by Joyce Alec
“Not if I can do so first,” Henry said, fiercely, surprising even himself with his own vehemence. The thought of the lovely Lady Brooke caught up in Thornley’s conniving grip was more than he could bear.
Thornley chuckled, shaking his head. “You cannot speak a word to her of this, Armitage, nor to any other gentleman save Sir Thomas, who is our witness.”
“I do not need to,” Henry answered, firmly. “For there is nothing in our agreement that states I cannot try to draw her towards me instead of you.”
Thornley rolled his eyes. “You? I doubt it, Armitage. With your damaged reputation, you struggle to find even a single lady willing to have your name on her dance card. I am in no danger. Attempt to take her as your own if you will, for I am quite sure I shall be triumphant. Good evening to you, Armitage.”
Henry gritted his teeth as Thornley walked away, the shame over his reputation creeping up through his chest and sending heat into his face. He had attempted to re-enter society after a year away and had thought that things were going as well as could be expected. However, Thornley seemed more than a little keen to remind him that he was still persona non-grata to a great many eligible young ladies of the ton.
When Lord Brooke had announced his engagement to Lady Eleanor Dawson, two Seasons previously, it had taken all of the joy from Henry’s life in one, unforgettable moment. He had never even been introduced to the lady, but had always admired her from a distance. His profound shyness had always caused him to struggle when it came to being introduced to eligible young ladies, and even more so to those he found particularly lovely.
Lady Eleanor Dawson had always seemed poised and collected, gentle and serene, with a smile and a word for almost everyone. How many times had he watched her take to the floor, imagining that he was the one who held her in his arms? On more than one occasion, he had attempted to draw near to her, only to find his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, his palms sweating and his composure utterly shredded.
The day of her announced betrothal, Henry had become both frustrated and irritated with his own lack of action, angry with his shy nature and quiet speech. He had done what he had never done before—become rip-roaring drunk down at White’s, the exclusive gentlemen’s club of the ton. The other gentlemen there had thought it a hilarious spectacle, encouraging him to continue to drink yet more liquor to the point that Henry had become completely unconscious. When he awoke, he found that he was still unable to rid himself of the image of her, and so had ordered yet more whisky.
Being titled and wealthy, it had made no difference to him how much coin he spent on liquor and, having very few close friends, had no one to encourage him to stop. Henry could only recall waking up two days later, discovering himself in a strange room with no idea how he had got there—nor whose bed it was.
Rough hands had shaken him awake, and he had found himself staring into the eyes of a furious gentleman who asked him what it was he thought he was doing.
Henry could never forget the shame of that moment.
Apparently, he had somehow managed to climb into an open window of a townhouse, using both the ivy and the nearby tree branches to gain entry. For whatever reason, he had then climbed into a bed—which he had been told, was the bed of the eligible Lady Annabelle Harrington, daughter of the Earl of Marchmont.
He had been immediately thrown from the house, with barely enough time to pull on his pantaloons. His undressed state and subsequent condemnation by the earl himself had forced Henry from society for a time, his reputation completely and utterly ruined.
After almost a year away, hiding in his country home, his dear friend, Lord Tressel, paid a long overdue visit. Having only just been married himself and then, subsequently, on his honeymoon trip, he had been unable to call on Henry until that point, but had both berated him and encouraged him in that one visit.
Henry had not gone into specifics as to what had driven him to such an inebriated state, but had told Lord Tressel—who had stated his surprise at hearing of Henry’s behavior—that it would certainly not happen again.
On hearing this, Lord Tressel had encouraged Henry back into society, telling him that all was not lost. Rumors had died down, gossip had moved onto their next piece of meat, and that, should he be quite sensible, he believed that Henry would be accepted by society once more.
It had taken everything Henry had to come back to London, determined that his shyness was not about to render him quite useless, forcing him to stay hidden in the country like some kind of recluse. In his heart, Henry did not want to be alone for the rest of his days; he knew that he did want someone by his side. That would mean that he would have to find a wife, and in order to do that, he would have to court. And that meant a return to society.
Lord Tressel had been more than helpful in encouraging Henry to leave his shy nature behind and to command the room, showing those who still recalled his behavior that he was not in the least bit intimidated by them—even though, in truth, it was not something he could easily ignore.
Lord Tressel had told him, in no uncertain terms, that should he remain in the shadows, he would never achieve his desire of a wife and family of his own. Henry had to admit that he was a little jealous of the happy state that Lord Tressel now found himself in, clearly missing his wife. He was not quite sure whether Lord Tressel had found love, but he certainly gave the appearance of it.
Henry did not want to wed another simply out of duty, hoping that he might, at the very least, have some kind of affection between himself and his future wife but, given his reputation, he might have to settle for the former. Affection could grow with time, could it not? The last thing he wanted to do was wed a lady who would grow to despise him, who had only married him for his title. Whether he would find such a lady, he was not sure at all, desperately hoping that the ton would accept his re-entry into society with no great attention.
However, they had not been as welcoming as he had hoped. A year was not long enough to wipe society’s memory of his behavior. Of late, a few of the wallflowers had allowed him to take them onto the floor, which was better than none at all, but progress was certainly slow. He did not need to be reminded of his past indiscretions, for the consequences of them were more than obvious, and he certainly did not need to be ridiculed by Thornley, who was now making his way towards the ballroom, apparently keen to take Lady Brooke out onto the dance floor should he manage to catch her attention.
Henry let out a long, slow breath, attempting to dampen down his anger. His fingernails still bit into his palms as he thought of Thornley dancing with Lady Brooke. It was not to be borne, but without an introduction to the lady, he could do very little to stop Thornley from pressing his attentions onto her. What was he to do, when he could not even speak to the lady?
Chapter Three
“The man is not getting to you, I hope?”
Looking to his left, Henry saw Lord Caldwell approach, his eyes firmly fixed on Thornley’s retreating back.
“He is always inclined to rile me,” Henry said, frustrated with his reaction to the man. He had played Thornley at cards often enough and had always thought him a whining, boring sort of man. Thornley was the kind of man who got on Henry’s nerves when he was in his company for too long, but he had never considered him to be a conniving, clever sort of fellow. “I confess that I have never thought him a serious threat before, however.”
Caldwell lifted his eyebrows. “And he is now?”
Letting out a regretful sigh, Henry shook his head. “Not to me, in particular, but to the eligible young ladies of the ton. But, then again, society thinks that I am more of a danger than he.”
Chuckling, Caldwell shook his head. “The man is going to attempt to wed, then? He has long been saying that he needs to find a bride but has never seemed to make any attempt to court any eligible ladies.”
Knowing that he could not say more, for he would not risk nor break the agreement between himself and Thornley, Henry simply nodded. He could
feel Caldwell’s eyes on him for some time, but he pressed his lips together all the harder, refusing to speak a single word.
“And how are you, Armitage? It is good to see you back with us again.”
There was sympathy in the man’s voice, which both grated on Henry, but was also appreciated.
“I am well. I thank you.”
“Making a return to society?”
Henry laughed wryly. “I am attempting to, at the very least.”
“They will forget soon enough,” Caldwell said, slapping Henry on the back. “A youth’s folly, was it not?”
“It was,” Henry replied, even though it was not all that long ago. “Unfortunately, it appears that the ton has long memories and are quite unwilling to wipe my indiscretions from their mind.”
“I see,” Caldwell muttered, shaking his head. “Will no one dance with you?”
“Not unless they are utterly desperate,” Henry muttered, passing a hand over his eyes. “Or new to town and, even then, they are warned away soon enough.”
“That is most unfair,” Caldwell said sympathetically. “Men have been forgiven for much worse. It was not as if you pressed your intentions on Lady Annabelle; you simply wanted to fall asleep.”
Henry was grateful for the very forgiving way Caldwell relayed the events of that evening. “I do not even remember it,” Henry responded with shame. “I am embarrassed to admit I was in something of a state.”
Caldwell nodded, his eyes drifting away for a moment. “I am quite sure my cousin would dance with you, should I speak to her?” Caldwell murmured. “She is quite the thing at the moment. Her acceptance of you should help smooth the waters.”
Surprised at the kindness of a man who was merely an acquaintance, Henry stared at Caldwell for a moment before thanking him profusely.
“I should not like to soil your cousin’s reputation, however,” he continued, slowly, wondering who it was that Caldwell was talking of. “Particularly if she is in search of a husband.”
“You are quite all right on that count,” Caldwell answered, beginning to walk towards the door of the card room. “She is widowed, unfortunately, but has now come into a substantial amount of wealth. So, you see, her reputation will not be blemished in the least with a dance from you, given that most of the ton are eager to make her acquaintance.”
“Then I would be greatly appreciative of her kind regard,” Henry said quickly. “What did you say her name was?”
“Lady Brooke,” Caldwell responded over his shoulder. “Or, Lady Eleanor Dawson, as she was formerly known. Perhaps you remember her.”
Henry stumbled, struggling to regain his footing as he attempted to find his poise once more. Thankfully for him, Caldwell did not turn around, sparing Henry any embarrassment. Her name went around and around his head, his heart slamming into his chest as he followed Caldwell from the card room. Finally, after all these years, he was going to meet the lady he had so admired from a distance, so long ago.
“Ah!” Caldwell exclaimed as they made their way into the ballroom. “There she is. The dance is almost an end, and then we shall garner her attention.”
Henry waited impatiently, going hot all over as he saw Lord Thornley twirl Lady Brooke across the floor. She appeared to be having a wonderful time, for she was both laughing and smiling with Thornley, which only made Henry grit his teeth. Thankfully, the dance was over after only a few more minutes, and Henry breathed a heavy sigh of relief as Lord Thornley led Lady Brooke off the floor, although he did not miss the glare that Thornley sent his way.
“Good evening, fair cousin,” Lord Caldwell called, catching Lady Brooke’s attention. “I see you are quite the belle of the ball already. And this only your second ball, I believe.”
Henry could not speak as Lady Brooke drew near, her eyes sparkling with delight as she saw Caldwell, greeting him warmly.
“It is good to see you again, cousin,” she replied, smiling. “And how is your lovely wife? Is she present this evening?” she asked, her gaze flickering to Henry for a moment.
“She is indisposed at the moment,” Caldwell said, leaning forward slightly. “With child, I believe.”
Henry saw the way Lady Brooke’s face lit up with joy, clasping Edward’s arm as though it was the most wonderful of news.
“It is to be kept quiet for the moment,” Caldwell continued, smiling with happiness.
“Oh, of course, I will not breathe a word until you are quite sure,” Lady Brooke responded, still evidently thrilled with his news.
“Nor will I,” Henry managed to say, reminding Caldwell of his presence. He stood as tall as he could, attempting a smile. “Upon my honor, I swear it. I must congratulate you both, however. That is a wonderful blessing.”
Caldwell smiled and clapped Henry on the shoulder. “I do thank you, Armitage. Now, let me introduce you to my fair cousin, Lady Brooke. Eleanor, this is Lord Armitage.”
Henry bowed at once, giving himself a moment to collect himself before standing up once more to look into her eyes. He found that she was considering him carefully, her blue eyes careful and warm. Her mahogany hair was swept up into an elegant style, and her gown seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. However, there was a vibrancy about her features that sent swirls of nervous anticipation into his stomach, making him clear his throat more than once before speaking.
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Brooke,” he said, relieved that he did not sound in the least bit gruff. “Although I will say that I am sorry for the loss of your husband.”
She smiled at him, and his world seemed to grow brighter. “I thank you, my lord, that is most kind of you.”
“Are you glad to be back in town?” he asked, growing more confident with every word. “I understand that you lived some distance away, at your late husband’s country estate.”
“Indeed, I did,” came the reply, although there was a slight lift of her eyebrows that betrayed her surprise at his knowledge of her. “It was very agreeable there, but I must confess that I am glad to be back in London once more. The country can be somewhat lonely at times.”
Henry nodded, understanding completely. “Of course, I quite understand.”
“You do?” she asked, glancing at Caldwell and then back at Henry.
Henry was at a loss about how to answer this, realizing that she had not yet heard a single rumor or piece of gossip about him.
Thankfully, Caldwell chuckled and shook his head. “You will hear a great many things about Lord Armitage, but it is as many things are—he made a mistake of youth and is now continuing to be punished for that one indiscretion, even though it is some time after the event.”
Lady Brooke turned bright eyes on Henry, and, despite himself, he felt a rush of shame creep up his neck. Dropping his head a little, he took his eyes from her face, feeling almost unworthy to look at her.
“I see,” he heard her say.
“I assured him that you would show him some kindness,” Caldwell continued, blithely, apparently oblivious to Henry’s growing embarrassment. “After all, one mistake—over which the man had deeply repented of—should not be held against him. Do you agree?”
There was a brief pause, and Henry felt almost sick with nerves. Was she about to refuse him, not wishing to besmirch her own reputation? He could not blame her if that were the case.
“Should you like to dance, Lord Armitage?”
Her soft voice was as much of a surprise as a balm to his soul, his head shooting up of its own accord so that he might look her in the face, desperate to see whether she was being entirely serious. To his complete and utter relief, she was looking at him quite earnestly, although there was a slight twinkle in her eyes that told him she found his disbelief a little amusing.
“I had hoped to secure a dance with you,” he replied, his voice hoarse with sudden emotion. “But I was quite sure you would not have a single space remaining on your dance card.”
“Nor do I,” Lady Brooke replied. “All but
the supper dance, I believe, are taken.”
“The supper dance?” Henry repeated, hardly believing his luck. “Should you permit me, I would greatly delight in writing my name there.”
Henry hated that his hands trembled as he held her dance card, but soon his name was there, written clearly for all to see.
“I am surprised that you have no name there already, my lady,” he murmured, as he let her card drop. “That is the most favored of all the dances, and you are doing me a great honor in allowing me to escort you.”
She laughed, and Henry found himself smiling in return.
“I will confess that I used my fair cousin as an excuse to refuse any gentleman who asked,” she said, sending a smile up towards Caldwell before returning her bright eyes back towards Henry. “In truth, I have an older companion who is here with me this evening, and I fully intended to sit with her during supper.” Her expression softened. “She has done me a great deal of good, and I would not wish her to be slighted in any way. I do hope you will not mind if she joins us?”
“Of course not,” Henry responded, fervently. “Just being able to dance with you is a gift in itself.”
Her smile softened, as though she were quite aware of the struggles that faced him. “Then I am very glad to offer it to you.”
Henry nodded and bowed before taking his leave, promising to see her again very soon. His heart lifted as he made through the crowd, thinking to himself that the gazes of those around him were somewhat softer than what they had been before. He could hardly wait to have Lady Brooke in his arms.
Chapter Four
“Good gracious.”
Eleanor laughed aloud as Miss Wiltshire walked into the drawing room, stopping short at the sight of the abundance of flowers that adorned almost every available space.
“I see that you made something of an impression last evening,” Miss Wiltshire murmured after a few more moments of astonishment. “This is quite an assortment.”
