Chapter 6 #2
It concerned him. That was the uncomfortable truth of it.
Not because of Stockhill specifically, and not because of the arrangement he had proposed to her.
It was because she had said it with such practiced ease, that particular tone of a woman accustomed to closing doors politely and waiting for people to accept it.
As though privacy were the only thing she had left that was entirely her own, and she was going to defend it whether or not the situation warranted it.
He found he didn't want to be one of the people she closed doors against.
That was a new and not entirely welcome realization.
He stepped up beside her and said nothing, joining her in looking out over the garden.
The air was cool and fresh after the stuffy heat of the ballroom, and the lanterns set along the flowerbeds threw warm, flickering light across the colors below — roses and lavender and something white he couldn't name, all of it vivid against the dark.
He let the silence sit for a moment. Then, without looking at her, he said, "You're right. It doesn't concern me."
She glanced at him. He could feel it.
"That's a surprisingly gracious concession," she said carefully.
"I'm capable of them occasionally." He kept his eyes on the garden. "I simply wanted to ensure Stockhill wasn't causing you any difficulty."
Another pause.
"He wasn't," she said. Then, after a beat that lasted just long enough to be honest — "He was asking about my dowry situation."
Leander said nothing. He didn't need to. The fact that she had told him after all, without being asked twice, settled somewhere in his chest with a quiet weight he chose not to examine too closely.
"I see," he said.
"I handled it."
"I know you did." He looked at her then, briefly, and directly. "You have a way of handling things."
She looked back at him with an expression he was beginning to recognize — the one where she was deciding whether to trust what he had just said. Whether it was kindness or strategy. Whether there was a difference with him.
He wasn't entirely sure there was any more.
“You want me to agree to this deal to court each other publicly. What happens when the plan works?” she asked. “We’ll have to find a way to break off the engagement. At least one of us will suffer a scandal for it.”
“Let it be me,” Leander suggested. “I have no interest in Society’s opinions. I’ll be the cruel, flighty lover that drops you without a thought.”
She smiled at him sadly. “They’ll say I should have expected it. That I overstepped, that it was ridiculous of me to ever believe I could land someone like you. Either way, even if you’re the one to end it, I come out of this looking foolish.”
“Is that what you really care about?” he countered. “Forgive me, but you don’t strike me as someone who particularly cares about what the ton thinks of her.”
“I don’t,” she answered, “but Poppy does. And whether I like it or not, my reputation affects my sister’s. I have to think about the best way to find her a good match, and every possible consequence that comes with it.”
Leander bowed his head. He didn’t really have a good reply to that. She was right. Based on the reputation she already had, the ton would likely blame her for the fallout of their courtship, regardless of the facts.
“Why do you want to find my father?” she asked suddenly. “If I’m going to consider this, I need to know. Please.”
Something about her vulnerability, her openness in that moment, made him tell the truth.
“Your father took something important, and I mean to get it back…” Leander trailed off and swallowed. The memory was still too painful.
“So you want to…what? Ruin me in revenge?” Julia asked flatly. “If that was your aim, you should have been plain from the beginning.”
“That’s not my interest at all.” Leander was shocked.
“I simply want to retrieve the item your father took from my friend. It was a family heirloom, the kind of thing with sentimental value that can’t be replaced.
Only Lord Norish knows where it is.” He paused.
“Do you really think me the type of man who would set out to ruin an innocent girl?”
Julia shook her head. “Perhaps it was unkind of me to say that. I judged you to be the type of man who would bend the rules to achieve his aims, and who could be utterly ruthless in doing so.”
“Looks can deceive,” he admitted, “nevertheless, I would never cause harm to someone innocent. Particularly, another victim of Lord Norish.”
There was another long silence. He supposed she must be processing everything he’d just told her. He knew he was asking a lot of her by proposing this agreement, and he hoped that having been honest with her, he might have earned a little more of her trust.
“And our dowries?” she asked finally. She bit into her bottom lip, and Leander wondered why the sudden question. “You would ensure it gets to us? If I were to agree to your proposal, I mean.”
“Of course,” he replied. “Once I am face-to-face with Lord Norish, I’ll be able to ensure we all receive what’s due to us.”
“You think yourself a persuasive man, don’t you?” she said wryly.
“I know myself to be a persuasive man,” he replied, grinning widely. “It’s not often that I fail to get what I want once I set my mind to it. Which reminds me, Miss Norish, you still owe me a dance.”
“You really wish to dance?” She turned to look at him properly, and he thought he saw a faint blush staining her cheeks. He liked it.
“We made a deal, didn’t we?” He held out his hand.
“Just so we’re clear, this doesn’t mean I’m accepting your offer,” Miss Norish stated as she took his hand. It was the first time he’d touched her, and for a moment, he was distracted by the warmth of her fingers through her gloves. “It’s just a dance.”
“Just a dance,” he agreed, shaking his head to clear it, and led her back into the ballroom just as the dancers were beginning to line up. “Although, if I may ask - does your sister have any current prospects?”
She looked down quickly, as if trying to hide her expression. “No.”
“Well then, Miss Norish,” he continued as the music began, “You shall have to make your decision sooner rather than later, wouldn’t you say?”
“You act like it’s a foregone conclusion,” she pointed out.
“Well, like I said…” He drew her close before spinning back out. “I know myself to be a very persuasive man.”
She blushed again, and for a moment Leander forgot himself.
He wasn’t trying to build a scheme to trap her father, and she wasn’t just his co-conspirator.
He was simply a man, and she was simply a woman, enjoying themselves in the moment as the music carried them from one movement to the next.
She moved so gracefully, and her hair flew around her face, framing the freckles that spanned her nose. He hadn’t noticed them before.
Then the music ended, and with it, reality returned. She bowed politely and left to return to her sister. Leander was left lingering a few seconds longer on the dance floor, trying to commit to memory what that tiny moment of joy had felt like.
It was a feeling he’d not experienced in a very long time.
Julia tossed and turned under the covers, unable to sleep. The beds at the Pridewell estate were the most comfortable she’d ever seen in her life, but for some reason, her mind just wouldn’t allow her to relax. She rolled over again, staring at the ceiling and willing herself into slumber.
“Are you awake, Julia?” a small voice came from the other bed.
“I’m sorry, Poppy,” she replied in a whisper. “Did I wake you?”
“No. I can’t sleep.” Poppy sat up in bed and lit a candle, the flickering light illuminating her worried expression. “I’m worried, Julia. Lord Blackwell didn’t approach me all evening. Do you think I did something wrong?”
Julia’s gut lurched. Quite aside from everything that had happened with the Duke, which still played on her mind, she hadn’t yet had the chance to tell Poppy or Lady Bendon what had transpired between herself and Lord Stockhill earlier in the evening. “Poppy, it’s nothing you did, I promise.”
“But it is something?” she asked, latching onto Julia’s words. “Tell me.”
Julia sighed. She hadn’t wanted to discuss it tonight, but it was clear that neither of them was going to get any sleep at this rate, so she lit a candle of her own and moved over to Poppy’s bed. “Lord Blackwell came to speak with me at the ball tonight.”
“What did he say?” she asked eagerly, then took note of Julia’s face. “What did he say?” she then repeated, in a slower and more anxious tone.
“He very much enjoys your company, Poppy,” Julia explained, “and he returned to his mother yesterday, informing her of his intentions to court you. But she has been negotiating with Lord and Lady Burbank and wanted to know what we could offer. So tonight, Lord Blackwell came to ask me about the circumstances of your dowry in order to see whether he might finally turn Miss Burbank down and make an offer to you instead.”
Poppy’s face was ashen, and her voice trembled as she spoke. “What happened? Please, Julia, just tell me.”
“He - he’s unable to accept you without a dowry, Poppy. I’m so sorry. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, but his circumstances won’t allow it.”
Her sister hung her head, tears welling in her eyes. “So that’s it. There’s no hope.”
“Please don’t say that,” Julia reassured her, pulling her into a hug. “I know you liked him, but there will be other men. We’ve still got most of the week to go, and there are plenty of people you’ve not spoken to yet. Perhaps you’ll like one of them even more.”
“Oh, Julia, I just want to go home,” Poppy cried. “I don’t think I can bear seeing him with that witch all week. Please don’t make me –do it. Let me have a few days’ rest to calm myself down and try again at the next ball.”