Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
William arrived at the Cecil ball intending to keep watch on his brother and see if what he’d revealed to him that afternoon was indeed his plan.
He reminded himself it was his only aim tonight.
He was not here to warn Lady Clementine about Phillip’s intent to court her under false pretenses and then send her to the country while he indulged himself in town, though the temptation nagged at him.
William struggled to separate his concerns for Lady Clementine from his true purpose: watching his brother’s moves.
But if his brother was indeed going to court Lady Clementine, he would ensure she disclosed her daily activities to his sibling.
Something Phillip would dislike immensely and frown upon, and therefore move on to someone more malleable.
His brother loathed those beneath his social standing and rarely tried to help others unless it benefited himself.
No wife of the future Marquess Hartwell should dirty their hands with such menial tasks. He could hear his sibling now proclaim how people brought on their own downfalls and hard times. That they ought to work harder, hire a tutor, better themselves, and not expect others to fix their mistakes.
How narrow-minded his brother was. Not everyone was born to privilege, with so much wealth and freedoms that they didn’t know what to do with it all. Or in his brother’s case, he did know what to do with… gamble it all away until there was nothing left, not to help himself or others.
He narrowed his eyes at the trouble his brother now found himself in.
The dance, a minuet, came to an end, and he spotted his brother leading the very lady herself from the floor. Phillip spied him and waved before starting in his direction, his bright eyes and wide, false smile making the hair at the back of William’s neck stand on end.
He’d never seen his brother pretend such gaiety. Something hard and cold knotted in his stomach. Maybe this time his sibling was truly on the path to marriage.
“William, brother, let me introduce you to Lady Clementine Ravensmere.”
“Brother!” Lady Clementine blurted before his sibling could finish the introduction. “Of course, Beaufort…” she mumbled.
William fought not to smirk. Yes, in the world in which she knew him, he was known as Mr. William Beaufort. But in truth, he was Lord William, Beaufort being the family name, Hartwell the title.
He bowed and met her eyes. “Lady Clementine, it is very good to see you again.” He glanced at his brother, then back at her. “Lady Clementine and I met at The Haven, where she donates her time. She is often there, most days, and is dutiful in her work.”
“You did not mention that you knew her…” His brother cleared his throat, remembering where he was and who with. “I mean to say, that is very good to hear that you know of her work at the woman’s shelter. Lady Clementine was just telling me of it before the dance.”
“Was she indeed…” He met her eyes and noted the fire burning behind her blue gaze.
“Indeed, I was, but you failed to mention that you’re a marquess's brother. How odd of you, considering you knew who I was.”
Or unfortunate, depending on how one looked at one’s life.
Not that he did not know he had grown up privileged, better than most, but he’d made his own fortune.
Yes, he had inherited money from his father, but it was far from enough to purchase an estate or live comfortably for the rest of his life.
The bulk of the fortune was left for Phillip, who had since squandered it away with nothing left to show for it.
As for himself, he had worked day and night to build up his club. One that no gentleman ought to own, but he didn’t care for such frivolities. So long as he was comfortable, able to help those in need, and keep himself above the poverty line, he was content.
That he now had more money than his titled brother was just another boon to keep close to his heart. “I’m merely the younger son and don’t see it necessary to announce at every introduction. My brother handles all the estate and everything that entails as the marquess. I am free to do as I wish.”
“Indeed,” his sibling said, clapping him on the shoulder harder than necessary.
A warning perhaps not to disclose too much?
“My brother rarely attends these events, but I requested his attendance this evening. I wished for him to meet you. But then that wasn’t necessary when you already know each other.
” His sibling cast him a pointed stare, and William shrugged.
“It must have slipped my mind when we were talking this afternoon. Apologies, Hartwell, it was not purposefully done.” He paused.
“And it is so refreshing,” and surprising “that you’re so favorable toward Lady Clementine’s charitable work.
Perhaps you could donate some of your time and money to those less fortunate.
Just like mother used to do, if you remember. ”
“I remember,” his brother said, his tone distinctively cold. “I shall have to look at my schedule and see when I have the time to help, but alas, my appointments in town for the estate and everyone who depends on me do take precedence. I’m certain Lady Clementine understands.”
She looked at Hartwell, a small frown between her pretty brows.
Pretty?
William shook the thought aside, annoyance running through his veins.
“Indeed, I do understand, my lord. But we can always use more funds and help. You would be more than welcome to come down to St. Giles and help whenever you’re available. There are no time restraints.”
Phillip met his gaze, and he could see the annoyance that swam in his eyes at having been put on the spot by Lady Clementine. No doubt when she excused herself to go and enjoy the ball, his brother would let him know of his displeasure.
William fought not to laugh. His pompous brother deserved to be called out on his falsehoods, and mayhap Lady Clementine would be the first debutante to do so.
“Of course I shall do whatever makes the charitable Lady Clementine happy, you can be sure of it,” Phillip drawled, picking up her gloved hand and kissing it.
William ground his teeth at his brother’s false charm. She smiled, but he could see she was far from convinced. Smart woman to be wary, and with any hope, she would not fall for Phillip’s charms and be left devoid of love and affection as so many women were when settled in marriage.
Not that he cared what happened to the Ravensmere heiress.
She could go on to marry anyone, but just not his brother.
Phillip was cold, ruthless, and a liar. A man who would sell their mother’s childhood home, the resting place of their only beloved sister, just so he could line his pockets with coin.
He could not stand by and be a witness to his brother's ruin of Lady Clementine’s life.
He would much rather let her do that elsewhere, where he did not know of it.
Considering the situation, he ought to sabotage any match his sibling tried to achieve this Season.
Create hurdles and opportunities to expose the truth about his brother's character.
Men like Phillip were all the same, and that their sister had fallen under the spell of that very kind, and paid the ultimate price with her life, made it only worse.
“If you’ll excuse me a moment, Lady Clementine, I see an acquaintance whom I wish to speak to before the night comes to an end. Would you mind terribly if I were to leave you for just a moment?”
Lady Clementine looked at Hartwell with a puzzled frown. “You may do whatever you wish, my lord. Do not stay on my account.”
His brother smiled and sauntered off toward no one whom William discerned as particularly important, and within a few steps, he knew his brother had lied and merely wished to be away from them.
Lady Clementine followed Phillip’s progress, and her bored expression was also telling. “You did not tell me you were the son of a marquess when we met at The Haven several days ago. Why was that?” she bluntly asked.
He met her gaze and shrugged. “Is it a requirement that I tell the daughter of a duke that I’m the son of a marquess? Does that make me more worthy in your eyes and less suspect? After we met, your coldness during the exchange did not lead me to feel very obliging to you, my lady.”
She raised her brows, disdain crossing her features. “You are very forward in your rudeness toward me. I think you forgot that you, too, were far from friendly when we were introduced. You looked at me as if I were an annoying bug on the bottom of your hessian boot.”
William inwardly cringed, knowing she wasn’t far from the truth with that analogy.
Yes, he was cold and aloof, especially to those born in the same social sphere as himself.
Nor could he help it due to losing Sarah.
It was a hard reflexive response to unlearn.
“I do not think I looked at you as if you were a bug,” he lied, knowing he did indeed not wish to be bothered with yet another privileged woman from his old world.
“Now you’re being obtuse. You were cold, as you well know.
And no, I don’t think you’re now worthy of conversation and respect merely because you’re the son of a marquess.
I couldn't care less who your father is. I respect people based on how they live and treat others. You may help The Haven, but you were rude, are now a proven liar, and clearly do not like me. Therefore, I do not know why we’re continuing this conversation. ”
“Well, I do not know why we’re continuing this conversation either. Perhaps you ought to leave if I’m a lying, cold ass.”
She crossed her arms, and the action lifted her breasts. William swallowed and fought not to dip his gaze to her chest. He did not need a slap in the face for his crassness, as well as his offensiveness against this woman.
“Perhaps you ought to leave,” she returned, holding her ground. Her face and chin lifted in defiance. “It would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”
He chuckled and leaned forward just enough to whisper in her ear. He knew the action was a mistake the moment he did it. He could smell her hair. A delightful scent of roses, and he fought not to breathe deep, to lean close and place his nose in her locks like some sauce box.
“Ah, yes, but you see, my lady… Be as it may that I was born a gentleman, that does not mean that I act the gentleman.”
She turned her face, her lips temptingly close to his, and the action brought him up short.
Blast it all to hell…
She was so frustratingly beautiful, defiant, stubborn, and perfect in many ways. Still, he disliked her and her kind.
She is your kind, too, you dolt.
He shook the thought aside and stepped back, remembering himself, his responsibility as a man, and what was right. Even if he did not wish to follow either of those protocols right at this moment.
“Good evening to you, Lady Clementine. I do hope you enjoy the ball.”
The thinning of her lips into a displeased line only made him more achingly aware of her mouth. “I would return the felicitations, Lord William, but I do not care to.”
He turned on his heel and left before she sparked off another argument between them. “Prickly little wench,” he muttered under his breath. Knowing full well he couldn’t wait to prick himself on her barbs another day.