Engaged to a Friend (Convenient Arrangements Book 6)

by Rose Pearson

  Lord Yarmouth looked pleased that she had asked him such a thing. “Indeed, I have found it very enjoyable thus far,” he said, although Tabitha hid a smile when he shot her a hard glance, silently reminding her not to mention any of his difficulties at present. “It is always good to make new acquaintances. Tell me, Miss Bartlett, have you any friends here in London that you are glad to see again?”

  Tabitha, a smile still lingering on her face, looked back at Miss Bartlett, entirely astonished to see a small tremor running through the lady’s thin frame as she came to a dead stop, looking up at Lord Yarmouth with terrified eyes.

  “What has my mother told you?” she breathed as Lord Yarmouth began to frown, his brows furrowing and his eyes darkening just a little. “Has she said something that I should know?”

  “Nothing of any importance,” Tabitha said quickly, looking at Lord Yarmouth, who, seeing her sharp gaze, quickly began to deny such a thing also.

  “I can assure you, Miss Bartlett, that your mother has not spoken to me about anything to do with you,” he said as Miss Bartlett pressed her fingers to her mouth, her skin milk-white and her eyes rounded with evident fright. “Pray, do not trouble yourself in such a way!”

  It took a few minutes for Miss Bartlett to calm herself. Slowly, her hands separated, and her arms fell to her sides. Her head lowered, and her lips trembled. Not quite certain whether or not to simply disregard what had occurred or if she ought to step forward and comfort the lady in some way, Tabitha shot a despairing look towards Lord Yarmouth, who gave her a small shrug of his shoulders. Clearly, he was just as lost as she.

  “I—I am sure Lord Yarmouth has a great deal he wishes to speak to you about, Miss Bartlett,” Tabitha found herself saying, ignoring the way that Lord Yarmouth’s eyes widened with sudden horror. “Why do you not walk with him for a time? I shall be only a few steps behind.” Smiling encouragingly, she gestured for Miss Bartlett to step forward before turning her gaze to Lord Yarmouth, who had not moved either. Widening her eyes and tilting her head furiously in the lady’s direction, she let out a breath of relief when he finally cleared his throat and came to stand alongside Miss Bartlett, who finally lifted her head and gave him a small smile.

  “Tell me about your family, Miss Bartlett,” Lord Yarmouth said, beginning to walk again and, much to Tabitha’s relief, Miss Bartlett fell into step beside him. “Or about your father’s estate, if you please. I confess I know very little of it all.”

  Tabitha walked a few steps behind them both, thinking hard about what had just occurred. Miss Bartlett had gone quite to pieces in front of them both and without any clear reason as to why. There was a fear of her mother, that was for certain, but quite what that anxiety was about in particular, Tabitha did not know. Was it something she ought to ask Miss Bartlett about? Or was this a matter that Lord Yarmouth would discover in time, should things go well?

  Should things go well.

  The final few words of her thoughts repeated themselves over and over in her mind, making Tabitha feel almost sick with anxiety that she could not quite explain. It was as though any thought of Lord Yarmouth’s future made her both upset and deeply uneasy. Her initial thought that she wanted his company, his friendship, to remain exactly as it was at present was, she considered, the most reasonable explanation, but it was foolish. Lady Ashbrook had been her acquaintance before she had been married, and now, as a married lady, she was just as dear to Tabitha as ever. Why should it be different with Lord Yarmouth? Yes, she might not have as close an acquaintance as before, but that was entirely to be expected.

  “I shall simply have to become close to Lady Yarmouth, whoever she may be,” she said quietly to herself, trying her best not to give in to the pang of sorrow that struck her heart at those words. Try as she might, she could not seem to rid herself of such a feeling, and even her attempts to remain quite practical did not appear to be doing anything to help.

  “What say you, Lady Croome?”

  Tabitha lifted her head and gave her attention to Lord Yarmouth and Miss Bartlett again, who had both stopped to look at her. Miss Bartlett, Tabitha noted, appeared to be much more at ease now, no longer looking as tense or anxious, although she was not smiling.

  “I am afraid I was quite lost in thought, Lord Yarmouth,” she said pleasantly, praying that he would not ask her what she had been thinking of. “Did you have something you wished to speak to me about?”

  Lord Yarmouth smiled at her. “It was merely to question whether or not you think Lord and Lady Melville’s masquerade ball will be just as exceptional as last year,” he said as Tabitha laughed. “You attended it last Season if I recall correctly?”

  “I did,” Tabitha agreed with a bright smile. “And it was quite magnificent. I am very much looking forward to attending this year also.” She smiled at Miss Bartlett. “Will you be going, Miss Bartlett?”

  “I—I hope so,” Miss Bartlett replied. “My mother has not yet informed me as to whether or not she has accepted, although I am quite certain she would have done so if it is an exceptional occasion.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” Lord Yarmouth said as Tabitha found it difficult to keep her smile fixed in place. “You must make certain to come and find me amongst the crowd, Miss Bartlett. I shall not be very difficult to spot, even with a mask!”

  Miss Bartlett blushed, and Tabitha looked away; even the memory of Lord Yarmouth and his poor attempt at a mask from last year’s ball did not bring even a ghost of a smile to her lips.

  “Shall we perhaps return to the carriage?” Lord Yarmouth asked, offering Miss Bartlett his arm. “We do not want to be too long away from your mother.”

  Tabitha watched as Miss Bartlett looked from Lord Yarmouth to his proffered arm and then to Tabitha. She expected the girl to step forward and accept it within a few moments but was left entirely astonished as she gave a small shake of her head and then made her way to join Tabitha without accepting Lord Yarmouth’s offer. Blinking in astonishment but doing her utmost not to reveal it, she merely smiled back at Lord Yarmouth, whose eyes had rounded in surprise, before making her way slowly back towards the carriage with Miss Bartlett beside her.

  Miss Bartlett, it seemed, was a very curious young lady indeed.

  “And do you mean to say that she did not accept him?”

  “It was most extraordinary,” Tabitha agreed, shaking her head as Lady Ashbrook’s eyes widened. “I would have thought that Miss Bartlett, having accepted a walk in the park from Lord Yarmouth, would have been glad to have taken his arm. After all, Lord Yarmouth is an earl and she the daughter of a viscount—surely she would want to encourage his intentions!”

  Lady Ashbrook nodded, the peacock feathers on the side of her mask sweeping back and forth. “And did you have an opportunity to speak to Lord Yarmouth thereafter?”

  “I did,” Tabitha replied, a trifle hesitantly. “He did not appear to be at all upset about her refusal, although there was a sense of astonishment at her behavior.” She glanced at Lady Ashbrook, who was watching her with careful eyes, hidden slightly behind her mask. “He stated that he found Miss Bartlett to be very reserved indeed, which was not something I had expected. However, she had begun to speak a little more openly to him during the short time that they walked together, which made her refusal to accept his arm all the more astonishing.”

  “I do not understand it,” Lady Ashbrook agreed with a shake of her head. “I would have thought that she would have been eager to make the most of her conversation with him. Did anything else occur that made you believe she was not as eager as she might have appeared?”

  Instantly, the strange reaction that Miss Bartlett had exhibited in mention of her mother came back to Tabitha’s mind, and she quickly related it to her friend, who looked all the more astonished.

  “I did not mention it thereafter,” Tabitha finished with a shrug of her shoulders. “I did not know what to say and even whether or not I should speak of it again. I do hope that, in time—and should all g
o well with Lord Yarmouth and Miss Bartlett—that she will speak to him of her troubles.”

  Lady Ashbrook let out her breath slowly, her lips pulled thin. “I should suggest, Tabitha, that Miss Bartlett seems a complicated young lady. Her mother is quite overbearing and has clearly had something of an effect on Miss Bartlett’s character. I would be surprised if Lord Yarmouth was as willing to continue with her.”

  “He has something of a compassionate heart, however,” Tabitha argued quietly. “Initially, he was a little deterred from her, but he was not willing to give up as he had done before.” She did not mention that she had been required to almost force the continuation of their acquaintance but instead, continued to defend him. “We may find that he is sympathetic enough to her situation that he is willing to continue with the acquaintance regardless.”

  Lady Ashbrook sighed but said nothing, walking together with Tabitha towards the open French doors where they might gain a little fresh air.

  “I do not know,” Tabitha murmured, half to herself. “It is all very difficult. I did not think Miss Bartlett would be as silent nor as unwilling as she appeared.”

  “You are doing your very best, I am sure,” Lady Ashbrook replied, pressing Tabitha’s hand. “Goodness, this is quite lovely, do you not think?”

  Her mind momentarily pulled from her troubled thoughts, Tabitha looked all about her and immediately agreed with the sentiment. The garden was lit with lanterns, and there were many beautiful decorations hung from the shrubs and bushes. Lord and Lady Melville had done magnificently, and Tabitha smiled in contentment. This night was very beautiful, indeed.

  A sudden whispering caught Tabitha’s attention, and she stopped dead, catching Lady Ashbrook’s arm.

  “What is—?”

  Tabitha shook her head, motioning her friend to be silent. Lady Ashbrook did as she was asked without question, frowning hard as she looked at Tabitha, but Tabitha was much too distracted with hearing the sound of someone crying. Evidently, Lady Ashbrook heard it also, for within a few moments, her eyes widened, and she stared hard at Tabitha, clearly uncertain as to what they were to do.

  “Wait,” Tabitha mouthed, looking around the gardens and realizing that there were very few guests out of doors. It would soon be time for the masks to be removed and for the invited guests to reveal their true identity to each other, and no one wanted to miss such a thing. Turning her head, she listened hard again, hearing the crying become a little louder.

  “What should we do?” Lady Ashbrook asked, but Tabitha had already left their path and was making her way towards the sound. There could be many reasons why someone was upset certainly, but to be crying at a masquerade ball, out in the gardens could mean, to Tabitha’s mind, that there was someone in distress. Someone, perhaps, who had allowed a rake to capture their attentions for long enough to pull them into the gardens, only to realize precisely what they wanted.

  “Who is there?” she asked as the sound of crying quickly abated. “I can hear you still, and my friend, Lady Ashbrook, is standing by the path.” She kept her tone measured, not wanting to express any sort of threat to whoever was hidden in the shadows. “I want only to make certain that you are not unwell nor broken-hearted. In addition, should you require a discreet chaperone to return you to the ballroom, I would be glad to do so.”

  “Lady—Lady Croome?”

  The tearful voice was familiar to Tabitha’s ears, but she could not immediately place it. Frowning, she cleared her throat. “Yes, it is Lady Tabitha Croome,” she said in a somewhat formal manner. “Are we acquainted?”

  The sniffing began again in earnest, and, much to Tabitha’s dismay, the sound of a male voice caught her ears. Whoever was speaking to the lady, it appeared that she was not alone.

  “Pray, do not think ill of me, Lady Croome,” said the voice in between heavy sniffing. “There is more to this situation than it first appears, and you know very well that my mother will never consent to such a thing.”

  The remark about the lady’s mother immediately made everything fall into place.

  “Miss Bartlett?” Tabitha breathed, her heart pounding with a sudden astonishment. “Is it you who speaks to me?”

  There was silence for a moment or two, and then the acknowledgment that Tabitha was correct was spoken.

  “And who is with you?” Tabitha demanded, praying desperately that it was not Lord Yarmouth. “If they have done you any harm, I shall—”

  “No, he has not,” Miss Bartlett cried, coming a few steps closer to Tabitha and finally revealing herself to her, although her features were still shrouded in shadow. “Lord Naseby and I intended to elope this evening, but all is undone!” She began to sob as Tabitha stared at the lady with wide eyes, her heart pounding furiously as she tried to take in what was being said.

  “Elope?” came a voice from behind her. “You mean to say that you intend to elope with this gentleman, Miss Bartlett? What can you be thinking?”

  “My friend, Lady Ashbrook,” Tabitha explained, quickly, hearing Miss Bartlett’s swift intake of breath. “What she means to say is—”

  “I care very deeply for Miss Bartlett,” came a low voice as the as yet unintroduced Lord Naseby stepped forward, coming close to the young lady. “I have cared for her for a long time. I have begged Lord Blackmore to permit me to court Miss Bartlett, but he has refused.”

  Tabitha brows dug low. “And why has he refused?” she asked, afraid that there was something untoward about the fellow.

  “Because I am but a viscount and Lord Blackmore wishes his daughter to marry above her station,” Lord Naseby replied, his tone one of anger as Miss Bartlett began to cry again. “This was to be our only opportunity to escape, but, alas, it seems as though we are to be parted for good.”

  Trying to take in all that had been revealed to her, Tabitha understood why Miss Bartlett had behaved as she had done the previous afternoon. She had been afraid that either Tabitha herself or Lord Yarmouth had heard of her acquaintance with Lord Naseby, or that her mother had mentioned the name to Lord Yarmouth instead. It appeared as though the lady did, in fact, care for Lord Naseby very deeply, which was, again, the reason that she had refused Lord Yarmouth’s arm. She did not want to betray the gentleman she cared for.

  “I see,” Tabitha said slowly. “And what has occurred to prevent it, Lord Naseby?”

  He sighed, and Miss Bartlett dropped her head on his shoulder. “My carriage wheel was broken this afternoon,” he said heavily. “I had to take a hackney to attend this evening, and I cannot simply demand that a hackney drive us to Scotland. They would never manage the same speed as the carriage, meaning that Lord Blackmore would be quite likely to discover us.”

  “And the only reason I have been able to escape from my mother is because of this masquerade,” Miss Bartlett explained, brokenly. “I shall not have such an opportunity again.”

  Tabitha let out a long breath, looking at Lady Ashbrook, who, for whatever reason, remained silent. There was a choice now before her. Either she could simply wish the couple well and privately tell Lord Yarmouth what she had learned, or she could do something to help them.

  The second option was not something that she considered lightly. To do so would be to encourage them to do something that both Lord and Lady Blackmore had expressly forbidden. But neither could she allow herself simply to step away, to see Miss Bartlett so sorrowful and heartbroken that her one opportunity for happiness had been stolen from her.

  “You—you may take my carriage,” she found herself saying, aware of her friend’s gasp of astonishment as well as the stunned silence that followed her words. “I will go with you and instruct my driver as to what he must do.”

  Lord Naseby was the first to speak, his voice breaking with the great swell of emotion that had obviously grasped him. “Are you quite certain, Lady Croome?” he asked as Miss Bartlett began to cry with earnest. “It is a great burden upon you, surely, for to be without a carriage…”

  “It would b
e a greater burden upon my heart, I can assure you, if I did nothing,” Tabitha replied fervently. “Come, we must go before the unmasking is upon us.”

  A gentle hand tugged Tabitha’s sleeve.

  “Are you quite certain?” Tabitha turned to Lady Ashbrook in the darkness. “That is quite a decision.”

  “I am determined,” Tabitha replied honestly. “I must do all that I can to help Miss Bartlett, for this sort of affection does not come upon everyone, and, when it does, it must be cherished.”

  “I am very grateful to you for your understanding,” Miss Bartlett whispered, her voice barely loud enough for Tabitha to hear. “Especially after so short an acquaintance.”

  Tabitha let out a breath, feeling all the more confident in her decision. “It is the right thing to do,” she said determinedly. “Come now; we must hurry.” And, saying so, she quickly hurried back towards the path, and then, with the others falling in behind her, made her way back into the ballroom.

  Chapter Nine

  “I did not see Miss Bartlett all last evening,” Oliver mused, picking up a brandy glass and swirling it around gently. “I confess I find her a most unusual young lady.”

  Lord Jennings chuckled. “One that you will continue to consider?”

  Oliver hesitated. “I—I could not say,” he replied slowly. “It is not to say that I do not find her to be of interest to me, and certainly, she has a gentle beauty about her, but that I find the time I spend with her to be...” Tilting his head, he looked at his friend steadily, trying to find the right words. “It can be a little exhausting.”

  Lord Jennings did not laugh or throw back a teasing remark as Oliver had expected. Instead, he simply nodded musingly and then shrugged. “That might change, with time. It is only the beginning of your acquaintance, is it not?”

  “It is,” Oliver agreed, “but given that Lady Blackmore will be a part of my life should I continue with Miss Bartlett, I find that the idea of continuing my acquaintance with the lady to be a difficult one.”