Since he needed to connect with philanthropic peers, he did not avoid all entertainments. He did not even want to avoid entertainments, for they were still dashed good fun. It was only that other things took precedence now. He found joy in his responsibilities. For the first time, he had spoken on an issue of interest at the House of Lords. His father would have been proud.
Later in the month, he would make a trip to the orphanage to ensure all was going well. The new headmistress had arrived, and though she seemed far too young for the position, Mr. Bromley assured him her characters were impeccable. Her delicate condition added to her charm since his whole goal was to help women like her. Her name, Harriette Waters, did not sound familiar, but he swore he knew her from somewhere. Walter had seen her before. For the life of him, he could not put his finger on where.
So distracted, he almost missed an invitation from his cousin Charlotte. She was to host a ball. This would be one entertainment he would not miss. Her parties were always a squeeze.
Ah, that reminded him.
He needed to pay a call to Roddam and Lizbeth. His mother had been there nearly every other day to check on Lizbeth. Liz’s condition had come as a shock to him since it seemed only yesterday when Freya had been born, although nine months was hardly yesterday. He had yet to call on them. He did want to see them. But he had been so terribly busy.
On the fringes of his mind, he wondered if Lilith had come with them. There would be nothing of interest for her in London, but would Lizbeth not want her as a midwife for her second child? His mother had not volunteered information, and he had not queried. The thought of coming face-to-face with Lilith was nothing short of trepidation. What would he say to her?
Chapter 30
Walter hastened his steps, his heels clicking on the cobblestones. He was late. By now, he would have missed the receiving line. He could only hope he would not miss the first set.
This would teach him never to reserve sets in advance.
Miss Pamela was to be his partner. Only one dance had been reserved with her, but he planned to request a second if her card was not full. It was time to settle down. She was blonde and prim with an enterprising mother. Two days this week, he had taken her for a drive through the park. Two days the week before, he had escorted her to a soirée and then the opera.
Ever hovering in the back of his mind was Lilith. He tried not to compare the two. It was not easy. He could not continue to harbor feelings for a woman who would not have him. He had to let her go. Miss Pamela was the antithesis of Lilith and eager to be a baroness. Tonight, he would be daring and invite her for that second dance.
When he approached Annick’s townhome, it was to find a swarm of carriages blocking the road and twice as many partygoers lining the sidewalk. Good. He was not embarrassingly late.
The ride from his orphanage had taken longer than expected. There had been just enough time to bathe and dress before setting off on foot since his mother had taken the carriage, leaving without him since he was late to arrive home.
Making his way through the crowd, a nod, smile, and brief word to everyone as he passed, he mounted the front steps and gave a nod to the butler who was taking cards one at a time in agonizing slowness. The man spared Walter only a cursory glance, recognizing him as family.
The antechamber was no less full. Several of his mates were standing about, already planning to make a break for the card room. As eager as he was to get inside the ballroom to give his best to his cousin and find Miss Pamela, he could not avoid his friends. As soon as he spotted Everleigh, he did not want to avoid them. Only during the Season did he have a chance to catch up to Everleigh, one of his best Oxford mates, as the fellow lived in the north, not far from Annick.
With a hearty handshake, he greeted his old fencing partner.
“Well met, Evey!” he exclaimed.
“Look who’s graced us with his presence,” said Everleigh with a jovial glance to his group.
Ah, yes, he had declined most of their invitations. It was not like they would understand. None of them had inherited, and some were not in line to inherit. Mr. Winston Everleigh, eldest son of Viscount Rutherford, was a known gamester and rogue who could not take life seriously if it hit him on the head. No, his friends would not understand he had turned over a new leaf.
“Pardon my absence, fellows,” Walter began to say before Everleigh interrupted.
“No need to apologize to us! We know all too well the need to make scarce once the marriage-minded mamas begin to hound. Word has it you’re looking for a leg shackle.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Oh, ho ho! Gossip at its finest,” Walter protested.
It was beyond fifteen minutes before he could break free, and that was only thanks to their realizing the dancing would begin shortly. They headed for the safety of the card room.
Tugging at his waistcoat and running a hand through his hair, he proceeded into the ballroom. The receiving line had dispersed some time ago and couples were taking to the dance floor. Dash it all! He had not wanted to be this late. He could not even spot Charlotte, Annick, or his mother at quick glance. Plumes of varying sizes nodded; sparkling gems reflected the candlelight; cologne overpowered the senses; fine figures reflected in gilded mirrors. A squeeze was putting it mildly. He tried not to think how much he wished Lilith could see this.
“Lord Collingwood!” came a feminine voice behind a group of matrons.
He turned and smiled to see Mrs. Addison, mother to Miss Pamela and three other daughters. Mrs. Addison, a plump and cheerful woman, waved indiscreetly at him as she bustled over, her daughter in tow.
He greeted them with a bow.
“You’ve not forgotten you reserved the first set, have you?” Mrs. Addison asked, more scold than question.
She pushed her blushing daughter his direction.
If the girl swooned, he would not be surprised.
“It has been foremost on my mind, ma’am.” With another bow, he offered his arm to the pink-faced girl. “You’re looking quite pretty, Miss Pamela.”
She did look pretty. Tight, blonde ringlets framed a heart-shaped face that, he suspected, had been pinched and puckered. She did not strike him as a rouge-wearing type, yet her lips and cheeks were noticeably rosy.
He escorted her onto the dancefloor to join the gathering crowd of dancers. She was at least a full head shorter than him, petite, and exceedingly shy. He liked her. Being her first Season, she would need more town bronze to be comfortable with him. With others, she was social and full of life. Her shyness was reserved for him.
Facing each other in line, they prepared for the first chord to strike.
It was then he tore his eyes away from Miss Pamela to catch sight of Annick leading out his partner.
His heart failed him. Blood drained from his face and limbs.
There in a shimmering, green ballgown, regally poised, her hair coiled in an intricate knot of raven splendor was the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance.
Lilith.
For a startling stretch of time, he could not breathe.
Searching his memory, he harnessed the last time he had seen her. Good God. He had lain with that woman! His eyes swept over every curve, enhanced by the bespoke gown.
What the deuce was she doing here?
Before he could turn to his partner and keep from shaming himself by gawking, Lilith turned to face the line of dancers. Their eyes locked.
The morning began in frenzied chaos. Lizbeth went into labor far too early. It was not for another several weeks that the baby was due. Hazel had been summoned to look after Freya since Lilith recruited Mrs. Adams’ help. Mr. Trethow had likewise been summoned, along with Charlotte. Sebastian attended the delivery, as he had for his first child.
It all happened much faster than before. It would seem Freya’s sibling could not wait to get started in life an
d was, or so Lilith joked later, already jealous of all the attention big sister was receiving.
At a little before noon, Cuthbert Lancaster, Baron Embleton, gave his first angry cry. He came out screaming, mad at the world for trying to hold him back by a few more weeks. Despite arriving alarmingly early, he was healthy, though on the small side. Lizbeth had fallen asleep almost immediately after delivery, but she did wake long enough to feed her son and for Lilith to feed her herbal broth in turn.
Freya wanted nothing to do with her baby brother as though she suspected this was the beginning of endless days of stolen attention. She took one look at little Lord Embleton and wailed.
Lilith would not say she envied having two babies less than a year apart, but she did envy with deep tenderness the love her brother and sister-in-law shared. She had found such a love with Walter. Had she accepted him in October, she would not have given him her best and may come to resent him. He had been no more ready than she, still trapped in a cycle of regret over his father. Now, she could bring her all, as could he. But would he have her?
Given the rough and tumble day, Sebastian apologized profusely to Charlotte and Lilith that he would not be attending the ball. Lilith tried to worm out of it, as well, but the family fought her. This ball was in her honor, after all. It was her official introduction to Society. However much she wished to remain at her sister-in-law’s bedside, she could not bow out.
It was in Charlotte’s boudoir, an hour before they would form the receiving line, that Lilith again tried to bow out, never mind she was dressed and ready. Her nerves betrayed her. She no longer feared the beau monde, but she did fear she would suffer an apoplexy of memory and forget everything she had painstakingly trained for over the past several months. What if she stepped on toes? What if she curtsied instead of inclining her head? What if she smiled too brightly?
Charlotte patted her hand. “You might not believe this, but I felt the same not so long ago.”
“You?” Lilith very much doubted that.
“Yes, me,” she said, emphasizing her words in imitation of Lilith. “I was a country girl from Cornwall and had never been east of Exeter. I worried myself silly thinking I would do something gauche.”
Lilith tried to imagine the duchess as a country girl. Impossible. Decked in diamonds and emeralds, her auburn hair bejeweled by sparkling gems and piled high, her spine straight with poise, and her nose lifted in hauteur, Charlotte looked born into nobility.
Signaling a maid, Charlotte gave a nod to the wine glasses. In a flurry of movement, the maid produced a wine glass on a gilded platter before Lilith.
“Drink,” Charlotte commanded. “It’ll help. I promise.” The duchess reached for her own glass to swirl and savor. “The more selective you are about your company, the more respected and sought after you’ll become. It’s easy to choose with whom to converse without cutting anyone. In this way, you can surround yourself with those who share your values.”
With a reassuring smile to Lilith’s worried expression, Charlotte added, “Above all, enjoy yourself. You’re family, and no one will question it. Let me worry about the gossipers while you enjoy yourself.” She squeezed Lilith’s hand. “Chin up. You’re marvelous.”
Throughout the greeting of guests and early mingling, Lilith stayed at Charlotte’s side, suspecting there was more to her hostess than the vain exterior. Though the duchess was not yet one and twenty, she had an innocent kind of maturity. With time and age, Lilith suspected Charlotte would become a truly remarkable woman.
She was a superb hostess, at the very least.
For all Lilith’s worrying, she had met enough people since arriving in town to have a set of near-friends surrounding her, including her neighbors from Roddam Hall, most especially the dear Mrs. Putnam who claimed a special friendship for being the first to call on her.
Even without them, there would have been nothing to fear. Guests were falling over themselves, despite their feigned ennui, to meet her after hearing the circulating rumors during the weeks leading up to the ball. Everyone wanted to meet the long-lost daughter of the fifteenth Earl of Roddam. The gossip caught fire with speculative theories as to why she disappeared, fueled by the older generation with revived rumor that the earl had killed his wife and hidden his daughter not to be reminded of his crime. Lilith knew better, for Jane had always been sickly, but the rumors were too delicious by half.
Her time at the orphanage was not shamed. Instead, they found her a curiosity and vied for a chance to interview her. What was it like to live amongst heathens? How had her brother found her after all those years?
Her dance card filled before the receiving line dispersed.
It was all overwhelming. It was also relieving. All her fear of ridicule and scandal, and here she was, the toast of the ball. No one even seemed to mind her age.
However awe-inspiring the evening, her eyes searched the crowd for one particular face. Would he come? Would he avoid the ball knowing it was in her honor? Did he even know she would be here?
Her attempts to focus on conversation failed as her gaze swept the room every few minutes, hoping to spot those beautiful curls and green eyes. It was of him she thought when she chose the ballgown. A foolhardy notion when they had not spoken since early October. But all she could do was think of him. Somehow, she had to win him back.
A Lady Something was nattering at her when her cousin Drake arrived to escort her onto the floor. As she turned a smile to him, she saw over his shoulder the man for whom her heart beat. Walter stepped into the ballroom, his eyes scanning the crowd until they lit on a pretty, young girl in white. His face broadened into a heart-arresting smile. Somewhere in the region behind her eyes, she burned. That smile was not directed at her but someone else.
Unable to look away, she watched him speak to the girl’s mama before escorting his partner to the dance floor. Obviously, the set had been reserved.
Lilith was too afraid to ask her cousin if they were betrothed. She did not think she could bear it, and she would not have this evening ruined. What a spectacle that would make if she started crying on the dance floor! And why should she? She had told him to let her go. She had told him to look about him for someone else. This was her doing. Oh, why had she not asked him to wait? What a coward she had been!
With a nod to Drake, she joined the dancers.
The dance was a dizzying whirl of excitement. However aware of Walter she was, Lilith lost herself to the steps. It would be uncultured for her to laugh, but she wanted to. Drake was an arrogant dancer, performing for her amusement, which made the dance all that more entertaining. Her first introduction to him last summer at the castle had made him seem the worst sort of aristocrat, but now that she knew him, she liked him exceedingly well.
Thankfully, even when separated from him during the dance, she was never paired with Walter.
More than once, her eyes found his. She dared not look away for fear she would seem a coward, a woman pining for a man she had once rejected.
When the dance ended, she thought herself relieved of his company. Drake escorted her to Charlotte.
But then, before he bowed himself elsewhere, Drake glanced behind him.
“Ah! Look who arrived.” He turned to Lilith. “Shall we introduce him to the new you?”
There was no question who he meant, of course. Walter stood at the perimeter of the dance floor, talking animatedly with the girl in white. Oh dear. Lilith would have to come face-to-face with them both. The duke held out his arm for Lilith. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. She could not very well say no, could she?
No amount of bracing could prepare her for him to introduce the girl as his affianced bride. She schooled her reaction and bit the inside of her cheek as she approached on her cousin’s arm.
Walter turned to them as they drew near. The smile he had reserved for his dance partner turned into a frown when he saw Lilith. H
e looked embarrassed to see her. Was he ashamed about what they had shared?
Oh, good heavens. Why did she have to recall that now?
And with that thought came a flood of heightened awareness. She could nearly feel the smoothness of his skin beneath her fingertips, though she was some distance away and not touching him. His voice caressed her ears though he had not yet spoken. His familiar cologne wrapped about her. For the love of God, she could even taste his lips. As though testing her reality, she ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips.
Then they were upon the couple. Drake and Lilith faced Walter and the girl in white.
Drake took the initiative, oblivious to the awkwardness.
“Good to see you, Collingwood. Was worried you wouldn’t make it. Allow me to introduce someone you’ve met before but not met properly. My cousin, Lady Lilith.”
Holding her gaze steady, she watched his brows raise in surprise. Walter bowed then held out a hand for hers.
Please, don’t let my hand tremble. She slipped her cold, gloved fingers into his warm ones. If she did not swoon, it would be a shock. She knew him. He knew her. They had known each other.
“A pleasure, my lady,” he said with his all too familiar voice.
Lilith’s stomach somersaulted at the word pleasure.
He kissed the air above her hand then released it. The mere seconds in which her fingers had been in his palm had felt like a lifeline to unconditional happiness.
Turning to the girl at his side, he said, “Allow me the honor of introducing Miss Pamela.”
The girl curtsied. Lilith inclined her head.
He had not said betrothed. But that omission did not guarantee he was not engaged. She heard a faint buzzing in her ears and realized she had been holding her breath.
Drake winked at the girl and said without tact, “Now that you’ve had a chance around the ring with Collingwood, I do believe it’s my cousin’s turn. You’ve saved a set for Collingwood, haven’t you?” He turned his eyes to Lilith.
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