Chapter 6
Whatever did she mean?
"You are so very kind, Lord Rutland."
Josiah glanced at the lady on his arm. "I thank you, Miss Shrewsbury." He was not quite certain what he had done to make the lady think so favorably of him but he would not say such a thing to her.
"I did not think that you would show me such favoritism," she continued, with a delighted sigh. "To know that you think so well of me so as to dance with me again after having only stepped out with me yesterday evening... well, I am truly touched by your notice!"
This gave Josiah pause though he said nothing to the lady herself.
Stepping back, he waited for the music to begin and then, bowing low, came close to her again, catching her hand in his.
Had he danced with Miss Shrewsbury last evening?
He could not recall --- which now meant that his notice of her here in the ballroom had been a misstep on his part.
He did not want the lady to think that he was paying her particular attention.
The dance continued on and Miss Shrewsbury, much to Josiah's relief, spoke for the both of them.
It meant that he had to make very little conversation, aside from the briefest remarks and could concentrate solely on the dance itself.
Miss Shrewsbury was a very beautiful young lady and certainly, most genteel and considerate but that did not mean that he thought warmly of her!
No, at present, his mind was filled with all that Lady Clara had said to him the previous afternoon.
The letter was not my doing. I had no choice but to write it.
That had astonished him. To hear her say such things had not only catapulted surprise against his heart, it had stolen away his breath and left him in such a state of shock, he had been unable to speak a single word to her.
"Thank you very much again for that dance." Miss Shrewsbury dropped into a curtsy and it took Josiah a moment to realize that the dance had come to an end. "You cannot know of my delight this evening, Lord Rutland."
Josiah managed to smile as he bowed. "But of course, Miss Shrewsbury." The urge to step away grew --- his unintended attentions would only encourage her to think well of him. "Let me take you back to your mother."
"We could take a turn about the room," Miss Shrewsbury suggested, in a very forward manner which took Josiah by surprise. "I am sure that ---"
"Alas, I am to go in search of Lady Honoura," Josiah answered, relieved that he had an excuse. "I am to dance with her next."
This made Miss Shrewsbury pout but Josiah ignored it.
Returning the young lady to her mother, he bowed and smiled and then stepped away, relieved to be away from her.
How foolish he had been to dance with the young lady having only danced with her the previous evening!
It was a clear indication to him that his thoughts were in complete disarray. .. and all because of Clara.
I think I must speak with her.
Going to the side of the ballroom, Josiah plucked a glass of brandy from a silver tray and threw it back in a way that would, no doubt, have many eyebrows lifting should they be watching him.
A gentleman ought to savor his brandy but now, at this present moment, Josiah felt the need for a little more courage.
As he set down the glass, a burst of laughter drew his attention to the far side of the ballroom.
A gentleman he did not know was holding court amongst a small circle, his voice carrying above the general hum of conversation with the easy confidence of a man who believed himself the most entertaining person in any room.
What caught Josiah's eye, however, was not the gentleman himself but who stood beside him --- Lord Tyrone, laughing along with every appearance of genuine enjoyment, his hand clapping the man's shoulder with a familiarity that spoke of long acquaintance.
Josiah watched them for a moment, something uneasy stirring in his chest. He had seen Lord Tyrone at several events now and his manner was always controlled, always watchful --- but with this gentleman, he seemed almost relaxed.
It was, Josiah thought, the look of a man standing beside someone he considered useful.
"Are you quite all right, my friend?"
Turning, Josiah smiled tightly. "I am well enough." He glanced at Lord Worthington, then looked out across the ballroom. "I am decided that I should speak to Lady Clara."
Lord Worthington's expression shifted --- not with surprise, for he already knew the whole of it, but with a kind of cautious concern. "You are certain?"
"I think I must." Josiah rubbed one hand over his eyes. "When she spoke to me yesterday in the park, she told me that she had not wanted to write the letter, that she had been given no choice but to do so."
"Which is precisely what I suggested might be the case, if you recall," Lord Worthington said, quietly. "I told you in the carriage that her actions did not make sense --- that a lady of quality would not risk her reputation on a false attachment. And now she has confirmed it herself."
Josiah nodded slowly. "Either her brother or her mother forced her hand, I think."
"So you are going to ask her more about it?"
With another glance at his friend, Josiah's lips twisted as he considered. "I suspect my mind will give me no rest until I do. My thoughts have been many ever since she spoke to me. I want to know what she meant, I want to know who it was that demanded she write that letter and end our connection."
"Because you hope that, given that she did not want to, her desire for you and her love for you still remains?"
Closing his eyes, Josiah let out a hiss of breath between his teeth. "I cannot let myself think that. Clearly, we are not permitted to have any sort of connection and therefore, I can have no hope that we will be granted that again."
"But you hope for it nonetheless."
Josiah spread out his hands. "Hope is foolish. I just want to gain understanding."
Lord Worthington nodded and then offered Josiah a small smile. "Then I wish you well, Lord Rutland. Why do you not dance with her and speak with her then? The waltz might be suitable?"
"The waltz?" The thought of having her so close to him brought Josiah equal pleasure and pain. "I do not know if I can endure such a thing."
"I am sure that you could." Lord Worthington shrugged lightly and then smiled.
"If it will bring you peace, then I think it right that you pursue this and the waltz will give you ample time to discuss things.
" He tilted his head. "If there is someone unwilling for there to be a connection between you, however, they may not want to see you draw close to her again and will refuse to let her waltz with you. "
"Ah, but I have seen her waltz already, so she certainly has permission," Josiah responded, a sudden fierceness in his chest. "All she needs to do is accept me."
"Then I suggest you ask her, just as soon as you can. The evening is already well underway and it might well be that she has her dance card filled already."
Without warning, Josiah stepped away from Lord Worthington and pushed into the crowd, searching for one face only. Acquaintances called his name; he gave them a nod and nothing more. He wanted only to find Lady Clara.
Finally, he saw her. She was standing beside her cousin and, with her on the other side, her brother. Her eyes caught his, rounding at the edges as he came near and, to his very great surprise, she gave him a tiny shake of her head.
He stopped.
Was she telling him to stay back? That she did not want his company? Frowning, a stab of anger and frustration pushing into his heart, he made to turn away, only for Lady Clara's eyes to move towards her brother.
Then, she looked back at him.
Josiah hesitated, his first response fading as he tried to make out what it was she meant. Was it that she did not want her brother to see them conversing? That he would not be welcome should he go to join them?
His brow furrowed, recalling what she had said to him. She had stated that she had not wanted to write that letter, that there had been no other choice but for her to do so. And who would have forced her hand? Her brother, mayhap?
But what am I meant to do? Josiah rubbed one hand down his face, shrugged and then turned away, ignoring the pleading look on Lady Clara's face.
I cannot merely stand here and wait for her to find a way to speak with me.
Perhaps this was all nothing more than foolishness.
If I am not able even to speak with the lady, then why do I trouble myself in such a way as this?
Grimacing, Josiah pushed his way back through the crowd.
Foolishness --- that was all this had been.
What good could come from their meeting when her own family would not even permit him near?
Anger spiked hot in his chest and he curled his hands into fists, making his way back towards the brandy.
Yet again, his heart had betrayed him. Yet again, he had been left with nothing but confusion and doubt.
"Lord Rutland?"
A hand touched Josiah's elbow and he turned around, only to stagger a little.
He had imbibed more than he had intended and it took a second or two for the face before him to come into view.
When he realized who it was, his heart leapt up furiously and his breath caught, although he gritted his teeth against any such feelings and instead, turned his gaze away.
"I am sorry that I had to refuse your company," Lady Clara said, as Josiah reached for another glass. "Would that I could explain, but even I do not understand it all."
"I do not care."
Lady Clara blinked and then looked away. "I thought... I thought that when you came towards me, it was because you wanted to speak with me."
"I did but then you pushed me away with a single look," Josiah replied, still not looking at her. "Clearly, I am not welcome although I have done nothing worthy of censure."
"Of course you have not." Her voice was a little louder than before and, as Josiah threw her a glance, Lady Clara closed her eyes and shook her head.
"We should speak, Lord Rutland but I must be careful in how I go about it.
If I am seen in your company, then my brother will be greatly displeased with me. "
"And why would that be?" Josiah could barely keep the snarl from his voice, his temper growing hotter with every second. "I have done nothing wrong. I have only ever behaved well and now you reject me?"
A hand settled on his arm. "Rutland."
Josiah looked up to find Lord Worthington at his side, his expression calm but his grip firm.
There was a warning in his friend's eyes --- not merely the concern of a companion watching a friend drink too much, but something sharper.
A reminder. Worthington knew exactly who Lady Clara was, knew the whole painful history, and his steady gaze said clearly: not here, not like this.
Josiah shrugged off his hand. "I am quite well, I thank you."
"I must take my leave at once." Lady Clara bobbed a curtsy, glancing around the room. "Forgive me for interrupting you. I did not mean to cause you more pain but clearly, I have done so."
"Wait." It was very strange indeed how his temper flared one moment, only for his longing to take a hold the next.
His hand shot out, catching hers as Lady Clara turned away and that touch, his fingers to hers, made his heart cry out with both desperation and pain.
"You said we could talk." He did not release her hand but she was the one to pull away, her eyes holding fast to his.
"If you wish to," she said, tears now shimmering in her eyes. "If we met in a bookshop or some quiet place, I might be able to speak to you then. Alice and I can make our way to The Theatre Bookshop tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock."
Josiah nodded, his stomach beginning to tighten and then release as he set his glass of brandy down again, realizing just how much he had drunk these last few hours. "Tomorrow, then."
She held his gaze steadily and then let out a slow breath, shaking her head as she did so. "I do hate to see you so, Rutland."
She was gone the very next moment, leaving him to stare after her as the hubbub of the crowd swallowed her up.
He wanted to tell her to come back, to state that he had more to say, more to tell her, more to ask her.
.. but he did not. Instead, his hand continued to burn where their fingers had touched, desire beginning to lick its way up towards his heart.
"Come." Lord Worthington was beside him again, one hand on his shoulder, and this time Josiah did not push him away.
His friend's voice was low, meant only for him.
"You have a meeting tomorrow and you will need your wits about you for it.
Drinking yourself into a stupor tonight will not serve you. "
Josiah dropped his head, his stomach going from one side to the other. "You think me a fool."
"I think you a man in love who has been given a reason to hope and does not know what to do with it.
" Worthington steered him gently away from the brandy tray.
"That is not the same thing as a fool, though the two can look remarkably similar from the outside.
" A pause. "Go home, Josiah. Sleep. And tomorrow, when you are sober and your head is clear, go to that bookshop and listen to what she has to say.
You owe her that much --- and you owe yourself the truth. "
Feeling his head begin to ache, Josiah let out a low groan and shoved his hands through his hair. "I should never have let myself drink so much."
"On that point, we are in complete agreement."
Without another word to anyone, Josiah made his way to the door of the ballroom, ready to call his carriage and make his way home.
Tomorrow, he thought to himself, as the cool air hit his cheeks, he might finally have some answers as regarded Lady Clara's separation from him and perhaps that would bring him some relief.
But it would never bring her back to him.