by Alec, Joyce
“There has to be someone,” Daniel replied, hoping desperately that, somehow, he would be able to find at least one person who might aid him. “I cannot think of another way to reveal the truth to both myself and Miss Smallwood.” Gesturing to a footman, he waited until the fellow came over and, pulling a couple of coins from his pocket, held them out towards him.
The footman accepted the coins without a word.
“Might you tell me whether or not you were present last evening?” Daniel began as Lord Townend held up the paper. “Did you see which fellow made that bet?”
The footman moved towards Lord Townend, his face impassive. Taking a moment or two to read the writing, he eventually shook his head. “It states that you, Lord Williamson, made this bet,” he intoned.
“And yet, I did not,” Daniel replied, trying not to allow even a hint of the irritation he felt to come into his voice. “Do you recall which gentlemen were present last evening or in the very early hours of this morning?” He held his breath, seeing the footman’s forehead pucker, clearly trying to remember.
“I retired before the last few members quit the establishment,” the footman said slowly, his lips twisting for a moment. “There were only four gentlemen still present, although one of them was rather tired.” A hint of a smile caught the footman’s lips, although it disappeared the moment Daniel looked sharply at him. “The gentleman who was asleep was Lord Mercer, if I recall correctly.” Shaking his head, he spread his hands. “I fear that I cannot remember the other gentlemen, Lord Williamson. I do apologize.”
Daniel’s frustration bubbled up within him again, but with an effort, he set his face into a grateful expression.
“I thank you,” he replied, feeling his heart sinking into the floor. “Now, two more brandies, if you please.”
The footman clicked his heels together. “At once, my lord.”
Waiting until the footman had gone, Daniel let out a long, heavy sigh and saw Lord Townend shrug.
“I suppose, then, we must visit Lord Mercer,” Lord Townend murmured in an encouraging fashion. “Mayhap he will recall those present with him last evening. You are to attend his ball, are you not?” he asked as the footman handed them a brandy each. “Then why not speak to him then?”
“I am and I will,” Daniel answered, remembering how Miss Smallwood had agreed to dance with him at Lord Mercer’s ball. “I shall see Miss Smallwood then also and I must pray that once I speak to Lord Mercer, I will be able to speak to Miss Smallwood about what I have discovered.”
Lord Townend’s eyes softened with compassion for the difficult situation Daniel now found himself in. “She seems to be wise enough, Williamson,” he replied quietly. “She will consider things with a clear head.”
“I must hope so,” Daniel murmured, rubbing one hand across his eyes. “I do care for her, Townend.”
“I can see that,” Lord Townend stated with a slightly wry smile. “And I will do all I can to ensure that your happiness with the lady will, in time, be reached.” He gestured to the piece of paper as Daniel drew in a long breath, settling his shoulders and feeling a small flicker of hope. “And we start by asking Lord Mercer about this.”
11
Louisa had never felt as anxious as she did at this present moment. Lord Mercer’s ball was in full swing and, as yet, she had not seen even a glimpse of Lord Williamson. Part of her feared that he was not the gentleman she had believed him to be, worrying that what the two gentlemen had said about his bet in White’s was, in fact, the truth.
It had not helped that Miss Martin had been insistent that this was evidence that what she had stated about Lord Williamson’s character was true. Walking back home from the park that day, Louisa had struggled against tears for she had felt slighted, small, and sorrowful, not quite certain what was true and what was not.
However, in the time that had followed, and given that she had been able to reflect on what had happened and remember the desperation with which Lord Williamson had addressed her, Louisa had decided to wait until he had come to speak to her about what he had discovered before making her final decision.
“He has not yet arrived, I believe.”
Turning to her companion, Louisa’s anger flared hot in her chest. “I am aware of that, Miss Martin.”
“You need not wait for him,” Miss Martin continued as Louisa waited by the side of the ballroom, not feeling any particular urgency to step out into the crowd. “There are others who might offer to dance with you, Miss Smallwood.”
“I am aware of that,” Louisa replied tightly. “But I am contented here for the present.”
Miss Martin sniffed, her hair pulled back even tighter than usual, her eyes seemingly sharper than Louisa was used to. “You are being foolish, Miss Smallwood. Lord Williamson is not worth your time.”
“What is it that you dislike so much about Lord Williamson?”
The words fired from Louisa’s mouth before she could stop them, and she swung around to face Miss Martin directly, her arms folded in front of her chest as her anger began to burn furiously.
“You say that he is a cad and you believe him to be at fault without question. Why is that?”
Miss Martin blinked, collecting herself before she answered. “I have already told you about Miss McBride, have I not?” she replied, but Louisa held up one hand, silencing her.
“I have spoken to Lord Williamson about such a thing and he appeared not to know what I was speaking of,” she told Miss Martin, seeing the lady flush with color. “You told me that Miss McBride had been broken-hearted by the sudden loss of Lord Williamson’s attention, but the gentleman seemed to not know of what I spoke.”
“Of course he will deny it!” Miss Martin exclaimed, looking at Louisa as though she were nothing more than a fool. “Why would you choose to believe him without question?”
Louisa hesitated, knowing that to tell an untruth was not a wise course of action, but wondering whether or not such a thing would prompt Miss Martin to, finally, tell the truth.
“I have written to Miss McBride,” she bluffed, seeing Miss Martin start in evident astonishment. “I am yet to receive a reply, but I am certain that she will do so very soon.”
Miss Martin’s cheeks faded from pink to milk-white.
“So, I shall give you one more time to tell me, Miss Martin, whether or not what you have said about Miss McBride and Lord Williamson is true, as you have claimed.”
Miss Martin said nothing for some minutes. It was as though she were waiting for Louisa to give in, to turn around and state that she did not require the truth from Miss Martin after all, but Louisa did not so much as blink. Her heart quickened to an almost violent pace, feeling as though she were standing on the very precipice of something and about to fall headlong into it.
“Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin said eventually, her voice a good deal more high-pitched than before. “I think that I should—”
“Why are you hiding here, Miss Smallwood?”
Swinging around, Louisa came face to face with a smiling Lord Montague, who was beaming at her with evident joy at seeing her again. There came an immediate urge within her to rail at him, to exclaim that she was having a private conversation and did not want to be interrupted, for she had been on the very cusp of discovering something that she was certain would be vastly important.
Glancing behind her, Louisa frowned in displeasure, seeing that the place where Miss Martin had been standing was now entirely empty. Her companion had, it seemed, decided to fade into the shadows for once, escaping from the conversation that would have been required should she have remained. More irritated than she could express, Louisa turned back towards Lord Montague, who was now looking at her with curiosity.
“Forgive me, Lord Montague,” Louisa grated, unable to even force a smile to her lips. “I was speaking to Miss Martin and we had not yet finished our conversation.”
“I see.” Lord Montague cleared his throat, looking a little abashed. “I do apologize
if I interrupted you unnecessarily, but I saw you standing here at the side of the ballroom and could not help but seek you out in order to procure a dance or two.” He smiled at her again and Louisa let out a long, slow breath as if that might aid her in pushing her frustration from her heart.
“That is very kind of you,” she said, forced to admit that Lord Montague had meant no wrong in doing such a thing. “As you can see, my dance card is not yet full.”
Much to her surprise, Lord Montague did not grasp the dance card that dangled from her wrist but rather took her hand in his, holding it tightly whilst, with the other hand, he took the card. Louisa’s skin prickled uncomfortably beneath her glove, aware that she disliked what Lord Montague had done. It was a little too forward, a little too intimate for her liking and, most likely, he was doing so simply because she was close to the wall and, therefore, it was easy to hide his actions in the shadows.
Lord Montague let out a soft gasp, making Louisa’s brows rise in question.
“You have not a single dance as yet, Miss Smallwood!” Lord Montague exclaimed, as though this was the most awful situation he had come across in some time. “How can that be? I thought you would be swept away by attentions from almost the very moment you set foot in the ballroom.”
Louisa tried to smile but did not quite manage to force her lips to do so. “As you see, Lord Montague, I have not yet made my way through the crowd of guests and, as such, most do not know of my presence here as yet.”
“All save I,” he replied, finally letting go of her hand but only so that he might write his name on her card. “I was the only one who saw you standing here, Miss Smallwood. Your presence cannot be hidden from me!” This was said with a long look towards her, which Louisa noticed, but rather than feeling any sort of flattery or delight, she felt only embarrassment. Lord Montague was being rather forward and she did not much like it.
“Thank you,” she murmured as he let the card drop. “You are most kind, Lord Montague.”
“And if you will accompany me, Miss Smallwood, I would like to ensure that you have company for the rest of the evening,” he said grandly, offering her his arm and leaving her with no other choice but to accept it. “Come now, I can see Lord Raeburn looking in our direction and I know he would be delighted to dance with you also.”
Louisa did not smile, frustrated that she was being taken away from her conversation with Miss Martin as well as being dragged from her hiding place. She would not be able to wait for Lord Williamson, it seemed, for Lord Montague was quite insistent that she do as he ask. Placing her hand reluctantly on his arm, she allowed herself to be tugged towards a small group of ladies and gentlemen, who were talking together in loud, bright voices. Knowing that she would have to give them her full attention, Louisa forced all thoughts of Lord Williamson to the back of her mind for the present. She could not be rude. She would behave impeccably and hope that, when he could, Lord Williamson would find her, for she did not think she could go the rest of the evening without speaking to him.
“It is quite extraordinary!” she heard one young lady exclaim, as she and Lord Montague drew near. “I do not know the gentleman particularly well at all, but to have behaved in such a bold and outrageous fashion is quite astonishing!”
“Indeed,” the gentleman Louisa knew to be Lord Raeburn agreed, his broad grin and dark, twinkling eyes unsettling her as they rested on her for a moment. “I believe you are acquainted with him, Miss Smallwood.”
Curving her lips into a small smile and hoping that she appeared somewhat disinterested, Louisa gave Lord Raeburn a small shrug. “I do not know of whom you are speaking, Lord Raeburn.” Her heart began to ache with pain and confusion over Lord Williamson, finding it difficult to remove her thoughts from him as she had intended. She did not want to be here, did not want to speak to these gentlemen and ladies who were so caught up in sharing every single last piece of gossip they could.
“Why, you must know Lord Williamson!” one of the ladies protested, looking at Louisa eagerly. “I saw you walking with him recently.”
“As did I,” said another, looking at Louisa with shining eyes. “Come now, you must tell us what you know of him. Did you have any suspicion that he was that sort of gentleman?”
Louisa stiffened, her heart slamming into her chest quite painfully as she looked back at the young ladies. “I am not one inclined towards gossip,” she stated quite firmly even though she knew that such a thing was not what they wanted to hear. “From what I know of Lord Williamson, he is a generous and kindhearted gentleman.”
The first young lady snorted and rolled her eyes. “He has fooled you entirely, has he not?”
“Come now, Miss Smallwood,” Lord Raeburn interrupted, cajoling her to speak more about Lord Williamson. “You must have a better idea of his character than that. You cannot expect us to believe that he is a wonderful, untainted soul when we know that he has done something so uncouth!”
A chill ran through Louisa as she looked back into Lord Raeburn’s eager expression, knowing that she was going to have to ask them what it was they spoke of. “I am unaware of what he has done, Lord Raeburn. Therefore, I speak of what I know.”
Lord Raeburn laughed delightedly, making others join in as they all turned to Louisa as one, making her feel as though she were being mocked for her apparent lack of understanding of Lord Williamson’s true character. Even Lord Montague was laughing, his tone brash and grating over her skin painfully.
“Goodness, you are not at all inclined towards gossip, are you, Miss Smallwood?” Lord Raeburn teased eventually. “Else you would be aware of what has occurred, for it is already all over London.”
Louisa said nothing, her heart twisting painfully in her chest as she waited for Lord Raeburn to elaborate. She did not want to say anything more for fear that her heart might give way entirely, aware that a wave of tears was beginning to form behind her eyes.
“He was discovered in a rather…” Lord Raeburn tipped his head, evidently trying to think of a way to say what was required. “A rather delicate situation, one might say.” He chuckled, making the two ladies who had spoken to Louisa already blush and look away. “In a bawdy house, of all places!”
Louisa went sheet-white, her heart hammering with fright as a sense of horror began to rise up within her.
“Not that he did not pay what was owed, apparently,” chimed in another gentleman, grinning broadly at Louisa, who could neither speak nor move, it seemed. “It just took him some time to find his things, that is all!”
The crowd that surrounded Louisa began to laugh aloud, whilst she stood there silently, trying to take in what was being said about the gentleman she felt so much affection for. Lord Williamson had frequented a bawdy house? It was, she supposed, something that gentlemen were permitted to do, but they were always careful not to allow the ton to know of it, for fear of their reputation being thoroughly disgraced.
And now, it seemed, Lord Williamson had done precisely that.
“You—you are quite certain it was he?” she asked, her voice barely loud enough for any of them to hear, to the point that Lord Raeburn had to step forward and ask her to repeat what she said. When she did so, he laughed and shrugged.
“Of course I am sure,” he replied with a broad grin. “The fellow who was playing the hand of cards with Lord Williamson told me everything.”
Louisa blinked, not quite sure what to make of this. “I thought you said he was discovered in a rather awkward situation,” she replied, putting one hand to her stomach in an attempt to catch her breath. “And now you say he was playing cards?”
Lord Raeburn’s smile became dark, one side lifting slowly as the gleam in his eyes became almost malevolent. “You do not quite understand, Miss Smallwood, and that, I think, is for the best.” He lifted one eyebrow, still gazing at her. “It is possible, you know, for a gentleman to play cards and be discovered in a delicate situation, Miss Smallwood.” One of the ladies tittered, making Lord Raeburn smile
all the more. “But as I said, at the very least, he did pay what was owed—once he had found his things.”
A sense of disgust began to roil in Louisa’s stomach, her hands tightening together as she clasped them in front of her. But, despite the urge to believe everything Lord Raeburn had said, to agree that it was utterly despicable and decide to turn away from Lord Williamson’s company, a small part of her held her back.
You always sought to find the truth amongst the rumors and the gossip, she thought, trying to be firm with herself. Why would you turn away from that now?
Drawing in a long breath, Louisa held Lord Raeburn’s gaze, steeling herself and trying to find a sense of courage from deep within her. She was not about to go back to that quiet, unobtrusive young lady who did not speak a word of what she felt or what went on in her heart. If there had ever been a time to ask questions, to discover the truth in all its entirety, then this was the moment.
“Might I ask, Lord Raeburn,” she began as the rest of those within the small group fell silent, giving her their full attention, “whether or not you can be certain that everything you speak of is true?”
Lord Raeburn frowned, his smile dropping from his face entirely. “Of course I am certain it is true, Miss Smallwood,” he replied, a line forming in between his brows as he frowned. “I have it on the highest authority that what I have been told is the truth.”
“By the gentleman who was there with Lord Williamson,” Louisa persisted, aware of how the two young ladies standing by her were now beginning to whisper amongst themselves. “The gentleman who was playing cards with him.”
“Yes,” Lord Raeburn agreed, looking at her with a slightly scornful gaze. “Does that satisfy you, Miss Smallwood?”
Louisa looked back into Lord Raeburn’s face, seeing the dark look in his eyes and practically feeling the rest of the crowd’s attention being drawn to her. Her heart began to pound, knowing that she could easily turn away from Lord Raeburn and agree that what had been said was more than enough evidence of the fact that Lord Williamson had been present, but her heart would not allow her to do so.
