by Joyce Alec
“You need not apologize, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin replied, her eyes still glassy. “Once you discover the truth in all its entirety, I am quite certain that you will regret apologizing to me.”
“I doubt it,” Louisa replied as firmly as she could despite her own personal misgivings. “Despite what has occurred and what may yet occur, I ought not to have said such things. Upon reflection, Miss Martin, it may have been wise, however, for you to speak to me openly about whatever it is that has now presented itself.”
She wanted to say more, wanted to give voice to the annoyance and the confusion that was roiling around inside her, but wisely chose not to. It was clear that Miss Martin was visibly distressed and to say more would only add to the lady’s difficulties. “I should prepare myself. If you will excuse me, I will not be long.” Rising to her feet and feeling a slight trembling taking a hold of her, Louisa moved quickly towards the door. Could it be true that Lord Williamson sought to make her his wife? That in itself was something of a weighty matter, given that she felt so uncertain about the gentleman himself, but Louisa had to admit that there was a rush of pleasure that came with that thought. Hurrying up to her room to change and ensure she looked her very best, Louisa tried her best to quieten her fractious thoughts. There was no reason to linger on what might be or what could be, not when she did not know the truth in all its entirety. She had to wait until she was, once more, in Lord Williamson’s presence.
Louisa’s nervousness began to grow steadily as she sat down in front of her dressing table, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were a little flushed, her eyes holding both hope and doubt in equal measure. Just what was Lord Williamson going to say? And what would she herself do, once she knew the truth?
“Miss Smallwood.”
Louisa held her breath as Lord Williamson turned from where he had been standing by the window, tension swirling all through her as she tried to hold his gaze.
A gasp slipped from her mouth as she looked into his eyes and saw the large, dark bruise that bloomed from one side of his forehead, reaching out towards his eye. It looked fresh and new, and for one horrible moment, Louisa thought the bruise must have come from the night he had supposedly spent at the bawdy house.
“I was set upon last evening, at the ball,” Lord Williamson said quickly, reaching for her hand and taking it in his. Louisa blinked rapidly, not quite certain what she should say or do, looking at the bruise and wincing at the severity of it.
“I foolishly threw my head back a little too hard against the wall,” Lord Williamson continued, by way of explanation. “Battling the pain, another gentleman slammed something into the side of my head. I was knocked to the floor.”
“Goodness,” Louisa whispered, feeling herself sway just a little with the shock of what she had heard. “Why would someone do such a thing?” Forcing her eyes away from the bruise, she looked into Lord Williamson’s eyes and saw him shake his head, his gaze lowering to the floor.
“I do not know,” he answered softly. “The fellow muttered that he was to take from me what I had taken from him, that he was to deny me what I had denied him, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head again. “As yet, I have no knowledge as to who such a person might be.”
Louisa swallowed hard and then, after a moment, tugged her hand carefully out of Lord Williamson’s grasp. There was still a good deal she did not understand and the last thing she wanted was to lose her focus. Lord Williamson, evidently realizing what she intended, cleared his throat and, with a tight smile, gestured for her to sit down. Louisa made to do so, only for the door behind her to slam itself hard against the wall as another gentleman flung it back and strode into the room.
“Good gracious!” the fellow exclaimed, hurrying towards Lord Williamson. “I must apologize, old chap! I did not hear of what had occurred until this morning. Why did you not come and find me in the melee? I would have come to your aid at once.”
Louisa blinked in surprise, realizing that the gentleman in question was Lord Townend, to whom she had been introduced before.
“Townend,” Lord Williamson replied, his voice rather quiet although holding a good deal of mirth. “I do have guests.”
“Oh.” Lord Townend turned around at once, his face flushed with color as he noticed both Louisa and Miss Martin who, as yet, had not said a word. For whatever reason, his gaze lingered on Miss Martin for a moment or two longer, although Louisa noticed that Miss Martin looked away almost immediately. It was, mayhap, merely that Lord Townend was surprised to see Miss Martin sitting here in Lord Williamson’s house when, no doubt, he was very well aware of the lady’s apparent dislike of Lord Williamson.
“All the same, it is good that you have arrived,” Lord Williamson continued, his hand on Lord Townend’s shoulder for a moment. “You might be able to, at the very least, confirm to Miss Smallwood that I was not at the bawdy house two nights ago, as the rumors have stated.”
Louisa sat down quickly, seeing Lord Townend nod fervently, his expression now growing serious. Her heart quickened at the look in Lord Williamson’s eyes, having heard the eagerness in his voice as he had encouraged Lord Townend to speak.
“Miss Smallwood, I must inform you that the rumors you have heard are nothing more than lies,” Lord Townend began, spreading his hands wide. “Lord Williamson cannot have been at such a place for he and I spent the evening at my residence. My staff can all vouch for it.”
Sweat began to bead on Louisa’s forehead as she let out her breath slowly, seeing Lord Williamson stare back at her with a desperate hope shining in his eyes.
“I do not understand,” she murmured faintly, her gaze darting from Lord Williamson to Lord Townend and back again. “You say that Lord Williamson was with you. Why, then, does someone else say that he was with him at the bawdy house?”
At this, Lord Williamson began to frown, taking a step closer to Louisa as his brow furrowed.
“Do you mean to say, Miss Smallwood,” he began, his hands coupling in front of him, “that you know the identity of the person who has begun this rumor?”
Louisa nodded, not quite understanding the significance. “I do, yes. I discovered it last evening, for I was quite determined—as I have always been before—to ensure that the rumors have basis in fact rather than being mere stories that grow in all manner of direction.” She closed her eyes momentarily, unable to hold Lord Williamson’s intense gaze. “But the gentleman in question stated that he had not only seen you there but gambled with you also.” Her eyes opened. “That is why I could not immediately disregard the notion.”
Lord Williamson let out a long breath and then rubbed one hand over his forehead. “I see,” he muttered, sounding frustrated. “For you see, Miss Smallwood, last evening I overhead a gentleman speaking about me in such an intimate fashion that I felt certain that all those he spoke to would believe him without question.” Dropping his hand, he gestured to Lord Townend. “Lord Townend and I had thought to speak to Lord Mercer, for we had discovered that he had been present in White’s on the evening that the bet I supposedly made was written. Last evening, Lord Mercer was playing cards in the card room and I made my way to it, only to hear someone state that he had seen me the previous evening in practically a state of undress!”
This brought such a blush to Louisa’s cheeks that Lord Williamson, upon seeing it, had to quickly stammer an apology before he could continue.
“I could not immediately enter the card room to speak to Lord Mercer or to confront the gentleman out of fear that my actions would thereafter be known throughout the ballroom and, yet again, more rumors would spread.” He swallowed and looked away. “I could not bear it, Miss Smallwood. Knowing that you were already affected by what had been said of me and what you mayhap already believed of me, I knew that I had to be careful. Therefore, I decided to wait until Lord Mercer left the room, so that I might speak to him privately.” One shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “It was not to be. I believe that the gentleman w
ho spoke to Lord Mercer was the very same who, thereafter, knocked me to the floor. He is also, most likely, the gentleman behind the other rumors, who wrote the bet and encouraged Lady Burton to pretend that she and I had already a prior engagement.” Sighing, he spread his hands. “And the motive, for whatever reason, is that he wishes to deny me something that I supposedly denied him. I cannot understand such a thing, Miss Smallwood. Therefore, if you are quite certain that you know the fellow behind such a rumor, then I beg of you to speak his name to me now, for mayhap then I might be able to rest a little easier. Mayhap then all will begin to make sense.”
Louisa hesitated for a moment, going over the conversation she had shared with Lord Raeburn and Lord Montague last evening. Was she quite certain that Lord Raeburn had pointed to Lord Montague? There could be no doubt now, could there?
“I believe I am quite certain,” she told Lord Williamson, her fingers twisting together as her hands sat in her lap. She felt as though she were a coiled spring, under a good deal of pressure and about to spring apart at any moment. “I spoke to Lord Raeburn and insisted that he tell me the name of the gentleman who told him of your appearance at the bawdy house.”
“And who might that gentleman be, Miss Smallwood?” Lord Townend asked, his own expression suddenly dark. “What is his name?”
Louisa drew in a quick breath, settled her shoulders, and gazed directly into Lord Williamson’s face. “It was Lord Montague, my lord. Lord Montague is the man you want.”
14
At that moment, everything in his world shifted. Lord Montague was the gentleman behind the rumor about the bawdy house. Daniel blinked rapidly, color draining from his face as he realized that Miss Smallwood was now looking at him with a good deal of concern in her expression.
“That name is significant to you, I think,” Miss Smallwood observed as Lord Townend cleared his throat and hurried to the small table in the corner of the room, where he quickly poured two glasses of whisky. Handing one to Daniel, he gave him a small nudge, forcing Daniel to recollect himself.
“Yes,” he said, hoarsely, looking at Miss Smallwood and wondering why he had not thought of such a thing—although, to be entirely fair to himself, he had barely even noted that the gentleman was back within London society. Balls and soirees were always busy and, given that he and Lord Montague did not have a good deal to say to each other, it was not at all surprising that he had not noticed the fellow.
“I do not understand,” Miss Smallwood murmured quietly, looking from Daniel to Lord Townend and back again. “Why would Lord Montague treat you so?”
“It makes sense now,” Daniel admitted, running one hand through his hair and turning to face Miss Martin. “Does it not, cousin?”
He both heard Miss Smallwood’s swift intake of breath and saw, out of the corner of his eye, the way she visibly started. However, he did not look at her but held Miss Martin’s unsteady gaze, seeing the way tears clung to her lashes. It had to be explained now. He had kept his silence for far too long and whilst he had done so out of a sense of loyalty and a desire to keep his word, there was no need for such secrets to be held any longer.
“Cousin?” he heard Miss Smallwood breathe, her voice ragged. “You are Miss Martin’s cousin, Lord Williamson?”
“I am sorry, Miss Smallwood.” Miss Martin was crying now, her eyes squeezing shut as tears dripped off her chin. “I had made a decision to keep myself far from Lord Williamson, after what he did. I could not bear it.”
“I—I do not understand.” Miss Smallwood’s voice was barely audible, forcing Daniel to turn towards her so that he might hear her better. “You are related to Lord Williamson?”
Daniel swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how much of a shock this was to Miss Smallwood. Her face was ashen, her knuckles whitening with the obvious tension that now coursed through her. Daniel’s heart burst into a racing beat, suddenly fearing that this would be too much for Miss Smallwood to accept, that she might turn from him entirely.
“I am sorry I did not tell you from the very first,” he stammered, taking a stumbling step towards her. “I had promised Miss Martin—Christina—that I would do as she wished and be as a stranger to her. It was the only way I could bring a smidgen of relief to her apparent torment.”
Miss Smallwood blinked. “Torment?” she repeated, as Lord Townend cleared his throat gruffly, a similar expression of confusion on his face. “I cannot… I do not…” Frustrated, she shook her head, lowering her gaze for a moment. “None of this makes sense.”
Daniel made to speak, only for Miss Martin to rise to her feet and, visibly trembling, come a little closer to both Daniel and Miss Smallwood.
“I should tell you the truth from the very beginning,” she said, her voice low and yet with a thread of determination running through it. “It is as Lord Williamson has said. He and I are acquainted, and yes, we are cousins. And, as he has said, I begged him to remove himself from my life for I could no longer bear to be in either his house or his company.”
Moved by his cousin’s tremulous voice and the pain burning in her eyes, Daniel took a step towards her, putting one hand out to her, but Miss Martin shook her head sharply, forcing him to step back. Questions began to burn in his mind, the very same questions that had been there from the first. What had he done—or did she think he had done—that had turned her away from him in such a manner?
“Please,” Miss Smallwood said, making him turn towards her. “Allow Miss Martin to speak. It is clear that she wishes to say a good deal and I fear that interruption will only hinder our understanding further.” Her eyes were clear now, her voice a little stronger, and once again, Daniel was reminded of just how strong a character Miss Smallwood could display. A newfound trait, she had said, but apparently one that was becoming an integral part of her.
“Of course.” He inclined his head and sat down at once in a chair near to Miss Smallwood, whilst Lord Townend took another one, clearly intrigued. Seeing them all seated, Miss Martin drew in one long, shaking breath, set her shoulders, and closed her eyes.
“I know, Miss Smallwood, that you were surprised at my youthfulness when I first came to you as your companion,” she began, Miss Smallwood leaning forward in her chair as if it would help her not to miss a single word that was being said. “There is reason for that.” She paused and opened her eyes. “My parents had been unable to take me to London for the Season as they were both rather unwell, and therefore, I had been required to stay at home.” Again, she took in a long breath, tears glistening in her eyes. “My mother passed away soon afterwards and my father then followed. I had to endure my mourning period, which took yet more Seasons from me—although I was not sorry to miss them due to my grief. Thereafter,” she gestured towards Daniel, “I was left to my charge, Lord Williamson, who was, and still is, my first cousin.”
Daniel saw Miss Smallwood turn her gaze to his, her eyes rounding.
“I did, of course, insist that Miss Martin enjoy a Season in London,” he said hastily, fearing that Miss Smallwood might believe that he had been the one to force Miss Martin into becoming a companion. “We were in London and, from my point of view, things went exceptionally well.” He saw Miss Smallwood give a tiny nod, although Miss Martin said nothing. “There were a good few young men interested in furthering their acquaintance with Christina.”
“But only one that I had any true interest in,” Miss Martin interrupted, her voice shaking badly now as she dropped her head. “One gentleman in particular, one that I thought you would accept.”
Something began to creep into the edges of Daniel’s mind as he looked at his cousin and thought back to the time when she had been making her way through society, when she had been dancing and conversing and laughing with a brightness and a happiness that he had been so glad to see in her. The sorrow that must have been in her heart over the death of both her parents was a pain that he had not thought he would ever be able to understand, and then to see her smiling and enjoying her Seas
on had brought a happiness to his own heart. It had made it all the worse when he had seen how it had been torn away, how she had turned from it all and begged him to allow her to be a companion and nothing more.
Was it because she had been heartbroken over a gentleman that she had come to care for? He had not known of it.
“I did not realize that you had an affection for someone within your heart, Christina,” he told her softly, leaning forward in his chair and trying to get her to look up at him. “Why did you not say?”
Much to his surprise, Miss Martin’s head shot up, her cheeks coloring as her eyes narrowed suddenly. “You were fully aware of the gentleman, Williamson!” she exclaimed, reaching out one hand and pointing at him. “Do not pretend that it is not so!”
Daniel’s mouth fell open at the vehemence in her voice and the fury in her eyes. He had no understanding of what she meant and wanted to protest, but the shock of her anger caught his words and tugged them away.
“I do not think that Lord Williamson knows, in fact, whom you speak of, Miss Martin.” Miss Smallwood glanced from Daniel to her companion and then back again, her eyes betraying a small measure of understanding and, within that, sympathy for both Miss Martin and himself. “Might I ask you to speak of it a little more?” She returned her gaze to Miss Martin, a small, encouraging smile on her face. “Please.”
Miss Martin closed her eyes, fresh tears running down her cheeks. “I heard you refuse him, Williamson. He had told me that he wished to seek your approval before anything further occurred, and yet, when the time came for him to do so, you turned him away.” Daniel could almost feel her pain, hearing her ragged gasps as she fought to keep her composure. “You told him that you were sorry, but you did not think him suitable.” Her eyes opened, piercing his heart like a small, sharp dagger. “How could you do such a thing?”
