by Alec, Joyce
His heart ached for her. He did not know what her mother had asked her to do, but it was clear that Lady Templeton cared nothing for the fact that her daughter was to go to walking with a gentleman, else she would have ensured that Miss Whitaker was ready and prepared instead of demanding her time.
“Please,” he said gently, not wanting to embarrass her further. “Please, Miss Whitaker, do not worry about what has occurred. It means nothing to me, truly.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, her throat working furiously as she fought back her tears. Joseph could only look back at her, putting a light smile on his face and praying that she would find some reassurance in that.
“You defended me to my father,” Miss Whitaker whispered, her lips trembling as she spoke. “You did not need to do such a thing.”
“I could not allow him to speak so ill of you, Miss Whitaker,” Joseph replied at once, reaching out on instinct and taking her hand in his. “It was deeply troubling to me to hear him speak so of you and therefore, I could not allow his words to stand without contradiction.”
“But you had no need to do so,” Miss Whitaker said again, her eyes still swimming with tears. “You do not know me particularly well and since this arrangement is to be solely to introduce me to society, you have no need to promise anything more to me.”
Joseph frowned, not understanding what she meant, before realizing that it was to do with his promise to Lord Templeton that he would bring a good deal of happiness to Miss Whitaker, whether Lord Templeton would believe it or not. “I fully intend to do all I can to ensure your future is one filled with joy and contentment, Miss Whitaker,” he said, finding that his heart echoed the very same sentiment. These were not just words he spoke to encourage her, but rather, they were the truth that flowed from his heart and out towards her. “You need not feel any embarrassment over what I have promised to your father or what your father has said to me. I do not pity you, but rather I feel anger over what you have endured for so long. It is not something I can understand, for my own mother and father were very kind to both myself and my younger sister, and I do wish that it was so for you also.”
Miss Whitaker looked away, her head turned so that she might keep her composure. Joseph said nothing, seeing how color began to come back to her cheeks and finding himself eager to give her the most wonderful of afternoons. His eyes drifted to their joined hands, surprised to realize that he was not only still holding her hand in his, but that it felt right that it should be there. A flicker of a frown marred his brow as he allowed the sensation to take a hold of him, growing slowly aware of just how strongly he felt about Miss Whitaker.
It is merely a desire to bring her happiness in what is a deeply unpleasant situation, he told himself, seeing her turn back to him and putting a broad smile on his face. That is all.
“Shall we go for our walk, Miss Whitaker?” he asked her, setting her hand back by her side and then offering her his arm. “The afternoon is most pleasant and it shall soon be the fashionable hour.”
“And we do not want to be in the park for the fashionable hour, I presume?” she asked, no sarcasm in her voice but rather the expectation that he would not want to be seen walking with her when almost the entirety of London society would be watching. “Of course, we must hurry, then.”
“No, you quite misunderstand me.” Reaching out, Joseph gently caught her arm, bringing her attention back solely onto him. Miss Whitaker’s eyes flared in surprise as she looked back at him, her cheeks now a delicate shade of pink. Joseph smiled at her, thinking to himself that, in her own way, Miss Whitaker did indeed have a beauty all of her own. “I wish us to walk in the park during the fashionable hour,” he told her, seeing the astonishment jump into her eyes. “For how else am I to introduce you to all of society?” He chuckled at the way her mouth fell open for a moment, amused by how she then caught herself and began to stammer an apology. “You need not fear, Miss Whitaker. I shall be your guide through this swirling world of London society and, together, we shall find a way to the other side.”
Miss Whitaker dropped her gaze but a smile tugged at her lips regardless. “I thank you, Lord Ancrum,” she said, sounding a good deal more at ease than she had been before. “Your defense of me to my father and now your desire to walk with me during the fashionable hour has already quite convinced me that you are a gentleman with a kind heart.” She smiled at him, happiness now emanating from her expression. “You say that your past behavior as regards Miss Grey was nothing more than foolishness and that you seek to put it as far behind you as you can.”
“Yes,” he agreed firmly. “That is so.”
Miss Whitaker’s smile softened. “Then I believe that you have done just that, Lord Ancrum,” she told him, bringing a broad smile to his face. “For what it is worth, I believe that you have proven yourself to me already.”
Joseph chuckled, offering her his arm again and glad when she took it without hesitation. “And could, therefore, pretend that my duty towards you is at an end, but I shall not do so, Miss Whitaker.” He laughed as she smiled and shook her head in mock dismay. “We have many delightful events to attend together and I shall continue to attempt to prove myself to you. Now…” He waited until she had pulled on her bonnet and tied the ribbons before she took his arm again, seeing how the butler seemed to reappear within a moment, ready to open the door for them. “Let us go to the park so that I might show you off to all and sundry.” Grinning at her flushed cheeks, he patted her hand as the door was opened for them both. “And I shall ensure that you discover a happiness that you have never before experienced, Miss Whitaker, for it is now my sole aim.”
6
“Good evening, Lord Ancrum.”
Lydia’s smile was immediate upon seeing Lord Ancrum approaching her. They were, it seemed, attending the same ball and she could not help but feel elated upon seeing him again. It had now been three days since they had first taken a walk in Hyde Park together, and since that day, Lydia had found herself quite caught up with Lord Ancrum. It was, of course, simply because he was the one introducing her to society and the only gentleman she had ever known before who seemed to truly have some consideration of her and certainly not for any other reason.
Why could you not consider him?
The thought stole her breath, forcing her to drag in air just as Lord Ancrum bowed in front of her in greeting. Curtsying quickly so as to cover her gasp, Lydia lifted her head and saw that Lord Ancrum was watching her with a broad smile on his face, making his grey eyes appear lighter than she remembered them.
“Your dance card, if I may be so bold as to ask for it?” he said, his eyes twinkling. “What say you to two dances?”
She blushed furiously, hating that his question had evoked such a strong reaction. “I would say, Lord Ancrum, that you are most kind,” she replied, unlooping the dance card from her wrist and then holding it out to him so that he might write his name where he chose. “I am quite certain that by the end of this… matter,” she began, not quite certain how to explain what it was between them, “your reputation shall be pristine and you may look upon society with fresh eyes, considering which of the young ladies present you wish to court.” She tried to laugh but the sound would not come from her lips, as though the very thought of Lord Ancrum courting another young lady was deeply painful, even though it ought not to be anything of the sort.
“Then we shall both have been of aid to each other, shall we not, Miss Whitaker?” he asked, grinning down at her before dropping his gaze to her dance card. Lydia remained entirely silent, wondering which dances he would choose.
“The quadrille first, I think,” Lord Ancrum said, glancing up at her. “And then, mayhap the supper dance?”
A rush of excitement caught at her heart and she nodded eagerly, seeing him grin before he wrote his name down. The supper dance was the last dance of the evening and was an event where a gentleman might, after dancing with her, accompany her to where the refreshments were waiting and
sit with her, furthering their acquaintance still more. Of course, most of the ton would watch with careful eyes as to who sat with whom, which meant that everyone would know that Lord Ancrum had chosen to sit with her.
“Good,” he said, and, looking up at her, reached out for her hand. “If I may be so bold, Miss Whitaker.”
She looked back at him, not truly understanding what it was he wanted, only to realize that he sought her hand. Giving it to him at once, Lydia felt her chest constrict as he placed the dance card back over her hand to allow it to dangle from her wrist. Then, he took her hand a little more firmly and bowed over it, his lips brushing the back of her hand.
It was attention indeed and most likely would be noted by all those about her.
“You must be careful, Lord Ancrum, that you do not draw too much attention to yourself,” she told him, trying to keep her voice light despite the furious quickening of her heart. “You know how the gossip mongers like to chew over the smallest titbit they can find.”
Lord Ancrum merely shrugged, letting go of her hand. “If the beau monde believes that I find you quite delightful, then I see no harm in such a rumor, for there is nothing but truth in it.” His eyes flickered with something that she could not quite make out, his expression suddenly serious. “We may have only been acquainted for a short time, but I find that, in furthering our acquaintance, you are already making a marked impression upon me.” His smile was slow but spread across his face, his eyes almost glowing with intensity as he continued to look at her. “And there can be nothing wrong with that impression being given to the ton, for I am certain that you can make the very same impression on as many gentlemen as I can introduce you to.”
Lydia’s smile became fixed, her heartbeat slowing down as she looked into his eyes and saw the foolishness of her own thoughts reflected there. This was why she ought not to allow her heart to consider him. This was why she had to remain entirely unattached to Lord Ancrum. He did not think of her as a potential bride. Rather, he was doing this merely to prove himself to her and to ensure that his reputation amongst society was much improved from last Season. She was doing this in order to give herself the opportunity to meet and hopefully become betrothed to a gentleman who, at the very least, would have a fondness for her. Lord Ancrum was not to be that gentleman. She could not allow her heart to run after him when he clearly did not even consider viewing her in such a way as that.
“I should leave you now,” he said, with a glance over her right shoulder. “It appears another gentleman is come to seek you out, although I do not know his name.”
Unable to help herself, Lydia threw a glance over her shoulder and, much to her surprise, saw the gentleman who had helped her from the ground the day Lord Ancrum had knocked into her. “Oh,” she replied, seeing Lord Ancrum’s evident interest. “This is the gentleman who came to my aid when I fell to the ground.”
Lord Ancrum’s eyes caught hers at once, a slight shame evidencing itself in his expression. “I see.”
“You do not know him?”
“No,” Lord Ancrum shook his head. “No, I do not. What is his name?”
Lydia hesitated, trying to remember. “Lord Paulson, I believe,” she said slowly, her brow furrowing as she tried to recollect whether this was correct. “Viscount Paulson.” She lifted her eyes to Lord Ancrum, only to see him staring at her, his expression one of utter astonishment. There was no reason for such a thing, not as far as she was aware, and therefore Lydia could not account for his surprise. She could not ask him why he appeared so astonished, for the gentleman in question came about to face her and, with a deep bow, enquired as to how she was.
“Lord Paulson, good evening,” Lydia stammered, aware that Lord Paulson had stood directly in front of Lord Ancrum, who had not yet moved out of the way. “I am much recovered, I thank you.”
Lord Paulson’s eyes glowed with evident satisfaction. “I am glad to hear you have recovered,” he said, sounding most sincere. “I have been concerned for your well-being.” He chuckled and shook his head ruefully. “Of course, you will ask me why I have not come to call upon you nor written to you as to enquire after your health, but, as you may recall, when I left you with Lady Irwin, I quite forgot to ask after your family.”
Understanding crashed over her at once. “My father is Lord Templeton,” she told him, seeing Lord Paulson nod and smile. “Both my mother and father are present this evening. Although you need not be too concerned on my behalf, Lord Paulson. As you can see, I am quite all right.”
“Indeed you are,” he replied, a flicker in his eyes as he took her in—and the look brought a flush of color to Lydia’s cheeks. She was not quite certain that she liked being regarded in such a way, for the obviousness of his attention as it roved up and down her frame brought her more embarrassment than pleasure. She cleared her throat delicately and looked away, which evidently seemed to bring Lord Paulson up short.
“Might I dance with you, Miss Whitaker?” he asked, spotting her dance card. “I do hope your spaces have not yet been entirely filled by eager gentlemen.”
She could not help but laugh at this, although it was somewhat rueful. “You would be the second gentleman only to enquire after my dance card, Lord Paulson,” she admitted, handing him her card. “But I would be glad to dance with you.”
He grinned at her before letting his gaze fall to the card. “How glad I am to see that you have another waltz free, Miss Whitaker,” he murmured, hurriedly writing his name there. “And mayhap the cotillion.”
A smile settled on her face as he handed her back the dance card. “I thank you, Lord Paulson. That sounds quite delightful.”
Inclining his head, Lord Paulson surprised her by offering her his arm. “Might I escort you to the other side of the ballroom?” he asked, one eyebrow lifted in question. “I have some dear friends I should like to introduce you to.”
Lydia hesitated, recalling how she was meant to be standing and conversing with Lord Ancrum, for it was with him that she had the agreement. This evening, Lord Ancrum was to be the one to introduce her to as many of his acquaintances as he could and, being an earl, he had a good many of them. However, given that Lord Paulson seemed so eager and that she found him, for the most part, fairly amiable and charming, there did not seem to be anything particularly wrong with accepting such an offer.
“I shall bring no harm to you,” Lord Paulson promised, showing a slight touch of frustration at her delay. “Besides which, you have no particular chaperone, Miss Whitaker. That means your judgment can be trusted.”
It means that my mother cares nothing for me, Lydia thought sadly, but the thought then served to remind her that she was to behave vastly differently this Season than she had done before. Besides which, had she not just reminded herself that Lord Ancrum was not to become of particular interest to her?
“I think that would be quite delightful, Lord Paulson,” she replied, glancing over his shoulder and realizing that Lord Ancrum was still standing there, but for some reason now glowering furiously at Lord Paulson. She hesitated, wondering if she had insulted him by accepting Lord Paulson’s invitation or if he was displeased with her for not introducing him to Lord Paulson, but before she could say anything more or change her mind, Lord Paulson had taken her hand, placed it on his arm, and pulled her away.
Although Lydia had been a little irritated with Lord Paulson’s manner, she soon found herself enjoying his company and had been delighted to be introduced to his acquaintances. Her social circle increased by almost double within the first half hour of her time with Lord Paulson and she soon found that, as Lord Paulson had predicted, her dance card was filled to the brim. Lydia was not quite sure what to make of Lord Paulson, however. He was cheerful and amiable, with a ready smile and a teasing laugh that seemed to be directed at each of his acquaintances in turn, although Lydia noted that not everyone returned his smiles.
Studying him for a moment as he spoke to another gentleman, Lydia took in his boyish face, roun
d cheeks, his thicket of fair hair that did not seem to fall in any one direction, and his deep green eyes that were constantly moving, as though he wanted to take everything in whilst still in conversation with another. She did not know him particularly well at all, of course, but there was something about him that intrigued her. Besides which, Lydia recalled, he had been more than kind to her in stopping to help her stand after her fall and accompanying her to Lady Irwin’s door.
“Do not be so ridiculous, Davidson,” she heard him say, slapping the other gentleman on the back. “You will have to come to White’s with us after this ball is at an end. I absolutely insist upon it.”
The other gentleman looked about him uncomfortably. “I—I do not think I should wish to, Lord Paulson,” he replied, although there was no particular firmness to his voice. “As I have said, I am rather fatigued already and I—”
“Nonsense!” Lord Paulson interrupted loudly. “You may think that I have forgotten, Lord Davidson, but I assure you, I have not.” Glancing about him for a moment and perhaps realizing that others could hear him, Lord Paulson chuckled. “It is your round, is it not?” he asked jokingly. “Do you not recall, Lord Davidson, how you promised to buy each of us here a glass of the finest French brandy the next time we met at White’s? Surely you cannot have forgotten!”
Lydia frowned, seeing how Lord Davidson dropped his gaze to the floor and then shrugged, wordlessly.
“You shall come to White’s after all, I think,” Lord Paulson finished, with a broad grin at the other gentlemen. “I have been looking forward to that brandy for some time, I confess.”
Someone else murmured something that sounded as though it were an agreement with Lord Paulson, and it seemed all Lord Davidson could do was agree.
“But of course,” he muttered, so quietly that Lydia could barely hear him. “The brandy. I quite forgot. Of course I shall attend White’s once this ball has come to an end. You need have no doubt of my intentions now, Lord Paulson.”
