Brides of London: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  “I am aware that you wish to make your own judgments about such things, Miss Smallwood, but in this matter, I am correct in my warning. Lord Montague does not care for your company, but rather only for his appearance.”

  Louisa frowned. “His appearance?”

  “It will do him well to be seen in the company of a beautiful young lady such as yourself, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin answered, although her voice held no intonation, making her speak in a most dull fashion. “If you knew the gentleman better, you would see that he seeks to surround himself with beauty, charm, and good company, but that he cares for none in particular. He will not be the sort of gentleman who considers the future and looks to courtship and matrimony. You have my promise in that.”

  Louisa wanted to throw aside Miss Martin’s comments at once, wanted to disregard them completely, but there was something in her companion’s voice that made her hesitate. There was no anger, no fury, and no evidence of frustration in her eyes or her speech, as there had been when she had spoken of Lord Williamson. Again, Louisa was convinced that there was more to Miss Martin’s dislike of Lord Williamson than she had said so far, but when it came to Lord Montague, Louisa found herself beginning to consider what Miss Martin said.

  “It does not matter, does it?” she answered slowly, seeing how Miss Martin’s eyes flickered. “I do not care to be courted by Lord Montague, for my intentions are towards Lord Williamson.”

  Miss Martin dropped her gaze. “You know that I—”

  “You need not speak of it, Miss Martin, for as yet I have not discovered any truth to the rumors that you speak of as regards Lord Williamson, and therefore have decided to accept his courtship, should he ask it of me,” Louisa said firmly. “Therefore, Lord Montague, whilst I will speak to him, will not gain any attentions from me.”

  Miss Martin let out a long breath, seeming to steady herself. “If I were to guide you towards one of them, Miss Smallwood, then it might surprise you to know that it would be the former,” she said as Louisa regarded her with a good degree of astonishment. “Lord Montague is not the sort of gentleman that anyone with your… requirements should consider.”

  “I thank you,” Louisa murmured, feeling a small stab of sorrow over the fact that she and Miss Martin had never once drawn near to becoming friends. The lady held so much within herself, held so much back and seemed to speak only with dislike and anger towards Lord Williamson that it had driven them far apart from each other. Silently, Louisa wondered whether things would have been different had Lord Williamson not been a part of her immediate acquaintance. “I do appreciate your thoughts, Miss Martin, although I do not appreciate your anger when I do not do as you want.”

  Miss Martin colored a deep scarlet, but her eyes held Louisa’s regardless. “I am only seeking to do what I believe is best for you,” she answered. “After all, have I not managed to seek out a husband for both my first and my second charges? I have done so using my knowledge of the beau monde and in guiding them carefully.”

  Feeling as though she were making a little progress, Louisa let herself frown but only gently, not wanting to push Miss Martin away. “And yet you have given me no reason as to why you believe Lord Williamson is so entirely unsuitable. You have told me that he is a cad but have shown no evidence for such a statement—and, indeed, I have found none to make your statement true. How differently you have reacted to the news that Lord Montague wishes to speak to me. You have told me outright that he seeks out my company but have given me adequate warning as to his lack of sincere intentions which, I am quite certain, I will be able to find evidence for very soon, if what you say is true. You are not demanding that I stay back from him, or that I not even entertain his company.” She saw Miss Martin’s gaze drop to the ground and fought to keep her voice steady. “Why, then, Miss Martin, is there such evident dislike for Lord Williamson but, for Lord Montague, only a clear warning but no urgency to pull me away from him entirely?”

  Her breath caught as Miss Martin looked all about her, seemingly desperate to land her gaze anywhere but on Louisa’s face. There was a struggle in Miss Martin’s expression, as if she wanted to state the truth but had found it quite impossible to do so. Louisa felt herself growing desperate, wanting to know what Miss Martin was hiding but fearing that she would say nothing.

  “Lord Williamson quite broke the heart of Miss McBride,” Miss Martin said, her voice low and tremulous. “Miss McBride, my prior charge, believed herself in love with Lord Williamson but he turned her away, after having sought to court her for some weeks.” The lady drew in a shaky breath, lifting her head and finally looking Louisa in the eye. “It broke Miss McBride entirely, to the point that she almost made a dreadful scene in the middle of Lord Pottinger’s ball.” She shook her head, passing a trembling hand over her forehead. “Thank goodness we were able to find another gentleman to marry her so quickly.”

  Louisa’s heart had slowly been filling with dread as Miss Martin spoke. She could not quite believe that someone as good and as kind as Lord Williamson could ever behave in such a cold, calculating manner and yet it did, she supposed, make sense. It explained why Miss Martin had such a vehemence towards Lord Williamson and also explained why there were no particular rumors about him that she could find.

  “Why did you not tell me this before, Miss Martin?” she enquired, reminding herself that she still had to verify all that Miss Martin had said, for it was still merely hearsay. Mayhap Miss McBride had believed there was something more to her acquaintance with Lord Williamson than there had truly been.

  “It was not my place to say.” Miss Martin drew herself up, her eyes now fixed upon Louisa’s, her gaze firm and steady. “I did not wish to bring any shame onto Miss McBride.”

  Louisa shook her head, her forehead wrinkling as she tried to make sense of this. “But Miss McBride is now wed and contented,” she replied, confused. “It makes no difference to her whether or not you speak to me of her difficulties.”

  Miss Martin swallowed hard and gave a minute shake of her head. “I am loyal,” she replied, lifting her chin a notch. “I keep secrets. I hide what I have seen and what I know. Understand this, Miss Smallwood. I would share nothing about my former charges unless it was absolutely necessary, not even if they have been married for a decade and produced a good few children within that time.”

  “And it is very good that you have such discretion,” Louisa considered slowly, “But if it would aid my—”

  “There are things I cannot share, Miss Smallwood!” Miss Martin interrupted, her face slowly turning crimson. “Things that I would not share with another living soul.” Gathering herself, she set her shoulders and clasped her hands in front of her, the implication of what she was trying not to say beginning to dawn on Louisa. “Now, shall I accompany you to Lord Montague?”

  Louisa’s heart began to pick up speed as she looked into the cold, hard eyes of Miss Martin. She had appeared open and almost vulnerable for a moment but then, after what had only been a few minutes, that had faded and the sternness returned. Louisa knew full well what Miss Martin had been trying to suggest about Lord Williamson, and, fearing that there was more to his acquaintance with Miss McBride than Miss Martin was willing to say, she wondered whether, if such a thing were true, Lord Williamson was really the gentleman she thought him to be.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” she stammered, trying to push such thoughts from her mind so that she could consider them at a later time. She saw the glint of steel in Miss Martin’s eyes and felt her own resolve steady. She would speak to Lord Williamson about what Miss Martin had said, would try and discover the truth without immediately believing what had been suggested. That, Louisa determined, was the only way forward.

  “I can see he is waiting for you,” Miss Martin murmured as Louisa moved towards where Lord Montague stood, his eyes fixed upon hers. “I would ask you to at the very least consider what I have said about him, however.”

  “I will,” Louisa answered with a steadi
ness that she did not truly feel. “And if I find there to be any truth in your concerns then I shall, of course, act appropriately.” She let out a long breath, forced a smile to her face, and greeted Lord Montague, who looked inordinately pleased that she had come to speak to him. As he bowed, Louisa caught sight of Lord Williamson looking over towards them, a smile fading from his face as he watched Lord Montague lift his head. Louisa held Lord Williamson’s gaze for a moment or two, telling herself that she had nothing, as yet, to worry about. She would speak to Lord Williamson directly and discover the truth about Miss McBride from his lips. If it was as Miss Martin said, then of course, there could be no furthering of their acquaintance and everything that Louisa had hoped for would fade in an instant.

  “And are you enjoying this evening, Miss Smallwood?”

  Dragged back to the present, Louisa quickly pasted a smile on her face and turned her attention back to Lord Montague. “Yes, indeed,” she lied, hiding her troubled heart from everyone, including herself. “And you?”

  “It has improved all the more now that I have your company,” he replied with a broad smile. “And I must insist that I sit by you when the performances begin. I am quite certain that you will be the most entertaining of company.”

  Louisa, who did not want to do any such thing, merely smiled and inclined her head, beginning to wish that she had never attended this evening. It had all been going so wonderfully and then, within a moment, her hope had begun to shatter, although it had not yet broken completely. She just had to hope that Lord Williamson would be truthful with her and that, when it came to it, he was not the cad that Miss Martin wanted her so desperately to believe him to be.

  9

  Something was wrong.

  “You appear to be a little lacking in spirit this afternoon, Miss Smallwood.” Daniel did not hold back from speaking honestly to the lady, finding that her ready smile and her sparkling eyes were entirely absent this afternoon. “Is there something the matter?” His eyes narrowed as he saw her glance behind her, to where her companion walked a few steps away from them. Miss Martin had something to do with her present difficulties, then, whatever they were

  “I—I have something I must ask you, Lord Williamson,” Miss Smallwood began, looking up at him with what appeared to be a hint of fear in her eyes. “Something that has been brought to my attention.”

  He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “It is to do with Miss McBride.”

  The name did not immediately capture his attention nor remind him of anyone in particular.

  “You do not know her?”

  He shrugged. “If she is part of the beau monde, then there is every chance that I have become acquainted with her, yes, but I do not recall her name or her face, Miss Smallwood.” A little nervous that this was the wrong answer to give her, he saw Miss Smallwood’s face furrow. “I apologize if she is someone that means a good deal to you.”

  Miss Smallwood shook her head, looking up at him again. Biting her lip, she hesitated and made to say something, only for the words to die on her lips. A slight breeze brushed between them as they continued their walk through St. James’ Park, sending a small chill down Daniel’s spine. What was it Miss Smallwood meant by such a question? He did not know anyone by that name and certainly could not recall their face.

  “You are quite certain?”

  “I am certain that I do not know anyone by the name of Miss McBride,” he said, a little irritated that he had to repeat himself. “Why do you ask, Miss Smallwood?”

  Again came that hesitation and the biting of her lip. Her cheeks colored as she dared another glance up at him, making him wonder just what it was that lay so heavily on her mind.

  “It is because I have heard that you were very well acquainted with her, Lord Williamson,” she told him eventually, each word cautious and careful. “I have heard it said that you sought to court her and that thereafter, you turned from her and broke her heart entirely.”

  Daniel’s steps slowed as he looked down at Miss Smallwood, seeing the color in her cheeks and the shame in her eyes at having spoken so boldly and having asked so intimate a question. He could not speak for a moment, feeling as though someone had laid out a trap for him to fall into.

  “I do not know anyone named Miss McBride,” he promised firmly. “I have danced and been acquainted with a good many young ladies over the Season and, indeed, the Season before it, but I have never once sought to court any of them. You might ask any of my friends, should you wish to verify it, but I am not the sort of gentleman who considers matrimony or the future and, therefore, I have had no eagerness to seek out courtship with any particular lady. You are mistaken, Miss Smallwood. I have never once sought to court Miss McBride, nor any other lady of my acquaintance. It is not a desire I have.”

  Miss Smallwood stopped dead, her feet seemingly stuck to the path. Her bright blue eyes looked up at him, the color draining from her cheeks. For a moment or two, Daniel could not think what was wrong with the girl. Looking down at her in some confusion, he was about to ask what the matter was when he realized what he had said.

  Heat climbed up his spine, blossoming color into his neck.

  “That is, of course, until I—”

  “If you have no desire to truly court me, Lord Williamson, then that is something you must share with me now,” Miss Smallwood began, her voice a good deal firmer and louder than he had expected. “I would not have you hide it from me. Please. I would like to know the truth.”

  Daniel shook his head, his mouth feeling dry and his throat painful. “No, indeed not, Miss Smallwood,” he tried to say, wishing he could come up with an easy explanation. “It is only that—what I mean to say is that my heart and my mind have never once considered matrimony before. It has been something that I have tried to avoid, in fact.” Seeing her frown, Daniel groaned inwardly, realizing that he was making matters worse instead of better. “When I met you, however, Miss Smallwood, things changed entirely. I have begun to consider things that I have never contemplated before.”

  “I see,” Miss Smallwood replied, nodding slowly as though she were trying to convince herself that he was speaking the truth. “And you are quite certain that you do not know a Miss McBride?”

  “No!” His exclamation rang around the park, making Miss Smallwood’s eyes flare wide with surprise and shock and sending embarrassment crashing into Daniel’s heart. “No,” he said again, lowering his voice and dropping his head. “No, Miss Smallwood, I do not know a Miss McBride. I have not courted her, if that is what you fear. I have never courted a young lady before and yet that is the intention I have towards you.” He lifted his head and looked directly into Miss Smallwood’s eyes, seeing the shock still lingering there. “Forgive me for losing my temper, Miss Smallwood. It is only that I find that so many things are being said of me by one or two individuals that I find it both irritating and immensely frustrating. I want to be well thought of by you. You told me that you do not give credence to rumors and that is why—”

  “It is because I do not give them any weight that I come to you now, asking to know the truth,” she replied, her eyes lifting to his and holding them with a fierceness that surprised him. “Can you not see that, Lord Williamson? I seek to know the truth so that I might discard all rumors that swirl around me.” She shook her head, her brows binding themselves together as she frowned. “I cannot understand why Miss Martin thinks so ill of you,” she added, tilting her head just a little as she looked at him. “Why does she speak so poorly of you? Could there be any possibility that she is simply making up this story of Miss McBride so as to influence me further?”

  Daniel let out a long breath, the urge to tell Miss Smallwood the truth about Miss Martin burning in his mind. He had made a promise, however—a promise that he was bound to keep. He could not tell Miss Smallwood the truth about Miss Martin unless Miss Martin chose to do so first. He was not the sort of gentleman who spoke untruths, but neither was he the kind who made promises onl
y to shatter them when things suited him.

  “Miss Martin is mistaken,” he told Miss Smallwood, praying that this would be enough to satisfy her. “I am not the gentleman who broke Miss McBride’s heart, if that is what she fears. I do not even know the lady! I cannot recall her face or even her name. Please, Miss Smallwood, do not allow this untruth to remain in your heart.”

  She managed a small smile and made to say more, only for their conversation to be suddenly interrupted by the arrival of two gentlemen, who were walking together through the park. Miss Smallwood made to step out of their way, but one of the gentlemen looked up and, catching sight of Daniel, stopped in his tracks.

  “Ah, Lord Williamson,” the gentleman began, gesturing towards Daniel as though the second gentleman had not seen him. “Good afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon,” Daniel stammered, trying to recall where he had seen this gentleman before and wondering if they were, in fact, acquainted, given that he had no knowledge of whom he might be. “Lord…?”

  “Look, tis Lord Williamson!” the first gentleman continued, elbowing the second, who looked at Daniel and then nodded sagely, as though to confirm that his friend was correct. “We have just been reading about your bet, Lord Williamson.”

  A stone launched itself directly into Daniel’s stomach. “My bet?” he repeated, not at all understanding what they meant but fearing that this conversation ought not to be had in front of Miss Smallwood. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  The second gentleman laughed loudly, but it was not a kind sound. Rather, it was harsh and grating, burning into Daniel’s mind and making him wince.

  “You need not pretend, Lord Williamson,” the second gentleman said with another long laugh. “We are hoping and praying that you win, so that you might use your winnings to buy a good glass of brandy or two for those who have supported you.” He nudged the first gentleman. “As we are doing, of course.”