Chapter 17 #2
Lord Brookhaven was suddenly free of the couple ahead of us and stepped toward me.
“Come,” Lord Brookhaven said. He offered his arm to me and led us away from his aunt.
“There is lemonade and whatever you fancy.” He took us personally to the refreshments table.
He seemed a bit nervous, the way he kept glancing at me, then away.
When we had been at Lowndesbury House, he’d seemed so confident.
He’d also seemed older, somehow, never in a hurry.
Tonight, I saw in his face that he was only a year or two older than I was, and I was reminded of how alone he was in the world, both of us orphans.
I was glad he at least had Lady Derringer, Samuel, and Annabelle.
Then I saw Lord Markeley and Mr. Merritt standing in the doorway of the ballroom, staring quite brazenly at me. Just as I thought they might come and greet us, Lord Brookhaven excused himself and walked toward his friends.
Millicent raised her eyebrows at me as she sipped her lemonade. “They’re here,” she whispered.
“Just smile and keep talking.”
We sipped our lemonade while Millicent whispered observations about Lord Markeley and Mr. Merritt, about their clothing and how they looked, while the three men stood talking for a few moments. Then Lord Brookhaven walked away to rejoin his aunt in greeting their guests.
We put down our cups and went to where Mrs. Drake was standing with another woman.
“Ah!” Mrs. Drake held out her hand to me. “Here they are. Mrs. Welton, this is Miss Charlotte Robbins and her friend, Miss Millicent Skidmore of Shropshire. And this is Mrs. Welton, a longtime friend of my family.”
We greeted each other politely. “That is my niece there,” Mrs. Welton said, “dancing with Lord Hatton.”
She was a lovely girl, and there could be little doubt that her aunt was proud that she’d snagged a dance with Lord Hatton, who would be considered a great match for any woman in the room, as he was the oldest son of the Duke of Emberley.
Lord Markeley and Mr. Merritt finally approached and greeted us. Lord Markeley was closer to Millicent than to me, so I began to engage Mr. Merritt in conversation, while Millicent conversed with Lord Markeley.
I said, “I trust you have been well since I saw you last at Lowndesbury House.”
“Yes, quite well, and you have been well, I hear, having inherited an unexpected fortune—from an uncle, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was very unexpected. I should have very much liked to have known him.”
“Well, he cared enough to leave you his fortune.”
Only because there was no other family member to leave it to. I changed the subject. “And all is well with your family?”
“Oh yes. My sister got married, and that was a bit of a to-do. My mother is pleased, for they are settled quite near her, and she may never think of the rest of her children again.”
“I am sure that cannot be true.”
“You do not know my mother. Out of sight is out of mind. I believe she forgot about my existence when I was off at school. You would think her daughters were her only children.”
He was smiling, as if it were a mild joke that didn’t bother him, and I allowed myself to look into his eyes.
He was a handsome man, and he was not without some strengths of character, but I kept remembering what he’d said to me at Lowndesbury House, about how I’d be ruining Lord Brookhaven if I married him.
He asked me for the next dance, just as I heard Lord Markeley asking Millicent.
If Lord Brookhaven had any intentions toward me, would he not have made sure to ask me for the first dance? Instead, he’d let his friend Mr. Merritt ask me.
I made my way to the dance floor, a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Blast. Thomas Merritt was dancing with Charlotte.
William felt the heat rising from his chest. Why hadn’t he made sure to ask her first?
But there was plenty of evening left, and there should be many more opportunities. Still, it made him want to punch Merritt. He should know how William felt about Charlotte. He was even surprised Merritt hadn’t suspected that her new fortune had come from him.
He looked across the room. There was that blackguard, Anthony Welton, watching Charlotte dance with Merritt.
It was necessary to have a hostess, but he wished his aunt had not invited certain people without asking him first. It was her way to only see the good in people.
Even if he’d told her about Welton’s character, his aunt was friends with Welton’s grandmother and probably would have invited him anyway.
There was no more time to dwell on these matters as he began to be accosted by one person after another, asking him questions, remarking on how he’d never given a ball before, hoping it would be just the beginning of many such events, and on and on.
He was introduced to young ladies who were making their debut in society, most of whom his aunt had invited.
No doubt she hoped that if things did not work out with Miss Robbins, he would find one with whom to make a match.
Or perhaps she simply was populating the event with the people who were most likely to spread the word around town that Miss Robbins had inherited a large fortune and therefore it should be forgotten that she had once been a penniless, orphaned governess.
But the mothers in the crowd were eyeing him. He could imagine what they were thinking: He’d already had one failed engagement, and therefore he must be eager to correct his previous blunder and leap headfirst into matrimony.
He made a mighty effort to be polite to them.
It wasn’t easy, especially after they cost him an opportunity to ask Miss Robbins for the next dance.
Instead, he had to watch her being asked by that Anthony Welton, which caused him to stop being polite, and a miracle happened—everyone excused themselves and left him to bother someone else.
But perhaps that was due more to the scowl on his face than any miracle.
Why was that scoundrel leaning close to her? And why wasn’t she shoving him off?
“William? Are you well?” Lady Derringer looked concerned.
“Of course I’m well.”
“You don’t look well. You look angry, and you’re frightening your guests.”
If only that were true. Then they might leave. “I don’t care if Anthony Welton is your friend’s grandson—if he gets any closer to Miss Robbins, I will take him by the collar and throw him off the balcony.”
She gave him a look that he hadn’t seen since he was a young boy and had trampled her rhododendrons. “If you like the girl so much, just ask her to marry you and have it done.”
“I cannot . . .” He didn’t want to talk about this with her, especially not here.
“Why not? I’m sure she’ll say yes.”
He wasn’t so sure. “She’s not the kind of woman who only cares about my rank and my money.” Besides, she might think he was too self-conceited, which he was, and too . . . discontented. And he wasn’t sure he could change.
“You want her to fall in love with you,” Lady Derringer said matter-of-factly. “Then court her. Take her for drives, escort her to concerts and theatricals, call on her every day and tell her pretty words.”
Perhaps she was right. But he needed to be sure that she loved him.
He’d been hurt and humiliated before. Besides, Miss Robbins would wish to marry the man with the strongest character, especially since she had fifty thousand pounds and could choose anyone, and William’s temperament was often gruff, melancholy, and just plain irritable.
It would be good if he could become a better person, and quickly.
His fears made him want to wait, to truly get to know her character, to know that fortune could not change her.
He’d thought he knew her when they’d walked around his gardens at Lowndesbury House, when he’d received her weekly reports about the children’s progress, and he’d seen it at the house party with a few guests. She’d comported herself well.
But hadn’t he also been sure about Letitia?
Lady Derringer had said he should court Miss Robbins, spend time with her and say flattering things to her—and he wanted to.
But every time he thought about making his intentions known, there was a part of him that stopped him, that forced him to keep her at arm’s length, and he didn’t know how to conquer it. Or even if he should.