Miss Wells, as timid as she had been at the theatre, looked nearly ready to faint with her mouth clamped shut, the exact opposite of Miss Lincoln, whose mouth had yet to close as she spoke with her very wide-eyed partner in a constant stream of words. Miss Mosely, however, looked perfectly poised as she attracted the stares of a number of gentlemen, even those who had partners.
And then there was Meg. Meg, with whom he should have started, number one on his list, number one in his life. He did not realize until that moment how he’d compared her these last two weeks with each of the women listed, how he’d wanted to be with her instead of any of them.
Now, seeing these nine ladies dancing before him, he knew without a doubt he wished to dance with Meg more than any of them. He wished to dance with her, to be with her, because he was in love with her.
As a young man, Matthew had loved his way of life, enjoying the simplicity of a fixed, daily routine with Meg and his family. Going to university had upended his ease, bringing a storm of change to his life, but he always soothed his worries by reminding himself that those whom he loved would always be at home waiting for him.
But now, Meg was going to Scotland to marry another, and Matthew would end up without her.
As she waited her turn to dance down the set, her gloved hands clapped in time with his racing heart.
How selfish he was to think Meg would remain at Hollridge forever, without a husband and children, without a home that was truly hers—simply waiting on Matthew as he lived in his silly world where he believed he could prevent change from happening.
He had been a first-rate fool. He couldn’t prevent change any more than he could prevent the sun from setting on a joyous day. But he could beg for Meg to remain, and he could change. For her.
For as fearful as he was of altering his life, the thought of losing his dear Meg was far more terrifying.
* * *
The moment the dance ended, Meg backed away from the group and slunk into a darkened corridor. As the cool air drifted toward her and her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief.
She almost wished Mrs. Pratt would have held a simple ball that evening, instead of all these games she had planned. Not wishing to offend her by refusing to play, Meg had agreed to join in with the festivities that evening, receiving the character of Kitty Coy, a woman fearful of gentlemen. It was perfect for her, really. This way, she could sneak away and hide alone for hours. And if she didn’t wish to speak to a single gentleman that night, she had the excuse not to.
Of course, there was one gentleman she did wish to speak with, but she had not seen him since he’d snuck away from the circle of characters.
She squeezed her eyes shut, reminding herself of her determination not to dwell on Matthew that night. If he didn’t wish to see her, or even speak with her, on her last evening at Hollridge, then she would not press him to.
Though, would he say goodbye to her when the time came?
“Tired already, Meg?”
Meg jumped, pushing herself away from the wall with a gasp. She wielded her fan as if it were a saber until she realized whose voice spoke from the shadows.
She lowered her fan-turned-weapon and held it against her chest. “Matthew Pratt, you nearly scared me to death!”
He emerged from the darkness farther down the corridor, a grin lighting his face. “My apologies. I thought you knew I’d be in here.”
Meg should’ve expected him. This corridor had always been their hiding place when Matthew had needed an escape from a ball or party. Now it was Meg who had needed the escape.
His soft footsteps slowly approached, bringing her mind back to the present. She wondered how he was still speaking with her, what with his avoidance of her these two days past.
Instead of asking the question that could potentially send him fleeing once more, she settled with another. “Have you been in here for long?”
“Only a moment or two.”
“And who are you hiding from this evening, your mother or Society as a whole?”
A humored smile spread on his lips. “A bit of both. I didn’t wish to partake in the game this evening. Especially as Sir Harry Hoax.”
Meg could understand that. He was the worst sort of character to be, deceiving women into marrying him. Even as a game, it could lead to real heartache.
“Are you not worried your mother will find you and scold you again?”
He raised a single brow. “Do you not recall our bargain? You agreed to take responsibility when next we hid away. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that I have already satisfied my end of the deal.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. How could she forget? That kiss had been in her memory and dreams ever since it had occurred, despite her attempts to forget it.
Matthew took a step toward her before she could respond, and she gripped her fan. “I came in here for another reason, as well,” he said, his deep voice soft and slow.
“Oh?” Something in his expression unnerved her. Was it his confidence? His unwavering stare? Whatever it was made her legs shake like a layered Christmas trifle.
“Yes. I came in here hoping to find you, to speak with you.”
Meg bit her tongue, but she couldn’t keep the question inside her any longer. “You do not wish to avoid me anymore then?”
Instead of any awkwardness or embarrassment she’d expected, Matthew stared at her with a stalwart expression. “No. I do not.”
He spoke so resolutely, appeared so confident and without mirth, Meg couldn’t help but stare. What was going on with him? Where were his skirting glances and nervous fidgeting?
“Well, I am here now,” she said, crossing her arm over her stomach, his confidence seeming to sap her own. She ignored his dimples, his ruffled hair, and loosened cravat. Noting such things would only make her love him more. “So what do you wish to speak with me about?”
He moved closer to her, reaching out to take her hand in both of his. She could hardly draw in a single breath. “I wish to say a great many things. To explain. To let you know…”
He paused. Stroking her glove with his thumb, he stared into her eyes, and Meg’s heart jumped. Was this truly happening? Was he about to say…
He continued, a half-smile on his lips. “I wish to let you know how I—”
“Sir Harry Hoax, is that you?”
Meg tore her hand from Matthew’s and took a step away. Matthew remained where he stood, though his eyes focused on the entryway of the corridor to where a woman stood before them.
The light silhouetted her figure, hiding her face, but Meg would recognize that high-pitched tone anywhere. “Miss Josephine.”
“I believe you mean Gipsy Caraboo,” the girl corrected, taking a few steps forward. Her face became visible as she neared them, and she glanced between Matthew and Meg with a sly smile. “Why, Kitty Coy, I did not expect to see you back here. And with Sir Harry, of all gentlemen.” She tapped his shoulder with her fan. “You, sir, are terribly naughty to bring such a timid creature as Miss Coy into the darkness to have your wicked way with her.”
The girl was clearly still in character, no doubt enjoying herself to the fullest. If Sir Harry Hoax was terrible, Gipsy Caraboo was his equally horrible counterpart.
Knowing such, Meg should’ve disregarded her words, chalked them up to the game she played, but then…was Matthew playing that same game? Did that not explain his confidence, his sudden willingness to be near Meg?
She tried to dig out her worry, but a seed of doubt planted in her heart, and the roots began to spread deep as Miss Josephine continued.
“I know how you fear gentlemen, Miss Coy, but not to worry. I am here to save you from this man’s clutches.” She stepped closer to Matthew. “Now, Sir Harry, as the Gipsy Caraboo, I shall play your little game and take the place of Kitty Coy here.”
Matthew took a step back, but Meg hardly noticed, still attempting to decipher the truth from the game. Matthew
had said her name earlier. He’d admitted disliking his character. He wouldn’t play a game and risk the chance of hurting her. Would he?
She glanced up at him, anxious to see his reaction to Miss Josephine’s behavior, but when she saw a smile slowly spread on his lips, her chest tightened.
He wrapped his arm around Meg’s shoulders and pulled her close to his side, facing Miss Josephine. Any other time, his proximity would have caused her to melt in a happy puddle on the floor. Now, she hardened, colder than the swirling wind outside.
“My apologies, Gipsy Caraboo,” he said, “but I wish to be with Kitty Coy instead.”
Perhaps if Meg had been of sound mind, she could have taken his words better. Perhaps if Matthew had not avoided her, had not shown her time and time again that he did not love her, she could have handled the ache piercing her heart. But hearing her character’s name on his lips, instead of her own name, unraveled the hope binding her heart together, causing the pieces to slowly fall to the floor.
Tears sprung to her eyes, and she pulled away from his embrace. “I cannot do this,” she said, backing away, ignoring his look of concern. “I cannot play these games any longer. Goodbye, Matthew.”
“No, Meg, I wasn’t…”
But she didn’t listen to him. She darted past a stunned Miss Josephine and entered the ballroom, weaving her way through the dancers, praying to remain hidden as she fled from Matthew and the lie that he was not playing a game.
For she knew that he was.
Chapter Eleven
Matthew stared at the entryway Meg had just darted through, cursing under his breath. Curse these games, these bargains. Curse his blasted stupidity. He’d only said her character’s name to get rid of Miss Josephine, but it had clearly backfired.
He charged toward the entryway, making to follow after her, but Miss Josephine’s touch on his arm made him pause.
“Excuse me,” he said, pulling his arm away.
“What on earth is going on between you two?” she asked, her eyes wide.
He shook his head, inching toward the entryway. “It is nothing that should concern you, Miss Josephine. Please, excuse me.”
“Oh, but Sir Harry, I am the Gipsy, remember?” She smiled coyly. “And I do believe you and Miss Coy must pay a forfeit now with your little mistakes.”
Matthew’s cheeks puffed out as he released a slow breath. He was a gentleman, and he needed to maintain his patience. But then, why did good manners matter when he needed to speak with Meg?
“Forgive me, Miss Josephine,” he said, speaking each word clearly, “but I am no longer playing this game, nor shall I be paying any forfeits. You would do better to set your eyes on another gentleman tonight. Good evening.”
Her mouth dropped open indignantly, and a small line wrinkled her brow. “Well, I never…”
He left before he could hear the rest of her complaint. As he entered the ballroom, he paused long enough to swing his head from side to side in search of Meg, but she was nowhere in sight.
Was she hiding amidst the guests, or had she already gone to her room? Either way, she clearly did not wish to be found, but he couldn’t let another moment pass by without her knowing the truth.
He darted through the crowds, avoiding eye contact with those curious glances in his direction. He spotted the Bakers drinking away their sherry and port, laughing with the other guests, entirely unaware of the turmoil they’d created in their daughter’s life. If Meg did not accept Matthew’s declaration of love and still chose to go with her parents, he would never forgive himself.
He continued his search, moving from the ballroom to the card room. There was still no sign of Meg and her red dress, but when his eyes fell on his sister seated at a card table playing whist, he marched straight up to her.
“Louisa, I must speak with you for a moment.”
Her smile faded away, and she glanced to the other three around the table, one of whom was Mr. Abbott. “Can’t it wait, Matthew? We are in the midst of a game, as I’m sure you can see.”
She widened her eyes in a warning to leave her be, but Matthew could not. He needed her help. Lowering his voice, he tipped his head to the side of the room. “Please, Louisa. Just a moment. It is urgent.”
She frowned before nodding, turning to the other players, her eyes lingering on Mr. Abbott. “Please, excuse me for a moment. You may find another partner if you wish.”
“I wish for no other partner but you,” came his return.
Matthew stared at the man’s blatant flirting that was clearly not character-driven, but as Louisa stood from her seat and crossed the room, he pushed the gentleman from his mind and focused on the task at hand.
He joined Louisa at the far side of the room, the two of them speaking low enough so they might not be overheard.
“Well?” Louisa asked, her hands on her hips, a look of flippant disregard on her face.
“Have you seen Meg?”
She raised her chin. “Yes. We have just spoken only a moment ago.”
He stared at her expectantly, but she said nothing further. “And?”
“And, what? You expect me to tell you where she has gone after what you have just done to her?” She looked around the room, leaning toward her brother with a pointed finger and a scowl he’d never seen so fierce. “How could you, Matthew? You know how she feels about you. How could you pretend to fall in love with her for the sake of a little game?”
Matthew shook his head, his brow furrowed. “No, Louisa, I…” He trailed off in a growl of frustration. How had it turned into this? He lowered his voice, desperate to have the truth be known. “I was not playing a game. I was sincere. I was trying to tell her how I feel.”
Louisa narrowed her eyes. “You mean…”
“Yes. I was trying to tell her how I…how I love her.”
Saying the words aloud solidified his feelings, increased his desire to tell Meg tenfold, but as Louisa squealed, he pressed a hand against her lips.
“Hush!” He pulled his hand back and gave a short nod toward those in the room who watched them with apprehension.
“Oh, you stupid man!” Louisa said, wrapping her arms around him. “How wonderful this news is!”
He returned her embrace. “Yes, I think so, as well. Though I could do without the insult.”
She pulled back, her hands on his shoulders. “Well, you are, aren’t you? As foolish as ever a man was.”
“I suppose I am. But I am trying to remedy the fact. Please, tell me where Meg has gone.”
Louisa nodded, taking on a serious expression. “Meg came to me earlier, saying she was to retire for the evening. I believe she will be in her room.”
“Excellent, thank you, sister.” He placed a quick kiss to the back of her hand. “Now do rejoin Mr. Abbott and warn him not to stare at you or I shall have to have a word with him.”
Louisa’s cheeks brightened, and he grinned in her direction before quitting the room and striding down the corridor to the front hall. He tugged off his gloves as he climbed the stairs, halfway up before his mother’s voice called to him from behind.
“Matthew? Have you no decorum?” she asked. “You have just disrupted my party, tore through the crowds, and hid away from the dancers. What in heaven’s name are you doing now?”
“I’m going to speak with Meg,” he said, still continuing up the stairs.
“Well you won’t find her up there.”
Matthew finally stopped, turning to look at her over his shoulder. “Why? Where is she?”
“In the study. I had a feeling you might wish to speak with her this evening.”
He narrowed his eyes as a smile tugged at her lips. Did she know? “What of Miss Mosely?” he questioned, testing the extent of her knowledge. “Is that not the woman I am supposed to speak with this evening?”
“Really, son. You and I both know she is not the young woman you actually want to be with, don’t we?”
Matthew straightened, taking a step down the stai
rs, his heart racing. “How did you know?”
She gave him a dubious look. “Everyone knew but you, Matthew.”
He moved down the rest of the stairs. “The bargain, the list of nine women, pushing me to find a wife and help with Father here, it was all part of your plan wasn’t it? To help me realize my feelings for Meg.”
“Of course it was.” Her face softened, and she pressed a hand to his cheek. “I love you, son. And I wish for your happiness more than anything. But sometimes, a Mother must push her child if he proves thicker than a stack of bricks.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Between you and Louisa, my confidence has suffered much this evening.”
She patted him softly before motioning toward the study. “Go. She’s waiting for you.”
He nodded, and when she left for the ballroom, he turned down the opposite corridor and headed toward the study. His courage threatened to fail him with each step he took, but he squared his shoulders and continued on.
It was time. Time to set aside the games and teasing. Time to embrace the change before him. And time to speak openly and honestly with the woman he loved.
How he prayed she would hear him out.
* * *
Meg removed her gloves, setting them on a nearby chair before stoking the small fire in the hearth, prodding forth the heat from the logs. It didn’t do much for the chill in the room, but she wasn’t very cold anyway. The cool study was actually a welcome relief from the sweltering heat of the ballroom.
She eyed the closed door, wondering again when Mrs. Pratt would return. The woman had caught her just before Meg would have retired, begging her to remain in the study and speak with her. Before a word could be said between either of them, however, she’d excused herself without a reason and bade Meg to wait, that she would return in just a moment.
Yet, more than five minutes had passed, and Meg was still alone. Perhaps she ought to slip away to her room now. Mrs. Pratt would no doubt be asking her to remain at Hollridge, but nothing she could say would convince Meg to stay. Not now. Not after Matthew’s insensitive teasing.
Nine Ladies Dancing Page 14
