by Joyce Alec
“It was nothing more than a passing comment on the very first night we became reacquainted,” Jonathan interrupted hastily. “Indeed, nothing more was said. I believe your brother was simply concerned about the gentleman you chose to dance with that night.”
This, however, did not seem to please Miss Richards in the least. Instead of smiling, her frown deepened and her eyes narrowed.
“My brother does not have a lot of say in whom I choose to dance with,” she bit out, as two red spots of color appeared in her cheeks. “After all, given the circumstances, he can have nothing to say on the matter!”
She turned away, striding back towards the door of the bookshop, leaving Jonathan standing alone. His mouth fell open as she opened the door and left the shop, their conversation apparently at an end.
“How astonishing,” he muttered to himself, looking out of the window to see her walking along the pavement, her hands curled into fists. “Whatever is she talking about?”
Still confused over what had just occurred, Jonathan lingered in the bookshop for some time, hoping she would reappear to either apologize or explain. However, after waiting more than half an hour, he was forced to admit defeat. Picking up a book, he glanced arbitrarily at the pages before deciding to make a purchase. After all, that was what he had come for, and it would almost be rude not to buy something now.
Pausing for a moment, Jonathan let his fingers linger on another novel, recalling how Miss Richards had thrown in down in her pique. Should he purchase it for her? He could send it to her by way of an apology, to ensure that it had not been something he had said that had upset her so. It could also be an apology for the dress he had ruined, even though she had already assured him that she just wished for him to pay the bill, which he already had.
Making a swift decision, Jonathan picked up both books and carried them to the front of the shop. The bookkeeper, evidently delighted with Jonathan’s purchase, made rather a meal of wrapping them both up, handing them over to him with the greatest of care.
Finally back outside, the two books in his hand, Jonathan began to walk towards his house, a small smile on his face. He did not know Lord Richards address, but his trusty butler would be bound to discover it. Whatever had upset Miss Richards, he hoped that his gift would go some way to soothing her angst, as well as assure her that he had meant no ill will by what he had said.
Not truly understanding why he wished for her to be so unafflicted, Jonathan tried not to linger on the thought of Miss Richards, discovering that his heart had already been a little caught up with her since their first meeting. She was so…. unorthodox, so unconventional. It made his heart sing. Considering just how much he despised society and all that it stood for, was it any wonder that he was so drawn to a lady who seemed to disregard all the rules and regulations as she did?
He had hated that he would meet nothing but mamas and their eligible daughters, all making eyes at him, hoping he might consider them for his future bride. Had he not traded places with Lord Michael, then that might have been the exact situation he would have found himself in. However, now that he had met Miss Richards, something akin to happiness sparked within his soul.
The rest of the Season did not stretch out like a dull, dark road, but rather was one that had a little more excitement and entertainment. Of course, at some point, he would have to reveal the truth to Miss Richards about his identity. When that time came, Jonathan hoped she would understand his reasons for doing so.
“Ah, how good to see you again, Lord Rivenhall!”
Jonathan clamped his mouth shut, as Lord Michael bowed deeply before introducing Jonathan to Lady Sheringham and her daughter. The girl stood quietly, her cheeks pale but beautiful nonetheless. Her eyes were rather disinterested, not lingering on either himself nor Lord Michael. She simply stood by her mother’s side and allowed her to do all the talking.
As Jonathan was introduced to them both, he did not miss the disregarding glance the elder lady sent his way on hearing that he was the second son of the Marquess of Barrington. Much to his surprise, he felt frustration and anger burying into his soul. Jonathan, being a second son of a marquess most of his life, was used to being treated as less of a person compared to his elder brother.
He could not imagine how Lord Michael must feel, given that this was how he would continue to be treated by the beau monde for the remainder of his life. To be so ignored simply because one happened to be born after the first was no reason at all!
“And are you in town for long, Lord Rivenhall?” Lady Sheringham asked, her eyes warming as she turned away from Jonathan. “I do hope you have accepted the invitation to come to our ball tomorrow evening.”
“I confess I have not yet seen it,” the true Lord Michael replied, with a short bow. “But then again, I am a little behind on my correspondence.”
Lady Sheringham laughed brightly and tapped Lord Michael with her hand, gesturing towards her daughter who still stood quietly by her side. “That is because I have only just had it sent to your residence, Lord Rivenhall. After all, your presence among us was something of a surprise. Otherwise, of course, I would have invited you much earlier. My daughter will be vastly pleased if you were to attend. After all, it is in her honor, you see.”
“But of course,” Michael smiled, inclining his head. “You are much too kind, Lady Sheringham. My dear friend, Lord Michael, and I look forward to joining you at your ball.” He turned to Lady Sheringham’s daughter and gave her a broad smile. “Alas, I am not much of a dancer, but I do hope I might have the pleasure of sharing a conversation or two with you, Miss Sheringham. Lord Michael will have to be the one to sign his name on your dance card however!”
Jonathan hid his smile, as Lady Sheringham started, her expression glazing over. “Lord Michael?” she murmured, glancing over at him. “Ah, yes…of course. I would be delighted for you to attend also, Lord Michael.”
Jonathon smiled and murmured his thanks.
“Delighted,” Miss Sheringham repeated, her expression bored, as she turned away from them both, clearly jaded at their conversation.
Bowing deeply, Jonathan heard a small chuckle escape from Lord Michael’s mouth. “Thank you for your generosity, Lady Sheringham. I am looking forward to attending already.”
“Yes, yes,” Lady Sheringham murmured, looking rather put out. “Well, do excuse us both, my lords. I do hope you enjoy your walk.”
Jonathan murmured something similar, bowing once more, and as he raised his head, he saw Lady Sheringham’s daughter give Lord Michael a rather long, lingering look, as her mother whispered ferociously in her ear. It was the first interest she had shown in all the time of their conversation.
“Miss Sheringham did not seem to be interested in that conversation at all, but yet she still looks at you,” Jonathan chuckled, as he and Lord Michael began to walk once more. “How surprising!”
Lord Michael snorted, shaking his head. “It is not surprising in the least, not when I am pretending to be the Marquess of Rivenhall! I do not believe that girl cares about me in the least, nor do I think that my character, hearty smiles, or lingering gazes have made any difference to her.” The smile faded from his face as he glanced over at Jonathan. “I think I rather pity you, in a way.”
“Pity me?” Jonathan asked, astonished.
“You are surprised, of course,” Lord Michael replied, with a slight shrug. “I suppose you must feel rather sorry for me, being so ignored, but I find that I prefer it over being so adored.” He rolled his eyes. “I know that Lady Sheringham and her rather beautiful daughter are not at all interested in me per se, but rather in what I can offer her.”
“Or what I can offer her,” Jonathan quipped, understanding where his friend was coming from. “They are all very much the same, I am afraid. Can you see now why I grew to hate my situation so very much?”
There was a brief silence, broken only by the sounds of laughter and conversation carried on the wind from the other side of Hyde Park.
>
“I may have only been pretending to be you for a very short time, but yes, I can see it clearly enough,” Lord Michael said slowly. “This week I truly did enjoy the attention and almost the clamor that was directed at me. However, this afternoon I see what the attention truly is. I see that the desire for my company is not from a desire to have knowledge of my character, nor of my heart, but rather from their knowledge of what I possess and what I own. They look to further themselves over anything else.” He looked over at Jonathan, his expression grave. “How can one know which of one’s acquaintances is a true friend, then? How can one judge a lady’s heart when she gives the appearance of being vastly in love with you when, all the time, she might only be considering one’s perceived wealth?”
“And that, my friend, is why we are doing this ruse,” Jonathan declared, feeling that all-familiar heaviness sinking into his soul. “You see things from my perspective, and I see it from yours. I will confess that I did not like being so easily disregarded, but I can see that I rather have the advantage when it comes to forming true and strong friendships.”
“No one need pretend with you,” Lord Michael muttered, passing one hand over his face. “I had thought they might stand back from me a little because of my leg, but apparently that makes no difference.”
Jonathan chuckled and slapped his friend on the back. “I should not think it would, no. But you may yet find a lady who shows a true concern for you, as opposed to the mask of sympathy and compassion so many of them wear.”
Lord Michael sighed heavily. “Mayhap. One can always hope, I suppose.”
“Precisely,” Jonathan agreed, his thoughts turning back towards Miss Richards. “Come now, I believe I can see more of the beau monde coming in our direction.”
6
Lord and Lady Sheringham’s ball was rather an opulent affair. They clearly had spared no expense, as it was for their daughter. Jonathan was not in the least surprised. What did make him smile was the way they practically fawned over Lord Michael, believing him to be Lord Rivenhall, whereas he was greeted cordially but then ignored.
Lord Rivenhall was clearly the more important party—and that was only because of the title. Jonathan rolled his eyes as he walked away from the receiving line, leaving Lord Michael behind. How he hated society’s toad-eating ways!
“You are free at last,” he quipped, as Lord Michael came to stand by him. “Now, what are your plans for this evening?”
“The card room, as soon as I can,” Lord Michael chuckled, slapping one hand on Jonathan’s back. “Although I think I must greet Miss Sheringham first. It would be most extraordinarily rude of me if I did not.”
“Indeed, it would,” Jonathan agreed, managing to locate the lady in question almost immediately. “I believe that she is standing just over there, surrounded by a great many gentlemen already.”
Lord Michael shook his head. “Then I will wait until she is a little less cloistered. Considering I am quite unable to dance, it will have to be a conversation or two before I have done my duty.”
“Perhaps then, we might stay on the balcony for a while,” he suggested, beginning to walk along it instead of descending the staircase. “I always find that sitting here does me a world of good.”
Together, they wandered along it for a time before finding a place to sit, a place where they might watch the crowd without being noticed themselves. The balcony was not as well-lit as the ballroom below, which meant that they could observe the guests quite well.
“Oh, do excuse me!”
Jonathan jerked back in surprise, as a young lady scrambled to her feet, her cheeks pink.
“I do apologize,” she breathed, stumbling past him. Unfortunately, she walked directly into Lord Michael, who with his poor leg, toppled backward. The young lady herself only just managed to keep her balance, her hands covering her mouth as she leaned heavily against the wall, staring at Lord Michael with a somewhat horrified expression.
“Goodness me, are you all right, Michael?” Jonathan exclaimed, stepping forward so as to help him to his feet. “That was something of a surprise!”
Lord Michael managed to right himself with a little help from Jonathan, his face bright red with embarrassment.
“I am all right,” he muttered gruffly, as Jonathan helped ease him down into a nearby chair. “Just caught me a bit off guard.”
“I am so terribly sorry,” the lady whispered, her face milk white. “I did not hear you coming and—”
Seeing the worry on her face, Jonathan cleared his throat and tried to smile. “There is nothing to concern yourself over, my dear. You need not worry yourself.”
Finally managing to step away from the wall, the young lady approached Lord Michael and sat down opposite him, her eyes running over his features. “Lord Michael, is it?” she murmured, clasping her hands tightly together. “I am truly sorry, can you ever forgive me?”
“Now, now, there is no need for all that,” Lord Michael replied quickly, smiling at her. “No one saw, other than yourself and Lord Rivenhall here. You need not worry yourself.” He tilted his head and studied her. “Hiding from something, were you?”
Her cheeks dusted with pink. “Something like that,” she replied, looking away. “My name is Miss Carron, and my father is a baron. My father insists that I marry Lord Baxter, but I would prefer not to even be an acquaintance of his.” Her face contorted for a moment, and she glanced away. “I should not be telling you all this, however. I do apologize for my mouth running away with me. Tis only to explain the reason that I am up here alone, hiding in the shadows.”
Lord Michael shook his head and leaned forward, something in his expression catching Jonathan off guard. Lord Michael was evidently quite taken with the lady.
“Do not fear talking to me,” Lord Michael continued, ignoring Jonathan’s presence completely. “I would be glad of your company for a few minutes if you wish. And Lord Rivenhall here will…” He trailed off, looking up at Jonathan with a suddenly horrified expression. Too late did Jonathan feel the jolt of awareness that told him they had both managed to forget entirely about their disguise.
“Oh,” Jonathan mumbled, pushing one hand through his hair. “Well, that is gone and torn it.”
“Torn what?” Miss Carron asked, looking from one to the other. “Have I done something wrong?”
Michael let out a long breath, a rather guilty expression on his face. “I think we might have to take you into our confidence, Miss Carron.”
Shaking his head, Jonathan shot a firm look at his friend. “You are going to have to explain all, Michael.”
“I will,” his friend replied, with a quick smile. “I am quite sure Miss Carron will understand.”
Leaving his friend and Miss Carron to talk, Jonathan moved back towards the balcony rail, thinking it best that only one of them explain the situation to the lady. He heard Miss Carron’s exclamation of surprise and tensed for a moment, wondering if she would hurry past him in a flurry of skirts—only to hear her laugh. His anxiety rolled away, and he allowed himself a long, relieved breath, glad that there would be apparently no need to concern himself over Miss Carron’s discretion.
His eyes roved over the guests for a moment, suddenly alighting on a figure he recognized—Lord Richards. He was busy talking to another gentleman, although it did not appear to be an amicable conversation. The man was frowning heavily, and as the unknown gentleman prodded Lord Richards in the chest, Richards stepped back and shook his finger in the other gentleman’s face. The gentleman laughed mockingly and swung away from Lord Richards, leaving him standing alone.
Jonathan frowned. That was not a particularly pleasant thing to have watched, even though he did not know Lord Richards particularly well. There was clearly more than just his estate renovations on his mind. As he watched, he saw Miss Richards hurry over to her brother, gesticulating wildly at the gentleman who had just left.
Lord Richards attempted to calm her, but she was clearly very upset. Jonathan
fought the urge to rush downstairs and join their conversation, demanding to know what had transpired. He did not like seeing Miss Richards so upset, especially when he had no knowledge as to why that might be. Something in him wanted to help her or help her brother if that would lessen her anxiety.
Grasping the balcony rail firmly, Jonathan forced himself to remain in place. Lord Richards had, by this point, put both hands on his sister’s shoulders and was speaking to her quietly. Miss Richards’ shoulders slumped, her head downcast although she nodded in agreement with whatever her brother was saying. Eventually, she looked up at him and gave a small smile, which Lord Richards returned.
Jonathan frowned. Whatever had occurred, there was clearly some difficulty going on. It was not his place to know or to offer his aid, not unless either of them approached him with a request for his assistance, but he could not push away the desire to do so regardless.
Looking away from them, Jonathan tried to seek out the gentleman who had caused Lord Richards so much angst. He soon found him, standing with some other gentlemen and laughing uproariously. He was a tall man, with a rather large waist and a slightly balding head. He had an air of arrogance about him. An instant sense of dislike came over Jonathan, his lip curling as he saw the man gesture towards Lord Richards.
“It is not my business,” he muttered to himself, his gaze now back on Miss Richards. She had left her brother’s side and was now all smiles, chatting amicably with another gentleman. The gentleman offered her his arm, and with a broad smile, Miss Richards accepted at once and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.
Jonathan, ignoring the feeling of jealousy that instantly rushed over him, turned back to Lord Michael and Miss Carron. Much to his surprise, they were chatting together quite happily, as though they had been acquaintances for a rather long period of time.
