Glitter

by Abbi Glines

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Earl of Ashington

  A visit to 7 Grosvenor this morning was not where I wanted to be going. The more time I spent with Lydia, the more obvious it became that she would not fit into my life. Perhaps if there hadn’t been, no. It was not fair to Lydia for my thoughts to always go back to Miriam.

  The sunlight was sparse as I stepped outside hidden behind the clouds that promised rain. The day would be as dreary as my soul felt. How fitting. Last night had been enough torture for one year, let alone one night, yet I had prevailed.

  “Ashington, off so soon?” Nicholas’s voice snapped my thoughts from my dark future and into my dim present. His strides as he made his way toward me were purposeful and the look on his face said he had rather plant his fist firmly between my eyes than speak to me. Typically, I would be annoyed by his interruption in my life, but at the moment, he was causing me to stall something I was in no hurry to do.

  “Good Day, Nicholas,” I replied, wondering if we were to give London new gossip for their papers with a brawl on my front lawn.

  “Fuck your good day, Ashington,” he snarled. “I’m not here for pleasantries as you are aware. We can’t stand the sight of each other.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Then how can I help you?” I asked, already knowing this had everything to do with Miriam. His objective had been clear as I watched him champion her last night. He had been doing it to get to me. It had worked. I had wanted nothing more than to break his hand every time he touched her.

  “How can you help me?” He repeated my words as if I had asked the most obvious of questions. “You can’t help me. You have never fucking helped me. Life is so easy for you, isn’t it, Lord Ashin gton? You want something, you take it. Without care to who you hurt along the way.”

  My fists clenched at my side, but I said nothing. I waited until his ranting was over. His purpose for being here would eventually be stated and he could leave. Perhaps I should have visited Lydia this morning. It would have been preferable to this.

  “Why her, Ashington? Why Miriam? She’s kind and selfless. Her laugh can make a dark mood vanish. She forgives and holds no grudge. She’s smart and can talk of literature most females don’t know exist. Nothing with her is ever dull.” He paused, telling me things I already knew and I was trying hard to forget.

  “It sounds as if you’re taken with Miss Bathurst,” I drawled, attempting to sound bored while white hot jealousy was coursing through me at the fact Nicholas knew these things about Miriam.

  Nicholas took a step toward me. “I am in love with Miriam Bathurst. The problem is I fell in love with a woman who is in love with you . How unfair my life does seem, Brother.”

  I stood there silent. There was nothing I could say to Nicholas. No explanation I would give him.

  “You were never worthy of her. One day I hope she sees that clearly. She deserves to be loved and cherished. You, however, do not deserve to wake every morning with the gift of that woman by your side.”

  Nicholas did not wait for me to respond. He turned and left after coming to say what he needed to say. I did not know what he had hoped to accomplish other than to hurt me.

  With a heavy sigh, I walked back up the stairs and inside. There was only so much pretending I could manage in one day. I needed a drink and a dark room.

  “NO ALICE!” Emma screamed and then she followed it by a high-pitched squeal as she ran down the stairs, her hair flying free behind her and a grin on her face.

  “Miss Emma! You cannot wear britches!”

  “Oh, yes, I can!” Emma replied, and it was then I realized Emma was, indeed, wearing a pair of boy’s britches. “They are ever so comfortable. Nothing like my dreadful gowns!” she called back over her shoulder then ran by me “Good Morning, Ashington,” she greeted me, heading toward the kitchen.

  Alice finally made it to the bottom step, out of breath and already looking exhausted for so early in the day. “I’ve no idea where she found the britches,” she told me, then took a moment to catch her breath.

  “Emma is rather industrious,” I replied.

  Alice gave me an incredulous look, and for the first time all morning, I felt the tug of a smile.

  “Tis time she had a mother, my lord,” Alice said.

  The smile vanished and my dark mood returned.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Miriam Bathurst

  “You haven’t eaten any of the chocolate I brought you.” Aunt Harriet’s voice was concerned as if my not eating the sweet was disappointing. I glanced at the plate of chocolates she had sat beside me earlier.

  “I do not seem to have an appetite, Aunt Harriet,” I explained. Normally it would have been the book in my hand that had me so engrossed that I had forgotten about the sweets, but my thoughts had been elsewhere.

  “Of course,” she said, her concern now more etched on her face. “Of course. It was very poor timing of your mother to request your sister return home. I am truly sorry your uncle couldn’t change her mind. That woman is rather stubborn,” she added with frustration.

  I sighed. Missing Whitney only added to the pain in my chest, but it was as if my mother had known about what was happening here and that was her way of reminding me what I must do. What my responsibilities were. As if I did not think of Whitney’s future daily.

  “Mother is a bitter pill I have learned to live with. However, for Whitney’s sake, I must find a husband. There is not time for me to dwell on… other things,” I said, more for myself than for Aunt Harriet.

  “Nonsense. Alfred has sent your mother yet another decent sum of money. She and your sister are comfortable, I assure you. He wants you to take your time and find the gentleman that makes you happy. Marriage does not have to be for status or name, Miriam. You can marry for love. I did and it was the best thing I’ve ever done. I want you to have that freedom.”

  Tears I would not shed stung my eyes and I forced a smile through the emotion. For I had already guessed that my aunt and uncle loved one another. It was obvious in their marriage. As much as I wanted something like theirs, I feared I wouldn’t be given the same opportunity. Unlike my aunt Harriet, I had fallen in love with a man who did not love me in return. It was a foolish thing to do and one I hadn’t planned on, but it had happened without my realizing it at all.

  “I will be forever grateful for all you and Uncle Alfred have done for me. My time here with the two of you has been some of the best moments of my life. I shall always hold these memories close to my heart.” I could speak those words honestly when others I could not. For I did not believe I would marry for love but telling Aunt Harriet that would only break her heart. She was such a gentle soul.

  Aunt Harriet closed the distance between us and sat down beside me on the settee in such a quick movement it startled me. Then I was pulled into an embrace, just before she began to sob rather loudly. I was not sure if it had been my words that upset her or why we were embracing. I patted her shoulder in an awkward attempt at consoling her, but I could not be sure that was what she required.

  “Good heavens, woman, why are you mauling the child with emotion?” Uncle Alfred’s voice boomed through the room and I had never been more relieved.

  Aunt Harriet did not release me, however. If anything, she clung tighter to me, clutching me against her as she cried. I looked over her shoulder toward him in hopes he could find a way to help his stricken wife.

  “Harriet, dear, I believe you are traumatizing the child. Do release her,” he said more gently this time.

  Aunt Harriet sniffled then and eased her hold on me before slowly pulling back. “Oh my, did I frighten you?”

  I was not sure how to answer this. The wailing and clinging to me was rather terrifying. However, it was typical for Aunt Harriet to be loud and to do things with more exuberant emotion than most.

  “Of course you did! The girl has never seen such an outburst in her life. She’s English. Raised by my uptight sister. That sort of affection isn
’t one practiced on this soil,” Uncle Alfred stated with a grin in his voice this time.

  Aunt Harriet smiled then and wiped at the tears on her face. “I am sorry, honey. Your words were so special and I have come to love you as my own child. I just got so filled with emotion that I forgot myself and… well back home we are more affectionate,” she explained.

  “And loud and emotional,” Uncle Alfred added.

  Aunt Harriet glanced over her shoulder at him with a scowl and he shrugged. “Tis true.”

  “My Lord, Mr. Compton is here to see Miss Bathurst,” the butler announced from the open door behind Uncle Alfred.

  Uncle Alfred’s eyebrows raised in unison as he looked at me. He seemed to be asking me silently if I wanted to see Nicholas. I nodded once and he stepped back to look directly at the butler. “Very well, send him in, James,” Uncle Alfred replied.

  Aunt Harriet squeezed my hand, before getting up from the settee and moving across the room and taking a seat by the window. She picked up a letter that she had left there earlier and glanced up at Uncle Alfred.

  “I will be in my office if anyone needs me,” he said, before exiting the room. I wasn’t sure if Aunt Harriet’s look had been one telling him to leave or if he had not wanted to be there for the visit. One could never tell with my uncle.

  My gaze shifted to Nicholas when he entered the room. Smiling, I placed the book beside me and stood up. “Good morning, Mr. Compton,” I greeted him, realizing I didn’t have to force my smile. It truly was nice to see a friendly face.

  “Good morning, Miss Bathurst,” he replied. “As always you are breathtaking. You manage that with so little effort it seems.” He winked then turned toward my aunt. “Hello, Lady Wellington, you are looking lovely as well.”

  Aunt Harriet blushed and waved a hand at him. “You’re such a charmer, but it isn’t me you must win over,” she said. “Would you like some tea or perhaps something to eat?”

  Nicholas shook his head. “Thank you but I do not require either. I would like it very much though if Miss Bathurst would take a walk with me out to the garden. If that would be okay with you,” he added.

  Aunt Harriet glanced at me for a moment then back to Nicholas. “Of course. It’s a beautiful day. The sunshine is warm and the roses are lovely. They aren’t enjoyed enough. Please go out back and make use of the bench no one ever sits on.”

  Nicholas grinned and nodded then held out his arm for me to take. I did so and we made our way out to the hallway. “Do you know a better way to get to the garden in back than going out the front door and walking around?” he asked me.

  “Indeed I do,” I replied and led him toward the exit on the left side of the house used mostly by servants. There was a rock paved path from the door to the small garden in the back of 18 Mayfair. Aunt Harriet did not spend much time outside, so Uncle Harriet did not worry much about the gardens here. I wondered if he did at their home in the country.

  We walked in silence until we reached the one bench that sat in the shade, just near the rose garden like Aunt Harriet had mentioned. I took a seat and Nicholas hesitated before he then too sat down. The bench wasn’t very large and our bodies were close yet not so close that we touched. I didn’t get heated nor did my heart rate speed up from being this close to him.

  He did smell very nice, however, and I was thankful he had come to visit. It gave me something to do rather than sit and stare at a book while my thoughts were on Ashington.

  “I know that you believe yourself to be in love with Ashington. I’m a perceptive man and with you I find I am unable to take my eyes off you. Therefore, I have learned much about your expressions,” he paused then and I turned to look at him. This was not the conversation I thought we would have.

  I had hoped he would come talk of things that made me laugh such as whatever silly gossip he had heard last or something trivial.

  “I’m not an earl, but I’m not without wealth. I know you do not care about being accepted into London’s social rankings, but you do want that for Whitney and as you have witnessed, I am well-loved amongst the ton. My country estate is not comparable to Chatwick Hall, but it is lovely and there is room for your sister and your mother as well if you so choose. I can make you happy, Miriam. I can give you all the things you want so desperately for you sister and I can give you the one thing you seem to overlook for yourself.” He paused again then stood up.

  I remained frozen, unable to move. He was saying words that didn’t make sense. Nicholas had his own agenda and this did not play into his plans at all. I watched as he knelt down on one knee in front of me and he took both my hands in his.

  “I am completely in love with you. It does not matter to me that you love another. I love you enough for both of us and I believe one day you will grow to love me too. Marry me, Miriam.”

  I stared down at our hands joined together in my lap unable to meet his gaze.

  “This isn’t what you wanted. Marrying me does not get the revenge on your brother you wanted. He does not want me.” My words came out in a whisper, as if there were others around that could hear me.

  His hands held mine tighter. “Miriam, look at me,” he pleaded.

  Unable to ignore him, for although I did not love him, he was my friend and I did care for him, I lifted my eyes to his. There was a gentleness there that was comforting. Something I had seen very little of in my life. Something I had craved.

  “I came to London seeking revenge and instead I found you. You, Miriam Bathurst, changed everything. The anger, the bitterness, the hatred, it all melted away and all that was left was you. All I could see was you. All I wanted was you. You saved me from my own inner Hell.”

  For the second time today, tears stung my eyes. This time I didn’t fight them. I didn’t withhold them. Perhaps I needed to cry. For all I had wanted. For all I had lost. For all I had dreamed about. And for what I had found. This wasn’t a love story. It was a story of redemption. It was a story of friendship.

  I had always wanted to be loved and here was a man proclaiming his love for me. Could I want for something my entire life then when it was handed to me so selflessly walk away from it?

  No. I could not. That wasn’t who I was.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Miriam Bathurst

  With each movement, be it a full turn or slight move of hand, I knew I was being watched closely. The smile I kept on my lips wasn’t easy and I had no doubt that my dance partner noticed the less than genuine expression I was trying hard to keep in place. This was it, tonight, would be the last night I attended a ball as simply, Miriam Bathurst. There was no more time to decide. My decision had been made.

  I stiffened as I moved in the arms of the man I had agreed to marry this morning in my aunt’s rose garden. He, however, wasn’t who I loved and I wished desperately that he was. I did not have forever to wait for the man I had thought might love me to realize he did. My mother and sister needed me to marry. Glancing up into beautiful green eyes of the man that held me, my smile became genuine, even if it was sad.

  Tonight would be the last time I was given this freedom to enjoy his friendship and the simplicity of his company. So much would change and I hoped it didn’t destroy us all. For after I became his wife, the man my traitorous heart loved, would surely hate me. That was a pain far worse than any I could comprehend. Yet, I knew I would never have been his choice. He had made that clear with his failure to choose.

  “You are quiet tonight,” Nicholas noted.

  “Yes, I believe I am nervous,” I replied with honesty. For if we were to be married then I wanted to begin with truth always.

  “It seems Ashington finds little else of interest in the room tonight,” Nicholas said, making it clear he was aware his brother was watching us or perhaps me.

  “He must have been reminded of my existence tonight,” I quipped in an attempt to make light of the matter.

  Nicholas smirked. “It does appear that way.”

  The dance was no
t even yet at an end when Lord Ashington began to move through the crowd in our direction. I knew no one was aware of our recent betrothal, so his sudden attention could not be summoned from that knowledge. My hand tightened on Nicholas’s arm and I tried to steady myself before his arrival.

  With a quick glance over his left shoulder, Nicholas took in the situation at hand and I felt him tense as well. Neither of us had been prepared for Ashington to approach us. I had assumed he would continue to ignore me as he had at the last ball. Why tonight did he choose to remind me how he made me feel? It was not as if I had forgotten. I was haunted with my feelings for him every moment.

  “Miss Bathurst,” Lord Ashington greeted me formally when he made it to us just as the song had ended. “I believe I am promised the next dance.”

  I knew he was not.

  But Nicholas did not know this.

  I stood there on my very own precipice.

  I was not a liar and I would tell Nicholas the truth, but not at this moment. For right now I needed this dance. There may not be another chance such as this to speak to Ashington before my betrothal to his brother is announced. He may not need to hear it from me, but I needed to be the one to tell him. It was me who was foolish enough to fall in love with him after all. I was seeking closure and I hoped Nicholas would understand my decision.

  Slowly I removed my hand from Nicholas’s arm and the small sense of security and support I had drawn from him was gone. Perhaps I had made the wrong decision. I thought I was strong enough to face Ashington, but without Nicholas beside me, maybe I was not.

  Ashington held out his hand as the music started up again and as if I were watching someone else, I placed my hand in his and stepped away from my only friend and into the arms of the man who had broken my heart so easily. My body in turn reacted as if it had been given back to its rightful owner and hummed with pleasure from his nearness. Did the rest of me not realize my heart had been damaged by this man? Did those butterflies that were ever present in my stomach when he was near and the tingles from his touch not understand how very dangerous he was? Were we not all one and the same? Did they not feel the agony that I felt, knowing that he would soon hate me?