by Jenni James
“Yes, they will look quite magnificent.”
“Not as magnificent as finally seeing you and Lady Ice together.” Hamson laughed. “Now, when will such an occurrence take place? You must tell us, man!”
“Wednesday week.” Compton did not meet either of his friends’ eye.
“Do you mean the ball at the Stanthorpes’ house?” Atten’s jaw dropped. “And however did you manage to get Lady Ice to accept such an invitation?”
“It was much easier than anyone would think, really. I only mentioned that Lord Stanthorpe was the Speaker of the House for Parliament. She wrote an acceptance letter instantaneously.”
Hamson shook his head. “I hear they have a superb garden to walk in at night.”
Were they attempting to see the lady compromised? “I would not care if there were eight such gardens. You can guarantee I will not be escorting Lady Lamb out into any of them.”
“So he says at present,” Atten crowed. “Mark my words, those cold lips of hers will be ripe for kissing by and by.”
“She does not have cold lips.” For no reason at all, Compton seemed to be losing his patience. “Nor is any part of her made of ice. In fact, she is most undeniably one of the warmest creatures I have ever beheld.” Compton glanced up to catch the raised eyebrows of each of the men. “And you can, both of you, bring those looks back to normal, for there is nothing between the lady and I that was not there a sennight ago, I assure you.”
Hamson mockingly displayed a hideous sing-songy voice to mimic him. “Except she is the warmest creature I have ever beheld.”
“’Tis true, she is very sincere and benevolent and considerate and generous. Indeed, she a paragon among women.”
“And yet when she is attending functions, she stands around with her uncomfortable expressions, and one can tell she wishes herself miles away.” Lord Atten shook his head. “Her face is extremely pretty, so it is a great pity she is so ill-favored among society.”
Compton’s irritation was only increasing. “Enough. She is unlike any woman I have ever known, and I will not allow either of you to mock her, not privately nor publicly.”
Atten gestured for his footmen to take the horses and then patted Compton on the back. “Never seen you in such a state, old man. We were merely teasing, nothing vicious.”
“I do not like it.”
“That we can see!” Hamson was clearly smirking himself out of a chuckle.
“I will denounce you both as fools.” Compton tugged on his suit coat and took a deep breath to calm his ire.
“And why is that?” Atten asked. “What has gotten in you? If I did not know better, I would say you are presently deep in it with the gel. Lady Ice could not have altered you so effortlessly.”
Compton clenched his fists. It was the deuced use of the word “ice” that was triggering this intense reaction from him. The worst of it was that it was his own fault. He was the one who had come up with the thoughtless name in the first place. “I beg of you not to refer to the Viscountess Melbourne as Lady Ice again.”
“So that is what love appears to be?” Hamson retorted.
“I do not know what love is, but I understand respect.” Compton moved away from them both. “I believe she has had a hard time of it. The tragedy at Parliament seven or eight years prior has much to do with her present state.”
“Fascinating.” Atten grinned and tugged on Compton’s shoulder, bringing him back. “Come, man, tell us what has happened. What has caused you to have your back up in this manner? Surely there is something in her that has brought this all out. Will you share with us?”
Compton shook his head and glanced down at his shiny boots. “She is intriguing and wholly altogether so unique, I am at a loss for words how to describe her.” He looked at him. “I am certain she is not in love with me. If fact, I doubt she feels anything toward me—not because she is cold and unfeeling, but because her need for a man who truly understands her heart far outweighs anything else.”
“Whatever could you mean by such a statement? You make it seems as if she belongs in bedlam,” Hamson asked, his grin turning into a look of chagrin.
“Nay. Only that she cares for others unlike any of our ilk do.” Compton nodded toward Tattersall’s. “She is an heiress and could easily buy every bit of horseflesh here—nay, the whole lane of shops could be hers, if she chooses. But instead, from what I have gathered, she spends her time and wealth helping the unfortunate.” He glanced toward the road. “Her staff is full of those who have retired, or London beggars she has picked up off the streets. She educates them, I assume she supplies them with a much handsomer wage than any of us would consider, and she clothes them in extremely fine linens.”
“What nonsense is this?” Hamson scowled. “Perhaps she should be considered a bedlamite. Why? To put oneself in such danger, to entrust your very staff, those who walk willy-nilly through your home, with riff-raff?”
“They love her so. To them she is their savior, the most benevolent woman they know.”
Atten shook his head. “And this appears to work in her favor?”
Compton folded his arms. “Aye. They are her friends. They are like family. They would do anything for her. Now, you name me one heiress you know who is half as sympathetic and impartial to those she meets.” He looked back at their perplexed faces. “She is not ice—no, anything but. It would seem it is society that is icy. She is merely living as she sees fit without being tied to the dictates of society. Her rules, her abilities, and her example—all of that which is preached among the radical reform groups of England is already her motto.”
“Then why buy a stately home on Green Street if she is such a paragon among the poor?” Atten smirked.
“Probably so she has a home large enough to house as much staff as possible. It is not for me to point out the hypocrisy as you so easily do. No, it is for me to rejoice and marvel at the humanity she displays, and the courage she so boldly uses to defy everything she has been taught and grown up to believe. To see past the grime to the healing balm of love and a place of worth.”
Hamson chuckled. “Say what you will, my friend, but I have never seen a man so fully dedicated to the aspect of love as you are. The question should not be, are you in love? No, the question must most vehemently be, how are you going to gain her love in return?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
One week later, and Mrs. Crabtree, Lacey’s companion for the evening, clapped her white-gloved hands excitedly as Lacey walked toward her from the dressing room. “Splendid! You look so very pretty, Lady Lamb. Why, I have never envisioned such loveliness in my life.”
“You are too kind,” Lacey said as she attempted to keep her face cool from the blush that was even now threatening to rise. The styles had not changed overly much since her coming out, so with the help of her abigail and an easy tuck of the sleeves and a tiny bit lowering of the gold sash about her waist, anyone could be fooled into believing the gown to be new and not the nearly the eight years old that it was. The exhilaration of her feelings the last time she attempted to wear the gown were long gone. In its place was an overwhelming sense of apprehension and dread.
Her palms sweated appallingly beneath her long gloves. Her heart stuttered, and her stomach had felt as though it had sunk to her knees. Why did she ever agree to such a farce? Let alone eight of them? She had no place in the ton, no reason to show her face other than to be mocked and gossiped about.
“You look beautiful as well, Mrs. Crabtree. Your new gown turned out perfectly. The light blue accents your eyes nicely,” Lacey said as she smiled to hide her fears. “And a lovely fan you have as well.”
“Why, thank you.” The older woman chortled as she brushed at her gown and then flipped open the fan. “This was the trinket I was given by my father for my sixteenth birthday. I am in all excitement to be using it at such a grand occasion tonight.”
“Yes, the Stanthorpes’ ball will be just the thing.” She smiled weakly and squared her sh
oulders. “Shall we go?”
“Yes! I cannot wait for you to take the ton by storm.”
Apart from the four other times she had been introduced and included into society by her brother or his wife, she knew that the only storm she would be causing was the bitter tempest of gossip. It was one thing to know this fact and stay away. It was quite another to jump headlong into the fray. Whatever have I gotten myself into? she thought as she slowly began to descend the stairs after a much-recovered Mrs. Crabtree.
“I am so happy to see you are much more the thing now, and you are feeling well.” Such a pity. Heaven knew what she would give for the excuse that her chaperone was ill now. ’Twas not fair.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Crabtree chimed as her feet touched the bottom step. “I would not have missed this ball for the world.”
Pantersby came to wish them well, and Chull gave her a rather unexpected embrace. “Your mama would be so proud of you right now,” she whispered in her ear. “I know this is not your favorite outing, but you look exceptionally fine, and these are friends of your family. Let yourself bloom, my little one. It is time.”
No, it was most definitely not time. Lacey’s acknowledgements and parting words were a blur of agitated nerves. When at long last she could not hide inside her home a moment longer, she found herself and a chattering Mrs. Crabtree entering the coach.
Blindly, she pulled the curtain back and watched the world blur past. Each breath was labored and drowned out the hum of the incessant need Mrs. Crabtree had to gush about this or that along the way. Once the coach halted in front of the Stanthorpes’, her hands held on to the seat, refusing to allow her body to budge a centimeter. However, her companion was more than eager, and lightly removed herself from the coach with the help of a footman and then looked expectantly at Lacey, all babbling stopped.
The footman presented his gloved hand to Lacey, and at that moment, she wanted to bang the door shut and tell the driver to head home. Yet, with the expectancy in Mrs. Crabtree and the awaiting hand, Lacey finally drummed up the courage, held her hand out for the footman, and stepped out of the coach. Her eyes met that of the boy David she had saved along with his younger brother.
“Lady Lamb, you will do well.”
She was a bit taken aback to see the compassion on his features. Did this young lad know how painful this was for her?
“There is not one of them that willn’t fall in love with you by the time the night is through. Beggin’ your pardon, my lady, but you look an angel.”
He meant it kindly, but his words alarmed her more than helped. “Thank you, David.”
The next thing she could recall was being received by her hostess, Lady Stanthorpe, a small-framed woman with dark hair and merry eyes, and her husband, Lord Stanthorpe, Earl of Stanthorpe and Speaker of the House of Parliament. “Welcome, Lady Lamb. It is so nice to see you.”
“My pleasure,” she responded with a short curtsy, a little in awe at seeing the handsome older general so close. When the couple turned their attention to her companion, Lacey started at her oversight. “Forgive me. This is Mrs. Crabtree.”
That lady was all smiles and gushing politeness as she dipped a pretty curtsy. Then she followed Lacey down the hall toward the room with doors flung wide open and the hum of the prattling of society floating out to greet all those attending.
Mrs. Crabtree could barely contain her excitement as they approached the entrance of the grand room. Thankfully, several others were standing about, and they were not noticed easily at first. Lacey gathered her wits around her, and they stood a bit to the side to take in their surroundings. There were so many people. So many that a great part of her wanted to pick up her skirts and dash from the room.
“Lady Lamb, there are two seats just there. Shall we sit?” asked Mrs. Crabtree as those closest to them tittered to a silence at the loud mention of her name.
Lacey met several eyes watching her intently as she looked to her left and right. Her heart clenched, and fear began to replace rational thought. Then the fans swooshed open and went up as they fluttered to cover the gabblemongers’ tales. She looked frantically toward the seats Mrs. Crabtree indicated. In a matter of seconds, to her horror, the women behind fans seemed to travel from one person to the next, sharing their gossip, down both sides of the long ballroom.
Hang Compton and his ridiculous notions. Forget Mrs. Crabtree’s joys—no one should force themselves to endure such as this. Lacey had to leave that moment. Nothing is worth this. Nothing.
She quickly retraced her steps and walked back into the large hallway. In her haste, she was ashamed to admit she had quite left Mrs. Crabtree all alone, but when the senses explode as hers had, one could not be held too accountable for their actions.
“Lady Lamb, wait a moment.” It was Compton, she could tell the instant he spoke, but she did not want to halt to find him. As politely as possible, she began to weave her way through those coming down the hall to head past her hosts and toward the front door when all at once, she felt a sharp tug upon her elbow. Without further ado, she was whirled into a side room, a smallish parlor, and the door snapped shut.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
“Compton, allow me to leave at once.” She was too apprehensive to be trifled with. Her vision blurred from anxiety and stress, and she did not turn around to face him lest he see the worry upon her features.
“Not until you reveal what ails you.” He was nearer to her than she thought. His deep voice must have been less than forty centimeters away. “Come now, what has happened? Who has caused this panic? Tell me this instant, and I will have them removed from the ball directly.”
She looked down and fiddled with the fingers of her gloves, nervously plucking at the tips of them. How could she explain? Each anxious breath was forced from her. “It was no one in particular and everyone all at once. They were all speaking of me and I could not experience their gawking another moment longer, so I rushed from the room. It was a mistake to come here. Forgive me.”
“Lady Lamb,” he persisted gently. She felt one tentative hand touch her arm and very slowly turn her around and tuck her right into the folds of his pristine cravat. “You cannot mean to hurry off before the night has begun.”
It felt so peculiar to have his arms most improperly wrapped around her and to be close enough to feel the starched folds pressed into her cheek. His familiarity with her person could not be borne. “Lord Compton, if you do not release me this instant, I will have your guts for garters.”
Compton chuckled in her ear, and that small sound managed to wind its way shuddering down her spine. “Oh, how I have missed you. At least you have some fighting spirit left within that heart of yours.”
The intolerable man! She pushed against him, and he let her go. “How can you pine for someone you do not know? You do not miss me any more than you miss a stone in your shoe, so halt this nonsense at once. Is it not dreadful enough that you have closeted yourself with me in this parlor with the door closed?”
His eyes went wide, and he had the audacity to laugh as he bowed before her. “Forgive me, Lady Lamb, but it would seem I have compromised you.” And then the buffoon knelt upon one knee and reach for her fingers. His mischief knew no bounds as he cleared his throat and said, “I fear I must ask for your hand in marriage at once.”
“Get up! What if someone were to come in here and find you thus?” She tugged at his hands. “Nonsense. Of all the outlandish things. You and I both know I have not been compromised. You were merely comforting a friend is all. Now stop this tomfoolery and behave as a gentleman ought.”
His chuckles echoed through the small room as he straightened up. “You know I could not resist,” he said as he brushed at his coattails. Then their eyes met, and he inhaled slowly as his teasing smile dropped. Lacey had no idea what he saw, but his manner changed completely.
“My dear.” He reached up and removed an errant curl from her cheek. “I was not myself just now. Forgive me, and please accept my
apologies for the cruelties of the ton. I am a monster to expect you to enjoy such belittling tripe as they have no doubt provided. You were correct all along. It is the same everywhere we go in society—we all do speak about each other.”
Her voice shook as she admitted, “I am not much in the habit of speaking of another person in such a light—and certainly not publicly, and whilst they are in the same room as I.”
“It is because your soul is kinder than ours.”
She shook her head, for she felt anything but kind at the moment.
“Come, can I convince you to appear on my arm? We only need to dance a set or two.”
“At what cost? Is this another part of the wager I know nothing of? To have me dancing at the balls with you?”
“Of course not! No, this is for you, Lady Lamb.”
“What do you mean?”
“You dancing with me proves that their hurtful ways do not touch you, that you are above such disrespect. As well as verifying yourself to be the one winning the wager.” He stepped back. “Believe me when I say, I have the most to lose with these actions, and it will be my name spread about so shamefully. I see your reaction to these words—you do not believe me, do you?” He gave a rueful smile and continued. “Even now, I am being mocked by my closest associates. They have noticed a great change in me—one I am not quite willing to acknowledge. However, if my closest friends notice it, what is stopping the rest of the elite?”
“What are you speaking of? These riddles demonstrate that all of this is gibberish and should be wholly avoided.”
His eyes captured hers again, and her breath caught in her throat. He was growing to care for her, and he did not bother to hide such a fact. Those orbs of his tugged and pulled and revealed much more than she was willing to believe.
“You are a fool to see me in such a light,” she whispered tersely.
He nodded and shuttered those eyes from her. His preposterously long, dark lashes fanned his cheeks and then looked back up once more, this time a bit more distant than before. “I cannot help being irrational then, for no matter what I do, no matter what I tell myself, your goodness comes to mind, and it is all I concentrate on. There is such a joy and ease about you.” He took a deep breath. “However, I did not come to make you uncomfortable. I promise I will not be begging for your hand—not even in earnest.”
