by Alec, Joyce
“That is true,” Lord Townend agreed slowly, “but can you think of any other who is against you? Whoever is doing this is determined that you shall not have any happiness with Miss Smallwood.”
A sudden thought struck Daniel. “What if it is to prevent Miss Smallwood herself from finding such happiness?” he asked, peering at Lord Townend, who now appeared to be frowning heavily. “What if this is naught to do with me and solely to do with Miss Smallwood herself? What if I am being targeted so that Miss Smallwood might find herself alone and despondent?”
Lord Townend shook his head. “I can see why you might think such a thing, but what reason would there be for anyone to do so? Her father, Lord Churston, is quite amenable to her courting, for she now has a companion and is allowed to attend as many social events as she wishes. It is not as though he has someone else chosen for her, is it? At least, not as far as I know.”
Daniel sighed and ran one hand through his hair. “I shall ask her, of course, but if there is no reason for such a thing then I suppose I must consider it to be my burden.” Closing his eyes again, he let out a small groan. “And Miss Martin is the only one I can think of who wishes me ill, even though I know not her reasons for hating me with such vehemence.”
Lord Townend, who knew precisely who Miss Martin was to Daniel and why he had to keep silent about his knowledge of her, gave him a long, hard look.
“You have never once discovered the reason for her dislike of you?” he asked, as though this was almost unbelievable. “And yet you insist on keeping silent about her?”
“I must,” Daniel replied with a heaviness that pierced his very soul. “I promised her that I would, for she begged me with tears and utter sorrow and it was the only way that I could relieve it.” He shook his head again, aware that Lord Townend knew all of this already. “I have tried to remain out of her affairs as I promised, but now that she seems to be stepping directly in between myself and Miss Smallwood, I do not know what I should do.”
“But you have no evidence that she has done that,” Lord Townend pointed out. “Aside from the fact that she has tried to keep Miss Smallwood away from you, which Miss Smallwood has steadfastly refused to do.”
Daniel nodded, sighing as despair washed over him. “Mayhap I should speak to Miss Martin alone,” he suggested, seeing Lord Townend shrug. “If I speak to her directly, insisting that she tell me all, then mayhap matters might become a little clearer.”
“She has never told you her reasons for calling you a cad?”
“Never,” Daniel replied, remembering how Miss Martin had accosted him shortly after his introduction to Miss Smallwood. “I have asked her, but she insists that I already am aware of it.” Spreading his hands, he sat back and rested his head against the chair. “I have no understanding, no reason to believe that I am as she states.” It felt as though he had been caught up in a torrential storm, being battered on every side with confusion and doubt and sorrow. If he told Miss Smallwood the truth about Miss Martin, then not only would he break his promise, but he might upset Miss Smallwood all the more because he had kept such a thing from her. In addition, even though he was upset and angry over Miss Martin’s insistence that he was not suitable for Miss Smallwood, he did not want to bring the truth to light without her consideration. She called him a cad and, if he were to break his word and tell Miss Smallwood everything, then that is precisely what he would be.
Groaning aloud, Daniel sat forward and put his head in his hands.
“Might I speak to Miss Martin, Williamson?”
Daniel screwed up his eyes, wishing that there was a clear path ahead for him. “I—I do not know,” he muttered, not lifting his head. “I do not know what will help. I have Miss Martin’s utter disdain for me, Miss Smallwood’s confusion over the sort of gentleman I am, and now my own upset as to who it is that has tried to ruin my character and for what purpose.” He rubbed his eyes before sitting up and seeing Lord Townend accepting two glasses of brandy from a waiting footman. Accepting one gratefully, he threw it back almost at once, letting the warmth fill his chest and bring him a little encouragement. “Speak to Miss Martin if you wish, Lord Townend. I must discover who is doing this—” he gestured to the bit of paper Lord Townend now held on his knee, “and discover why they wish to disgrace me so.”
“That is to be a difficult task indeed,” Lord Townend murmured, looking entirely sympathetic. “I shall do what I can to help you, of course.” He gestured towards the ripped page of the betting book. “What shall you do to start?”
Daniel hesitated, a million thoughts rushing through his mind at once, making it difficult for him to focus on one thing. “I shall find anyone who was present the evening this bet was written,” he decided, knowing full well that each bet was dated. “And at the same time, I shall seek to continue to court Miss Smallwood and attempt to prove to her that I am not the callous, arrogant oaf she might think me to be.”
Lord Townend nodded slowly, although another frown wrinkled his brow as he looked down at the paper again. “The bet was made in the early hours of this morning,” he said slowly. “At a time when most gentlemen would either be too inebriated to recall who or what was within this place or gone back to their residences.”
“There has to be someone,” Daniel replied, hoping desperately that, somehow, he would be able to find at least one person who might aid him. “I cannot think of another way to reveal the truth to both myself and Miss Smallwood.” Gesturing to a footman, he waited until the fellow came over and, pulling a couple of coins from his pocket, held them out towards him.
The footman accepted the coins without a word.
“Might you tell me whether or not you were present last evening?” Daniel began as Lord Townend held up the paper. “Did you see which fellow made that bet?”
The footman moved towards Lord Townend, his face impassive. Taking a moment or two to read the writing, he eventually shook his head. “It states that you, Lord Williamson, made this bet,” he intoned.
“And yet, I did not,” Daniel replied, trying not to allow even a hint of the irritation he felt to come into his voice. “Do you recall which gentlemen were present last evening or in the very early hours of this morning?” He held his breath, seeing the footman’s forehead pucker, clearly trying to remember.
“I retired before the last few members quit the establishment,” the footman said slowly, his lips twisting for a moment. “There were only four gentlemen still present, although one of them was rather tired.” A hint of a smile caught the footman’s lips, although it disappeared the moment Daniel looked sharply at him. “The gentleman who was asleep was Lord Mercer, if I recall correctly.” Shaking his head, he spread his hands. “I fear that I cannot remember the other gentlemen, Lord Williamson. I do apologize.”
Daniel’s frustration bubbled up within him again, but with an effort, he set his face into a grateful expression.
“I thank you,” he replied, feeling his heart sinking into the floor. “Now, two more brandies, if you please.”
The footman clicked his heels together. “At once, my lord.”
Waiting until the footman had gone, Daniel let out a long, heavy sigh and saw Lord Townend shrug.
“I suppose, then, we must visit Lord Mercer,” Lord Townend murmured in an encouraging fashion. “Mayhap he will recall those present with him last evening. You are to attend his ball, are you not?” he asked as the footman handed them a brandy each. “Then why not speak to him then?”
“I am and I will,” Daniel answered, remembering how Miss Smallwood had agreed to dance with him at Lord Mercer’s ball. “I shall see Miss Smallwood then also and I must pray that once I speak to Lord Mercer, I will be able to speak to Miss Smallwood about what I have discovered.”
Lord Townend’s eyes softened with compassion for the difficult situation Daniel now found himself in. “She seems to be wise enough, Williamson,” he replied quietly. “She will consider things with a clear head.”
�
��I must hope so,” Daniel murmured, rubbing one hand across his eyes. “I do care for her, Townend.”
“I can see that,” Lord Townend stated with a slightly wry smile. “And I will do all I can to ensure that your happiness with the lady will, in time, be reached.” He gestured to the piece of paper as Daniel drew in a long breath, settling his shoulders and feeling a small flicker of hope. “And we start by asking Lord Mercer about this.”
11
Louisa had never felt as anxious as she did at this present moment. Lord Mercer’s ball was in full swing and, as yet, she had not seen even a glimpse of Lord Williamson. Part of her feared that he was not the gentleman she had believed him to be, worrying that what the two gentlemen had said about his bet in White’s was, in fact, the truth.
It had not helped that Miss Martin had been insistent that this was evidence that what she had stated about Lord Williamson’s character was true. Walking back home from the park that day, Louisa had struggled against tears for she had felt slighted, small, and sorrowful, not quite certain what was true and what was not.
However, in the time that had followed, and given that she had been able to reflect on what had happened and remember the desperation with which Lord Williamson had addressed her, Louisa had decided to wait until he had come to speak to her about what he had discovered before making her final decision.
“He has not yet arrived, I believe.”
Turning to her companion, Louisa’s anger flared hot in her chest. “I am aware of that, Miss Martin.”
“You need not wait for him,” Miss Martin continued as Louisa waited by the side of the ballroom, not feeling any particular urgency to step out into the crowd. “There are others who might offer to dance with you, Miss Smallwood.”
“I am aware of that,” Louisa replied tightly. “But I am contented here for the present.”
Miss Martin sniffed, her hair pulled back even tighter than usual, her eyes seemingly sharper than Louisa was used to. “You are being foolish, Miss Smallwood. Lord Williamson is not worth your time.”
“What is it that you dislike so much about Lord Williamson?”
The words fired from Louisa’s mouth before she could stop them, and she swung around to face Miss Martin directly, her arms folded in front of her chest as her anger began to burn furiously.
“You say that he is a cad and you believe him to be at fault without question. Why is that?”
Miss Martin blinked, collecting herself before she answered. “I have already told you about Miss McBride, have I not?” she replied, but Louisa held up one hand, silencing her.
“I have spoken to Lord Williamson about such a thing and he appeared not to know what I was speaking of,” she told Miss Martin, seeing the lady flush with color. “You told me that Miss McBride had been broken-hearted by the sudden loss of Lord Williamson’s attention, but the gentleman seemed to not know of what I spoke.”
“Of course he will deny it!” Miss Martin exclaimed, looking at Louisa as though she were nothing more than a fool. “Why would you choose to believe him without question?”
Louisa hesitated, knowing that to tell an untruth was not a wise course of action, but wondering whether or not such a thing would prompt Miss Martin to, finally, tell the truth.
“I have written to Miss McBride,” she bluffed, seeing Miss Martin start in evident astonishment. “I am yet to receive a reply, but I am certain that she will do so very soon.”
Miss Martin’s cheeks faded from pink to milk-white.
“So, I shall give you one more time to tell me, Miss Martin, whether or not what you have said about Miss McBride and Lord Williamson is true, as you have claimed.”
Miss Martin said nothing for some minutes. It was as though she were waiting for Louisa to give in, to turn around and state that she did not require the truth from Miss Martin after all, but Louisa did not so much as blink. Her heart quickened to an almost violent pace, feeling as though she were standing on the very precipice of something and about to fall headlong into it.
“Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin said eventually, her voice a good deal more high-pitched than before. “I think that I should—”
“Why are you hiding here, Miss Smallwood?”
Swinging around, Louisa came face to face with a smiling Lord Montague, who was beaming at her with evident joy at seeing her again. There came an immediate urge within her to rail at him, to exclaim that she was having a private conversation and did not want to be interrupted, for she had been on the very cusp of discovering something that she was certain would be vastly important.
Glancing behind her, Louisa frowned in displeasure, seeing that the place where Miss Martin had been standing was now entirely empty. Her companion had, it seemed, decided to fade into the shadows for once, escaping from the conversation that would have been required should she have remained. More irritated than she could express, Louisa turned back towards Lord Montague, who was now looking at her with curiosity.
“Forgive me, Lord Montague,” Louisa grated, unable to even force a smile to her lips. “I was speaking to Miss Martin and we had not yet finished our conversation.”
“I see.” Lord Montague cleared his throat, looking a little abashed. “I do apologize if I interrupted you unnecessarily, but I saw you standing here at the side of the ballroom and could not help but seek you out in order to procure a dance or two.” He smiled at her again and Louisa let out a long, slow breath as if that might aid her in pushing her frustration from her heart.
“That is very kind of you,” she said, forced to admit that Lord Montague had meant no wrong in doing such a thing. “As you can see, my dance card is not yet full.”
Much to her surprise, Lord Montague did not grasp the dance card that dangled from her wrist but rather took her hand in his, holding it tightly whilst, with the other hand, he took the card. Louisa’s skin prickled uncomfortably beneath her glove, aware that she disliked what Lord Montague had done. It was a little too forward, a little too intimate for her liking and, most likely, he was doing so simply because she was close to the wall and, therefore, it was easy to hide his actions in the shadows.
Lord Montague let out a soft gasp, making Louisa’s brows rise in question.
“You have not a single dance as yet, Miss Smallwood!” Lord Montague exclaimed, as though this was the most awful situation he had come across in some time. “How can that be? I thought you would be swept away by attentions from almost the very moment you set foot in the ballroom.”
Louisa tried to smile but did not quite manage to force her lips to do so. “As you see, Lord Montague, I have not yet made my way through the crowd of guests and, as such, most do not know of my presence here as yet.”
“All save I,” he replied, finally letting go of her hand but only so that he might write his name on her card. “I was the only one who saw you standing here, Miss Smallwood. Your presence cannot be hidden from me!” This was said with a long look towards her, which Louisa noticed, but rather than feeling any sort of flattery or delight, she felt only embarrassment. Lord Montague was being rather forward and she did not much like it.
“Thank you,” she murmured as he let the card drop. “You are most kind, Lord Montague.”
“And if you will accompany me, Miss Smallwood, I would like to ensure that you have company for the rest of the evening,” he said grandly, offering her his arm and leaving her with no other choice but to accept it. “Come now, I can see Lord Raeburn looking in our direction and I know he would be delighted to dance with you also.”
Louisa did not smile, frustrated that she was being taken away from her conversation with Miss Martin as well as being dragged from her hiding place. She would not be able to wait for Lord Williamson, it seemed, for Lord Montague was quite insistent that she do as he ask. Placing her hand reluctantly on his arm, she allowed herself to be tugged towards a small group of ladies and gentlemen, who were talking together in loud, bright voices. Knowing that she would have to give them her f
ull attention, Louisa forced all thoughts of Lord Williamson to the back of her mind for the present. She could not be rude. She would behave impeccably and hope that, when he could, Lord Williamson would find her, for she did not think she could go the rest of the evening without speaking to him.
“It is quite extraordinary!” she heard one young lady exclaim, as she and Lord Montague drew near. “I do not know the gentleman particularly well at all, but to have behaved in such a bold and outrageous fashion is quite astonishing!”
“Indeed,” the gentleman Louisa knew to be Lord Raeburn agreed, his broad grin and dark, twinkling eyes unsettling her as they rested on her for a moment. “I believe you are acquainted with him, Miss Smallwood.”
Curving her lips into a small smile and hoping that she appeared somewhat disinterested, Louisa gave Lord Raeburn a small shrug. “I do not know of whom you are speaking, Lord Raeburn.” Her heart began to ache with pain and confusion over Lord Williamson, finding it difficult to remove her thoughts from him as she had intended. She did not want to be here, did not want to speak to these gentlemen and ladies who were so caught up in sharing every single last piece of gossip they could.
“Why, you must know Lord Williamson!” one of the ladies protested, looking at Louisa eagerly. “I saw you walking with him recently.”
“As did I,” said another, looking at Louisa with shining eyes. “Come now, you must tell us what you know of him. Did you have any suspicion that he was that sort of gentleman?”
Louisa stiffened, her heart slamming into her chest quite painfully as she looked back at the young ladies. “I am not one inclined towards gossip,” she stated quite firmly even though she knew that such a thing was not what they wanted to hear. “From what I know of Lord Williamson, he is a generous and kindhearted gentleman.”
