Glitter

by Abbi Glines

  I looked at Miriam then to see her studying me closely as if she were reading my thoughts. There was no hint of color on her cheeks or shy smile on her full lips. My flattery hadn’t affected her in the least. She appeared to be appraising me. Measuring my words and my worth. Most interesting female, this one was. She would be hard to stay away from.

  “You are quite a vision.” I agreed with her aunt but kept my eyes locked with hers.

  Miriam gave me a small smile, but her eyes didn’t twinkle with delight but rather with mischief. As if this were a game and she were part of it. “Thank you,” she said simply. “It’s the dressmaker’s talents, I assure you.”

  The emerald walking gown she was wearing was indeed stunning, but it was not the gown. Miriam Bathurst would be a vision in rags. The sparkle of intelligence in her eyes and the way she held her shoulders with confidence was enough to draw any man’s attention. Yet there was true simple beauty in the line of her jaw, the curve of her lips, the slant of her eyes, the small tip of her nose. She was flawless and no amount of demurring would change that fact.

  “It’s pointless trying to complement her, Mr. Compton. She doesn’t see herself clearly, I’m afraid,” Lady Wellington said with a tsk and shake of her head. “I try to get her to open her eyes and peer closely into the looking glass, but she does not see what the rest of us do. It’s a pity and a blessing, I’ve decided.”

  I wanted to have Miss Bathurst alone so I could ask her about this. Why did she not clearly see what others did? I also wanted to touch the clear creamy skin of her cheek and press my lips against hers to see if they felt as lushly plump as they appeared. None of this would happen for it would disarm all I had come to do. Letting lust get in the way of revenge was stupid. I’d enjoyed enough lust in my life to ignore this temptation. Even if this temptation was the sweetest ever to be dangled in my path.

  “Tis a pity,” I said low enough just for Miriam’s ears then held out my arm. “Shall we?”

  Miriam studied my arm a moment then slid her hand to rest in the crook.

  “I’ll just enjoy the nice warm day and stay back here far enough to give you a bit of privacy,” Lady Wellington said with a smile in her voice. I felt guilty for giving her aunt hope for something that wasn’t going to be. No more would come of today. Miss. Bathurst didn’t appear as pleased as her aunt about our walk, so I was relieved of the guilt where she was concerned. Instead, I was ridden with curiosity. There would not be another young lady in London society who wouldn’t be pleased by my attentions. Yet, this one was not.

  We walked toward the park in silence for a short time. Perhaps I should have made conversation, but I wanted Miss Bathurst to do so. She had said very little since I’d arrived at her home. It didn’t take long for her to appease me.

  “Why did you offer this invitation?” she finally asked, breaking our silence.

  I glanced down at her and grinned. She didn’t disappoint when it came to conversation. She always made it interesting. No talk of flowers, dresses, and balls for Miriam Bathurst. She went right to the point. Direct like a man and damn if that wasn’t fun.

  “I would assume it was obvious. I enjoy your company.”

  She lifted her head then and looked up at me. “You do?” she asked, looking as if she thought I was crazed if I thought she’d believe that statement.

  “Who wouldn’t? You’re delightful. You aren’t boring and proper. I find you intriguing.”

  She looked away from me then and kept her gaze straight ahead. “Is that so? Well, I believe you are up to something.”

  I hadn’t expected her to hit so closely to the truth. She was intelligent of that I had no doubt. However, this was impressive. Uncomfortably so.

  “Why would you think that?” I asked because I could think of nothing else to say. She’d blindsided me.

  She didn’t respond right away, but when she did, she looked back up at me. Those eyes of hers so full of wisdom and disillusionment. She didn’t have the same sparkle of hope most ladies in society did. There was no fairy tale brewing in her head or dreams of being a title that held esteem and power.

  “Your eyes say much about you, Mr. Compton. Just as your brother’s do. I amuse you and that is why we are out today. Nothing more. I’m a moment of intrigue and that is all. I don’t harbor some hope of more where you or Lord Ashington are concerned. I came to London for my sister and I will do what I must for her future happiness. I have no desire to play any games you may have; I simply have no time for them.”

  Words so bluntly expressed without a batting of lashes and flirtatious grin, I had never heard from a lady’s mouth. At least not in London. Taking a quick glance at Miriam, I asked, “Are you sure you aren’t from Paris?” I knew she was not but the way she did not hold her tongue and expressed her thoughts so boldly reminded me of the reason I much preferred Paris.

  Miss Bathurst smirked then and her shoulders seemed to be a touch straighter than before, if that were possible. “Thank you,” she said simply.

  Frowning now unsure of why I was receiving thanks, I paused but a moment then asked. “You are most welcome, but what is it I am being recognized for?”

  Miss Bathurst grinned then. A smug grin, not at all an expression I expected to see on her face. It was almost wicked and damn if it wasn’t appealing. She need not do anything to be more appealing, but yet here she was flashing a smile that could make a man’s knees weak without notice. “There are many things I do not wish, Mr. Compton. Being one of the many silly English ladies in search of a husband is one of them.”

  But yet she was here in London for the season doing just that. “Correct me if I am wrong, but you are, indeed, in London for the marriage mart, are you not?”

  She sighed then and her shoulders drooped only the slightest inch. “Yes, you know that I am. It does not mean I want to be or that I wish to appear to be like all the others. A husband was never something I desired. I realize that may come as a shock to you, but not all women want to be married. Not all women want to give up their freedom to be… to be…,” she paused and then waved her hand in the general direction of the others out for a stroll, “them.”

  I didn’t need to look about to understand her words. I was fascinated by Miriam Bathurst, but I had been since the moment I watched her turn my brother down. She was an anomaly in a sea of indistinguishable females.

  “You are the most fascinating lady I have ever known,” I told her truthfully.

  A small smile touched her lips then and her cheeks turned a light pink. I found an odd pleasure in knowing I had made her blush. I did not believe such a feat would be easy. If I wasn’t careful, Miss Miriam Bathurst would ruin everything I had set in motion.

  Chapter Ten

  The Earl of Ashington

  I was too young for this. Too young to be weighed down with choosing the proper wife. Or was I too damn picky. Whatever my problem, I had to get my priorities sorted. Emma deserved a mother and I would supply her with just that. However, I must first overcome the issues I currently faced. Staring down into my glass of brandy, I knew the answers weren’t there, but at least it took the edge off my dilemma.

  Today’s visit to Lydia Ramsbury’s home had proven several things. One, she was a proper lady, she had been raised to run a home, she was aware of all that was required of a countess, she was demure and soft spoken, she was kind and talented at the pianoforte, and she was completely and utterly boring. Scowling at that last admission, I took another drink. It was an unfair description that she had done nothing to deserve. Yet, my poor decision to call upon Miss Bathurst this morning had hindered my thinking. That was the only way to explain it.

  If Miriam Bathurst wasn’t so, so, bold, and so, confident, and… so damn beautiful, it would be easier for a man to forget her when he left her presence. However, she made it damn well impossible with her eyes that shown a depth most ladies her age would never fathom. She would make a poor countess and wife. There was not one ounce of meekness in her
gaze. She was fascinating and intelligent. The life I would provide would bore her and Emma needed a mother to be a proper role model, so she could ease into this society without question or speculation.

  The door behind me opened and a squeal erupted before a flash of blue passed beside me to hide behind the heavy drapes. I stared a moment, wondering if I should ask or just wait on Alice to arrive. She wouldn’t be far behind. I took another drink of the brandy then sat my glass down on the desk beside me, just as Alice entered the room.

  The exasperated look on her face as she scanned the area then looked at me was clear. Emma was causing trouble. Another reason my pursuit of a wife needed to speed up and my thoughts about Miss Bathurst were wasting my time.

  “Where is she?” Alice asked, placing a hand on her hip and scowling at me as if I had been the one to hide her. I motioned toward the drapes just as a small giggle came from them.

  “Miss Emma, come out from behind those drapes at once!” Alice demanded. I wondered what the child had done now. It looked as if it were bad. Alice was not happy, but then she was not a happy person.

  “No!” Emma shouted, but it was muffled from the thick fabric in front of her.

  Alice sighed in frustration. “You were to be writing your name.”

  “I don’t like writing. Tis boring,” Emma shot back at her Governess. “I want to wash my baby.”

  “You’ve washed more than your baby. Come out from there so we can change your clothing. You are completely and utterly soaked.”

  “You’ll make me write my name more!”

  Alice shot me a look that was clear she required help.

  I walked over to the drapes and pulled back the panel and my little trouble-maker was hiding behind. Emma stood there shivering slightly in a damp blue dress with her blonde hair in wet ringlets around her face. “What have we here? Did you decide to take a bath in your clothing?” I asked her.

  She shook her head and her bottom lip quivered slightly. “No-oo-o” she said chattering her teeth. “I was washing May and I fell into the ba-ba--bath. It wasn’t o-o-on purpose.”

  “I should hope not. It would be silly to bathe with your dress on then dart around wet and hide behind drapes. Why was there water still in the bath?” I asked, wondering who had been remiss at their duties.

  Emma scrunched her nose at me then. “I had it drawn for May,” she admitted.

  “I see.” I didn’t ask who had drawn a bath for a doll for I had a feeling Emma wouldn’t rat on them. I respected that in her. I held out my hand to her. “Come now, you need to go get on dry clothing and dry your hair before you catch cold.”

  Emma leaned to the side and peeked around me. “She will make me write my name some more,” Emma said as if this were a grave issue meant to be dealt with.

  “I should hope so. It would be a terrible thing for a young lady not to be able to write her own name.”

  Emma looked up at me then. “Truly?”

  I nodded. “Every princess I know can write her name brilliantly.”

  Emma considered that a moment then sighed in defeat. “Very well,” she said then walked around me toward Alice. “Come, Alice. Let’s get me dry.”

  Alice looked relieved and gave me a nod of thanks.

  “Will you tell me who drew the bath for you?” Alice asked her then.

  Emma shook her head no. “I am afraid not, Alice.”

  “Of course not,” Alice replied sourly.

  I grinned then as they walked from the office. There wasn’t a dull moment in this house with Emma. I had an idea who had drawn her bath for her and it wasn’t a house maid but rather a cook with a soft spot for the girl, no doubt. I wouldn’t be the one to reveal their secrets. No harm was truly done.

  How would having a wife change this? Would she handle the situation like the one I just dealt with similarly? Was I doing anything wrong? How would it change our dynamic? Was I making a mistake by seeking a wife? So many questions and no answers. Who was I to ask?

  I imagined Lydia Ramsbury dealing with a runaway wet Emma hiding behind drapes in protest. How would Lydia handle her and could she? Alice was stern, but even Alice struggled with Emma’s strong will. Was searching for a wife that was the proper picture of an English Lady the right thing? Surely it would help as Emma grew and introducing her into society, but what of now? I wanted Emma to keep that spirit and strong will. Breaking it wasn’t what I desired at all.

  Against my will, an image of Miriam Bathurst appeared in my head. Without any struggle, I could see her handling the strong-willed Emma with ease. Miss Bathurst wasn’t proper, but she was from a respected family in society and there was no true scandal attached to her name. Perhaps I was being hasty by casting her aside as an option. Someone like Miriam may be exactly what Emma would need. Her ideas of a proper English home were not as strict as most and truly wasn’t that what I needed? The more gently bred the female, the more unlikely it would be that they would accept a bastard child as their own.

  Miss Bathurst needed to marry to save her family from poverty at least that was the information I had received when I inquired of her. I needed a mother for Emma, one who was willing to protect her with the lies I had in place when the time came. A smile tugged at my lips and I picked my glass of brandy back up. The day seemed brighter now. I wouldn’t think too hard about why because I wasn’t searching for a wife that made me happy. I was searching exclusively for Emma a mother. There was no need to let my emotions get involved. That would be disastrous. Feelings only complicated marriages. Respect was all that was required.

  Chapter Eleven

  Miriam Bathurst

  Once I had loved to dance. As a young girl, I’d fancied dancing at balls. The reality was not very grand. Listening to one gentleman after the other talk of themselves as if they were trying to sell me a piece of property was tedious. The first chance I was given to escape, I did, right out the side door, leading onto a lovely rose-covered patio. Another couple stood to the far left talking while an older lady, who was no doubt the chaperone, stood a distance away. I breathed a sigh of relief and inhaled the heady scent of rose that filled the air.

  Tonight’s ball had been my chance to focus and find a man suitable for marriage. I had been determined to keep an open mind and try and enjoy myself. Neither of those things had thus far happened. Instead, I’d had my toe stepped on, had suffered a terrible case of garlic breath being blown in my face, and was almost positive I’d received an improper advance from a married man. The only highlight of the evening had been that neither Mr. Compton nor Lord Ashington were in attendance.

  I hadn’t expected for Lord Ashington to call upon me again; however, I was a touch surprised that Mr. Compton hadn’t after our walk. It had started out tense, but in the end, we had both relaxed and talked without pretense. We had even laughed more than once at different stories we both shared. I hadn’t expected to enjoy the outing, but I had. I’d thought he had too.

  Apparently not, I thought sourly. It wasn’t as if he would be the husband I was seeking. I needed more than he could offer financially. Only for my sister though not for me. I hated the way it sounded even if it was just in my own head.

  Giggling came from behind me and I turned to see two girls, and what I assumed was one of their mothers, exiting the ballroom. One of the girls held a glass of lemonade, looking annoyed, while the other was highly amused. I turned my gaze back to the roses and gave them their privacy. I recognized all three, but I didn’t know their names. The annoyed one with dark hair, the color of a rich mahogany, had danced with several of the same gentlemen I had tonight. She wasn’t a pale beauty, but a beauty none the less. She drew male attention. The other girl was younger and I was surprised she was already out in society. She seemed too silly and immature for the marriage mart.

  “Stop giggling. You sound ridiculous,” the older of the two girls said.

  “You’re just sour Lord Ashington didn’t attend,” the younger girl replied.

  “
The night is young yet,” the mother added, as if this was, in fact, the issue the eldest daughter was having.

  “Even if he does arrive, he will seek out Lydia Ramsbury. Everyone knows he has called on her and taken her for a ride in the park this week. I even heard she went to the opera with him and sat in his box.” The youngest girl seemed to be enjoying herself.

  I wanted to roll my eyes, but then I was the one eavesdropping on a conversation that wasn’t mine to listen to. I should be rolling my eyes at myself.

  “Nothing is certain,” the mother said with a tone that made me shiver slightly.

  “Lydia Ramsbury would make a perfect countess,” the older girl said grudgingly.

  “As would you,” the mother said.

  It had been obvious that Lord Ashington had been interested in Lydia Ramsbury at the last ball. The next morning, his visit to me had been surprising. His abrupt departure had not been. Not that any of this mattered. I was not interested in the affairs of Lord Ashington. Not in the least. He would make a most difficult husband.

  Feeling as if I were a lurker in their conversation, I took one last deep inhale of the lovely fragrance before turning to go back into the ballroom. Just as I stepped inside, I scanned the room for Aunt Harriet, but my gaze locked on Mr. Nicholas Compton. He was here and he was dancing… with Lydia Ramsbury.

  Disappointment stung and I truly hated to admit it. When just a few days ago I was sure I didn’t care for him at all. Yet he was here and he wasn’t just dancing with anyone. He was dancing with the girl his brother had spent the most time with this week. I wasn’t naïve and I understood completely what was happening. Which was why the sting of disappointment.

  Reality was something I had learned to face at a young age and I knew now that the brief attention I had received from him had nothing to do with me at all but with his brother. Mr. Compton was indeed playing a game. A vicious hurtful one meant not only to affect his brother but others along the way. I had thick skin and a blow such as that wouldn’t wound me the way it would others. Sheltered girls who had lived easy lives with security wouldn’t survive such a scandal.