barnard chuckled, though his face reddened. “It is true. I know she is much older, but her beauty captivates me. If I could just have the opportunity to spend one hour with her…” His words trailed off, and William thought for a moment.
“I believe I can help you in that regard,” he said. When Barnard gave him a questioning look, he added, “Trust me.”
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Alice asked. Then she glanced down at the floor, leaned over, and picked up a biscuit from the floor. “Clancy, how can one lose an entire biscuit?”
“How do you know it was me?” Clancy asked indignantly. “It could have been Barnard who dropped it.”
Alice laughed as she placed the biscuit on the table. “Everyone knows that Barnard is a gentleman,” she said as she swiped her hands together as if to remove crumbs. “And such clumsiness would never come from him.” She shot a small smile in the direction of Barnard, who straightened his posture significantly in response.
The room went quiet, and William took the opportunity to help his friend. “Lydia is a wonderful woman,” he said as if it was the only subject on his mind.
Alice laughed. “I know,” she replied. “You have said so five times in the past hour.” This brought on a bout of laughter from everyone. “You are not going to bore me with more romantic tales, are you?”
He could hear the teasing in her tone, but it played well into his plans for Barnard. “Always the same,” he said. “No, I will not trouble you with my tales any longer.” He paused as if in thought. “However, I do have a wonderful idea. Lydia and I are planning to return to St. James Park this Tuesday. Perhaps you would like to join us? I believe Barnard will be there, as well, will you not?”
Barnard had just taken a drink of his port, and in response, he began to cough. “Indeed,” he said once he was able to respond. Did the man sound afraid?
“Though I find your invitation kind,” Alice replied, “I must regretfully decline. Charles will be leaving Tuesday, and we will be spending the day together.”
“Charles?” Barnard asked, his eyes wide.
“Yes. Charles Langley, a man who asked me to marry him a month ago, and I agreed.”
“What wonderful news!” Clancy said. William echoed the sentiment, but Barnard’s agreement came out as a mumble.
“Tell us more about this man,” William said.
“He is a sheep farmer,” she replied with a smile. “He also owns two pubs as well as an inn. It was when Timothy and I,” —Timothy was her son— “returned from an outing when we met him.”
She went on to explain how she had met the man a year earlier and how they had grown closer until he finally came around to asking for her hand. As she spoke, William could not help but notice the scowl Barnard wore increase with each story she told.
***
Barnard left with Clancy several hours later, Barnard stating that he had an early day the following day and Clancy yawning. Alice, however, remained and shared more detail about her newly acquired fiancé.
“Charles adores Timothy as much as Timothy adores him,” she said as she placed her empty wine glass on the table. She placed a hand over it when William offered to refill it. “No more, thank you.” Then she continued with her sharing. “When George died, I thought I could never love again. However, I found that, indeed, I could when I met Charles, and it is the most wonderful feeling in the world.”
“I am happy for you. We all are.”
“Even Barnard?” she asked as she rose and walked over to the fireplace. “He did not appear so.”
“You are aware of his feelings for him, are you not?”
She turned and looked at him. “I have known for some time,” she said with a sigh. “I know it drove a wedge between the two of you in the past.”
William nodded, though he made no mention of the card Barnard had sabotaged and his reason for it. The man had apologized, so there was no need to discuss that which had already been forgiven.
“It hurts me to hurt him,” she continued. “I just never felt the same for him. To me, he
has always been a friend and nothing more.”
“I understand,” William said. “He will simply have to learn to live with it. So, when will I meet this Charles of yours?”
Alice smiled. “Friday next,” she replied. “I would like you to come for dinner at my house on Manor Street. Shall we say six?”
William nodded. “We shall. I must ask…” He was interrupted when Hughes entered the room.
“My apologies, Your Grace, but Mrs. Pendleton’s carriage is ready.”
“Thank you, Hughes,” William replied. He walked Alice to the front door.
She stopped and turned to him. “Are you in love?” she asked, much to William’s surprise.
He had not considered the emotion for many years, but now that it had been brought to his attention, he turned it over in his mind. “I believe I am,” he replied.
“By all appearances, you are; however, only your heart,” – she tapped on his chest with two fingers— “will tell you the answer.”
“Thank you,” William said with a smile. “I will certainly give your words some thought. And give my love to Timothy.”
Alice embraced him. “You are my dearest friend,” she said when the embrace broke. “If not for you, I worry what would have happened to Timothy and me.”
“You doubt your own strength,” William said, causing her to smile. “Now go. The hour is late, and I want to be alone.” He gave her a wink, followed by a laugh, in which she joined. He watched her enter the carriage and when it was gone, he went back inside. Hughes closed the door behind him, a grin on his face.
“What are you smiling at, old man?” William asked.
“A duke who walks as though the world is in his hand,” the butler replied with pride.
William could not agree with him more. It was all strange and new, but it was amazing how things could change. Once, he had been alone, his only companions Barnard and Clancy. Now, Lydia was his world, and more importantly, she was his heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Despite her propensity to ignore gossip, Lydia was well aware of the reputation of Her Grace, Elizabeth Osbourn, the Dowager Duchess of Charlesbridge. Depending on whom one asked, the Duchess had kissed well over one hundred men since the passing of her husband not five years prior, while others claimed the woman could be found on St. James Street, which for any woman to be found there day or night would find her name in ruins by the following day. Either way, that which was said about her was never respectable.
Yet, despite the rumors that followed the woman, Lydia knew that, even if she did any of those things of which she was accused, it would not have mattered, for the Dowager Duchess seemed immune to scorn. The ton whispered behind their hands whenever they saw her, yet every Season they eagerly anticipated the invitations to any of her functions, for her parties were known to push the boundaries of society standards.
One example of the woman’s unconventional behavior happened just last Season, when the Duchess planted a kiss on the cheek of one of her male servants during one particular gathering, much to the shock of those in attendance. As gasps filled the air, the woman, who was nearly fifty years of age, looked around the room as if to dare anyone to comment. Not a single person criticized her, at least not within her hearing. Instead, they smiled at her and carried on drinking the fine wine and eating the lavish food as if the kiss had not occurred.
This Season, the food and drink were as bountiful as it was in the past, and thus far, the Duchess had not kissed anyone. Although Lydia could not have cared less, she sensed that other guests were much more disappointed, for, on more than one occasion, she overhead whispered comments when the Duchess was across the room.
“I wonder what outrageous behavior we will see this year,” Lady Boarderton had whispered to Lady Tanwick, to which Lady Tanwick had replied, “I would not be surprised if she is found in the linen closet with one of the stablehands!” The two women had giggled, but Lydia looked at them with disgust. She had not been present at the aforementioned party, but she had yet to meet one person who had witnessed the suspected crass behavior from the year before.
“Oh, look,” Mrs. Ridge said. Lydia followed the woman’s gaze. “The dancing is about to commence.”
Lydia took a deep breath and let it out. Terror filled her. What if she fell and made a fool of herself again? However, relief and courage came to her as William approached, a smile on his lips.
“Remember,” her chaperon whispered, “do not remove your gloves. There is no reason to sully your reputation or that of your father.”
“I will remember,” Lydia said as she rose from her chair and gave the Duke a curtsy.
“Are you ready?” he asked, the twinkle in his eye causing her heart to flutter.
She could only nod, and he offered her his arm. Together, they approached the other couples.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“I am. I do not want to fall again.”
The music started, but her heart soared when, just before they separated to take their places in the lines, she heard William say, “It would not matter, for I would always catch you.” It was not just the words he spoke that brought about her joy but the admiration for his bravery to utter such words in public.
There was no time, however, to think on such things as the group began to move. Soon, her dress was twirling around her, and her smile matched those of the other dancers. As the instruments played their sweet chords, she began to realize how much William meant to her. His encouragement and his willingness to risk his life for her were just the beginning. There was also the way he had forgiven Lord Egerton, for to forgive such a transgression was an oddity. William had a heart that was rare, and she knew of no other man like him.
As the dance ended, another began, and Lydia had never been so happy in all her life. Though many members of the ton were around her, Lydia did not care whether they approved of her or not; only how William saw her was important, and his smile said all she needed to know.
***
“I must admit that this wine is some of the best I have ever had,” William said, holding up his glass and staring at its contents. “I must learn where she procures it.”
Lydia glanced over the room. The musicians had taken a break, allowing the guests the chance to partake in refreshments. Her eyes fell on Lord Egerton, who stood in a corner wearing a deep scowl on his face.
“I knew it took courage to dance again,” William was saying. “I admire your bravery.”
“Thank you,” she said, knowing her cheeks had to be a bright red. “I had thought a curse had been laid upon me, being seen as a wallflower and then to make such a fool of myself in public…”
William narrowed his eyes at her. “There is no curse,” he said firmly. “You have made this evening wonderful. It is perhaps the greatest evening I have ever experienced, and it is all because it has been spent with you.”
Lydia sipped at her wine in order to cool herself. “I feel as though I can dance until the sun rises,” she said with a laugh. “It truly has been splendid.” She was unsure what had caused it, but she and William seemed to be smiling without stopping as though they were children sharing in a secret. No matter what happened that evening, nothing could break her from the elation she felt.
A loud bout of laughter made her turn to where their hostess spoke to a small group of people.
“She cares nothing for what people think of her,” William said in awe. “I find I admire her bravery, and yet I still do not understand why invitations to her parties are so highly coveted. Why, with the way others speak, one would believe she was the most outrageous trollop in London.”
Lydia smiled as she watched the older woman. “It is because she does not care what others think of her. I used to think she was mad, but now I realize what she truly is.”
“And what is that?”
She paused before replying as she studied the Duchess. “She is free,” she said finally. “Free from the judgment of others. Fre
e from the need to seek their approval. She cares nothing for the opinion of others and seeks her own happiness.” She sighed contentedly. “It is something I feel for the first time this evening, though I wonder why. Perhaps it is the love I feel…” She quickly closed her mouth. How could she have spoken so boldly? Of all the foolish things she could have said, she had chosen one that could have irredeemable consequences. At that moment, all she wanted to do was run to a corner and hide behind one of the large ferns that dotted the room.
With a trembling hand, she brought her glass up to her lips, terrified of looking at William’s face. Would he find her words silly? How could she confess such deep feelings for a man she was still getting to know?
Yet, when her eyes met his, his smile gave her a sense of relief.
“You are more special than you realize,” he whispered. “In fact, I told a friend about you, and I think it is important that you meet…”
“May I have your attention, please?” Everyone, including William and Lydia, turned to where the Dowager Duchess stood, resplendent in her deep-green gown and gold tiara on her head. “It has been my honor to lead the ton in all things of society,” the Duchess said regally, ignoring the quiet snickers in response to her words. “Because you are the fortunate few to receive my invitations, You see that I only wear the latest of fashions, drink only the most exquisite wines, and provide the most delectable of foods, tonight, with the aid of Lord Oliver Ludlow, I shall introduce to you a new dance, one that will soon fill the ballrooms of all of London’s Society.”
Lydia could not miss the current of curiosity mixed with excitement that ran through the room, and she found herself caught up in the dramatics.
The Duchess smiled. “In the future when others ask, let them know where you first witnessed it.”
“May we know what it is called?” a man called out.
“Of course,” the Dowager Duchess replied with a wide smile. “The waltz.”
Lydia glanced at William, who shrugged. Neither had heard of such a dance, but she looked forward to learning something new.
Waltz 0f The Wallflower (Delicate Hearts Book 1) Page 10
