Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Clementine stormed back to Rosalind and Ravensmere, struggling to contain her ire. How dare Lord William… Urgh, the damn man was a marquess's son! How was that possible?
After meeting him at The Haven, she had hoped their interactions would be limited. But now, with his presence at the Cecil ball at Lord Hartwell's behest, did that mean he would appear at more events in the coming weeks?
She hoped he did not.
“I saw you speaking with Lord William,” Evangeline said, standing beside her and sipping her ratafia. “What do you think of him? Is he a potential suitor?”
“I think absolutely not.” The venom in her voice caught her sister off guard, and she turned, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Really? He’s all the ladies are talking about tonight—quite the anomaly here.
He spends most of his time at his club, which he runs—some call it a gaming hell.
He rarely attends these events, and it’s been years since he last appeared in society.
Still, that only adds to his mystery, far more than his older brother, who seems displeased with anyone he meets.
Such a sour expression, do you not think? "
“I think Lord Hartwell is far superior to his younger brother,” she lied, not quite believing her words. “Lord William lacks manners and clearly spends far too much time in his gambling hell. He prefers nights of debauchery to the healthier, more helpful pursuits expected of a gentleman.”
“Angelica mentioned he gives generously to their church and charities. As for the marquess, whether he gives as much as his sibling is unknown, which does not reflect on his character. In any case, be cautious before making decisions that will affect your life, dearest, no matter whom you choose.
Was Evangeline trying to warn her away from Lord Hartwell?
While not as giving as Lord William, that didn’t make him unfit for marriage.
Not that she was considering either gentleman.
"I met Lord Hartwell tonight, and he agreed to donate money to The Haven.
So perhaps the information you have is unfounded. "
“Darling sister, have you ever seen the marquess at The Haven? Has he ever visited, offered financial assistance, or delivered much-needed food and supplies before speaking of it this evening? Perhaps before you believe everything that the gentleman says, or what he promises, consider what you already know for certain.”
Clementine took a glass of ratafia from a passing footman. Her sister was right. She had not seen Lord Hartwell at The Haven, though she hadn’t volunteered long, but no one had mentioned him.
Mr. William Beaufort....Lord William, as he ought to have introduced himself, however, was revered by Miss Linton and those at The Haven.
Why did he hide his true identity? Did those at the shelter know who he really was, or did they simply let him believe his own delusion? As the waltz began, she observed the dancers and those around the floor.
Her gaze caught the man across the room, his eyes fixed on her. Her stomach clenched, and she frowned. He stood opposite, talking with several gentlemen, but even from here she could tell he wasn’t truly invested in their conversation.
His relentless, hooded gaze fixed on her. For several heartbeats, she hesitated. Should she shake her head, wave him off, or turn away?
Whyever was he staring?
“Out of the two brothers, they are both handsome, I will give them that, but from previous Seasons I have found Lord Hartwell to be a little pompous, so be sure to get to know him well before you allow him to court you. We all want you to make a love match and be happy. It is all we wish for.”
Clementine reached out and clasped her sister’s hand quickly before letting it go.
“I shall not be hasty in whom I choose to spend the rest of my life with. In fact, Lord Hartwell has not made it clear that he’s even remotely interested in me, so do not fret so.
And the Season is young, I’m certain there will be others who may interest me to learn more about them, and so I will choose wisely, I promise. ”
“That is all we wish.”
Evangeline waved to a friend nearby before excusing herself and leaving Clementine to her own thoughts.
She turned back to watch the ton at play.
Had she been too believing in Lord Hartwell and his charitable heart?
She hadn’t seen his lordship at the Haven, and no one ever mentioned him.
But that did not mean he would not donate in the future. There was always hope.
“Lady Clementine, may I have this dance?” Lord Tyndall asked, bowing before her.
She hadn’t seen him approach nor did she know his lordship well, though she’d noticed him about town and heard he was rumored to be seeking a wife, not just the amusements of the Season. “Lord Tyndall, of course. I would enjoy that immensely.”
He clasped her hand and led her onto the floor, sweeping her into his arms for a waltz.
She laughed as the music started and he spun her in an exaggerated turn.
The music carried her away, and she let go of her worries and simply enjoyed herself.
Her gaze drifted over his lordship's shoulder to Lord William, who watched her with a bored expression, as if he knew something she did not.
He irritated her to no end. His rudeness upon their meeting was unforgivable, and she cared neither for him nor for his opinions, which she was sure he would offer unprompted.
“May I call on you, Lady Clementine? When are you hosting your next at-home?”
“I believe Thursday, my lord. My sister, the duchess, is hosting,” she said, wishing she weren’t required to attend, as it would take her from her charitable duties.
Still, she had promised to behave and attend the events Rosalind asked in exchange for help with The Haven, and she would not jeopardize that.
“I look forward to meeting with you again.” He smiled down at her, and Clementine was certain he had a kind heart and sincere interest in courtship. There didn’t seem to be any falseness about him or his character.
A nice change after her earlier interaction with Lord William…
She fought to stop thinking about the younger brother of the marquess. He shouldn’t even be a thought in her mind, other than a disappointment at how very clearly they did not get along. Their first meeting was proof of that.
“Have you been enjoying the Season?” Lord Tyndall asked.
Clementine fought not to roll her eyes. Why did every gentleman deem that question necessary?
It was one of the most repeated exchanges in London, she was sure.
Could he not ask if she rode horses? Did she enjoy the theatre?
What were her hobbies, her likes, and dislikes?
Did she have a brain that thought beyond the color of her gowns and what ribbons to put in her hair?
Anything!
“I’m enjoying it very much,” she lied, his appeal fading. “And you?” she asked politely, though she wished she didn’t have to make conversation.
“Oh yes, very much so,” he began, and did not stop. He talked on and on about all the balls and parties he’d attended, many of which she attended too. The upcoming ball in Hyde Park, hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Rolfe by special decree of the king, who was allowing them to use the parklands.
Everyone was excited, and perhaps she was as well. She’d never been to Hyde Park at night and hoped the evening would prove distracting—a little different from the others she attended. One could only attend so many balls in opulent houses before they started to seem the same.
This one, case in point.