“I hope you are enjoying the evening,” Lady Basingstoke said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Not really,” Alexander responded honestly. “Things have changed a little since I last attended a ball.”
“Of course, you used to dance so often and with such grace. To be stuck on the outside of society for the rest of your life must be a horrid thought,” Lady Basingstoke said without tact.
“I find not dwelling on it helps,” Alexander responded abruptly.
“Of course, of course. I know the perfect way of taking your mind off your injury. Let me reacquaint you with my youngest daughter, Serena.”
Alexander realised that Serena must have been standing nearby waiting for the introduction and immediately felt like a hunted animal. He could not show weakness before the two wolves, or they would probably just move in for the kill.
“Miss Basingstoke,” He nodded in the direction he had felt rather than saw movement.
“Captain Worthington,” Miss Basingstoke responded in the same shrill voice of her sister. “It’s a pleasure to see you. I mean, oh dear, I should not have said that! I meant to say nothing about your eyes; of course you can’t see; everyone knows that. I mean....” The girl continued to fumble and made the unintentional mistake worse by trying to correct it.
“Miss Basingstoke, unless you have been struck by blindness, which I sincerely hope not, you can see me. Do not fret over your perceived error,” Alexander said a little coldly. He had not been troubled by her words; it was her attempt at trying to make amends in such a blundering way that was the problem for him. He did acknowledge that in some respects people could not win with his situation; he had been offended by the first young lady for being blasé about his affliction and now this. He sighed and wished himself a hundred miles away.
“Oh, you are too kind. I am sure you are too kind,” Lady Basingstoke interjected. “Serena looks positively ready to faint with embarrassment. Poor girl, she meant no offence; I’m sure she just needs a little time to gather herself, and all will be well. Why don’t you accompany her for a walk in the gardens while she recovers her balance, Captain Worthington? I’m sure the air will do you both the world of good.”
“That would be very kind of you Captain Worthington. I would like that very much,” Miss Basingstoke murmured.
Alexander almost laughed at the obviousness of the two women before him but managed to maintain his composure. “I’m afraid I will have to decline. I’d hate to be in the situation where Miss Basingstoke is taken ill and, because of my condition, I could not help her. We would be safer if we remained in this crowded room where there are people to come to our aid if needed,” Alexander responded pleasantly. Inside he was congratulating himself for his quick thinking; he was not a successful ship’s captain just from good luck alone. He had outmanoeuvred skilled sailors in his time; he was not about to fall prey to two scheming women.
Lady Basingstoke muttered something to her daughter but then turned to someone who had approached her. By her words, Alexander concluded it was his previous companion, but she said nothing and was soon sent away once again by Lady Basingstoke. He wanted to know who the young lady was but to ask would be inappropriate. She had not been introduced, which probably meant she was someone of little consequence. Alexander felt a stirring of regret at the thought; even on such short acquaintance she had been the most entertaining person he had met in many months.
Everyone he had met since his return home had either avoided mentioning his injury or had made similar blundering errors as Miss Basingstoke had done. Apart from Richard and Alexander’s elder brother, the unknown lady had been the first person to face his blindness straight on and, although he reacted badly to it at first, on reflection he appreciated it. She also appeared to have a similar sense of humour as he, which he found unusual in ladies. It was a pity their paths had never crossed before the accident.
Lady Basingstoke was prevented from making any further progress with Captain Worthington due to Richard’s reappearance.
“Good evening, Mr Critchley,” Lady Basingstoke said with a smile at the new arrival.
“Good evening, Lady Basingstoke, Miss Basingstoke,” Richard said with a bow. “I hope you are well?” Richard was fully aware of the Basingstokes and, although polite, he was under no illusion but that he would also be a target for the husband-seeking mama. He did not have the fortune that she wished for her second daughter, but he was comfortable enough to make him an attractive candidate after three seasons.
“I am very well, thank you. I was just saying to Captain Worthington what a pity it is that he is no longer able to dance; Serena so loves to dance,” Lady Basingstoke said, turning her attention to the newcomer.
Alexander almost laughed out loud at her remarks. They had not mentioned a thing about dancing, but it was obvious he had escaped their attention, for now at least, while a fully able-bodied person was available. He listened, interested to see what excuse Richard would invent.
Richard smiled at the ladies, his dark eyes twinkling. “That is a real pity! My friend was a good dancer, I agree. I believe his conversation isn’t too tedious for ladies, either,” he said amiably. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to spirit him away; my carriage awaits.”
“Oh,” Lady Basingstoke’s disappointment was evident in her face and tone of voice. “That is a shame, but if your carriage awaits you there will be no opportunity of Serena dancing with you. What a pity! I shall bid you good night gentlemen. Serena, come, I see Lord Entwistle.”
The two ladies left the gentlemen. Richard breathed a sigh of relief. “Come, Alex, let us make our escape before Entwistle gives them the brush-off. I don’t want to be here when they start to look for another victim.” He touched his friend’s arm with his own, and Alexander placed his hand on it. They started the difficult task of negotiating a busy ballroom. With every apology Alexander had to give when he came into contact with someone, knocking them because they had not made enough room for the bulk of himself and Richard moving side by side, he vowed to himself he never would grace a ballroom again.
Chapter 2
Amelia had watched her aunt with Captain Worthington with a sinking heart. She had no false hope that her brief conversation with him would lead to anything. He would not fall for her own charms, especially as he did not even know of her existence. Her discomfort was more to do with watching her aunt and cousin fawn over a man purely because they thought he was an easy target. It was behaviour she would never understand. They did not seem to realise they were avoided by single men as much as possible. It would have been laughable if had been happening to someone else; unfortunately the humour in the situation was not as evident when it involved members of her own family.
Amelia had been forced on her aunt. Her father and Sir Jeremy Basingstoke were brothers. Amelia’s father had married for love not money and had led a very happy life with his wife and family. Having only one daughter and eight boys, he had appealed to his older, wealthier brother to take Amelia under his wing in order to help her secure a good match. He had waited until she was twenty, unusually late, but the loving father had been reluctant to say goodbye to his only daughter too early. Amelia’s uncle was amenable to an extra person in his household; it would dilute the number of interactions he had to tolerate from his wife and girls. As it turned out, it was even better than he had hoped.
Amelia was blessed with rich chestnut hair and deep brown eyes; her manner was quietly confident and, although not stunningly pretty, she was considered to have pleasing features. Her mother and father hoped for a comfortable match for their daughter; Amelia would have been happy with such. She had no false illusions: She had no dowry to speak of and was not classically beautiful; she hoped only to attract a good man who she could love and be comfortable with. She had seen what contentment a loving marriage could bring and hoped to have the same.
Everything should have gone unassumingly to plan, except for one thing: Lady Basingstoke. She had h
er youngest daughter to marry off, and she was determined to marry her well. Amelia would have none of her attention until then, and even then only a little. Lady Basingstoke disliked Amelia; she was not as pretty as her own daughters, but she had something else: poise, confidence and grace. It soon became Lady Basingstoke’s aim to drag the girl down and send her back to her parents unmarried and worthless.
While Amelia stayed with them, Lady Basingstoke had no compunction in using her as an unpaid servant. She was giving the girl food and board and escorting her about town. Admittedly, she introduced her to only a few people, and she made it clear that the girl came with nothing but her connections to herself to recommend her. Needless to say on such a recommendation, Amelia had sat out more dances than she had danced. Most treated her with the same suspicion with which they treated Lady Basingstoke and her daughter, presuming that she would also be prepared to force a compromising situation in order to obtain a marriage proposal.
If Amelia had been of a different disposition she would have lost her spirit because of the way she was treated, but she was far more philosophical about the whole situation. It was beyond her control to alter it at the moment, but she hoped that by the end of the season, which would be her third, her parents would be more amenable to her returning home. She would have to accept that she would remain single and unwed. While her aunt was her promoter, there would be no marriage for her.
While out in Society she had seen men like Captain Worthington from afar. They were the top of the tree, the men most sought after. In Captain’s Worthington’s case, she could understand completely why he was in that position. Amelia had never been introduced to him but, during her first season, every time he had been at the same parties she had attended, she had been aware of his every move.
There was no possibility that Amelia would have got carried away and imagined a romance and proposal from such a man; she would never allow herself to indulge in such foolish thoughts. It did not mean she could not appreciate the rich black hair worn in a queue, as was the fashion of naval men, and his swarthy complexion, which faded the longer he was away from his ship. There was no harm in admiring such a fine man, which is only what all the ladies around her did, so she was no different on that score.
He was paler now, months having passed since he had been involved in that fateful battle. His blue eyes seemed to be made of the sea he was so fond of, although they no longer flitted around the ballroom as they had previously. He was of large build, almost straining out of his frock coat, which hugged him just as his naval uniform had done. His features matched his size, his long nose and full mouth, which complemented the eyes that initially drew one’s attention. He was a devastatingly handsome man, who perhaps had not smiled overly much but had had the confidence of one who felt indestructible and completely in control.
That was how things had been. When he appeared at the present ball, Amelia had seen him from across the room. He had been openly stared at by many of his so- called friends, who whispered and tittered to each other. The gentleman who had accompanied him had seemed oblivious to the commotion, but sometimes, when one is wrapped up in seeking out a pretty face as Richard had been, other things are not noticed. No one had approached the pair, a far cry from previous entertainments when Captain Worthington would have been hailed from all directions. Amelia had been annoyed when he was so obviously shunned by his former friends.
To her it was just another representation of how shallow the Society was she belonged to while staying with her uncle. She would not be sorry when she could leave it behind and return to her own family. She understood why her father had wanted her to come to London; she just wished she could have had at least one of her brothers with her for company. That way she could have ridiculed what she had seen and treated the whole experience as a joke; instead she had to keep it contained within, and sometimes she became angry at what she saw—never as much as she had when Captain Worthington had been ignored though. She could have shook half the people in the room. Instead, she had sat on her hands and ground her teeth. Her inner self would have chuckled if she had not been so annoyed; with the glaring expression she no doubt wore, it was little wonder she had not received any requests to dance.
Amelia sighed, her life had been lonely since her arrival in London; she was not accepted or befriended by her cousin Serena. Serena took the lead from Lady Basingstoke, barely acknowledging Amelia unless it was to utter a demand or an instruction. Amelia thought it was a pity her cousin had chosen that path. She would have welcomed a female friend after being surrounded by so many brothers.
Her life had fallen into a regular pattern, which consisted very often of her choosing activities on which her aunt and cousin would not accompany her. Escaping her relations maintained her sanity since she was so far away from those she loved, who would have normally offered her the companionship she longed for. The only friend she had in town was the uncontrollable St Johns dog that her uncle had bought to accompany him on hunting trips; he had very quickly decided the dog was useless and had discarded him. The staff in the London house tried to look after him, but he was a large dog and without training had become unruly. Amelia’s uncle insisted on keeping him only because of the amount of money he had paid for the dog; he was reluctant to acknowledge the substantial loss he would undoubtedly face if he tried to sell the animal.
Amelia liked the undisciplined beast. He was big and chunky; his size frightened many who came into contact with him, but he was actually very friendly. His name was Samson, which suited him as his coat was long, blonde and curly. It was true that he was unruly, but she had some sympathy with the animal; she felt like being unruly herself sometimes when she saw the way her extended family carried on. She tried to take Samson out every morning for a long walk. She was always awake before the rest of the family, and a long walk quietened him down eventually. There was no need to take a servant to accompany her; it was early, and the people who would comment on her lack of chaperone were still cosy in their beds. She doubted if any comment would be made even if she were seen; she was under no delusion as to her low importance. When she was with Samson, she felt completely safe; few people would approach her with her golden guardian at her side.
Samson seemed to understand that she was the outsider in the family and, although still unpredictable, he was gentler with Amelia than with any of the other members of the household. She took him into Green Park each morning, following different routes to try to keep alive his interest in his surroundings. He was always very excited when they first set out, running a long way ahead of her, but always running backwards and forwards between Amelia and the latest smell he had found.
She enjoyed the peace of the park during the early morning. Later on it would be full of fashionable people wanting to see and be seen, just as Hyde Park was, which was not so very far away, but there was hardly anyone around in the park during the morning. She was able to wander and enjoy the feel of being in the country, even if it was a false feeling. A country girl at heart, she missed the pleasures the countryside could bring.
The morning after yet another ball where she had joined the other wallflowers for the evening, she went out walking as usual. It had been a late night, but as she had sat out most of the dances, she had not been overly tired when she finally went to bed. She had risen as usual and taken her favourite route into the park.
As they wandered, Samson started to bark excitedly, and Amelia groaned to herself. He had seen someone, and she would have to move quickly, or they would be greeted by Samson jumping up to say hello in his own special way.
“Here boy!” she said, moving towards the animal. With a sidelong glance at Amelia, the dog ran off across the grassland. Amelia groaned and started to run after him; the quicker she got there, the sooner she could start apologising.
Two men were walking towards her and, with a sinking heart, she realised it was Captain Worthington and his friend, Mr Critchley. She picked up her speed; the last thing she need
ed to happen was for Samson to jump up at Captain Worthington. He could cause him some injury, and the man had been through enough lately; she did not wish to be the cause of any further suffering.
“Samson, come here!” Amelia gasped as she tried to close the distance between herself and the dog.
Alexander heard the sound of Samson running; although he had no idea what the sound was, he also heard Amelia’s shout. He stopped when he heard Richard mutter, “What the hell?”
Richard stepped in front of Alexander, hoping to deflect the dog from its collision course with his friend. Surprisingly though, as the dog approached, it slowed down and came to a panting halt in front of them. Richard happy that his friend was not going to be bowled over, returned back to Alexander’s side.
“What on earth is going on?” Alexander asked, once more frustrated at his helplessness and reliance on others.
“A beast of a dog not under control, and a waif of a girl who must own him, bringing up the rear,” Richard said, his tone showing how annoyed he was.
Samson stood watching both men before seeming to turn his focus on Alexander and stood looking at him intently. The dog then moved towards Alexander. He approached slowly and circled around the back of Alexander’s legs, touching him the whole time with his body, before sitting at his left side, nudging his muzzle under his hand for a stroke.
Alexander laughed at the behaviour. “He doesn’t appear to be much of a beast at the moment,” he said scratching the top of the dog’s head, much to Samson’s appreciation. The dog leaned against Alexander’s legs, his tongue lolling to the side.
Amelia came to a screeching halt in front of the two gentlemen in a far less dignified way than Samson had. “I’m so sorry,” she said, gasping for breath. “There isn’t usually anyone around at this early hour, or I wouldn’t have let him off his lead.”
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