Lydia gave a cynical laugh. “There is no ‘misunderstanding’, as you put it,” she replied. “I know what I saw last evening, so this goes much further than some sort of gossip that has made its rounds.” She had to tighten her grip on her hands to keep her tone even. “I wish he and Miss Pendleton all the best.”
“With respect, Miss Fortescue, but William is the innocent party in all this. You see, Alice is a dear friend and has been for many years. When we were all younger—William, Clancy, Alice, and I—we were very good friends. Alice left us when she took on a position as governess and then went on to marry her husband. However, her husband died, leaving her a widow with a young son.”
“The boy is not William’s child?” Lydia asked in shock.
“No. You see, when George Pendleton passed away, Alice became despondent and inconsolable. It was William who went to her aid, but as a friend. The truth is, I have loved Alice since we were all friends together, and when William took on the role of the caring friend, I became jealous. Even after Alice completed her mourning period and William returned to his life as usual, I held a grudge against him. I realize it makes no sense because I should have been a good enough friend to be by her side, as well, but I was too caught up with my anger to see beyond my own anguish. It is the reason I wrote those words on the card you were given, and why I planted doubt in your mind.” He gave a heavy sigh. “This is all my fault.”
“So, there is nothing between William and Miss Pendleton?”
“Nothing more than friendship, I assure you.”
Lydia considered the man’s words. Could she hope he was speaking the truth? “I did not know about Miss…or should I say Mrs. Pendleton? He tried to explain this morning, but I did not allow him to do so.” Guilt rushed through her. It all made sense now; if she had only allowed him to say his piece, she would not have suffered all this time.
“William is many things—honorable, forthright, and most of all, caring—however, he is not a rogue, regardless of the rumors to the contrary. He told me recently that if I cared for Alice as much as I have claimed, I should be happy she has found love, which she has, by the way, even if it was not with me. At first, I rejected that wisdom, for I was selfish. Now, I see he was correct in his opinion.” He took a step forward. “For my grievances and words to you, I am sorry. I hope you are able to come to realize that the man loves you. And much like Alice and her new fiancé, I would like to see you and William happy together.”
Lydia was quiet for a moment. Was this man speaking the truth? Was this woman engaged to another man? Or was Lord Egerton once again causing strife but in a more deviant manner? Yet, when she looked into the Marquess’s eyes, she knew he spoke with candor. Therefore, she stood and took her hands in his. “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate your kind words, and I want you to know that I have forgiven you your trespasses. I will consider your words very carefully, I can promise you that.”
The man’s warm smile was in contrast to the arrogance he had possessed when he had called previously. “I must be on my way, but I will hope you will see past all that has happened, for I know he cares for you deeply.”
“Thank you.”
When the Marquess was gone, Lydia thought about what the man had told her. It was her insecurity that had driven William away this day. If Lord Egerton could admit his faults, then she could, as well. Now, she had to put in hope that William would be at the party this evening, so he could explain and she could listen.
She turned to Mrs. Ridge and let out a small laugh. The old woman was snoring, and with a gentle shake, Lydia woke her to inform her it was time to leave.
***
William paced the library at his London home before stopping and glancing at the clock. The party Lady Matilda was hosting would begin soon, and he could not help but wonder if Lydia would be in attendance. She had nothing he knew to keep her from doing so, but if she was angry with him, which he had no doubt she was, she might send her regrets with some sort of excuse as to why she could not attend. And he would not blame her for her anger.
Yet, she had changed in the past few weeks. If she did decide to attend and yet refused to speak to him, what could he do about it? He had spent the last two hours fretting over lines of poetry that could explain in detail what had transpired, but each word felt unworthy of her consideration. And even if she did consider what he had written, would she accept the apology within those verses?
“Your Grace?”
William looked up from his writing to see Hughes, his butler, standing in the doorway. “What is it?”
“I was hoping to have a word?”
Though William had little patience to listen to any complaints about another servant not doing his or her job, he sat back in his chair. “Very well. How may I help you?”
“I have been in your employ for many years and have watched you grow from a child to the man you are today. Therefore, may I speak to you as the man you are and not a duke?”
What a strange request. However, William nodded. This was serious, indeed.
“The party given by Lady Matilda has already started, and you remain here.”
William snorted. “Yes? And what does that have to do with you?”
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but why?”
William glared at the man. “I do not have time for riddles, Hughes. You know exactly why I have remained home. Have I not explained what occurred between Miss Fortescue and me?”
“I apologize if I am overstepping my bounds, Your Grace. I simply wondered if you have given up on the Lady.”
“Well, no,” William replied. He picked up the papers on which he had been penning his lines. “I have tried writing out what I wish to tell her.” He wadded the papers into a ball and threw them onto the floor. “It is all rubbish, every word of it. I do not want to give up, but she refuses to listen to reason.” He turned and lowered his voice. “Not even you, old friend, can advise me in this area I’m afraid.”
Hughes replied with a nod and then did something that surprised William; he sat in a chair and removed his shoes.
“What are you doing?” William asked in shock. Never in his life had he ever seen this stoic man sitting in such a casual pose, even when he came across him warming himself beside the downstairs fireplace.
“I am making myself comfortable,” Hughes replied, unruffled by William’s shock. “For if a duke is unable to demonstrate his admiration for a woman for whom he cares, what civility is left in the world? You are a man of honor and integrity; if you shall leave that behind and fall into madness, then so shall I.”
“I do care about her,” William said, annoyed at the butler’s actions. “It is why I needed to tell her…” His words trailed off as he made a realization. “That I love her.”
Hughes rose from the chair. “Then you must tell her at once.”
“She will not see reason. I have already tried to speak with her, and she would not listen. It would be in vain.”
“Do you honestly believe that love is in vain?” Hughes asked. “You, for one, know better than that.”
William thought of the older man’s words. Of course, he was right, love was never in vain, but if his attempts fell through before, why would they do any differently if he tried again?
Yet, if he spoke from his heart, those words would have to heal the gap that had formed between them.
“Thousands of pounds spent on a fine education,” he said as he walked over and removed a card from the box where he kept them, “and I learn more from my butler than any school could provide. Will you alert the driver I will be needing the carriage as soon as possible?”
Hughes had already donned his shoes and gave a deep bow. “Yes, Your Grace. Right away.”
As he turned, William called, “And Hughes?”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Thank you.”
The man smiled and gave an even deeper bow. “It was my pleasure.”
After the butler left the roo
m, William dipped the nib of the quill in the ink bottle. He left behind elegant prose and wrote words from his heart. If that did not convince her of his true feelings for her, nothing would.
Chapter Twenty-Two
During one of the meetings at the home of Mr. Lancing, a discussion on the topic of fate had transpired. At the time, Lydia had found the idea of such a concept laughable; did men—and women—not make decisions for their own lives? However, after all the recent events that had taken place, she had reconsidered her position on the subject, for had she chosen the path on which she walked currently? Not at all. She had not chosen to become a wallflower, to be hidden away until she either withered away or bloomed. Fate had sent William to the alley that day he saved her. It was on that day she had moved from the withering to the blossoming flower, another choice she had not made, though she could admit preferring.
As she entered the ballroom of the home of Lady Matilda reinforced this fact. None of the other women in attendance could have been considered wallflowers by any means. All had their own beauty, of course, as all women do, but none were likely to become spinsters. Did that mean, despite all that had happened with William that she would not be destined for such a fate?
“Lydia, darling,” Lady Matilda said as she kissed Lydia on the cheek. “I am so happy you made it this evening.”
“Thank you for the invitation, Lady Matilda,” Lydia replied.
“Oh, please, we are friends,” the woman said with a wide smile. “Call me Matilda. I must admit, I am sorry I have not spoken to you before. It was not out of spite, I can assure you. However, when I saw the look in your eyes at the party given by the Dowager Duchess, I knew we would become fast friends.”
“I’m sorry. My look?”
Lady Matilda chuckled. “The way you looked as you watched her dancing, I could see you wanted to give it a try. Others pretended to hide behind their fans or turn away, yet you were brave. You looked on with awe, as much as I did. Therefore, I believe I may have found a woman whose soul matches my own.”
Lydia muttered a quick “Thank you” and then she glanced around the room in search of the others who were a part of this great joke. Yet, none seemed to take special notice of her, and she began to wonder if the woman before her had spoken the truth. Was she so unaccustomed to compliments that to receive one left her feeling foolish? What a sad way to look at the world.
“Please, partake in any of the refreshments and enjoy your time in my home. We will speak later, to be sure, because I feel we will become great friends.” Then the woman was off, the skirts of her red gown flowing around her feet.
Lydia stared after the woman in awe. “Mrs. Ridge, I believe I have made a new friend.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Ridge said in her loud voice, “I suppose we are friends. Come, let us find a place to sit.”
Lydia could only smile after the woman as they walked through the crowd of guests. For the first time, other guests were smiling at her. What a joyful feeling it was to be the recipient of such congenial expressions!
However, her joy receded when she saw a familiar face. Mr. Clancy Sparking focused all of his attention on the plate of food before him; however, when he looked up, his eyes met Lydia’s, who would have groaned if she were not a lady.
“Oh, Miss Fortescue,” he said with a smile. “It is good to see you.”
“Mr. Sparking,” she replied with a polite nod.
Mrs. Ridge lifted her spectacles and looked the man over in a disapproving way. The poor man’s cheeks reddened, and he quickly dusted crumbs from his coat.
“I understand that Barnard told you about William?”
Lydia nodded. “He did. I must admit that I feel responsible for the entire fiasco.”
“Oh, Mrs. Parker is here,” Mrs. Ridge said. She gave Lord Sparking another appraisal and pursed her lips. “You will be all right here, Miss Lydia?”
Lydia smiled. “Yes, I believe I will be fine, thank you, Mrs. Ridge.”
The woman hurried over to another older woman and the two were soon in close conversation. Lydia wondered how it was Mrs. Ridge seemed to misinterpret so many things people said and yet could hold a quiet conversation without issue with people her own age. Then again, it was not as if Lydia eavesdropped in order to see if she did indeed listen without misunderstanding, so perhaps her friends were accustomed to her errors.
“I assure you,” Mr. Sparking said in response to Lydia’s comment, “the fault is not yours. I am sure you have more pressing matters, but I have a request.”
“Of course,” she replied. “What would that be?”
“Lady Matilda,” he said as he glanced toward their hostess, “I think she does not see me. Perhaps…well…” he gave her a pleading look and seemed unable to speak the request, though Lydia guessed what he wanted to ask of her.
She smiled. “I shall tell her what a gentleman you are,” she said.
The man appeared pleased with her offer. “Oh, would you?” he replied. “I do not know how to thank you!”
“No need to thank me,” she said. “I cannot make any promises, however. I hope you know this.”
“Yes, but at least it is something.” The man was beaming.
As Lydia turned, she collided with Elizabeth Osborn, the Dowager Duchess of Charlesbridge. “Oh, I beg your pardon!” Lydia said in horror. “Forgive me.”
“Nonsense,” the Duchess replied with a wave of her hand. “It was not intentional, was it?”
“Not at all, Your Grace!” Lydia exclaimed.
“You are Miss Fortescue, are you not?” the woman asked as she studied Lydia.
“I am.” Lydia struggled to keep herself from shaking. The woman stood with such grace and elegance, Lydia could not help but feel all the more a wallflower beside her. Yet, despite the regal stance the woman carried, she was not arrogant. “I must admit,” Lydia added, “I admire you. I have for some time.”
“Oh?” the Dowager Duchess said with the raise of an eyebrow. “Well, it takes one of high intelligence to recognize another.”
At first, Lydia thought the woman might be mocking her, but the smile she wore was kind, and perhaps a bit conspiratorial.
The woman studied her once more and then added, “You sit alone quite often, do you not? Looking despaired?”
It was easy to not take offense, for the woman spoke the truth. “Yes. I have been making attempts at being more sociable. I must admit, it is not easy.”
“It takes great courage to overcome timidity. You are not like most of the women here; you are a thinker, perhaps a woman who studies?” she glanced around the room. “The majority of these other women, they exist only to please others. If I wanted to live such a life, I would have become a servant.”
Lydia could not stop herself from giggling, and the Dowager Duchess made no comment, though her smile still said they shared a secret.
“I must go and speak with a friend, but we must talk soon. I shall send a card to your home this week.”
“I would like that,” Lydia replied as she clasped her gloved hands to keep them from shaking from excitement. The Dowager Duchess wanted to speak to her? This night she had already made two friends, and all she had left was to secure her relationship with the Duke and she would move from wallflower to a woman of proper standing, and the thought felt wonderful.
***
Lydia was impressed by the number of guests at the party. It was not the largest function she had attended, for Lady Matilda had not extended an invitation to all members of the ton, or so Lydia overheard the woman say to a group of women Lydia recognized as equals to Lady Matilda. It appeared every guest who was invited had accepted, though it was understandable that those invited by the daughter of a Marquess would have very little in the way of excuse not to come.
Music rose from a collection of musicians in the corner of the ballroom, and several danced their paces in an open area in the middle of the room. Lydia could not help but tap her foot as a melodious song played, yet not o
nly because of the music but because she was growing despondent that William would not be in attendance.
Was she the cause of his nonappearance? Yet, the idea that she had such a hold on the decisions of any man made no sense. What if he had been hurt along the way? Or had her cruel words from earlier damaged him to the point of driving him into the arms of a woman who he had helped? No, that was illogical; did Lord Egerton not say Mrs. Pendleton was to be married?
Lydia sighed. It was a certainty; she was going mad. How else could she explain these silly thoughts that bounced around in her head? No rational person would come to such idiotic conclusions!
Just as she thought all hope was lost, when she had worried herself into a far corner of the room on the verge of reverting to the wallflower she once was, in walked William, resplendent in a dark coat and tan breeches. She had to stop herself from running over and throwing herself into his arms, to tell him how sorry she was for the accusation she had made. For the fact that she had not allowed him the opportunity to explain. That she had pushed him away in such a horrible manner. To tell him that she loved him. However, with Mrs. Ridge at her side—not to mention the guests who mingled around her—she knew such a display would embarrass them both.
He moved through the crowd, every muscle of his arms defined under the sleeve of his coat. How wonderful he looked with his perfectly tied cravat and his dark hair pulled back with a dark ribbon. She had always thought him handsome, but tonight he was more; tonight he was dashing. Although he nodded in greeting to those he moved past, his eyes seemed to search the room, and Lydia found herself edging from behind the fern where she had hidden herself away. She wanted him to find her, needed it to happen, and she continued to study him as he made his way across the room.
Worry etched his features until his eyes fell on her. When their eyes met, his countenance took on a look of hope, and Lydia was pleased she had been the one to bring about such a look.
With a bow of his head, he handed a card to Mrs. Ridge, who took it in her thin fingers and then passed it to Lydia, who studied it with the greatest of care. When she looked back up, she was surprised to see that William had walked away, disappearing into the sea of people.
Waltz 0f The Wallflower (Delicate Hearts Book 1) Page 15
