Chapter Four
The hosts and hostesses of Society were in two simultaneous competitions: who could host the most exclusive event and who could host the largest. The flow of people in and out of the ballroom at Mr. and Mrs. Brantley’s stately London home indicated they sought to be crowned the victors in the latter contest.
“I can’t remember the last time you looked pleased to be attending a crush.” Franklin smiled at Julian. “Lady Charlotte is a good influence on you.”
“I think you mean ‘the prospect of winning a wager’ is a good influence on me,” Julian said quietly.
“And is that the only reason you wore your green coat with the gold embroidery? You have told me more than once that you consider it your most fashionable.”
Julian tipped his chin, turning his head a little to assume a humorous version of the posture of one fully aware that he was remarkably handsome. “The goal is to be distracting, is it not?”
“I believe your goal was to be annoyingly vexing. So, well done.” Franklin was one of those rare and delightful people with whom a fellow could easily laugh and jest. With growing interest, Julian recalled how close to laughing Lady Charlotte had seemed to be during many moments of their previous interaction.
His continued repetition of the word languisce had, at first, been meant to cause confusion, but, upon seeing her amusement, he’d continued the farce, hoping to bring her a bit of enjoyment.
“Which direction ought we to turn?” Julian asked. “To the right, which will take us toward Sir Duncan or—”
“To the left,” Franklin answered without hesitation.
Yes, it was a fine thing indeed to be able to laugh so easily with someone.
And Franklin’s advice proved remarkably sound.
After weaving around a few clumps of people to their left, they came across Lady Charlotte herself, standing beside another young lady, looking quite pleased with her surroundings and the evening’s gathering.
“Lady Charlotte,” Julian greeted with a bow.
She answered with a curtsy. “Lord Wesley. Are you acquainted with Miss Selby?”
“I have not had the pleasure of meeting her.”
Introductions were made amongst all of them. But before anything else could be said, Sir Duncan arrived, looking quite pleased with himself.
“How unexpected to see you here,” Sir Duncan said to Julian.
“I could not countenance missing the Brantleys’ ball,” Julian said quite casually. “Clearly many others share that opinion.” He motioned to the large gathering.
“I thought your humiliation would have kept you away.” Sir Duncan smiled a bit smugly.
“Humiliation?”
Sir Duncan looked at the ladies, then at a few others hovering about, before smugly answering. “You made quite a pathetic showing for yourself in our horse race this morning.”
“Horse race?” Julian looked to Franklin, certain to make his expression one of confusion. “I do not recall participating in a horse race this morning.”
“Neither do I.” Franklin clearly understood the tactic Julian had chosen without needing to be told what it was.
Sir Duncan was undeterred. “You are correct in that it was not much of a race.” Again to the gathering, he said, “My horse is a far superior animal to either of theirs.”
“When precisely was this race meant to have occurred?” Julian shook his head in a show of being perplexed. “No matter the outcome, I suspect I would remember having engaged in a race.”
“Perhaps you were cup-shot,” Sir Duncan said sharply. “That is an indulgence the Lords Wesley are rather known for.”
Julian didn’t let his hackles rise. “So I not only was part of a race I was not aware of, but I also overindulged to the extreme in alcohol I did not have with me? Your story is growing ever stranger, sir.”
“I rode with you this morning,” Franklin said. “I can attest that you were not the least inebriated. Indeed, I have known you for more than half my life and have never once seen you foxed.”
Sir Duncan’s attempts at blackening Julian’s name did not appear to be fully hitting their mark with those overhearing his remarks, something for which Julian was both grateful and surprised.
His family’s reputation was not pristine, and his avoidance of Society had not particularly endeared him to the ton.
“And I was riding in the park this morning with my father.” Lady Charlotte unexpectedly entered the discussion.
“I saw you part ways with these two gentlemen, Sir Duncan. You went in opposite directions after having conversed for a few moments while on horseback. I cannot imagine what race you are alluding to, as I saw nothing of that nature occur.”
“There was a race, I assure you.” Sir Duncan spoke through tight teeth but kept his genteel air.
“Are you calling Lady Charlotte’s honesty into question?” Julian asked quietly, slowly, and with emphasis. A gentleman did not speak so disparagingly of a lady in public.
Sir Duncan was quick to deny that possibility.
All who were listening seemed to more or less accept his denial, though many eyed him with just enough doubt that no one with any degree of social prowess would pursue the previous line of discussion.
Sir Duncan was quick to offer his apologies to Lady Charlotte, who insisted his comments had not been injurious in any way.
The baronet was quick to depart. The crowd around them returned to their conversations as well.
“I’ve been curious since this morning. What did happen at Hyde Park?” Lady Charlotte said quietly. “Though I was not dishonest in my description of what I saw, I am still not entirely convinced that what I saw wasn’t, itself, something of a deception.”
Julian allowed a grin. “It was a rather unusual situation,” he acknowledged.
“Sir Duncan was making a nuisance of himself and issued a challenge that he likely thought we were too proud to turn down. But as neither Mr. Daubney nor I had any desire to engage in a horse race this morning simply because Sir Duncan spoke ill of us, we didn’t feel it necessary to take the bait. ”
“Did you tell him that?”
Julian pressed a hand dramatically to his heart. “And devastate the poor fragile man? Of course not. We’re not heartless!”
A smile of pure amusement spread slowly across the lady’s face. Julian, who had already been quite intrigued by her, found himself utterly mesmerized.
“I daresay he crowed loudly upon his victory for at least one or two seconds,” Franklin said, pretending to be quite serious. “Until he realized he was in a race against himself and, as such, was both the victor and the loser.”
Lady Charlotte’s smile remained lovely and beautiful as ever, but something in her eyes had changed, and not on account of Franklin or what he had said. She also didn't seem to be responding to Julian in any way. Indeed, her attention had shifted to someone approaching from nearby.
Julian looked that way and saw Lord Tarrant approaching with Mr. Travers, whom Julian had known at Cambridge.
Greetings were exchanged. Mr. Travers did not smile but also did not seem particularly happy. He had been almost unfailingly somber but wasn’t actually a gloomy person. He was simply extremely serious. That didn’t appear to have changed.
“We are well met, Mr. Travers,” Lady Charlotte said. “Was this a coincidence or were you hoping to see us tonight?” The question wasn’t quite flirtatious, but there was an earnestness to it that told Julian she wished for Mr. Travers to remain, to speak with them, to perhaps make a good impression.
It seemed Julian had quite easily discovered yet another possible suitor he was meant to distract.
Blast it all, he would far rather stand about attempting to make Lady Charlotte smile again.
He couldn’t remember the last time a lady had captured his attention so quickly and so entirely.
That made the connection between her and him, found entirely by accident in the betting book of his club, all the more strange.
In his momentary distraction, he had missed the conversation continuing on around him.
Only by quick observation and deduction did he realize that Mr. Travers had secured Lady Charlotte’s hand for the next set.
A failure already. Two people who made a handsome couple being seen dancing might very well begin the sort of rumors Julian would rather delay.
There’d be whispers, and those whispers, once they reached the earl, might turn his thoughts to the idea of Lady Charlotte and Mr. Travers making a match.
Something very akin to panic began to slowly set in.
It was the matter of ￡1,000, he told himself.
The money, not anything so ridiculous as jealousy or disappointment at not being the one to have secured her hand for a dance, or having been outmaneuvered by someone who didn’t even know they were engaged in battle.
Mr. Travers accompanied Lady Charlotte to their place amongst the dancers preparing to perform a minuet.
Julian likely could have secured a partner, but he would feel blasted guilty asking a lady to dance, only to neglect her whilst attempting to prevent any degree of closeness from growing between another couple.
The best thing he could do was position himself such that he could catch Lady Charlotte’s eye now and then make her curious as to what he was thinking.
It was an odd approach, but also the only one he thought might work, since distracting Mr. Travers seemed unlikely.
The gentleman’s focus was as unwavering as his solemnity.
Julian wandered a bit as the elegant dance was undertaken. Now and then, he did indeed catch Lady Charlotte’s eye. He would lift an eyebrow the tiniest bit, and smile. Once, he let that smile turn a touch flirtatious, and Lady Charlotte blushed. Heaven help him, he liked that.
She was returned to her father not long before Julian’s footsteps took him past the place where the earl and his daughter stood.
“You are a very skilled dancer, Lady Charlotte,” he offered as he came up to her side.
“Though I risk sounding horribly arrogant, I have been told so before,” she said.
“If Mr. Travers is one of those making that very accurate observation, I sincerely hope he did so in the most exuberant terms,” Julian said, exaggerating his words so she would know he was jesting.
Her smile reappeared in an instant. “His is not the most flowery of vocabularies or the most animated of countenances, but he’s a good gentleman, and I do enjoy his company.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Julian said, a remark which clearly surprised her.
Why would it surprise her? He’d teased a little about her taciturn partner, but he didn’t think he’d given any indication that he disliked Mr. Travers or wished Lady Charlotte to be unhappy.
“I knew Mr. Travers at Cambridge, and I liked him then. Our dispositions are not overly similar, but not so disparate that I am unable to see the goodness in him.” It was an honest evaluation, one he was almost surprised to hear himself give.
He was rewarded with a look of approval in her eyes, eyes he was beginning to realize were a most beguiling shade of golden brown.
“What do you suppose Mr. Travers would say about you?” Lady Charlotte asked.
Many people who hinted at evaluations of his character did so with references to his father and grandfather and great-grandfather and any number of his family members who had been less than the people they ought to have been.
Lady Charlotte seemed to be genuinely curious about Julian himself, rather than yet another Lord Wesley.
“I would hope that he would say that, while I do sometimes jest when I ought to be a bit more serious, I am not a truly frivolous person, that I am good company, and am not entirely witless.”
It was the earl who answered that declaration. “I’ve never known a Lord Wesley who could be described in glowing terms, and I have known several.”
“You will forgive me, my lord,” Julian answered, “but I have also known several, yet I assure you I offered the description of myself with sincerity and honesty. Though one is inevitably influenced by the family and home one was raised in, one generation need not be an exact duplicate of the one before.”
The earl didn’t seem to entirely appreciate the correction.
He watched Julian with a silent air of disapproval, one that sent him back to his days in the nursery when his grandfather and father would take it in turns to scold and belittle him.
He could feel that little boy he’d once been, shrinking and cowering and tucking himself away.
But he was not a child any longer. The family that had so tormented him were gone.
Many people had declared it a tragedy that he had lost everyone he was related to.
For Julian it had been, to a large degree, a relief.
He’d finally had some peace, and he’d been granted the opportunity to determine who he meant to be without constantly fighting the people his family had been.
Julian kept his posture and held his head aloft without tipping it at an arrogant angle.
“I don’t claim to be perfect, but neither will I allow myself to be painted with a brush which does not suit me.
” He turned to Lady Charlotte and dipped a gracious bow.
“It has, as always, been a great pleasure to see you again.”
“Does this mean you are leaving?” That she sounded disappointed at the possibility did his heart more good than she could have imagined and far more than it ought.
“I suspect, my lady, my absence will meet with approval in this particular corner of the ballroom, and it is merely this area I mean to quit.” He refrained from looking at her father, not wishing to further antagonize him.
“I do hope you will allow those in attendance the pleasure of seeing you dance once more. Should my path cross yours again before the night is through, I would consider myself quite fortunate to be the recipient of another of your smiles.”
A tiny bit of color touched her cheeks, visible beneath the powder most ladies and many gentlemen wore on their faces. “I’m pleased you don’t mean to leave entirely.”
Not knowing quite how to respond and feeling the glare of the earl burning a hole in his temple, Julian simply dipped his head and stepped away.
Fool, he castigated himself. Distracting would-be suitors to buy yourself time to obtain a bit of money you desperately need is one thing. Finding yourself developing a tendre for the lady is another entirely.
A fool, indeed.