Romancing a Wallflower

by Anna St. Claire

  The whole night would be a test of stamina and courage. The thought that she would find her Prince Charming while sitting alongside the potted plants and wallflowers was preposterous. In fact, it was so ridiculous, she snorted out loud, as if she were still in the schoolroom.

  “Did you say something, my dear?” her mother inquired in a voice of dangerous calm.

  Lydia sniggered from across the carriage. Their mother glared at her.

  “Lydia, I find that a very ill-bred sound. I shall have to discuss with your father the advisability of restricting your visits to the stables.”

  Lydia at once hung her head. “I am sorry, Mama. Please do not.”

  “Very well. Now, Lilian, what have you to say for yourself? You were not, I think, brought up in a sty?”

  “No, Mama, of course not. I merely cleared my throat, I promise you. I apologize.” It distressed her to discuss the matter any further. She knew better.

  “Ah, the sun is making its final appearance, I see.” In a swift change of mien, the Countess smiled at both girls. “This will be a wonderful evening, my daughters. Your father will join us there. He may already be there, waiting on us, although Robert is not usually ahead of me.” Her mother smiled softly and then peered out of the window, still smiling. “We have always enjoyed these dances.”

  Indeed, her parents always danced together, even though the ton considered such niceties unfashionable. They were magical to watch when they waltzed, never seeming to care who looked upon them. Her parents were a love match—a rarity in the ton—nonetheless, it was what they wanted for their children. It was what Lilian had wanted too, once upon a time, before her accident. She had dreamed of being whisked away by love. Now, it was more akin to torture to recall those dreams. Instead, she read novels, as many as she could, diving into the lives of the heroes and heroines and relishing their good fortunes. This dance promised to be torture too.

  Lost in her thoughts, she almost did not notice the cabriolet pull up, or her brother join them within.

  “Good evening, lovely ladies. My apologies, Mama.” Jonathan De Lacey dropped a kiss on his mother’s cheek and sat down next to her. “I had a small matter to tie up with Father’s man of business. It was important, or I would not have taken the time.” He placed his hat in his lap as he spoke and pulled on his gloves.

  Jonathan’s affable nature always made her smile, Lilian mused. Always in a good mood, Jonathan invariably gave a warm smile, and offered to accompany his sisters on even the most mundane shopping trips.

  An hour later, Lilian leaned back in a chair and fanned her face. The heat almost overwhelmed her. The ball was an absolute crush, even for those who, like her, sat by the wall. The hard-backed chair beneath her had already begun to fatigue her aching back. I wish Lydia had not insisted. I cannot dance, not in a wheel-chair. She glanced at her conveyance, placed discreetly behind a potted palm, a few chairs away. The pitying glances from the other mothers, and the hushed conversations of her childhood peers behind their fans, both upset and humiliated her.

  Lilian watched her sister deftly handle the quadrille with a handsome blond soldier. Her mother was not likely to approve, but Lydia had a mind of her own, often seeing more of worth in a person than others did.

  She laughed quietly to herself. That is why she was here, after all. Lydia had insisted she would meet the man of her dreams at a ball and had encouraged—no, forced—her to come to this ball. She heaved a sigh. Not one prince had acknowledged her, not that she had expected it.

  A trickle of sweat ran down the front of her dress, while the cloying scents of competing perfumes abused her senses. Reaching into her reticule, Lilian withdrew her lace handkerchief and delicately touched it to her face, hoping the lilac cologne was still strong enough to last. She noticed many guests slipping out on to the veranda, which was the only place a little cool might be had and wished she might join them. A year ago, she had danced the quadrille until her feet blistered.

  Chapter 2

  She is here tonight! Lilian DeLacey. The beautiful young woman who had taken such a horrible spill from her horse a year ago, was here tonight. He would finally have a chance to meet her. He had inquired of her health each time he visited Lord Avalon, but it seemed both daughters had either been visiting with their mother or out shopping. This young lady had stolen his thoughts often over the past year, making him determined to meet her. If nothing else, it would put an end to the guilt he felt for her fall.

  John Andrews, the fifth Earl of Harlow, sipped his champagne and studied the beauty across the ballroom. She looked a vision in the pink creation she wore. There had to be more to this picture, he reflected. It was not as if he could read women very well; however, he would not previously have pictured her as a wallflower. What, therefore, was she doing, sitting with the wallflowers? He looked around the room and spotted her sister on the dance floor with a fellow officer. Then he looked back at Lilian. Although she glanced at him, her eyes immediately darted away again. He followed her gaze to a table of potted ferns at the edge of the room and saw the object of her attention. A wheel-chair was just visible behind the fern.

  “Can it be true?” he whispered to himself, feeling a mixture of surprise and sadness. Wheel-chairs were monstrous things. He remembered his grandfather had used one and they had not changed much since then. Lord Avalon would only say that his daughter had recovered as much as seemed possible. He had had no idea her recovery included that grotesque chair. A pang of sorrow gripped his heart. Why did she affect him so?

  Harlow’s gaze returned to her. A year ago, he and his best friend, Maxwell Wilde, the Earl of Worsley, had secured permission to use her father’s lands in their search for an enemy of the Crown. A smuggling operation was rumoured to be happening from somewhere close to the edge of her father’s property. The Earl of Avalon had given his permission for them to set up a look-out or do whatever was necessary to reconnoitre the area.

  They had been on their way to the cliffs when a shot rang out. Crossing the road in front of them, a dark bay, ridden by a woman, raced out of control and ran down an embankment. Max and he galloped to catch up with the horse but were too late. They found Lilian DeLacey—Lady Lilian DeLacey—on the ground near a boulder. Her horse carried on running in the blind manner of frightened equines; although scared, it seemed to be unhurt and he had turned his attention to the girl. Seeing her sprawled on the hard earth, he thought the worst, until he found she was still breathing. It was shallow but steady and they returned her to her father. The poor man and his wife were deeply shaken. Only a short time earlier, that lady had mentioned both her daughters while they were taking tea with her. Neither of her daughters had appeared to meet Harlow and his friend as Lady Avalon had hoped. Now it was clear they had escaped the machinations of their mother in order to take a ride.

  Returning to the present, Harlow was glad to see Lady Lilian DeLacey appearing much improved. She had been bruised and broken; however, he recalled the doctor examining her and telling her family he felt sure she had avoided injury to her spine and would walk again. What had happened?

  Harlow walked towards a footman carrying the champagne and refreshed his drink, and then walked in her direction. Hearing pieces of conversation emanating from the group of older women ahead of him, he was suddenly reminded of his lack of formal introduction to Lady Lilian DeLacey. Deftly, he moved beyond the row of sitting debutantes towards a gaggle of hopeful mothers, amongst whom he recognized her mother.

  “Good evening, Lady Avalon. Ladies.” Effortlessly, he gave an elegant leg.

  “Lord Harlow, a very good evening to you.” Curtsying, the five women responded in unison, their turbaned heads covered in feathers and jewels that threatened to tip them over when they curtsied. Lady Avalon nodded, giving a practised smile and stepped forward, giving him her full attention.

  Good God! The group of anxious mothers converged behind her, making him feel as one might if a piece of cooked mutton with forks poised to partak
e. He was no longer sure he wanted to meet anyone.

  “I trust that you ladies are enjoying yourselves,” he began, willing calmness to descend upon them.

  “Truly, we are, my lord. And you? Are you enjoying yourself, as well, Lord Harlow?” Pointedly, Lady Avalon looked from him to her daughter on the dance floor. Smiling tightly, she invited him to follow her gaze. She seemed determined to bring her daughter to his notice, and he chided himself for what felt like a lapse in his own judgement. He should excuse himself now—he wanted to excuse himself. Unfortunately, the only way to meet Lilian was through her mother, at least for the moment.

  “I am, indeed.” He nodded and tossed a smile in the ladies’ direction. “I wonder, Lady Avalon, if you would find it unseemly in me to ask for an introduction to your daughter? It occurred to me that I have never had the pleasure.”

  She smiled demurely, straining to look casually to her daughter on the dance floor.

  “Certainly, Lord Harlow.” She moved towards him, fairly gushing. “Your timing is impeccable. This dance is ending, although I feel certain she would enjoy your company…”

  “Please.” He held up his hand imploringly. “I apologize for the interruption, but you misunderstand, my lady. I am referring to your other daughter.” He turned and nodded towards Lilian. She was still sitting with the other wallflowers, across the room from the dance floor, where her sister was just completing the final steps of a Cotillion, and away from the musical entertainment. Without reason, it pricked at his heart to see the young lady wearing a look of boredom and staring aimlessly at the dancers moving in front of her.

  Startled, her mother glanced hesitantly in Lilian’s direction and back to him, in a clear moment of bewilderment, before smoothly responding.

  “Yes, of course, Lord Harlow. Please follow me.” The two approached the row of wallflowers. Her daughter’s bored countenance was fixed on the door to the veranda, and she did not notice their approach.

  “Lilian…” Lady Avalon leaned forward and gently touched her daughter’s shoulder, gaining her attention.

  “Oh, Mama, please forgive my impertinence. I did not see you.”

  The Countess smiled broadly at her daughter. “My dear, please allow me to make known to you Lord Harlow, an associate of your father’s.”

  Harlow noticed a sudden change in the older woman’s eyes, as if recognition dawned as she spoke.

  “You must remember Lord Harlow. He was the gentleman who rescued you a year ago and returned you to us after your fall,” she continued smoothly without waiting for Lilian’s response. “Lord Harlow, please allow me to introduce my beautiful daughter, Lady Lilian DeLacey.

  Harlow winced, comprehending the flicker of pain which crossed Lilian’s face at the mention of the accident. Nevertheless, he mused, from a wholly selfish point of view it gave him leave to ask questions of the accident and for that he was grateful.

  He flashed a warm smile at her anxious face and bowed gallantly. “Lady Lilian, I thought I recognized you and your sister when I arrived. Two such beauties always light up a room.”

  She nodded at his words, her expression one of torment.

  I understand that emotion, he thought to himself. “This chair would appear not to be taken. I wonder if you would mind if I sat next to you for a few moments?” He struggled to order his thoughts as he spoke. He did not want to embarrass her by asking her to dance or take a turn when she had obviously gone to some lengths to avoid her wheel-chair. He wanted to become acquainted with her, but he knew he must be cautious. It was a dilemma indeed.

  “Lord Harlow, I am most pleased to make your acquaintance,” she responded tentatively, her voice low. “However, the seats are all…” She broke off, looking from side to side, and appeared, for the first time, to notice the two vacant seats to her right. A glimmer of amusement lit up her eyes. “The seats do appear to be empty,” she finished, with a slight smile and touched the unoccupied seat.

  Harlow permitted himself a slight smile. He had observed two young women vacating their seats and walking in the direction of the supper room a few minutes before. Lady Lilian had been looking in the opposite direction at the time. The ladies had still not returned. Perhaps they were on the dance floor. However, that might be, it was fortuitous for him. They could have a short conversation. I will make it be enough.

  “Surely your kindness may indulge me, if only for a few moments?” he coaxed, his blue eyes twinkling.

  “Well, if that is settled, I will leave you two to talk.” Lady Avalon glanced at her daughter and displayed a hopeful smile before returning to her friends.

  “Lady Lilian, I had hoped, one day, to meet you formally. You should know I have inquired of your health several times.” He kept his own voice low. “I would, however, with your permission, like to ask you a question.”

  She nervously glanced towards her chair. “That is kind, Lord Harlow, but…”

  Sensing her embarrassment, he quickly added, “I wondered if I might call on you tomorrow and take you for a drive.”

  “Lord Harlow, I…” Lilian flushed and glanced away for a moment. “You are most generous, my lord…”

  Her eyes spoke of intelligence. “Lady Lilian, if you are worried about your wheel-chair, I have seen it and that matters not to me. Your company is what matters.” He smiled broadly. “If you are amenable to my attentions, I will call on you tomorrow morning and take you for a drive about the park.” He did not want to be turned down. For some inexplicable reason, he felt drawn to the girl. Over the past year, her broken image had sporadically flooded his mind for no obvious reason. To see her seated among the wallflowers, as if on the row of shame, unnerved him.

  “I…yes, I would be honoured, my lord.” A look of relief flashed across her face, ahead of a speculative smile.

  “Shall we say ten of the clock?” The current dance ended, and two young ladies dressed in white satin, on the arms of escorts and bubbling with excitement, returned to their seats in time to hear his offer to call. Their animation was audible, causing Lilian to blush.

  She nodded her assent. “I look forward to it, my lord,” she added.

  It was done. Perhaps a day in her company would solve the feelings he had had this past year. It could only be a fascination. Once he had met with her and spent time in her company, he felt certain the dreams would leave. He was only concerned for her safety, after all. His conscience wrestled with what had occurred. The accident had cut her down, an innocent young lady, and he felt somewhat responsible, even if he had arrived in time to help her. However, something else troubled him. What if he actually developed deeper feelings for this girl?

  Harlow needed some fresh air. He had had enough of this dreary ball and asked a footman to retrieve his cloak. Lilian Delacey seemed nothing like her brother, Jonathan, Viscount DeLacey, whose arrogance grated on his nerves. They had all been friends in school until DeLacey joined a group of boys overly obsessed with their positions in society, who frequently tried to make those beneath them the butt of jokes. Mother nagged me into coming, he grumbled to himself. However, seeing Lilian DeLacey has made the evening worthwhile. His purpose for attending unexpectedly fulfilled, he felt no further need to be here.

  Secure in his coach, he settled comfortably into the red leather squabs and rested his feet on the seat in front of him, trying to clear his mind. Despite his best efforts, however, meeting Lady Lilian took his thoughts back to the day of the accident, a day he recalled vividly.

  He and Max Wilde had just gained Lord Avalon’s assistance in curtailing the source of increasing smuggling in the area. Tintagel’s close proximity to Cornwall was noteworthy, and a survivor from a recent wrecked ship—allegedly pirated by locals—had managed to get word to Customs and Excise of rumours swirling about a location in Tintagel. The description was nebulous, but pointed to a well-known public house, one run by a woman and her brother. The smuggling seemed concentrated on ships known to carry silks, brandy and spices. There were several
taverns in Tintagel, and they suspected that the DeLacey land held a piece of the puzzle, for Avalon’s property ran down to the cliffs. The two men had been in the area for a few days, exploring the town and trying to smoke out any undercurrents of smuggling activity.

  Harlow had been surprised to learn of Avalon’s ties to his own commanding officer, Lieutenant-General Martin DeLacey. He had suggested they ride out to meet his cousin and gain his assistance. Their new dealings were to be explained as a venture with the East India Company, if others asked. The meeting with Lord Avalon had been as anticipated. He had told them he would meet with his man of business and set up an account to establish legitimacy, should there be any question. Having concluded business with Lord Avalon, they were heading back to their lodgings in town when the accident happened.

  The road the men travelled ran below a beautiful ridge. Laughter drew Harlow’s attention to the two young ladies above, both riding like the wind. Unbound, their dark hair flowed like water in the breeze, while the teasing sounds of their girlish chuckles called to him. An older groom trailed behind them and it appeared that they were deliberately outmanoeuvring the poor fellow. Harlow at once recognized the girls, being one who prided himself on never forgetting a face. They were the Earl’s twin daughters; he had noticed them at a recent London ball. He had been charmed by both of them, but the one in the sapphire gown had immediately drawn his interest. Their eyes had met when he entered the room, even though he had made no move to meet her.

  Harlow had no interest in the marriage mart. Nevertheless, he continually dreamed and the moments surrounding Lady Lilian’s accident haunted his sleep still, joining other nightmares from the war which also plagued him. Whenever she came to mind, usually during his dreams, he relived that scene. She was riding a horse, there was a shot and she was thrown from her mount, then to slide and roll over a dozen or more protruding rocks. The same dream repeated itself over and over, making him wake up in a cold sweat. What was so special about this lady?