Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
William stood beside the mantel, the fire thankfully unlit on this warm evening, and watched those in attendance for Miss Masters and Mr. Thornleigh gather to celebrate their forthcoming marriage.
The intimate group was comprised of friends and family who were there to celebrate and introduce Mr. Thornleigh to Miss Masters' London social scene, now that he was in London for the week.
He would not normally take time away from his club for such frivolous evenings, but he felt indebted to Miss Masters, who was his sister Sarah’s dearest confidante during her most difficult times.
Out of gratitude to Miss Masters and devotion to Sarah’s memory, he attended tonight.
He knew that, had she been able, Sarah would have attended herself and rejoiced at seeing her friend find happiness in such a match.
And a love match they were indeed. There was no denying there was true friendship and affection between the newly betrothed couple.
Gasps and a squeal of delight from Miss Masters and the guests made William jump. Looking around to find the cause of the commotion, he finally saw the novelty for himself.
He clamped his jaw shut and fought to ignore Lady Clementine Ravensmere, who entered the small gathering already dressed for the several Mayfair balls she would attend this evening.
Blast the chit, for she looked beautiful.
Did she know how striking she was in that empire silver gown?
It looked like it was made from the very precious metal itself, hugging her voluptuous body, accentuating all the right places a man admired.
He couldn't stop himself. He drank in the vision of her while she was distracted, greeting her friend.
Diamonds glistened in her dark hair. Her perfect, alabaster skin looked so clean and pure that it was a shame she wore any jewelry to conceal it.
She looked like old money, power, and wealth, and she was all of those, of course.
But here, in Cheapside, there was also a little ridiculousness about her.
She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t part of this world, and she really shouldn’t be lowering herself if she was to make a grand match.
Perhaps she hoped to prove she was different from women of her class, or had come looking for something she could not find among Mayfair's whispered drawing rooms. He doubted any gentleman of status would welcome his wife dirtying her hands in the slums outside of Mayfair.
Not that he belonged here any more than she did…
He ignored the warning voice in his head that he was being unfair and mean-spirited, driven by a lingering resentment that she seemed to balance charitable work and social obligations with an ease he couldn't match.
He ought to commend her for being able to make the time to volunteer at The Haven and keep up her appearances at all the ton events that, as a debutante, she was duty-bound to attend.
Not that he was interested in what she did in her spare time, but being part of such a grand family—something he knew enough of himself—the daughters of marriageable age were only in London this time of year for one thing and one thing only.
To find a husband.
God help those who fell victim to that noose.
Lady Clementine was handed a glass of wine and then introduced to several of Miss Master’s friends, including her father, the doctor, who went as red as a beetroot at meeting the duke’s daughter.
William sipped his brandy and quietly laughed.
The sight was comical, even if it was a little absurd.
She oozed a position far above those in attendance, and taking in the room, he could not help but notice the other ladies present looked down on their gowns with less favorable eyes than they did when first setting out this evening.
“Mr. Beaufort, you remember Lady Clementine from The Haven, do you not?” Miss Masters said, smiling between them all.
“Of course.” He bowed. “A pleasure as always.”
Lady Clementine raised one cynical brow. “I’m sure it is, Mr. Beaufort.”
Miss Masters was called away by a guest, leaving him alone with Lady Clementine. “You’re very beautiful this evening. Do you have plans after this event?” Of course, she did. He wasn’t a fool. Still being left alone with her, he had to form some sort of conversation.
Didn’t he?
“Yes, the Austen’s ball, but I’m hoping to only attend one this evening, though I do believe my sister wishes to attend two others later tonight. But I’m to be at The Haven early tomorrow, so I do not wish to be fatigued.”
“Indeed,” he drawled, not truly interested in what her plans were or where. Still, he could not be rude and merely move on to another secluded position in the room and keep away from everyone until it was time to return home.
Lady Clementine’s grin caught his attention, and he wondered at it. “What is so amusing?” he had to ask. Why, he could not say, nor right at this moment did he wish to delve too much into his mind to answer that question.
“You do not need to pretend to like me, Mr. Beaufort. I’m quite capable of moving on to speak to others who don’t disdain my very presence if you wish.”
He frowned, hating that he’d been caught out. Was he so obvious? He thought he was better at schooling his features than that. “I do not disdain your presence,” he lied, hating that she’d had the intuition to pick up that he abhorred her kind.
His kind…
People with too much power and influence often lead to misconduct and greed.
While she may not be cut from that same bedeviled cloth, she would certainly marry that very man and become another society matron who looked down on those less fortunate.
Jaded by time and the disloyalty of those they married.
Titled gentlemen who preyed on those who struggled in life, seeking to exploit their vulnerability for personal gain, and then discard them when they no longer suited their purpose.
Men who preyed on women like his sister, driven by selfish desire and disregard, until there was nothing left of the woman they had once been.
“Yes, you do, and that’s perfectly fine.
I’m not entirely enamored of you either.
I think you’re a cross type of man, angry at the world for your own reasons, I’m sure, but you then take out that disappointment on others.
Women, perhaps like me, who do not suffer financially, and therefore you see me as fortunate, spoiled, ungrateful, a mark to vent those opinions.
” She paused. “The other day at The Haven, you made your opinion of me quite plain. Whatever you think I am, Mr. Beaufort, I’m not a fool, and I know when I’m disliked. ”
He scoffed. He could not help it. “I’m starting to think you’re many things after this conversation.”
She nodded, not denying his statement. “I am possibly all that you think, of course. But just because I have a dowry and come from a loving family, does not mean that I cannot care for people not of my station. I feel obliged to do whatever I can for those less fortunate during my time here in London. My life may look picturesque, but it’s far from flawless.
The difference between you and me is that I do not get to choose my future or my freedoms, as you do.
I must make use of my time while I can, because helping others gives me purpose.
If you do not like it, well, you may do what you please with those incorrect opinions and place them elsewhere. ”
He stared at her and downed the last of his brandy. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you and you feel that my disappointments in life are being taken out unfairly on you.”
She rolled her eyes and sipped her wine, turning to look about the room. “Now you’re just being derisive. It’s not a favourable trait. You’re coming across as a whiny ass.”
William choked and coughed, ignoring those who glanced their way. “Whiny ass. Did a duke’s daughter just say such a thing to me?”
She met his eyes, defiance burning bright in her blue gaze. Hell, she had the prettiest face, even when it was being defiant. Her lips were plumper than he remembered the first time they met. Her brows were perfectly shaped, her cheekbones accentuating that perfect jaw.
He swallowed and wished he hadn’t finished all of his drink. He gestured for a footman to head his way.
“Am I wrong?” she countered.
“I’m not uncivil to those in this room, only toward you and your kind, your social sphere. I have no time for that society, and my disdain runs deep and will never be altered.”
“Well then, I’m sorry for you. We are not all bad.”
William wasn’t sure if that statement enraged or insulted him more. “I don’t need your sympathies.”
“And I’m not giving you any in truth. I’m merely just sorry for you.
” She dipped into a perfect curtsy. “Have a good evening, Mr. Beaufort. Perhaps with me not by your side, you can now go about the room and complain about my presence, which, if the scowl on your face is any indication, is what you wish to do. Good night.”
He gaped. Had she just given him the cut direct? He marveled at her swaying hips as she walked back to Miss Masters. Impertinent minx, he believed she had.