Chapter 18
Eighteen
I danced several more dances, each time with a different gentleman. I smiled and drank lemonade and danced some more, always aware of Lord Brookhaven, who never danced at all.
Why had he given this ball? He stood near the wall, scowling, barely speaking to anyone. Meanwhile, I danced with every gentleman who asked me. It was what ladies did, and I seemed to be in demand as a dance partner, as much as any other lady in the room.
One gentleman in particular was quite attentive—Mr. Welton.
He asked me to dance before many of the guests had even arrived, fetched me lemonade, and seemed always eager to whisper some bit of gossip in my ear.
Later in the evening, he asked me to dance again.
While we danced the second time, he flirted shamelessly, making me laugh and leaning his head quite close to mine while gazing into my eyes.
It was a bit disconcerting. But mostly, it just made me feel alive and . . . pretty.
Logically, I told myself that the men who flirted and asked me to dance were only doing it because of my fifty thousand pounds, but it was something I was not accustomed to, and I’d hardly be human if I didn’t enjoy it.
Lord Brookhaven appeared at my side. His face was serious, though not quite so hard and angry as it had looked for most of the night. “Do you have a partner for the last dance?”
“No.”
“Would you do me the honor?”
“Of course.”
The musicians were preparing to play, and Lord Brookhaven led me onto the floor.
While we stood there waiting for other couples to join us, he said, “I wish to put you on your guard about Mr. Welton. He’s a scoundrel of the first order and is only after the lady with the largest fortune. You’d do well to stay clear of him.”
I said nothing as the music started and we moved in a round with the other couples.
But the more I thought about what he said, the angrier I felt. I’d waited all night to dance with him, and this was the only thing he said to me? How dare he suggest that Mr. Welton could only be interested in me for my fortune! Did he think that I had no merit or worth on my own?
Tears stung my eyes. It was true—no one would have danced or flirted with me if I had not inherited a fortune.
I’d be shunned and ignored if not for the money, a poor orphan, nobody at all, exactly as I’d been during Lord Brookhaven’s house party.
It hurt even more that Lord Brookhaven had been the one to point this out.
He was probably just trying to be a good friend. He couldn’t know how much it hurt, especially coming from him.
And he hadn’t danced with me or talked with me all night, only now asking me to dance when he couldn’t possibly ask me for a second dance. We danced in silence.
When it was over and everyone was politely applauding the musicians, Lord Brookhaven said, “I hope you are not angry with me for wishing to put you on your guard.”
I wasn’t angry with him for that, but . . . “I don’t understand why you think a gentleman could not wish to know me for myself. Am I so odious that my fortune is the only thing about me that could interest a man?”
I should not be saying such things, but it was as if saying them scratched an unignorable itch.
I’d probably regret it later, though.
I could also see how my words affected him. His lips parted as a flash of pain flitted over his face. Then his jaw hardened.
“Forgive me. I meant no offense.” He turned his head as if looking for a way out.
“Forgive me. I should not have . . . Thank you for putting me on my guard. I am sure you meant well.” My cheeks were burning.
I didn’t wait for him to reply. I hurried to where Mrs. Drake and Millicent were waiting for me.
It hurt so much that Lord Brookhaven only wished to warn me about other men, not court me or flirt with me himself. After the “triumph” of having so many dance partners, all I wanted to do was go home and have a good cry.
The ball was a disaster.
Even two days after the ball, William was berating his lack of wisdom, which had induced him to warn Miss Charlotte Robbins about scoundrels at the ball, while also wishing he’d asked her to dance sooner—and kept his mouth shut.
She’d looked so beautiful there in his house, dancing and smiling and charming everyone, including his aunt.
Lady Derringer. Perhaps she could help him. When his aunt returned, he would send her to speak to Charlotte, to find out if he’d lost all hope of winning her affections. But that was perhaps a bad idea and might make him look like a coward. Which he was.
When he watched so many men flattering her, flirting with her, and she flirting with them and welcoming their attention, he nearly lost his mind.
But then when he warned her about Mr. Welton, she said nothing at first, but he saw the tears in her eyes. And when she said he must think her odious, he realized how his words might have made her feel, that she was only worthy because of her fortune.
He should have told her that nothing could be further from the truth.
It was only that these addlepated nick-ninnies couldn’t see her worth.
They only saw the fifty thousand pounds, and she was worth so much more than that.
But she’d been undervalued her whole life.
Of course she would misunderstand his intention.
It was no wonder his words had come across the wrong way.
Then again, his intentions had been good, as he was afraid she hadn’t known that Anthony Welton was a scoundrel. How could she know? She would have assumed that he’d only invite good people of good character to his ball.
He was staring out the window when he caught sight of Miss Robbins walking down the street with Miss Skidmore and Mrs. Drake. He only hesitated a moment, then ran to the stairs and took them two and three at a time.
He kept his distance. The weather was relatively warm, with only a few clouds and no wind, and although he preferred country walks to walks in London, it was entirely plausible that he was also going for a walk.
Suddenly, a child ran out from a side street and grabbed Mrs. Drake’s arm. The child cried out, “Help! Please help me!”
William quickened his pace. This was a common way for thieves to distract their victims, while someone else jumped out at them and snatched a purse, or laid them out with a blow to the head so they could look through the man’s pockets.
Mrs. Drake said something that sounded like a harsh reprimand and shook off the child’s hold on her arm. While her companions stepped away from the child, Charlotte stepped closer.
As William drew near, he could see the child was dirty and its clothes were ragged. The child appeared to be crying—and she appeared to be a girl.
She was sobbing and clinging to Miss Robbins’s hand when he arrived.
“My brother is hurt. Come, please!” The child’s voice was high and pleading.
Mrs. Drake said, “Charlotte, no, you mustn’t. It could be a trap.”
Charlotte looked up at him. There was a flicker of surprise, then she said, “Lord Brookhaven. Will you come with me?”
“Yes.”
They started down the side street with the child pulling Miss Robbins’s hand, William following close behind.
They went round several corners as he made mental note of all the turns so he could find the way back. Then they came to an abandoned building. The child led Miss Robbins through a small opening. It was just big enough for him to bend down and squeeze through.
A little boy was lying on the dirty floor, his arm and face bloody and bruised. He looked to be about six years old.
“Please help him,” the little girl said.
He knelt beside the child and Miss Robbins did the same.
“What happened?” Miss Robbins asked.
“A carriage ran him over,” the little girl said.
“The wheel went clean over my arm,” the little boy said.
He reached toward the little boy’s arm.
“Don’t touch it,” he said, warding them off with his other hand.
“Is the bone through the skin?”
The boy shook his head.
“You need a doctor,” Miss Robbins said gently. “The doctor will put on a splint and then I’m sure it will be all right.”
“My physician is nearby,” William said.
Miss Robbins’s eyes met his. Had there ever been more beautiful eyes than hers? Not only were they pretty and blue, with dark delicate lashes, but there was so much compassion and concern in them. They swam with tears as she gazed up at him. He felt his throat tighten.
But he couldn’t dwell on Miss Charlotte Robbins’s teary eyes, as much as he wanted to. He needed to get this child some medical attention.
My heart seemed to melt as I gazed gratefully into Lord Brookhaven’s eyes. How kind, how good he was. Mrs. Drake and Millicent had huddled together, looking horrified, but Lord Brookhaven hadn’t batted an eye. He just followed the child with me.
He turned back to the little boy and said, “I can carry you to the physician, but you will need to keep your arm still. Can you do that?”
His eyes darted anxiously toward his sister.
I said, “Perhaps we could take a piece of cloth and bind his arm close to his body. I saw it done once when a girl at my school fell out of a tree and broke her arm. Mrs. Southey bound her arm to her side until we could get her inside and fetch the doctor.”
I looked around at the squalor. There was a place near the wall where it looked as if they’d been building fires to keep warm. But I didn’t see anything that looked like strips of cloth.
Lord Brookhaven untied his cravat, which was long and white. Then he took a penknife out of his pocket and started cutting it into narrow strips.
My eye was drawn to the bare skin at his throat, the small hollow place there, and the bit of dark hair peeking out from the top of his shirt. I quickly looked away.
He bent down with the cloth. We worked together as he passed the cloth under the little boy’s back and I pulled it from my side and passed it around his arm.
“What’s your name?” I asked.