by Sue Barr
“No little brother. To me, you are an open book. Ah, I see Darcy. I’ll speak with you later.”
Max left his side and Nathan glanced back toward the main entrance and there she stood. Her gown, overlaid by a thin gossamer sheath dotted with diamonds, shimmered with her every movement beneath the glow of the chandeliers. Aphrodite had deigned to come down amongst mankind. Her hair had been skillfully woven with tiny crystals and one lock curled around her neck to caress her shoulder. Desire to follow the length of that lock with his lips hit him with swift precision.
He noticed her glance about the room and hesitate and was struck with clarity of thought that she had nowhere to go. Her brother, surrounded by his fiancé, her family and Darcy’s family, had his back to her and was completely unaware of her entrance. The sister, Mrs. Hurst stood beside her husband, deep in conversation with one of the other guests and given the fact she’d basically thrown Miss Bingley from her home, he doubted she would be inclined to approach them.
He wasted no time and cleaved his way through the crowd. He was about ten feet from her when she finally spied him approaching. For one brief moment he held her gaze and was startled by the stark loneliness in her eyes. She snapped open her gold lace fan and brought it up to her face, creating an effective barrier from his scrutiny. The pomander she always wore swung back and forth with each frantic flick of the wrist.
Strangely pleased at her discomfort, he stopped by the refreshment table and filled two punch glasses with lemonade. He liked the thought she was as off balance in his presence as he was in hers. Emerald eyes, filled with wariness, watched him approach.
“Good evening, Miss Bingley,” he said with a polite bow.
“Good evening, Lord Nathan,” she replied and lowered the fan to give him a slight curtsy.
“May I claim the first dance?” He offered her one of the glasses of punch.
“Yes, you may.” She took a sip of her punch and wrinkled her nose in surprise. “Oh, that is tart.”
He sipped his and agreed. “Darcy loves fresh lemonade and doesn’t care much for sugar. Take your time. The drink will grow on you.”
“I well know how he doesn’t like sugar. I’d just forgotten how sour his lemonade can be. There will be a run on his sherry before the night is through.”
He ignored the rise of jealousy at her casual reminder of how well she knew Darcy and instead laughed at her candor. “You may be right. I’ve also discovered the waltz will be played before supper. May I be so bold as to write my name on your card for that as well?”
At her blush he smiled and took the tiny card from her hand, pleased to see it was empty. He was sure before the night was over, her card would be filled. Only a fool would not want to dance with such a beauty as she.
The musicians prepared for the first dance and he lifted the unfinished drink from her gloved hand and placed both their glasses on a sideboard a few feet away. When he returned he held out his arm, liking the way she fit nicely against his side, and escorted her to the ballroom floor.
“Have you been told how lovely you look this evening?” He asked as they came together in the dance. During the next sequence, she replied, “No, and thank you for the compliment.”
They separated and moved down the line.
“It’s very easy to compliment you.”
“You would be the first. I’m not usually so favored.”
Not so favored? He found that difficult to believe. Beautiful women always received compliments.
“Then, the men in London are fools.”
“Fools or not, the men in London, or shall I say, the men in polite society pay little attention to our family.”
He moved the conversation to more general topics and all too soon the set was finished and he reluctantly escorted her to where his brother Max stood, conversing with Viscount Stanhope. His lip curled at the sight of the older man and thoughts of turning around and whisking her to the other side of the ballroom ran through his mind. He knew his manner should be more Christ-like, but Stanhope was a lewd individual and there’d been many rumors attached to his behavior, not all complimentary. However, both men had seen them so they continued forward.
“Viscount Stanhope, may I introduce you to Miss Caroline Bingley. Her brother is marrying Miss Jane Bennet alongside Mr. Darcy and his affianced, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Miss Bingley, pleasure to see you again.” Max gave Caroline a nod of greeting, which she returned with a small curtsy.
“You’re from up North, aren’t you, you and your brother? I heard your family’s in trade.” Viscount Stanhope said the word ‘trade’ with mild disgust while his gaze roamed freely over her face and body. “Not that it would stop a man from enjoying your company.”
Caroline stiffened slightly at his contempt of trade and without cutting the Viscount directly, turned to watch others enjoying the second set of dances. Thankfully, Max skillfully steered Stanhope into a conversation of a horse he wished to purchase at Tattersalls.
“I know exactly which filly you speak of Adborough. Fine horse, young, never been ridden.” Stanhope’s beady eyes returned to Caroline’s form as he spoke to Max. “You know what that’s like, eh, to feel firm flesh between your legs.”
Nathan’s hand curled into a tight fist. How dare he insult Miss Bingley in such a fashion, and in front of a Duke, no less? Max must have sensed his brother’s anger because he stopped the Viscount before he said anything further.
“That is quite enough, Stanhope.”
He delivered the sentence in a quiet voice, his gaze narrowed. Nathan knew that look. His father used it often when disciplining them and Max seemed to have perfected the chilling glance as well. He and his brother George also knew the quieter the voice, the deeper the anger.
The Viscount swiveled his head away from Caroline and stared, slack jawed at Max. His face flushed a ruddy red and he snarled out, “Don’t know why you’re upset about a chit from trade, unless you’re keeping her for yourself.” He passed one more lecherous look over Caroline before turning away.
Nathan took an involuntary step toward his retreating back but Max’s hand on his forearm forestalled him.
“Not here,” he said in a low undertone and then in a louder voice, “Miss Bingley, would you do me the honor of the next dance?”
Caroline nodded in ascent, a somewhat dazed look on her face, the magnitude of the Viscount’s insult hitting her full force. Nathan fought the rising tide of his anger. There was a part of him that wanted to call the Viscount out for his actions, but he was neither her betrothed, nor family.
Max escorted Caroline to the dance floor and he watched impotently from the sidelines as his brother slowly cajoled a smile from her. Before their set ended, Lord Waverly joined him.
“Kerr, I don’t see you for years at a time and in the last month I’ve run into you twice. How are you, old man?”
“I’m well. I didn’t think you’d come this far north for the sake of a friend’s wedding. You don’t like to leave London.”
The Marquis laughed. “The Season has wound down and there’s absolutely nothing going on in Town, plus, this is the most talked about wedding of the year. Who wouldn’t want to attend and see the proud Mr. Darcy get married?”
Max and Caroline returned to their group and the Marquis gave her a polite bow. “Miss Bingley. What a happy occasion for you and your family. Hurst told me your brother is marrying the sister of Darcy’s affianced.”
“He and my brother met the Bennet sisters when we were at his estate in Hertfordshire.”
“They say you can find true love anywhere, but who would have suspected Hertfordshire.” He laughed at his own joke and Caroline smiled back at him. “Miss Bingley, may I have this next dance? I’d like to get to know you better.”
“Thank you, Lord Waverley.” She rested her satin covered hand on his arm and Nathan once again watched as another man took her to the floor. This time she laughed gaily and had a livelier step. It didn’t
matter the dance was more energetic, all he knew was that she hadn’t glanced his way once since their dance and it unsettled him.
“Stanhope has the intelligence of a potato,” Max stated once Caroline was out of ear shot. “He ogles all women and his wife probably boxes his ears when they are home because of it.”
“That was more than ogling. He practically stripped her bare before us and then he as good as called her a whore. I wanted to physically assault him.”
“Sadly, he voiced the opinion most of the ton feel. It’s not right, I know,” he said quickly when Nathan would have protested. “You know this for a fact. You are becoming too involved with a woman you’ve known for only a few weeks. What happened to spending time in prayer before committing yourself?”
Nathan shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. “I have prayed. I prayed and waited for an answer and it’s like the gates of heaven have closed on me. I’ve found no peace, nor have I found any answers. Only more questions.”
“Then I would think you are avoiding the truth. You’ve received your answer and don’t like it.” His interest suddenly veered to the other side of the ballroom. “Excuse me. I promised this set to Miss Georgiana.”
He quickly strode away and approached Darcy’s shy young sister. There was nothing untoward in Max’s attention, but something about the way he behaved triggered the memory of a previous comment. I’ve been careful in my dealings with her.
Nathan decided to stroll among the guests. If he stood around waiting for Miss Bingley to return to his side, tongues would wag more than they already did. As it was gossips would already be busy tittering about her activities. So far she’d danced with a Lord, a Duke and now a Marquis. If they were in London and this was the beginning of the Season, she’d be declared a moderate success.
His ramblings brought him to where Darcy, Bingley and the Bennet family were situated. Polite introductions were made and it amused him that Darcy referred to him as ‘Mr. Kerr, my vicar’ when speaking to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and their two unmarried daughters.
Mrs. Bennet pushed toward him, dragging the daughter who didn’t scowl so much with her. He thought her name was Katherine, but then maybe she was Mary. The introductions had been completed so quickly he wasn’t quite sure.
“Mr. Kerr, it’s so lovely to meet Mr. Darcy’s vicar. How do you like Derbyshire?” She tugged the girl closer. “Come now, Kitty, be polite to Mr. Darcy’s vicar.”
He comprehended then Mrs. Bennet had set her sights on him as a future son-in-law. He glanced down at Miss Katherine Bennet, her mouth working but no words coming out and instantly felt sorry for her.
Miss Elizabeth stepped forward. “Mamma, Mr. Kerr has come as he promised this next country dance to me. I’m sorry Mr. Kerr; I forgot to check my dance card.”
He admired her quick thinking with regard to her mother’s actions, but didn’t like the blatant untruth, even if it were small lie. He thought to correct her, but she’d already laid her hand upon his forearm and they proceeded to the dance floor.
“Forgive me, Lord Nathan, for forcing you to go along in a lie,” she whispered as they danced. “Mamma can be quite... insistent if she gets an idea in her head and I sought to save her some embarrassment.”
“Mr. Darcy does not mind that you are standing up with me?”
“No,” she softly chuckled. “It was he who encouraged me to be so forward. He’s had his share of dealing with my mother. She’s still of the mindset that she has five daughters to marry off. I think once she is settled with only two at home, she may relax and enjoy herself again.”
He felt some easing of guilt over their shared lie and knew he had much to pray about once he was in the privacy of his own home. Anger and speaking untruths topped his prayer list, right after talking to God about his feelings for a girl from trade.
The remainder of the dance was spent in general conversation and he admired her quick intellect. Darcy indeed had found a gem in this woman. They returned to her group and he noticed Miss Bingley had joined them and was in conversation with Darcy. Thankfully, her brother had taken Miss Katherine to the dance floor, so he was spared more matchmaking schemes as Mrs. Bennet seemed to not notice she had another daughter standing next to her.
He spoke briefly with Mr. Bennet and was appreciative of his quick wit, although most of his barbed comments were directed toward his wife, completely unaware of her husband’s derision. More than once though, he found his attention straying to Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley. That she was familiar with him was evident by her ready laugh and how she would tap his forearm with her fan when teasing him.
It seemed she was ready to enjoy everyone’s company but his and suddenly he knew. He knew he wanted her attention to be solely on him. They announced the supper set and Miss Bingley glanced at him, her expression wary.
“Miss Bingley, I believe you promised me this dance.”
“Yes, I did.”
Once they were on the dance floor, he took her hand in his and slid his arm around her waist, relishing the feel of her graceful form next to his. They began to move in time with the music and the desire to pull her even closer became almost unbearable.
He’d been an utter recluse for over three years and not only was he dancing a second time with a woman nobody in polite circles knew, but it was also the scandalous waltz. He may as well have stood in the middle of the ballroom and declared himself as far as anyone watching was concerned.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” He stated, trying without much luck to regain his equilibrium.
“Yes. There are some very fine gentlemen here.”
“Lord Waverly seemed much taken by you.”
“He has much to be admired for.”
Jealousy gripped him as more doubts about her character assailed him. Was she still only concerned with someone’s title or wealth?
“Waverly is known to enjoy the company of many without making any commitments.”
“I didn’t think he’d propose marriage after one dance, my Lord.” Her green eyes blazed up at him. He knew he’d overstepped his boundaries, but couldn’t seem to stop.
“No, he wouldn’t. He will marry someone who can advance his family’s name.”
Her quick intake of breath told him his comment had hit the mark and they danced the remainder of the waltz in silence. He was not surprised when Caroline refused to take his arm to be escorted to supper. He’d been a fool. No, that was too soft. He’d been an ass.
Chapter 12
With so many in attendance, Caroline remained hopeful no one would take note of her slipping out of the ballroom. All she needed was a few uninterrupted moments of peace and quiet. Her thoughts were all jumbled after her dance with Lord Nathan.
She’d gone only a few paces when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she prepared to excuse herself.
“Forgive me, —Oh, it’s you.”
“Yes, it’s me.”
With the light from the flickering wall sconce behind him, Lord Nathan’s expression was nearly unreadable. She should have known. Only one person would disturb any sense of peace she hoped to find. He not only invaded her thoughts at inopportune times, but now he physically dogged her heels.
“Were you expecting someone else, Miss Bingley? Perchance the Marquis of Dorchester, or maybe even Mr. Darcy?”
“Keep your voice down. Someone may hear you and totally misconstrue what you are saying.” She darted a glance down the hall toward the open door to the ballroom.
He advanced, not stopping until he was close enough to loom over her, his mouth set in a grim line.
“I know for a fact the Marquis came this way only a few minutes ago. Immediately I ascertained you might follow and attempt to compromise him. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and you are feeling the pinch over where you will reside in the next few months.”
“I did no such thing,” she protested. The Marquis could have pranced by her in a bright red suit and she wouldn’t have not
iced. All of her attention had been focused on the infuriating man before her, even when she’d danced with the charming Lord Waverly.
“Admit you followed him.”
“I. Admit. Nothing.”
The sound of voices from the ballroom reminded her of their precarious position and she pressed against the wall, determined to stay out of direct view from the doorway. Lord Nathan turned at the sound of those voices and then back at her.
“This won’t do. Come with me,” he said, shaking his head.
He placed a firm hand beneath her elbow and directed their steps down the hall. She attempted to pull her arm free, but he only tightened his grip. Other than calling for help and bring attention to the fact they were alone and unchaperoned, she had no other option than to walk with him.
They reached the music room and he guided her in, leaving the door open. She advanced a few steps and then whirled to face him, her temper simmering below the surface of other volatile sentiments she couldn’t quite put a finger on. He stood framed in the door and his gaze, inscrutable as always, pinned her in place like a captured butterfly.
“What? You look at me as though I have spots on my face.” A growl of frustration escaped her lips. “What are you looking at?”
“I’m waiting for horns to sprout through the top of your head.”
“You’re what? Horns? How could you...” she sputtered, unable to complete another sentence in light of his statement.
“Admit it, Miss Bingley. You sought to make an advantageous marriage, regardless of whom the groom was nigh unto three years. Your hope for Darcy has fled, so you look toward another.”
“I have done no such...” Her words trailed off as he stepped closer.
For a moment the only sound in the room was the soft swish of silk from her skirt as she retreated, stopping only when the pianoforte was at her back. He advanced until the edge of her skirt brushed the top of his shoes. She pressed further against the pianoforte and tried to glance over his shoulder. A wry smile lifted the corner of his firm lips when he noted her frantic look toward the door.
