He had the decency to flush. “I’ve always had a great deal of interest in France, actually. And books.” Mr. Westbrooke laid that book on top of the other one. “Now I have a question for you ladies.”
Force of habit had Lottie sitting quite still, almost as if waiting for a blow.
“Y-yes, Mr. W-w-westbrooke?” Pamela sat forward; her pretty face full of curiosity.
“I would love to escort both of you lovely ladies to the Assembly Rooms Saturday evening.”
“Oh, how lovely,” Pamela said. She turned to Lottie. “Isn’t that wonderful, Lottie? We’ve always wanted to go, but never had an escort.”
“Yes. Just lovely.” Lottie glared at Mr. Westbrooke who had the temerity to grin.
Lottie paced her small bedroom thinking of every excuse she could possibly come up with to add to the partially written note, addressed to Mr. Westbrooke, sitting on her desk in the corner of the room.
Whatever had possessed her to agree to attend the Saturday Assembly with Mr. Westbrooke and Pamela? She’d purposefully avoided all social events since her arrival in Bath, except for the occasional trip to the theater with her friends.
She stared at the note and chewed her lower lip. Truthfully, she was so very tired of hiding. She was young and enjoyed all the things a young lady would enjoy. Theater, museums, Assembly dances, strolls in the park, dinner at a fancy restaurant. Perhaps she could never have a suitor since she wasn’t fit for marriage, but she could certainly attend more events than an infrequent night at the theater.
The wedding in London had not resulted in disaster, so perhaps it was time to enjoy a bit of social life. Before she could change her mind, she tore the note into shreds and dropped it into the rubbish. Then dusted her hands off with determination and opened the door to her closet to select a gown for the evening.
She chose a deep green satin with black trim that she’d worn to a ball in France. The bodice was a modest cut with a row of black lace edging. The fabric was snug against her waist and tummy and gathered in the back in a slight bustle.
Her black slippers that matched the lace on the gown were still in perfect shape, a reminder that she had attended that ball as a teacher and chaperone, so had not danced.
She managed to wrestle her dark brown curls into a simple topknot with a few strands resting on her neck and at the sides of her face. A sweet little matching green hat with black netting sat on top of her head, nothing more than a decoration.
Quite satisfied with how she looked, she picked up her cloak and waited in the parlor for Mr. Westbrooke to arrive.
Within minutes, she heard the sound of carriage wheels and then a slight knock on her front door. She opened the door and her breath caught. He looked dashing. Why did he have to be so charming and handsome?
He extended his elbow. “Are you ready, Miss Danvers?”
She contemplated chastising him for the way he’d maneuvered her into attending the Assembly by asking Pamela. But then decided to allow him this one sneaky ploy.
“Yes, Mr. Westbrooke. I am ready.”
Lottie had to admit she was enjoying the excitement of arriving at the Assembly Rooms. She’d never seen them before and was quite taken with the glimpse she’d gotten of lovely pale blue walls, white trim, and numerous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The room was three or four times the size of her entire flat.
They handed off their coats to a man stationed at the door, then taking a deep breath, Lottie took Mr. Westbrooke’s arm. He extended his other elbow to Pamela, and the three of them entered the room.
It was like a fairyland from a child’s book. The women were all dressed in lovely evening gowns of various colors. Deep blue, red, green, and gold gowns flashed by as the dancers swayed and dipped to a waltz. Every sort of fabric was represented, too. Satin, silk, fur-lined collars of light wool gowns, and even a few velvets.
The gentlemen were as well turned out as the ladies. Dark trousers, stark white shirts, colorful waistcoats, and well-tied ascots, all covered with dark jackets. She watched the dancers for a while, noting none of the gentlemen were as handsome as Mr. Westbrooke.
He bent toward Lottie’s ear, the warm scent of his bath soap tickling her nose. “I take it since you teach young ladies how to move about in Society that you are an excellent dancer.”
Lottie loved to dance. In France, she had been allowed to attend a few events as a guest and not just a chaperone and enjoyed the dancing so much she even wore out a pair of slippers one time. “I don’t know that I am an excellent dancer, but certainly an enthusiastic one.”
“Ah. Modesty on top of all your other qualities.” He grinned, the light from the chandeliers reflected in his eyes. Her heart took an extra beat and the smile she intended to give him faltered. She did not know what to make of the effect he was having on her.
The music ended and the dancers scattered from the middle of the floor. Some to join friends on the side, some to avail themselves of the refreshments at the long table on the south wall of the room.
“Westbrooke. Why is it you always end up with the most beautiful ladies in the room?” A tall, slender man slapped Mr. Westbrooke on the back and stared at the two women, with a particular interest in Pamela. “Do I get an introduction?”
Mr. Westbrooke turned to her and Pamela. “Ladies, may I make known to you, Mr. Nicholas Smith.” He gestured toward the man. “Smith, this is Lady Pamela and Miss Danvers.”
They both gave a slight dip and Mr. Smith bowed. “I will certainly be happy to take one of these lovely ladies off your hands, Westbrooke.” He turned to Pamela. “May I request a dance, Lady Pamela?”
“Y-y-yes. That w-would be f-f-ine.” Pamela’s blushed rose from the top of her bodice to her hairline. Yet, she was speaking to a stranger and agreeing to a dance. It seemed to Lottie that the two of them were facing their demons tonight.
She swore Mr. Westbrooke had tensed when Mr. Smith mentioned taking one of them off his hands and then visibly relaxed once he chose Pamela.
The four of them chatted about the usual things, England’s weather, parliament’s latest blunder and the horrible condition of the roads. Mr. Smith was a pleasant man, of average looks, but with the way of smiling that transformed his face into something much more attractive. And he seemed to be doing a great deal of smiling in Pamela’s direction.
The Master of Ceremonies announced the next dance, a quadrille, which had Lottie already tapping her feet before the music even began.
“It appears you are anxious to join the others on the dance floor,” Mr. Westbrooke said. He took Lottie’s arm and moved them to the end of a line of dancers. Mr. Smith and Pamela were right behind them and took the positions next to them.
It was a lively dance, and Lottie was pleased to discover that Mr. Westbrooke was a wonderful dancer. The intricacies of the steps didn’t allow for much conversation, but she found herself smiling quite a bit.
And Mr. Westbrooke smiling right back.
She took a deep breath as the number ended. “That was fun.” She realized as soon as the words were out that it had been quite some time since she uttered those particular words. It had, indeed, been fun, and she was quite happy with her decision to come to the dance.
He took Lottie’s arm. “I believe a bit of liquid refreshment would be just the thing right about now.”
When they reached the refreshment table, Lottie realized that Mr. Smith and Pamela had not followed them but were in conversation with three other people. Lottie could tell by Pamela’s stance that she was uncomfortable.
“Perhaps I should rescue Lady Pamela from that group,” Lottie said as she accepted a cup of lemonade from Mr. Westbrooke.
He glanced over at Mr. Smith. “I think she is doing all right. Smith can make anyone relax. He owns a very successful gambling club and can talk a miser out of his coins. I won’t tell you how successful he is with the ladies because that will only send you off in Lady Pamela’s direction. But be at ease, he would never do a
nything improper with an innocent young lady.” He took the empty glass from Lottie’s hand and placed it on the table. “Let’s take a stroll. You worry too much about your friend.”
They’d gone about half the room when two gentlemen approached them. Lottie immediately stiffened at the look on their faces. Nothing threatening, but a bit too . . . hungry was the only word that fit.
Mr. Westbrooke must have sensed it because he covered her hand on his arm and gave it a slight squeeze.
“Westbrooke, are you going to introduce us to the lady?”
Mr. Westbrooke hesitated slightly and then said, “Miss Danvers, may I present Lord Sterling and Mr. Clancy. Gentleman this is Miss Danvers.”
“I say, Miss Danvers, you do look familiar.” Lord Sterling took her hand and kissed the air above it and studied her a bit too closely for her comfort. “Do you spend much time in London?”
“No. Not at all.” She withdrew her hand from his and placed it behind her back. She knew she sounded breathless and wanted more than anything to race from the room and return home. She turned to Mr. Westbrooke. “I think I would enjoy a cup of lemonade.”
He gave no indication that they had just had a glass but instead nodded to the two men. “If you will excuse us.”
“Wait just a minute, Westbrooke. We’re not going to let you hog this beauty all night.” Lord Sterling looked in her direction. “May I request a dance, Miss Danvers.”
“And I as well.” Mr. Clancy smiled brightly, and she broke into a sweat. Oh, God, what was she to do now? Lord Sterling thought she looked familiar and she knew why. If she spent any time with him, he would surely make the connection.
“I’m sorry, my lord, but I am feeling quite lightheaded. I think it’s the heat in here.” She turned and gave Mr. Westbrooke a pleading look.
He returned a warm smile then turned toward the two men. “Some other time, Sterling. I think I will escort Miss Danvers outside for a bit of air.”
“Yes. A bit of air is probably best for the young lady. We will accompany you,” Mr. Clancy said.
There was nothing to be done for it. If she insisted they not join her, it would cause too much attention and that was the last thing she wanted. “Very well.”
The four of them made their way to the French doors that led to a gravel pathway. Lottie turned to see Pamela dancing with another gentleman. She didn’t look at all distressed, so Lottie assumed she didn’t have to worry about her friend. What she did notice was that Mr. Smith didn’t look pleased at all as he watched Pamela and her partner.
Lottie only had to worry about herself and this man who thought she looked familiar.
5
Carter was having a heck of a time figuring out Miss Danvers. She froze when Sterling and Clancy approached them and even asked for another glass of lemonade just so she could get away. He would love to believe that was because she only wanted to spend time with him, but his inbred modesty would not allow that.
It was clear the two men made her nervous. Just as he still hadn’t figured out why she’d been upset when he mentioned his brother and father, he tried to pin down when she became distressed this time. It was when he introduced Lord Sterling. Again, it was the nobility issue, he was certain.
There was something about the upper class that caused her to retreat into herself or attempt to escape. The four of them strolled out the door and the graveled pathway. Sterling kept up a constant chatter with Clancy popping in a word or two.
Carter was too aware of Miss Danvers for inane conversation.
“Miss Danvers, I must say once again that you are very familiar. Do you have family in London that you might have visited?” Sterling continued to stare at her until Carter wanted to plant the man a facer.
“No. No one. I never go to London.”
Of course, Carter knew that to be a blatant lie since they’d just returned from Berkshire’s wedding. But he was not about to dispute her claim when she obviously did not want to admit to it.
“I’m finding the air quite chilly.” Miss Danvers was, indeed, shivering so they all headed back to the ballroom.
“Ah, now I get to claim my dance.” Before Carter could stop him, Sterling took Miss Danvers’ arm and led her to the dance floor. The minstrels began a country dance, which separated the couples into two lines.
Carter stood on the sidelines, barely holding a conversation with Clancy since his attention was riveted on Miss Danvers. Every time Sterling spoke to her, she shook her head. It was apparent she was growing quite agitated.
“Excuse me,” Carter said, stepping away from Clancy. He walked up to Sterling and tapped him on the shoulder. “My turn, Sterling.”
The man looked surprised, then annoyed, but good manners had him stepping back. He gave a slight bow and Carter took his place. He looked over at Miss Danvers and winked. She smiled back and the dance continued.
He loved being a knight to her damsel in distress.
Carter, Lady Pamela, and Miss Danvers settled into his carriage and after he gave the signal, the driver left the front of the Assembly Rooms. Pleasant conversation continued among the three, but Carter was aware that Miss Danvers seemed out of sorts. He seemed to always be aware of her. He still wondered about her sad eyes.
Although he’d rescued her from Sterling, she had remained on guard for the rest of their time at the dance. Eventually, when she turned down another gentleman who wanted to dance with her, she asked Carter if they could depart, stating she had the beginning of a megrim. Lady Pamela seemed ready to leave also, so they made their way to the carriage.
They came to a rolling stop in front of Lady Pamela’s boarding house first and Carter escorted her to her door. She thanked him, and he was pleased to note she hardly stuttered at all. Perhaps she was becoming more comfortable with him and considered him a friend.
Once he returned to the carriage and the vehicle began to move, he took a deep breath and said, “Miss Danvers can you tell me why you were so upset with Lord Sterling?”
Her face immediately grew red. “I was not upset with Lord Sterling.”
“Yes. You were.” He offered her a soft smile, but his words were strong enough that she glanced out the window at the darkness rather than look at him. Taking a chance, he leaned forward, took her hands in his and tugged until she landed on the seat next to him.
“Mr. Westbrooke!” Although she attempted to look shocked, he saw a glimmer of humor in her eyes.
“Carter, if you will. Can I please persuade you to call me by my given name?” He held onto her hands to keep her from moving back across the space. She curled her fingers into a fist and her lips tightened.
He placed his knuckle under her chin and turned her face toward him. “You’ve given me the impression that you regard the nobility with disdain. Not just Lord Sterling, but all the lords and ladies. Particularly the lords.”
She shook her head and tried to remove her hands, but he wouldn’t let go.
“No. That is not true.” There was almost a sense of pleading in her tone. Whatever was it that disturbed her so. Had she been abused?
Just the thought of this beautiful sweet woman being misused by a man was enough to send him searching for the cad and beating him to a pulp.
Since he saw no point in arguing about the matter as it would only upset her further, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her body against his. “I hope that since we are friends you would share with me any difficulties you had with Lord Sterling. Did he say something to insult you?”
She edged away from him, and he loosened his grip. He did not want her to feel as though she had anything to fear from him.
It took him barely a few seconds to realize she was crying.
“Miss Danvers?”
“Yes.” She looked up at him, her eyes bright with tears. “That is me.” She switched from distress to anger. “At least I always thought that was me, but now I’m no longer sure.” She wiped the tears from her face, and once again the sadness
returned. “I’m no longer sure of anything.” She slowly shook her head.
He pushed a curl behind her ear that had become loose. “What is wrong, Lottie? Can I help?” Her name just slipped out. It was how he thought of her—and he thought of her a great deal—and for some reason, it appeared that right now her last name troubled her.
Ignoring his slip in addressing her, she said, “No one can help me.” She turned her face toward him, and he could not help himself. She was so beautiful in the soft light bathing her face from the lantern on the wall of the carriage. Her creamy cheeks were flushed, her eyelashes clumped with tears. He gently cupped her cheeks in his hands and lowered his head, covering her perfect lips with his.
Within seconds, he was sure he had reached heaven. She was all he had hoped she would be. Her lips were soft, warm, and moist. He nudged her mouth with his tongue expecting to be bitten, but instead she opened for him. He pulled her closer, so her soft breasts were pressed up against his coat. Carter cursed the clothing separating them, wanting to feel her warm skin next to his.
She tasted better than he’d imagined, and his imagination was quite strong. He shifted their bodies and slanted her head so he could go deeper with the kiss. Tentative at first, Lottie soon made her own exploration, tangling lightly with his tongue.
Her slight moans increased his desire, her enthusiasm delightful. Carter pulled back and looked her in the eyes. Her eyes were round—surprise or anger?—and she stared at his mouth, tempting him to taste her again.
Hoping to avoid a set-down, he said, “If what I just did upsets you, please let me know.”
He held his breath as she licked her lips and slowly shook her head as if not quite sure. “No. I don’t think so.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. A quick glance out the window told him they still had some time before they would arrive at her building. “Please understand that I will never let anyone hurt you. I know we haven’t known each other long, but you must admit there is something between us.”
The Courtesan’s Daughter and the Gentleman: The Merry Misfits of Bath ~ Book Two Page 5
