Glitter

by Abbi Glines

  “Ashington,” I greeted as his glare met my own amused gaze. I then turned my attention to Miriam Bathurst because, after all, she was why we were gathered here, was she not? “Good morning, Miss Bathurst. You are as breathtaking in the light of day as you are in the moonlight,” I stated, knowing that couldn’t always be said for a lady in society. I’d brought her six yellow roses that I carried in the crook of my left arm but in my right hand, I held the posies I had brought for her aunt. If one wanted to impress the lady then one must flatter the mother, or in this case, the aunt. Wisdom my own mother had shared with me. Not that I had ever truly planned on impressing a lady any further than getting under her skirts.

  “You have a beautiful home,” I informed her aunt then held the posies out to her.

  She blushed like a debutant and gushed over the flowers. With a slight bow, I then turned to Miss Bathurst and held out the roses, a most unique shade of yellow. They had reminded me of creamy butter and I’d wanted them for her. She was unique and deserved something just so. This might be nothing more than a game for me, but Miriam Bathurst was indeed special.

  “For you,” I said.

  She smiled sincerely at me for what might be the first time and I realized it was a dangerous weapon. The way her eyes shone with the innocent gesture was almost knee weakening. Had I ever experienced such reaction from a woman’s smile before? This might possibly be treacherous territory that I should tread carefully upon.

  “They are lovely,” she said with a softness to her voice. “Thank you.”

  For this simple response, I would go buy her every butter yellow rose in London and that I feared was a weakness I could not afford myself. Miss Bathurst was a pawn for me, if my brother chose her for his future wife. Remembering such was important. Although she threatened to make that difficult.

  “I didn’t expect to see you out at this hour, paying visits,” Ashington stated with a clear warning in his tone.

  Flashing my best jovial grin, I met his glare. “Well, of course, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

  “It’s an honor that both of you chose to pay us a visit this fine morning,” Lady Wellington gushed, drawing our attention from each other and the obvious silent standoff. “Please won’t you both have a seat and I’ll ring for tea. Martha, that is, our cook makes the most mouthwatering biscuits you have ever tasted. They are Miriam’s favorite, aren’t they, honey?”

  There was an amused twinkle in Miss Bathurst eyes as she nodded in agreement. Her aunt was obviously American from her accent and the casual way she had called the cook by her first name was no doubt what Miriam found entertaining. Most ladies would be embarrassed or horrified by such a slip but not this one. It was clear she held a fondness for her aunt and I admired that. She was not what my brother would choose for a wife, however, even if her beauty drew him in. Ashington would make sure his countess was as boring and proper as he was.

  “Thank you, that is most gracious of you,” I replied when Ashington said nothing.

  The over bright smile that showed too many teeth in a very alarming way flashed on Lady Wellington’s face and one couldn’t help but smile in return. It was most amusing. Yet another thing I doubted my brother could accept. A Baron’s niece was not one that would have been raised to become a countess. Especially one who was being introduced into society with an American aunt such as this one.

  I moved my gaze to Miriam to see she was still trying hard not to laugh. Her full pink lips were pressed together in a gentle smile, but it was her eyes that gave way the humor she found in the situation. She wasn’t proper at all, and I enjoyed that too much it seemed.

  “I imagine you didn’t expect to be visited by both Ashington and myself this morning. At least not at the same time. How, uh, lucky you are,” I said with a smirk on my lips.

  A small giggle escaped her and that had been exactly what I’d intended to do. More so for myself than for Ashington. If I were to use a lady in my plans to humiliate my brother then I didn’t want to be fond of the lady. I might find it hard to use her as a pawn if I began to care for her. Miriam Bathurst was indeed a danger. I could care for her too easily. It was now of utmost importance I made sure Ashington chose Miss Ramsbury for his future wife.

  I cut my gaze to see Ashington’s reaction to the less than proper side of Miss Bathurst. He was showing no appreciation in his facial expressions but then he rarely did. The man was as stodgy as our father had been.

  “A lady is never sure who might call upon her,” Miriam replied demurely. She did that quite well, I realized. Maybe she could act the proper lady when she tried.

  The tea arrived then and Lady Wellington began to chatter on nervously about the difference of biscuits and jam in England as that of the biscuits and jam in New Orleans. I took the moment to study my brother and see if he was preparing his leave. Surely after the short interaction here, he would be making his next stop to see Miss Ramsbury. Although, I hated to think this would be my last visit to 18 Mayfair. This was hands down the best time I’d experienced calling upon a lady, but then those were extremely limited visits. I did not make a habit of such behavior. Paris offered much more appealing options.

  “Lord Radcliff to see Miss Bathurst,” the butler announced and all eyes turned as George Radcliff entered the room, carrying a bouquet of lilies. It would seem that Miriam Bathurst had made a good impression during their dance last night. Either that or Radcliff was up to his usual nosey ambitions.

  Lady Wellington sprang from her spot on the settee and Miriam stood as well. “Welcome Lord Radcliff, we were just about to have tea. I will ring for an extra setting. Please join us.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Ashington interrupted as he stood up. “I must be on my way. Radcliff may take my place,” he added then turned to Miriam. “Another time when you aren’t so… overwhelmed with visitors perhaps.”

  Most ladies would do all they could to get Ashington to stay, but Miss Bathurst did not disappoint me. She simply nodded her head and smiled at him. “Of course,” she said simply. Then turned her attention to Radcliff and walked over to meet him halfway to accept the flowers and invite him to join us. My attention was on my brother, however, as he dealt with the gushing American aunt who didn’t seem sure if she should be concerned he was leaving or not.

  Ashington could not get out of the drawing room fast enough and I leaned back in my chair feeling rather pleased with the whole situation. He wouldn’t be returning here. Although Miss Bathurst’s beauty was indeed something to admire, I knew my brother would not be able to accept her less than expected attentiveness to his presence. She had seemed almost relieved he was taking his leave. I took the cup of tea placed before me and hid my satisfied grin as I took a sip of the hot liquid.

  My job here was done, with very little effort on my part. Miriam Bathurst and her aunt had handled it all too well. I might find reason to visit again just to enjoy their company. It was the most entertainment I’d had in London, and dare I admit, I didn’t find the need to escape clawing at me as I had in the past. Paris no longer seemed that intriguing.

  Chapter Eight

  Miss Miriam Bathurst

  A stroll in the park with Mr. Compton was most likely a waste of an otherwise pleasant afternoon, but when he had inquired, Aunt Harriet had been so giddy with excitement, I feared she would cry in front of our guests if I made an excuse. Whereas Lord Ashington had not been able to escape my company fast enough, Mr. Compton had stayed while three other gentlemen had arrived with more flowers. It was only fair I accepted his offer for an afternoon stroll. Besides, being seen with him could only help my chances at finding a husband. He may not be an earl, but he was the second son of an earl.

  I stood watching Aunt Harriet worry and fuss over my afternoon attire. I was positive this was not the beginning of a successful match. Although to convince Aunt Harriet of that would be rather difficult.

  Mr. Compton had appeared too amused and relaxed during his visit
to be considering a true courtship. At the moment, my aunt had three walking gowns spread across my bed as she bit her bottom lip worrisomely. They were all lovely gowns and I did not see why she must make such an event out of this.

  “The green,” she said spinning around to look at me. “You will appear as a precious gem!” She clapped her hands together at the thought.

  The green gown was indeed very fine, but my opinion was that I would match the grass and trees. Not that it mattered. This stroll was not as important as my aunt believed. I nodded in agreement, ready to get this over with. Fussing over a walking dress seemed silly but then it did give me more to write about in my next letter to Whitney. This morning had proven to fill at least two pages. Aunt Harriet had gone on and on about the fact both Lord Ashington and Mr. Compton had called upon me this morning. She thought it was a grand statement and that I was fortunate. Luck must have shined upon me, she had gushed.

  I wasn’t one to live in a world of fancy and fairy tales like she so often did. I found it very odd and a perhaps even orchestrated. It was obvious that Lord Ashington had not been pleased to see his brother, so the entire fiasco might have fallen on Mr. Compton’s rather broad shoulders. His sly grins and the cut of his eyes as he had studied his brother hadn’t gone without my notice.

  If I were to give up an afternoon with the pleasure of my books for a stroll in the park, then I intended to make it worth my while and ask him myself what mischief he was up to and request he leave me out of it in the future. Poor Aunt Harriet wouldn’t fair well under much more excitement. Hopefully she walked at enough of a distance, she wouldn’t be able to hear our conversation.

  “You agree the green is the one?” she asked, reminding me that we had been in a conversation, even if it had been a touch one-sided.

  “Yes, I believe you are right. As always,” I told her, trying to smile but failing to do so successfully.

  She didn’t miss my struggle to appear pleased. Closing the space between us, she grabbed my shoulders and squeezed gently. “Oh, do be happy about this, dear. You find very little joy in life and I wish I could help you with that. I dreamed of beauty like yours when I was younger. You have it all yet it doesn’t make you smile.”

  Whereas she found it sad that I wasn’t happy with my outward appearance, I found it tragic that ladies put so much importance on beauty. Was that truly what should make me happy? Something that is rather fleeting, is it not? One will not stay beautiful forever. Looks fade and life continues on without a care. Shouldn’t I seek happiness in something more substantial? These were thoughts that had plagued me for years and I knew voicing them to my aunt would be as pointless as sharing them with my mother. They wouldn’t understand. Perhaps it was the way I was raised in a home where my father openly showed displeasure in me no matter how beautiful my mother believed me to be.

  “You don’t have to marry a man you do not care for. You know that, right?” My aunt touched my cheek with the palm of her hand. “You get to choose, honey. We are in no hurry to be rid of you,” she added with a teasing smile. “I’ve always wanted children, but I’ve never been blessed with one. You are the daughter I didn’t get to have. I so enjoy you being here. Don’t feel as if you must hurry on our account. Your mother and sister are taken care of for now and Alfred will make sure they continue to live comfortably. Take your time, honey. Enjoy the moment.”

  As comforting as her words were, it did not change the fact I would eventually have to choose a husband. Uncle Alfred was indeed providing for my mother and sister, but he wouldn’t be expected to do so forever. It was up to me to make a match. A suitable one that would provide for not only my family, but one that would give Whitney the surgery she required.

  I managed a nod and touched my aunt’s hand gently with mine. “Thank you. I will be forever grateful for all you and Uncle Alfred have done for us.”

  My aunt smiled and tilted her head to the side, causing her dark curls to fall over her shoulder. “You have brought us joy. I just wish we could do the same for you.”

  Guilt that I couldn’t feel joy at the prospect of marriage stung my chest. I wish I could find happiness in all they were providing for me. I would try harder to appear more thankful. Smiling more wouldn’t harm me. It was the least I could do for my aunt.

  “You have,” I assured her. “Now, stop fretting over me. I am perfectly happy.” It was a lie and we both knew it.

  With a sigh, my aunt smiled at me sadly then nodded. “I’ll send for Betsey.”

  Once my aunt was gone from the room, I let out my own heavy, sorrowful sigh and sank down onto the settee. Today had been a success in the eyes of London society. I had had several excellent prospects for a husband call upon me this morning. Aunt Harriet was right, I should be experiencing joy or at the very least, relief. Glancing out the window, I watched other ladies of the ton walking along the street below. If I would simply accept my future it would make this easier.

  When Betsey opened the door to my bedroom, I began my attempt at finding happiness in the midst of what was surely very tragic indeed.

  “Miss, are you ready to get dressed?” Betsey asked with a small nod of her blonde head.

  I smiled brightly at Betsey and stood up. “Yes, please. Make me as remarkable as you can. I am told Mr. Compton is one of the most eligible bachelors in London.”

  Betsey giggled then. “Oh, he is, Miss, and awful nice to look at too, he is.”

  My smile was genuine this time. Yes, Mr. Compton was very nice to look at and he well knew it. He was also not in the market for a wife. When one spends as much time reading as I have then you notice more and talk less. I was observant and I was well aware that Nicholas Compton was up to mischief.

  “You like the slightly unkempt look of him then?” I asked her in a teasing voice.

  She blushed brightly. Her cheekbones were highlighted with round red splotches against her freckled pale skin. “Yes, Miss. I do believe he is most handsome as do everyone else.”

  I laughed at that. She was right. I might not be planning on getting a proposal from Nicholas Compton, but he was handsome. Almost too handsome. He could even be described as beautiful. I didn’t say as much to Betsey, though. Maids gossiped and that was not knowledge I wanted making its rounds through the London households.

  “Do you think I’ll blend in with the grass, Betsey?” I asked her then as she picked up the green dress my aunt had chosen.

  Betsey frowned at me as if I had spoken a language she didn’t understand. “No, Miss. You’ll be beautiful for sure. You always are. Come and let’s get you ready to make that Mr. Compton fall in love with you.”

  I almost laughed loudly then. The full-bodied kind that caused one to bend at the waist. One thing I was most positive about was that Nicholas Compton was not a gentleman to fall in love, at least with only one woman. I believed perhaps he loved us all.

  Chapter Nine

  Mr. Nicholas Compton

  More than once I had questioned my reasoning for this outing. Being seen with Miriam Bathurst in the park or the square was indeed enough to feed the gossip mill. My brother would hear of it by nightfall, if not sooner. However, I wasn’t so sure Ashington was still planning on pursuing Miss Bathurst. I had decided it was very unlikely; yet, I had still invited her to join me for a walk.

  I knew from talk already circling that Ashington had left 18 Mayfair and gone directly to the Ramsbury’s residence. Lady Ramsbury had made sure everyone knew about it. No doubt she was already planning a grand wedding in her head while visions of her daughter as a countess fed the flame. I wondered how long it would take before she found out Ashington had chosen to pay a visit to Miss Bathurst first. The thought made me grin.

  With this knowledge, it should have also been where I had visited once I left Miriam and her aunt’s delightful company. However, I’d done no such thing. Now, I had plans with Miss Bathurst and no reason for them. Ashington was very unlikely to spend any more time getting to know Miriam. If he w
ere indeed in search of a countess, then Miriam Bathurst wouldn’t have met his criteria. She would never be one to fit into the small uninteresting mold that London society demanded. I liked that about her, and dammit, I enjoyed her company. No harm there. It wasn’t as if I, myself, would court her, but I could enjoy her company.

  Turning my attention to Lydia Ramsbury would be difficult after time spent with Miriam. However, I would do just that. I was here to humiliate Ashington, not find a future wife. Cringing at the thought, I forced myself not to think of today’s outing as anything more than a one-time event meant only to amuse me.

  What I didn’t consider was that the sight of Miss Bathurst would quite nearly take my breath away. How did she do that? Appear so utterly beautiful. The sort of beauty that made a man do stupid things. I had known many beautiful women and enjoyed them with pleasure, however something about this one was different. It was as if she were a magnet and one couldn’t help but be drawn to her side. If only to admire her for a moment.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Compton. I am so pleased the weather is perfect for a stroll in the park,” Lady Wellington said with her overly bright smile. “I would so hate to have been confined to a carriage today.”

  “As am I,” I assured her, while forcing myself to meet her gaze instead of taking in the vision Miriam Bathurst presented. “It is a lucky man indeed that is given the opportunity to enjoy such fine weather with true beauties beside him.”

  Lady Wellington blushed brightly and waved a gloved hand in my direction. “Oh, you. It is Miriam who is the beauty.”