by Rose Pearson
“What is it that you want, Ridding?”
The Major smiled, relaxing just a little. “There now, at least I am to have a semblance of conversation with you! I come with news that there is to be a masked ball at Lord and Lady Ridgley’s abode tomorrow. You have received an invitation, I am sure, but have you yet responded?”
George lifted one eyebrow. “I am surprised that you would ask.”
“I just wondered whether or not you expected to be in attendance,” the Major said, nonchalantly, lifting one shoulder. “It is the start of the little Season after all, and from what I have been hearing, you have been throwing yourself into society’s events of late.”
Sniffing, George shrugged his shoulders, lifting the brandy to his lips. That was true, at least, although he had begun to attend events less and less the moment he realised Major Ridding was in town. He was also a little unsure as to whether Lady Jessica had returned to her father’s townhouse and had not wanted to ask, for fear that he would discover that yes, she was in town but clearly had not sought him out. He was in a quandary, for he did not want to return home if she still remained at Northfell, but nor did he want to ask one of his friends whether or not she was in London, for fear of making his love for her clear to them. It remained a closely guarded secret, held deep within the confines of his heart. He had no intention of sharing his daily burden of love and sorrow and pain with another living soul, not unless he absolutely had to.
Major Ridding sniffed and looked away from George, his expression inscrutable. “So you have not yet made up your mind,” he murmured, glancing over at him for a moment. “You will need to act quickly if you do wish to attend, Warwick. A mask for the event cannot always be quickly purchased and the event is tomorrow evening.”
“Why are you so interested in what events I choose to go to?” George exclaimed, rounding on Major Ridding. “Have you not noticed that I am taking myself as far away from any event you attend? Have you not wondered why I have been absent of late from society? It is because I do not wish to speak to you, Ridding.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because I saw you with Lady Jessica!” George shouted, unable to hold in his anger any longer. “The night of the ball, I saw you embrace her. Is that why you have come to London? Is she here? Are you soon to announce your engagement?”
Major Ridding dropped his glass of brandy onto the carpet, his eyes wide with shock. He made no move to pick it up, the amber liquid quickly soaking into the carpet.
“I thought you were my friend,” George finished, his breathing coming quickly. “I thought you understood the depths of my affections for the lady, and yet here you are making to take her into your own embrace the very moment I am gone form her affections! How could you do such a thing to me?”
Major Ridding swallowed hard, apparently unable to speak for a moment or two. “I…I…I did not think you would know.”
“So, you were trying to protect me, were you?” George sneered, his face lined with pain. “You did not want me to know, so persuaded me not to come to your ball by telling me exactly what Lady Jessica asked. You hoped that I would not attend so that you might get your claws into her, is that it?”
Major Ridding lifted his chin, his shoulders squaring. “Now see here, Eccles,” he began, referring to George in the way he had always done when they had both been in the army together. “I was trying my best to protect you. I am your friend and I could not confess to you that Lady Jessica and I were forming an attachment, not when I could see just how much you felt for her. I was honest enough to tell you what she asked of me, in the hope that your affections might begin to fade but I could not tell you all, not when I knew it would wound you so. Can you not see that, in all of this, I am trying to be your friend?”
George shook his head, nothing but pain slicing through him over and over and over again. “I can see nothing but betrayal,” he said, slowly slumping back in his seat. “We cannot be friends any longer, Ridding. Go to her. Marry her, if you will. I cannot be a part of your life any longer.”
Major Ridding rose slowly out of his seat, his expression somewhat triumphant, although George barely glanced at him. “Then it is best you do not come to the masked ball tomorrow evening,” he said, calmly. “I intend to propose to Lady Jessica there and I have every hope she will accept me. I am sorry it has come to this but I will not allow your pain to prevent any future happiness I will have with the lady. Under the circumstances, perhaps it is best that you return to your estate and we are left with the memories of the friendship we once shared. Good day, Eccles. I wish you well, with whatever your future may hold.”
George did not move, did not speak. He waited until the door closed tightly behind Major Ridding before closing his eyes and screwing up his face in a desperate attempt not to scream aloud in pain and frustration. Major Ridding was to propose to Lady Jessica? And he expected her to accept? My goodness, it was as though he had never truly known her. He would never have expected her to fall for another, not after how she had spoken to him, not after the intimacies they had shared together.
“Then I shall have to return to my estate,” George muttered, trying to get a hold of himself. “There is nothing else for it.” Major Ridding was right, there was nothing for him here.
Getting to his feet, George poured himself another, larger, brandy and leaned heavily on the mantlepiece, looking down into the flames. He felt as though there had been a large hole torn in his chest, an empty space now bleeding and ragged. Would he ever be able to heal from it? Was there any way it could, one day, be mended? No matter how hard he tried, George had not been able to find any delight in spending time with other eligible young ladies, for none of them had compared to Lady Jessica. She was still the only one he thought of, the only one he longed for.
“Can you imagine it if I appeared tomorrow and spoke to her of what she had done?” he said to himself, shaking his head as a rueful smile crossed his face. “What a look on her face there would be!”
He paused, the grim smile fading from his expression. Mayhap that was what he needed to do. Mayhap he did need to speak to her, to demand to know why she had turned from him so abruptly in order to give her affections to another. It might bring about the healing he so desperately needed. It would bring an end to all the questions that penetrated his mind over and over.
Putting down his brandy, George hurried out over to his desk, leafing through the piles of invitations that sat, unanswered, to one side. The masked ball was here somewhere, he was sure of it. It had been thrown aside, along with the rest of the invitations.
“Here it is,” he murmured, running one finger along the edge of the velvet ribbon that tied the invitation together. He had not replied to it as yet, and certainly did not have a mask for himself, but a determination grew within him to both attend and to speak openly with Lady Jessica. Sitting down at his desk, he quickly wrote a reply and, ringing the bell, handed the note to his butler with an instruction to have it sent straight away. It was late already which meant that he could not find a mask until the morning, but, with the decision made, George finally felt a little more settled.
“I shall find you tomorrow, Lady Jessica,” he promised, going in search of his brandy and lifting the glass in a toast to her. “And then you shall explain all to me. I will not leave your side without an explanation for the wrongs you have done me.” So saying, he threw back his brandy and, as the warmth spread through his chest, allowed himself a small smile. Finally, he would have some answers.
Chapter Nineteen
The following morning found George up bright and early, all ready to face the day and what would come with it. His decision to remain in town and to attend the masked ball gave him a sense of purpose, no longer feeling as though he was constantly being tossed about by the waves of life.
“I intend to go into town this morning,” he informed his butler, after breaking his fast. “And will be attending the Ridgley’s masked ball this evening.”
> “You will need the carriage then, my lord,” the butler intoned. “It is a good few miles outside of London.”
George nodded, not particularly interested as to where their home might be. “Very good. And have the valet lay out my clothes. It is a masked ball, however, so nothing too indiscreet. I intend to blend into the crowd if I can.”
The butler inclined his head and assured him he would see to it. George picked up his hat and left the house, glad he had chosen to wear his warmer coat this morning given the coolness of the air.
He had never had to purchase a mask before for such an event had not been much on his social calendars of late, but, much to his relief, most of the seamstress shops appeared to have a great many already made. The Ridgley’s masked ball, it seemed, was well known as a popular and highly sought after event, so the seamstresses had prepared well for it. That also went against what Major Ridding had said last evening, when he had suggested it might be more than a little difficult for him to find a mask at such short notice – but, George reasoned, the man had every reason not to want him to attend if he planned to propose to Lady Jessica there.
Mask purchased and sent to his townhouse, George wandered about the streets for a while, even taking a short stroll within Hyde Park in order to calm his mind. He thought about what he might say to Lady Jessica, wondering what her reaction to him would be, but the more he thought of it, the more worried he became. Deciding that it simply was not worth the anxiety, George considered what he might do with the rest of his day before heading to the ball. There were still a great many hours before he would have to begin his preparations, which meant that he was at rather a loose end.
“Whites?” he muttered to himself, thinking he might lose himself in a game of cards or two for a time. There were always gentlemen present, no matter what time of day it was, which meant he would certainly have some company. It would help take his mind off Lady Jessica and what he had to say to her.
It did not take long for him to get to Whites and, having already been permitted entry, George ordered a drink and looked about the place. Finding himself a table, George sat back quietly and nursed his drink, watching as four other gentlemen began a round of cards, not quite ready to join them yet. Sitting here where it was warm and fairly quiet, George closed his eyes and listened to the conversations flowing around him, content just to be sitting alone.
“Did you hear that Major Ridding is to propose to one of the Duke’s daughters?”
George’s eyes flew open, his stomach tensing as he gazed at the men playing cards, who were clearly unaware just how much interest they had suddenly garnered.
“What?” another of the gentlemen exclaimed, his hand frozen in mid air as he made to place a card down. “Major Ridding? The man who has spurned the duties of his title to go fight in the army?”
“The very same,” said the first, chuckling. “I do not know whether or not the Duke will agree, but there seems to be a strong attachment between the two of them from what the Major says.”
George closed his eyes, wincing inwardly. He did not want to hear this, not when a very painful evening was already lying ahead of him.
“But, then again, you did only hear this from Major Ridding,” said the third gentleman, speaking a little more quietly. “And we all know how that man is inclined to boast.”
Frowning, George eased himself back into his seat, suddenly interested in what was being said.
“Are you suggesting that Major Ridding is doing it a little too brown?” asked the first gentleman, his eyes on his cards.
“I am suggesting that Major Ridding should not be saying things that are not altogether true,” replied the third man. “I was with him only last evening and he was a little too free with his mouth.” He shook his head, his lip curling. “One of the consequences of having a penchant for whisky.”
It was on the tip of George’s tongue to ask what the man had heard from Major Ridding but he forced himself to remain silent, aware that he was already eavesdropping. He did not want to make himself too obvious for that might bring an end to their conversation and George got the impression that there was more the gentleman wanted to say.
The second gentleman shrugged. “So, the man talks too much,” he exclaimed, chuckling. “Who here would not boast if they were about to become engaged to a lady such as Lady Jessica?”
The fourth gentleman, who had remained silent up until now, slowly shook his head and cleared his throat loudly. “Major Ridding should not be too certain of his engagement, as far as I am concerned. I was also in his company last evening and found his tale a little sobering, truth be told.”
“Sobering?” the second gentleman asked, sounding surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Apparently, Major Ridding did something to break an association between Lady Jessica and another gentleman,” the fourth gentleman replied, slowly, frowning hard as though struggling to recall what had been said. “I was not particularly impressed, truth be told. If there is an attachment between two people then it should never be broken out of selfish means.”
There was a brief silence, broken only by the sounds of cards being placed down on the table or shuffled in their hands.
“So Lady Jessica might be heartbroken and therefore inclined to accept him, is that what you are suggesting?” the second gentleman asked the fourth. “That is rather underhand, if you ask me.”
“Yes, it is,” the fourth gentleman answered, gravely. “I pity whomever it is that has been left in the lurch, torn from Lady Jessica’s side. Whoever it is, Major Ridding made it quite clear that this gentleman was entirely unaware of Major Ridding’s interference.” He shook his head, looking grave. “Poor chap, whoever he is. One can only hope that Lady Jessica is sensible enough not to agree to wed Major Ridding.”
“Maybe one of us should speak to Major Ridding,” the third gentleman suggested. “For I do not know the lady at all – in fact, I have not even been introduced to her.”
George swallowed, hard, his hand frozen on his glass. His legs were weak, his body trembling with shock as he stared at the four gentlemen, hardly able to believe what he had so fortuitously discovered.
Could it be possible that nothing Major Ridding had told him was true? Had Lady Jessica not, in fact, asked that he not invite George to his ball? Was all that a lie? Shaking his head to clear his muddled thoughts, George drew in a sharp breath, recalling how he had seen them embrace in the gardens. Had he somehow misconstrued that as well and had Major Ridding used it to his advantage? What had he done to push Lady Jessica and himself apart?
Groaning, George set down his glass on the table in front of him and put his head in his hands. He dared not think what Major Ridding had said to Lady Jessica about him, growing coldly aware of how his friend had tried to stop him from attending the ball this evening. He had thought it was because Major Ridding wanted to propose to Lady Jessica without his presence and had even begun to believe that it was in order to protect him from further pain – but was the truth that Major Ridding wanted to continue to push him away from Lady Jessica, so that, one day, she might agree to his suit?
Under the circumstances, perhaps it is best that you return to your estate and we are left with the memories of the friendship we once shared.
Even in his parting words, Major Ridding had been trying to encourage him back to his estate, far away from London. Why had he not seen this before? Why had he been so easily led, willing to believe all that Major Ridding had said?
Getting up from the table, George made his way over to the four gentlemen who stopped playing and looked up at him, all appearing a little confused at his sudden presence.
“Gentlemen, I must thank you for your conversation and must beg your forgiveness for listening to it so carefully. You need not concern yourselves over Major Ridding and Lady Jessica any longer. I will see both of them this evening and put a stop to this sham!”
“Lord Warwick, is it not?” the fourth gentleman said, slowly, looki
ng at him from under bushy eyebrows. “I thought you were a friend of Major Ridding’s?”
George grimaced, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “As did I, sir. As did I.”
“Jessica, won’t you please try and look forward to this evening?”
Jessica rolled her eyes at Jacintha and tried to smile. “It is a masked ball and I fully intend to enjoy myself as best I can,” she promised. “I will be honest with you both,” she continued, as they made their way up the stone steps that led to the Ridgley’s home. “I have heard that Lord Warwick is in town and I can but hope he might be here.” She clasped her hands together and took in a long breath, steadying her nerves. “If he is, I have every intention of speaking to him to clear up what has broken between us. The hurt still remains, I will own it, and I must hope that a conversation between the two of us will help bring that hurt to an end.”
Harmonia looped her arm through hers, making her smile. “You have us to turn to – and papa as well, although I believe he will spend most of his time in the card room!”
“And Major Ridding will be present also,” Jacintha said, helpfully. “Will you not care to dance with him?”
Jessica grimaced, shaking her head. “No. I find his attentions much too cloying of late. I do not wish to dance with him nor even converse with him, but I fear I will have to. I have no doubt that he will greet us almost the moment we step indoors.”
“You have decided against him, then,” Harmonia said, softly. “He is not for you.”
Jessica drew in a long breath and smiled, her soul settled within her. “No, he is not for me. My heart belongs to Lord Warwick, as foolish as that might seem, and I cannot easily give it to another. Major Ridding might appear to be a wonderful adventurer, full of stories and delights about his time abroad, but I cannot see a future with him. I know I could not leave you for years at a time, following the drum and never being quite sure where I would end up!” She shook her head and lifted her chin, glad her mask was firmly in place. “Mayhap I can avoid him with my mask on,” she chuckled, her spirits lifting just a little. “A good disguise, is it not?”
