by Rose Pearson
Jacintha was a little surprised that he led her to a quiet corner of the ballroom instead of back to her sister, but went with him regardless, knowing she had nothing to fear from him. “I am enjoying myself a great deal, Lord Slate. You need not worry about me.”
“And yet I find myself quite caught up with you,” he replied at once. “My dear Lady Jacintha, you can have no doubt that I am choosing to seek out your company.”
A slight anxiety caught her heart, making her fingers tighten as she twined her hands together in front of her. “Lord Slate, we have only known each other for a sennight!”
“And yet I find it more than long enough to be aware of what my heart is feeling,” he replied, warmly. “I will not pretend that I do not have every intention of speaking to your father and requesting to court you – but only if you will agree.”
Jacintha did not know what to say, finding it rather strange that they were having such a discussion in the midst of a ballroom instead of during an afternoon visit. “I – I am surprised that you would ask me such a thing here, Lord Slate,” she stammered, finding that she was rather unsure of her answer. “I mean, this has taken me by surprise.”
“How can it?” he exclaimed, reaching for her hand and taking it in his own. “I have come with a personal invitation to a ball and quickly sought you out so that I might have the pleasure of dancing with you. I know our acquaintance has been of short duration but will you not consider me?”
Jacintha hesitated. To agree to be courted meant that she was, in essence, agreeing to a relationship with the man. Most couples who courted in earnest soon became engaged, which meant that she had to be quite sure of Lord Slate.
“I would ask you to give me a little more time to get to know you, Lord Slate,” she said slowly, her heart dropping in relief at her answer. “Our acquaintance is a short one and you have only called upon me the once. I do hope that you understand what it is I am saying and I must, of course, let you know how deeply appreciative I am for such a request. That is kindness in itself.”
He lifted her hand and, much to Jessica’s astonishment, turned her gloved hand palm upwards and pressed his lips to it firmly. It was such an intimate gesture that it made her gasp, going crimson with embarrassment and desperately hoping that no-one had seen him do it.
“I should return to my sister,” she whispered, tugging her hand away from him. “And I will need to dance again soon. Thank you, Lord Slate.”
She did not wait for him to respond but quickly hurried away, glancing all around her to ensure no-one had seen him do such a thing. Had they noticed, then rumors would start and her reputation might be stained. Why had he done such a thing as that? Was it so that he might do exactly as she feared, in the hope that she would have no other choice but to marry him?
She shook her head to herself, her heart beating frantically in her chest as her worry rose. Much to her relief, there did not appear to be anyone looking at her. She was quite safe.
It was only then that she happened to glance up, recalling that there might be people in the balcony looking down at them. To her horror, she saw none other than Henry Musgrove looking down at her, his lip curling. He had seen her. He had seen what Lord Slate had done.
“Oh, Henry,” she whispered, fear clutching at her heart. Would he tell others of what he had seen, just to spite her for her harsh words? She could not take that risk. There was no other choice but to go to him, to speak with him and explain what had occurred. Surely he would not do such a thing just to be spiteful? After all, he had done much worse than she ever had, and a small kiss to the palm of her hand was nothing!
Gathering her skirts, Jacintha made her way quickly through the crowd, heading towards the staircase so that she might make her way up to the balcony in order to speak to Henry. She had to be sure of what he had seen – and to make sure that he would not speak of it to anyone.
Chapter Seven
Henry had very much enjoyed his dance with Jacintha. The moment he had taken her in his arms, the past had come back to hit him full force, and he had been forced to draw in a sharp breath. She was even more beautiful than she had been back then, her nearness having such a great effect on him that he couldn’t find the words to explain all that he was feeling.
He had laughed and smiled and teased her, but she had not been so ready with her smiles. Her guard was still up, protecting her from him – but he had been bolstered by the fact that she had blushed deeply when he’d pulled her just a little closer.
Maybe she did remember their moment in the gardens, even though she stated she had pushed it out of her thoughts. Jacintha had never been able to lie particularly well, for she had always looked away from the person she had been speaking to as the words flew from her tongue, and, as they had been dancing, her gaze had shifted to somewhere past his left shoulder. Had she been hiding the truth from him? Did she remember more than she wanted to admit?
That would be a delicious truth.
Leaning forward, Henry leaned on the balcony rail and looked out at the swirling dancers. He was not at all pleased to see Jacintha dancing with Lord Slate for he had noticed that Lord Slate seemed particularly interested in the lady. Not that Jacintha could not dance with whomever she chose, but Henry would prefer that she had no specific acquaintances as yet. It meant that he would have more time to prove to her he was not the man she had first seen on her arrival in London.
Frowning to himself, he thought about all his uncle had suggested. To go to the Dover coast would be to remove himself far from London town and all its pleasures. He would be changing his evenings of dancing and music to walks on the beach and conversations with the working class. His nose wrinkled.
Snob!
The thought had him wince, guilt washing over him immediately. His uncle, brother to an Earl, was doing a wonderful job for the Crown and clearly did not find it particularly difficult to mix with those of a lower class. In fact, the way he had spoken of them gave Henry the suggestion that his uncle found them worthy of respect. Chewing on his lip, Henry supposed that this was because the working man had to do a great deal of hard labor in order to provide for his family – and here he was thinking that balls and soirees were the light of life! His head dropped for a moment, his chin almost resting on his chest. Where was his compassion for those of lower class than he? Where was his desire to help the poor? When the time came for him to take on the title of earl, he would have tenants to care for. Tenants who would work hard from dawn till dusk, preparing the land for planting and then, much later, harvesting the profits of their labor. And he would remain within his estate, simply focusing on accounts and the like instead of putting his own hand to the till. Did these men not deserve some kind of respect from him?
He drew in a long breath, wondering whether he should accept his uncle’s proposal. Mayhap it would be what he needed to improve his own character. It would be a chance to push away his vices and desires, focusing only on doing something profitable for a change. Something of use, something to help others instead of himself.
Lifting his head, Henry sighed and looked out at the dance floor again, realizing that the only reason he had not agreed to his uncle’s suggestion was because he did not particularly want to give up London. He liked it here. He liked the balls and soirees and recitals, and all that went with it! It came down to sheer selfishness on his part.
His eyes searched for Jacintha but he could not see her. His gaze narrowed as he continued to look for her, wondering which gentleman had come to claim her now. Finally, after much searching, he found her standing to the side of the ballroom with none other than Lord Slate.
His heart sank as he saw her smile, only for Lord Slate to reach out and take her hand. Henry supposed that the gentleman thought he would not be so easily seen over at this corner of the room, although he personally did not think that to take a distinguished lady such as Jacintha into the corner of a room in such a surreptitious manner was a wise idea.
His mouth dro
pped open as he witnessed Lord Slate lift Jacintha’s hand to his lips, only to turn it over, palm up, and press a kiss there. A kiss to the back of the hand where the lips touched the glove would be surprising in itself but to kiss the palm of the hand spoke of a great intimacy between the two.
His heart roared with pain, his hands whitening on the balcony rail.
Was there something more between Lord Slate and Lady Jacintha? Why had she followed him to the quieter area of the room? Why had she allowed him to do such a thing?
Unable to drag his eyes away from the situation, Henry saw that Jacintha looked almost as astonished as he felt. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly ajar. He could not guess what it was she was saying but she was clearly taking her leave of the man. Mayhap she was discomfited by what he had done?
White hot anger shot straight through him, making his entire body stiffen. He could not take his eyes away from her as she walked away from Lord Slate, seeing her look around as though worried someone had seen what Lord Slate had done. He watched Jacintha take in a deep breath, one hand pressed to her heart as though trying to calm the frantic beating that went on deep within her chest.
And then, she looked up at him.
Henry saw the fright in her expression, the worry that creased her brow. And yet, he could not remove the anger and upset from his own features. His brow furrowed, his eyes growing narrow as he watched her, seeing her start towards the staircase.
Apparently, she wanted to speak to him.
His gaze returned to Lord Slate who was, by this point, now talking amicably to some other gentleman. He did not seem in the least bit concerned about what he had done nor if anyone had seen. Was he hoping that someone might have witnessed his inappropriate gesture? If a rumor started, then Jacintha might be forced into matrimony – although whether she was hoping for marriage to Lord Slate, Henry could not say.
“Henry.”
Jacintha’s words were quiet and he turned around at once, seeing her pale features looking back at him. Her breathing was slightly ragged, as though she had rushed to get to him.
“Henry, that was not what it looked like, I – ”
“Why should I care what you and Lord Slate do?” Henry interrupted, rather brusquely. “That is your business, Jacintha.”
“Henry,” she said again, almost pleading with him. “Henry, I must know that you will not speak to anyone of what you saw.”
His lip curled. “And that is the only reason you are come to speak to me, is it?”
She looked at him helplessly, her eyes a little damp. “I – I cannot have this spread about, Henry.”
He snorted, unable to contain his frustration. “I see. And you think that a rogue like me enjoys putting rumors about, do you?”
“No, I – ”
“As I said before, Jacintha, I do not care what goes on between yourself and Lord Slate. I have much more important things on my mind.”
Looking back at her, he saw that she looked even more confused than before, clearly unsure as to why his manner was such an angry one. He did not feel the need to explain, his heart hammering in his chest and his hands curling into fists.
“Lord Slate was much too forward, Henry,” he heard Jacintha say, as he turned away. “I was shocked by his action and I am worried that it will be spread about. I think you are the only one who saw.”
“And you think so little of me that you believe I would spread such things about without even considering the impact such a rumor would have on you and your future,” Henry retorted, rounding on her. “Goodness, Jacintha, I knew you thought ill of me but I never expected it to be as bad as all that! I think I had best take my leave. Good evening.”
He did not wait for her to respond to him but turned around at once and began to walk away, leaving her standing alone on the balcony. The anger he felt pushed at him to hurry away, the hurt of her expectation of his behavior cutting deep.
She truly thought that he was the kind of gentleman who would spread rumors? Who would enjoy sharing gossip – even gossip about a lady he considered his friend? That pained him.
He left the ball, a stale taste in his mouth. This no longer pleased him, no longer gave him the enjoyment he had once derived. He finally saw himself in all his ugliness, finally saw himself as Jacintha saw him. He had to find his true character again, had to rid himself of all the vestiges of the life he had thought he enjoyed. It was time to leave London, time to put this place and all its frivolities behind him. He would return by the end of the Season in the hope that Jacintha was neither married nor betrothed, desperate to show her his true self. Desperate to show her that the man she had once known was still there. He needed to show her that he had never forgotten her, that the feelings he once had still rose in him – but he could not do that when he was considered a rogue and a rascal.
“Uncle,” he said, the moment he stepped into the drawing room and found his uncle sitting by the fire. “I have decided.”
His uncle Roderick looked up at him in surprise, setting the book he had been reading down on his lap. “Oh? And what have you decided?”
“I want to come with you, if you will still have me,” Henry replied, absolutely firm in his decision. “I will leave tomorrow if you so wish.”
His uncle got to his feet and held out his hand, shaking Henry’s firmly. “Good for you, Henry. We can leave tomorrow if you wish. I promise you, you will return to London a changed man.”
“A change for the better,” Henry replied, his thoughts still centered on Jacintha. “Thank you, uncle. I am already looking forward to it.”
Chapter Eight
Jacintha knocked lightly on her father’s study door, hearing voices coming from within. She waited until she was called to enter, only to see none other than Lord Slate inside.
She stopped dead, staring at him.
“Jacintha,” her father said, warmly. “Lord Slate came to introduce himself to me only this afternoon.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Of course, I am entirely unaware as to what my daughters get up to when they are out and about within society, for I can very rarely find the energy to go to such things. Thankfully, their older married sister, Jessica, can chaperone them.”
“And a wonderful job she does too,” Lord Slate replied, with a slight bow. Coming towards Jacintha, he bowed deeply and smiled at her, his eyes bright and alive with happiness. “Might I call upon you tomorrow, Lady Jacintha?”
Jacintha could not quite think clearly, her mind working furiously to make sense of why Lord Slate was in her father’s study.
“Tomorrow, Jacintha?” her father repeated, a little loudly. “With Lord Slate?”
“Y-yes, of course,” Jacintha answered, closing her eyes and shaking her head just a little. “I do apologize, Lord Slate. I am just a little tired after last evening.”
Lord Slate chuckled and made to reach for her hand but Jacintha quickly put both hands behind her back, clasping them together. She did not want a repeat of what had occurred last evening.
“Then, I shall bid you a good day,” Lord Slate continued, after a slightly awkward pause. “Thank you for meeting me, Your Grace. I do hope to see you again.”
The Duke nodded and smiled, his eyes glancing towards Jacintha who managed to give Lord Slate an over bright smile as he left the room. She let out a long breath as the door closed behind him, making her father frown.
“Jacintha, you were a little rude there,” her father said quietly, gesturing for her to come to sit across from him. “Whatever is the matter?”
“Lord Slate came to see you?”
“Yes, of course he did,” her father replied, with a slight frown. “Why would he not? He thought it best to introduce himself, given that he has already called upon you once before when I was not at home.”
Jacintha sighed and sat down carefully in the chair, not quite sure how to explain herself. “What did he want?” she asked, worried that Lord Slate had asked her father whether or not he could court her. “Was it m
erely an introduction?”
“Yes, just that,” her father replied, looking more confused than ever.
“He did not ask you anything more than that?” Her heart began to pound, worried that Lord Slate had made more of his introduction than he ought, that he had not listened to her request to become a little better acquainted with him.
“Indeed not, Jacintha, it was merely an introduction,” her father reassured her, frowning a little. “I do not understand, however. I thought you liked the man.”
Now it came Jacintha’s turn to frown. “Where did you hear that?”
“Harmonia has spoken to me of him,” he said, with a small shrug. “She is very good at telling me all that is going on.”
Jacintha sighed and rolled her eyes, making her father laugh. “I suppose she is very good at keeping you informed, is she not?”
He shook his head, a wide smile on his face. “She has no suitors of her own, Jacintha, although I am sure she would tell me if she did. Harmonia is caught up in her own thoughts about love and matrimony, just as you are.”
“I have never wanted a marriage with love and affection, papa,” Jacintha said, slowly, “For I have only ever considered a marriage of convenience.”
“And you do not think that Lord Slate is a suitable gentleman?”
The bewilderment on her father’s face made Jacintha smile, aware that her own heart was just as conflicted. “I am aware of just how strange this must sound, papa, but I am not quite sure about Lord Slate. I wish to get to know him better before I consider anything more.”
Her father nodded slowly. “That is indeed wise, my dear. Your acquaintance is of short duration, is it not?”
“A sennight, papa.”
“Then I think your plan a wise one, although I would urge you to consider Lord Slate seriously. He is a good man, by all accounts, with wealth and holdings to keep you in comfort for the rest of your days.” Seeing Jacintha’s astonished look, the Duke laughed aloud. “My dear Jacintha, did you not think that I would look into the man the very moment Harmonia mentioned that he was eager in his pursuit of you? I may not be able to attend balls and the like with you, but I have always been determined to do everything I can to aid you in your search for a suitable husband.”
