by Rose Pearson
Apparently, his brother was of the mind that Hugh was not doing enough for Miss Newton. Taking her to balls and the like was one thing but something needed to be done in her honor, so that the beau monde knew of her. Besides which, Wilson had claimed, it would bring Miss Newton a great deal of happiness.
Hugh had refused at once, mentioning Lord Donoghue as though that meant he had no need to do anything more. Wilson had mocked that suggestion, telling him that the fact he knew so little about Lord Donoghue meant that he could not rely on the man’s continued interest in Miss Newton. Hugh had continued to refuse, but by the end of their discourse, with Miss Newton herself in the room, he had somehow managed to make the suggestion of the ball all on his own.
And now, it appeared he was going to have to do exactly that.
Shaking his head, Hugh looked up to see his brandy being held out for him. Accepting it, he threw it back in two gulps before getting up from his chair and making his way out of Whites.
His mind was too busy with thoughts. His heart was too confused for him to remain in his own company for much longer. The urge to banish Miss Newton from his mind entirely continued to chase him, forcing him to consider where he might go to drown out the clamoring whispers in his head. He knew he was behaving erratically, had known that since Miss Newton had accepted Lord Donoghue’s invitation over his own, but could not find a way to stop it. Growing more and more frustrated with himself, Hugh stormed along the pavement in a desperate urge to find somewhere to go where he didn’t have to think of her any longer.
“Seaworth!”
Realizing that he’d been walking with his gaze fixed on the shadowy pavement below, Hugh looked up to see none other than Lord Fielding shouting his name from his carriage which had come to a stop by the side of the road.
“Fielding,” he exclaimed, filled with a sudden relief. “Where are you off to?”
“Lord Dickenson’s card party,” Lord Fielding exclaimed, looking a little confused. “Weren’t you invited?”
“Of course I was,” Hugh retorted, pulling open the carriage door and stepping inside. “I just wasn’t sure if I planned to attend.” Most likely, the invitation had been discarded since he had thought Miss Newton’s choice of evening entertainment might come first, but that was not about to stop Hugh now.
“Capital!” Lord Fielding said, slapping his knee. “Good to see you, old boy. This should be an evening to remember, I’m quite sure of it!”
Chuckling, Hugh sat back against the squabs and let his mind empty of all the confusion and struggle. This evening was going to be a reminder to him of all that he’d been missing, of all the pleasures he’d once enjoyed and would enjoy again once Miss Newton had gone from his life. He could hardly wait to get there.
Some hours later and Hugh sat back from the table, looking down at the cards in his hand and the small amount of coins in front of him. He’d done rather well and had made a tidy profit.
“I think I’m going to bow out now gentlemen,” he said, as they proposed yet another game to continue with their gambling. “No more for me.”
There was a short silence as the three other gentlemen stared at him as though he had gone quite mad.
Getting up, Hugh pocketed his coins and put the rest of his cards down on the discard pile. “Is something the matter?”
“No,” Lord Fielding replied, spluttering just a little. “it’s just that this isn’t like you.”
That gave Hugh pause. “It’s not?”
One of the other gentlemen laughed. “You’ve lost your nerve, old boy! You used to stay until you had every last coin from us all, or until you’d lost every last coin you had! What’s come over you?”
Something like anxiety coiled itself in his belly. “Nothing. I just think it best to bow out when I’m doing well. No point in staying and risking it all.” It was not as though he needed the money but more that he found himself growing a little bored with the game – not that he would admit that to any of the gentlemen still sitting at the table!
“Very well,” Lord Fielding replied, with a slight lift of his eyebrow. “Well, I think the three of us want to carry on. What say you, gentlemen?”
Hugh turned away from the table, his heart hammering wildly whilst he struggled to keep a calm expression on his face. He had not changed all that much, had he? But yet, the surprise on their faces at his lack of willingness to continue had shot doubt into his mind. Perhaps he was more changed than he realized.
“Lord Seaworth.”
The voice was practically purring, and as he turned around, Hugh saw none other than Lady Violet Bailey standing there, her lips curved in a seductive smile. She was the widow of Viscount Bailey, and having ended up with a rather significant fortune, could be all she wanted to whomever she pleased. That meant that she was willing to give her favors to certain gentlemen – of whom Hugh was one.
“Lady Bailey,” he murmured, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “How are you this evening?” There were very few women at card parties and those who had been invited to attend had been invited for a very significant reason. Lord Dickenson wanted to ensure that his guests enjoyed themselves.
“I have missed your company Lord Seaworth,” she purred, putting one hand on his arm. “Might you care for a walk in the gardens? I hear that Lord Dickenson has some beautiful lanterns set up for us so that we might enjoy his gardens by night.”
Hugh swallowed, feeling the urge to go with her. “Of course,” he found himself saying, despite the doubt that suddenly laced his mind. “I’d be glad to accompany you.”
She laughed softly and looped her hand under his arm. Together, they walked towards the door and Hugh realized that no-one particularly cared as to where they were going. This was what was expected at Lord Dickenson’s party, and what was expected of him.
So why was he feeling so disinclined towards her?
“The moon is very bright this evening,” Lady Bailey said, as they stepped into the cool night air. “Although I know a place where we can hide ourselves.” She giggled and caught his arm, pulling him along the path and down into the grass, through a few shrubs until, finally, they came to a wooden bench that was covered by the shadow of a large tree.
“Oh Seaworth,” Lady Bailey whispered, turning to him and putting her arms tightly around his neck. “I have missed you so very much.”
Her lips were searching for his, and Hugh felt himself grow weak. Lowering his head, he let his mouth touch hers - only to pull back and stumble away as a vision of Miss Newton slammed into his mind.
“Seaworth!” Lady Bailey exclaimed, sounding both concerned and insulted. “Whatever is the matter?”
“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head and holding up one hand to stop her for reaching for him again. “This was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” she screeched, her expression filled with anger. “What do you mean, a mistake? You have been in my arms before!”
Hugh continued to shake his head, finding himself suddenly repulsed by the idea of going to her again. “I cannot do so again, Lady Bailey,” he said honestly. “Do not ask it of me.”
She did not say anything but took a few steps forward, looking up into his face. Silence stretched between them as Hugh tried to make sense of all that was going on within him, both furious and confused as to why he had turned away from what Lady Bailey was offering.
“Are you ill, Seaworth?”
Her voice was gentle, one hand reaching to press against his forehead as though to check for fever.
It was as good an explanation as any.
“Yes, I am ill. Dreadfully so,” he replied hoarsely. “My head is spinning, Lady Bailey. I pray you not to speak of this to anyone for I am sure to be well again soon.”
She nodded slowly. “And then you will come to me?”
“Of course,” he said at once, the lie springing easily to his lips. “Of course I shall.”
That appeared to satisfy her. “Very well,” she sai
d, shrugging and stepping away from him. “Then it appears I shall have to find someone else to satiate my appetite this evening. Do excuse me, Seaworth.”
And then she was gone, leaving Hugh standing entirely alone. Slowly, he walked towards the bench and sat down heavily, realizing just how little Lady Bailey cared for him. It was not as though he had ever truly cared for her, but rather that he had taken what she’d offered just as she had taken from him. At the time, he had found that more than satisfactory, but now, it seemed to be so distasteful that he could barely think of it without wincing.
When he had leaned down to kiss Lady Bailey, the only person he could think of was Miss Newton. It was as if he’d been about to kiss her and the urge to do so had caught him off guard. It was not Miss Newton’s lips he’d touched but rather Lady Bailey’s, and that was what had pushed him away from her.
Was it true? Did he really have an affection for Miss Newton that put her above all others, even above Lady Bailey and her favors? The idea did not make sense, but yet there it was, sitting firmly in his mind and in his heart and refusing to leave him.
“I am broken,” he whispered into the darkness, despair washing over him. He had no idea what to do next.
Chapter Thirteen
Molly clenched her hands tightly in her lap, knowing that it was to be her turn to perform for the guests as soon as Miss Louisa had finished on the pianoforte. It was not as though she were unable to play, for she had spent a great many years being tutored in the musical art, but more that she was extremely nervous about performing in front of so many people.
The dinner had gone marvelously well, and, to her surprise, Molly had not missed Lord Donoghue in any great capacity. That was, most likely, because they did not know one another all that well yet, but it had given her pause regardless. On top of all that, she had been seated next to a very handsome young gentleman with very fair hair and almost piercing blue eyes. Lord Huntly had been a wonderful dinner companion, making sure that she always had whatever she needed, whether it be a refill of her wine glass or a dash extra of salt. He had conversed with her beautifully, asking her questions about herself and showing a genuine interest in what she had to say. For her part, she had found him to be amiable and kind, although his distinct lack of interest in reading niggled at her a little. Apparently, he enjoyed looking up at the stars and was somewhat studious in his regard for them, for he was apparently working on a paper of some description with another, more senior gentleman. Being the second son of a marquess meant that he would never have to worry about the duties of the title but Molly had been impressed that he was putting his time to good use instead of simply enjoying his life and fortune as so many young gentlemen seemed to do. When he asked if he might call on her another time, she had no hesitation in agreeing, thinking that she would like to get to know him a little better.
Then she lifted her head and saw Lord Seaworth watching her from the head of the table, and her heart sank to her toes. He had not smiled all evening and now a dark look settled on his features. She had very little idea of what she’d done to displease him, but not yet having the opportunity to ask him, had been forced to simply ignore his irritated expression and turn her attention back to the rest of the guests.
Perhaps that was what was adding to her anxiety – the knowledge that Lord Seaworth would be watching her.
“You are going to do very well, I am quite sure.”
To her surprise, Lord Seaworth had leaned over and whispered in her ear, perhaps seeing her twisted fingers.
“Thank you, my lord,” she mumbled, whilst Miss Louisa finished her piece. “I hope I will not disappoint you.” Turning her head a little more, she looked into his eyes and felt something tighten in her core. She could not look away, seeing a deep intensity there that seemed to reach out and steal her breath. Why were there shivers creeping along her arms, sending gooseflesh over her skin? This could not just be nerves!
The gentle applause from the group broke the spell that seemed to have come over them both and Molly did her best to join in, shaking off the strange sensations that had wrapped all through her mind.
“And now Miss Newton!” the lady along from her called, her eyes bright. “I am very much looking forward to hearing you, my dear. Lord Seaworth has told me you are a very accomplished player.”
Molly was caught off guard, her frame a little unsteady as she rose from her chair. She had been practicing on the pianoforte whenever she felt the urge but had never thought that Lord Seaworth had heard her or, if he had, had taken notice. Had he been talking about her to some of the other guests? Molly was not quite sure what to make of all that.
“On you go,” she heard Lord Seaworth murmur. “Everyone is looking forward to hearing you play.”
It did not calm her nerves, and as she sat down, Molly felt herself begin to tremble. She was more than anxious, her hands clammy and breathing rapid.
“Perhaps,” said a sudden, loud voice, “it might be best if I performed alongside Miss Newton. After all, she is my charge, and, in addition, I feel the sudden urge to sing.”
Molly’s hands stopped shaking as Lord Seaworth rose from his chair, much to the apparent delight of his guests.
“What say you, Miss Newton?” he asked, jovially, turning to her with an understanding expression on his face. “Will you give up your solo performance to allow me to join you?”
Her breathing slowed as she nodded, feeling a rush of relief. She had no idea whether or not Lord Seaworth could sing, but to have him standing there, taking some of the attention away from her, took a great deal of anxiety away from her.
“Perhaps this one,” he said, shuffling through the music pieces sitting on top of the piano. “Do you know it?”
Glancing down at it, Molly shot him a quick smile, setting the piece in front of her. “Yes, I do,” she replied, hoping that he understood just how grateful she was for his aid.
“Wonderful,” Lord Seaworth said, turning to the rest of the guests. “I shall be singing ‘Come into the Garden’, by Balfe.”
A ripple of expectation ran through the small crowd and as heads turned to one another, Molly felt a hand on her shoulder. Lord Seaworth’s hand, reassuring her.
And then it was gone.
Drawing in a deep breath, Molly smiled to herself and began to play, launching into the music with sure fingers that didn’t once slip from the keys or make any kind of mistake. Lord Seaworth began to sing in a beautiful tenor voice, filling the room with its power and presence.
They made a stunning combination.
Molly felt herself slip into the music, her eyes closing as she played from memory. Lord Seaworth sang and she played until the song came to an end, and the guests rose from their seats to applaud them both.
Cheeks flushed, happiness spiraling through her, Molly rose from the pianoforte and smiled up at Lord Seaworth who was looking at her with a gentle smile on his face. It was the first time he’d smiled at her all evening and with that knowledge came a rush of pleasure.
“Thank you,” she murmured, as he reached for her hand. His fingers were warm, and he lifted it to his lips, brushing a kiss to the back of it before turning back to his guests and giving a small bow.
Molly felt as though her feet were fastened to the floor, her breath stopping completely as fire shot through her, the imprint of his lips burning a mark onto her hand.
And then she was back in her seat, whilst another young lady took to the pianoforte, ready to play the next piece. Music floated through the room, bringing a smile to everyone’s faces whilst Molly sat frozen in place, still battling the heat burning within her. All because Lord Seaworth had smiled at her and kissed her fingers, just as any other gentleman might do. It was entirely inexplicable, and yet, Molly didn’t want the fire to dissipate. She wanted it to linger, to fill her with emotions she had never experienced before. This had never occurred when Lord Donoghue had taken her hand!
All too soon, however, Molly was pulled from her r
everie as the final performance came to an end and the guests began to take their leave. She rose from her chair, said farewell and accepted compliments from all and sundry about her playing. Lord Huntly bowed over her hand just as Lord Seaworth had done, brushing the back of her hand with lips, but there came no answering fire. He made sure to remind her to expect his card very soon so that he might call on her and Molly thanked him graciously, finding that she was not looking forward to it as much as she had been only a few hours before.
“A very good dinner party, Seaworth,” Lord Wilson declared, as the last of their guests quit the room. He grinned at Molly, flopping into a chair by the fire. “Although I will say the highlight of the evening for me was hearing you play, Miss Newton, even if my brother did ruin the performance by adding his lackluster tones.”
Molly, aware that Lord Wilson was attempting to either joke with or rile up his brother, shook her head firmly and took a seat opposite him. “I think Lord Seaworth’s voice is quite remarkable, Lord Wilson. Besides, given that you did not perform yourself, I hardly think you able to criticize!”
From behind her, she heard Lord Seaworth laugh aloud, making her lips curve into a smile as butterflies began to flutter in her stomach. He appeared to be so much more relaxed at this moment, considering how angry he had seemed to be over dinner and Molly found herself liking this side of him. She could not help but laugh herself on seeing Lord Wilson grimace, rolling his eyes at them both.
“Then I think I shall turn in,” he said, getting to his feet. “Next time, Miss Newton, you shall hear me sing, I assure you.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Thank you, Lord Wilson. I look forward to it.” Rising to her feet, she tried to hide a yawn behind her hand. “I had best retire also.” Seeing Lord Wilson exit the room, she became suddenly aware of just how alone she was with Lord Seaworth. It had never mattered before since they had been together on a number of occasions before now but that, she supposed, had always been with a great number of servants around.
