Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
A melia wished she hadn’t been quite so friendly with everyone prior to this evening. She knew she was almost universally liked and that normally gave her joyous satisfaction. As a child she’d been content to sit quietly and talk to only her closest friends but after her marriage, she pushed herself to engage with everyone she met. She’d become the antithesis of her late husband, the woman everyone could talk to if they needed, the woman who always smiled or had a kind word at the right moment. It had taken effort and perseverance but she had thrived on becoming popular in the ton, a very difficult feat indeed.
Everyone wanting to talk to her today, though, was a nightmare. She was desperate to get to the retiring room to spend a few moments composing herself after her strange interaction with Ash. She’d spent years strategizing how she would react when she next saw him, and suffice to say their meeting had not gone in accordance with her plan.
As soon as she had locked eyes with him, she’d been entranced, the years falling away as they’d stared at one another. She’d had the oddest feeling of being whole once more, as if she was no longer alone because he was there. The sensation was utter nonsense, a residue of memories she didn’t need because she was fine without him; her life was perfect as it was.
Finally, she reached the edge of the ballroom and made one last push towards the door. As she did so, she turned slightly and caught sight of Ash once more. Her heart skipped a traitorous beat at the sight of his tall figure. He’d grown, although that was surely impossible. Or maybe it was that he was wider. Something had changed, something fundamental. He appeared to command more space, dominating it with broad shoulders and strong hands.
She quickly turned away before he spotted her staring at him. As she walked away the image of him stayed with her. His back had been turned to her but even so she’d been able to tell from the set of his shoulders that he was tense. He hadn’t been happy when they had spoken, either. When he’d been younger, his gaze had always been full of laughter but there was something dark about the way he had looked at her, something almost feral in his startlingly blue eyes. It had been an effort to slip into the bubbly persona she’d created for herself and yet she’d somehow managed it by focusing on his mother and not allowing herself to glance in his direction.
It had all fallen apart when he asked her to dance. She’d been powerless to refuse, which was intensely irritating. And now she would have to stand close to him and dance the waltz. She’d be able to feel those large hands on her body, admittedly through her clothes but even so…she was going to have to fight even harder to keep her equilibrium. She would have to think of some safe topics of conversation and stick to them for the length of time they were together and then she need never talk to him again.
The hall outside the ballroom was empty save for a few giggling girls heading back towards the room. She hurried down the wide walkway and had almost made it to the retiring room when Sienna barrelled into her.
‘Sienna! Be careful.’ Amelia whirled around to check they were still alone, her heart rate nearly returning to normal when she saw that they were. ‘You mustn’t barge into people like that. Anyone who sees you will think you’re a hoyden.’
Sienna’s nose wrinkled. ‘Oh, pish-posh. There’s no one around and you’re not going to tell anyone about my behaviour. I needed to speak to you without any of the old ladies hearing me.’ Amelia cringed, even as she admitted that the way Sienna acted might be partly her fault. She adored her youngest sister, the last of her siblings to be still living with her, and may have been too lenient with her in the past. At times, Sienna had been her only bright spot in an otherwise dreary existence. But perhaps she shouldn’t have let her get away with saying whatever was on her mind because her manners needed some definite improvement. Sienna might otherwise become the talk of the ton and not in a good way. Exuberant as her sister might be, nobody wanted to be gossiped about, and Amelia was sure Sienna would not take well to being subjected to negative comments. ‘Sienna, I really think—’
But Sienna was not ready to listen to her. ‘You never told me Ash was so handsome.’ Her sister’s eyes were shining with delight, and sickness swirled in Amelia’s stomach. Of course Ash would draw Sienna’s attention. His broad shoulders filled out his jacket well, his dark hair was longer than she’d seen it before but it suited him, and he was a war hero, which was an almost irresistible draw to a young girl, but the thought of them together…
‘Oh, stop looking so pale, you ninny. I didn’t mean for me. He’s so old!’ Sienna laughed and tugged Amelia into the retiring room before she could object to that description of him. Ash was the same age as Amelia, only twenty-seven, but apparently, that was ancient to her eighteen-year-old sister.
‘I’m not pale because of anything to do with Ash,’ Amelia muttered.
‘I meant that he is so handsome for you.’
A sharp pain cracked across Amelia’s ribs. ‘Sienna, keep your voice down.’
‘Oh, why must you worry so? I thought you’d vowed to have fun this season but you’re as tense as anything.’
How to explain to her sister that peculiar strain of having people depend on you, people whom you cared about more than you cared about yourself. Sienna would learn soon enough when she had children of her own but for now, making sure that Sienna didn’t embroil herself in scandal and that she made a good match was even more of a priority than Amelia’s vow to enjoy herself. ‘There is a difference between having fun and making a spectacle of our family by giggling over an attractive man.’
Sienna bounced on her toes. ‘So you think Ash is handsome.’ She clapped her hands in delight as if she’d just discovered that every course at a dinner was going to be cake. ‘Goodness knows he’s like a god in comparison to Marcus.’ Amelia flinched at the reminder of her husband. Although she remained grateful to him for rescuing the family, she had to admit he was not pleasing in the looks department, nor for large parts of his personality either, but Marcus was in the past and not someone on whom she would dwell now that she was embarking on her season of joy.
‘You are so determined to enjoy yourself now that you have money and freedom,’ Sienna carried on. ‘And what’s more fun than a flirtation with a handsome war hero?’
Perhaps it would have been better to explain to her siblings what had happened between her and Ash years ago. If they knew that Ash had broken her heart then they would dislike him even more than they did Marcus, and Sienna would let this idea drop. For all her overexcitement, Sienna was a good sister and would actively help her avoid the man who had crushed her spirits. But…to talk about it would bring Amelia pain and that was the antithesis of this season. There was to be no more suffering. Not anymore.
‘I’d already decided to have a flirtation with Lord Stanmere,’ she said instead. ‘And I can’t have more than one, even as a widow. There are certain things society will not allow.’
Sienna wrinkled her nose. ‘Stanmere is even older than Ash.’
‘Good heavens, Sienna! He’s only thirty, he’s hardly in his dotage and he’s not looking for a wife, so he’s perfect for a little light fun and nothing more.’
Sienna didn’t appear to have heard her. ‘And he’s nowhere near as handsome as Ash, either.’
‘There’s more to a man than his looks.’ Stanmere was handsome enough in his own way and he was an amusing companion. He expected nothing from her nor she him. He also never made her heart flip or hurt or generally do anything other than beat at its normal tempo. Flirting with him hurt no one.
Sienna sighed the sigh that only a young person could manage when they were at odds with someone older than themselves; a disappointment that came from deep within her core. ‘I’m warning you, Melia, if you don’t snap Ash up, some other woman will and then you’ll be sorry.’
A snake, thin and vicious, curled around Amelia’s heart at the image of Ash with some faceless woman. Well, that was irritating. She’d have thought she was way past feeling jealousy for him. He could have had any number of women since she’d last seen him and she’d no way of knowing. It hadn’t played on her mind all these past years because she had forced herself not to think about it. Besides, he was nothing to her, apart from memories: some lovely, some gut-wrenchingly awful.
‘Then let him be snapped up.’ Seeing that Sienna was about to protest once more, she carried on. ‘I was a young girl when Ash and I had a brief, sweet romance that went nowhere. The two of us are very different people now and I do not want to…’ She trailed off, staring at her reflection. She’d chosen this dress because the cut accentuated her curves. Years ago, she would never have worn anything so daring.
What had Ash seen when he’d looked at her? Her younger self had been so desperately in love with him that she had sometimes suppressed her natural instincts, occasionally pretending to be sweeter than she was so that he’d never find fault with her. That sweet girl would never have worn a dress like this, nor been so bold as to take control of the conversation. She pulled a face at herself. Did she really need to keep reminding herself that she thought nothing of Ash? Because she was starting to disbelieve her own conviction, and that was annoying.
She turned away from herself and took her sister’s hands in her own. ‘Stanmere is exactly the sort of person with whom I want to have a flirtation. No, I can see you’re about to argue but…there are things I never discussed with you about Ash because it was too painful at the time.’ Even making this small confession hurt. ‘And I don’t want to revisit that. I want fun.’ She squeezed her sister’s hands slightly. ‘I know you can understand that, so please drop the mentions of Ash.’
Her sister nodded slowly, the excited light fading from her eyes. ‘You know you can tell me things, Melia. Just because I am young does not mean I will not understand.’
Amelia’s heart squeezed. ‘Of course, I know, my dearest sister. But I don’t want to dwell on bad memories now. I want to move forward and live life to the full.’ She dropped her sister’s hands and turned to leave. ‘Without Ash,’ she finished because she wanted to be completely clear.
She wasn’t sure but she thought she might have heard Sienna mutter, ‘We’ll see,’ as the retiring room door closed behind her.
Amelia chose to ignore the words even if they had been said. There would be this one dance with Ash and that would be it. She would sail into the rest of the season and enjoy it exactly as she had intended.
Back in the ballroom, Amelia’s self-confidence slowly began to ebb away. She fervently hoped Ash had forgotten that he’d written on her dance card. He’d not remembered to write to her after leaving for the war, so perhaps his mind was faulty. She could but hope.
The evening sped by at an alarming rate, and too soon it was time for her dance with Ash. She waited at the edge of the ballroom, knowing she was either not brave or not strong enough to ignore his request altogether. He had not partaken in any of the dances as far as she had seen, so maybe he had become swept up in a game of cards. However, he would have to forget their dance, not she. She would not be accused of rudeness.
It was almost incomprehensible that, in a room crammed full of people, she could be aware of his presence without even turning around, but she could sense the moment his powerful body came within a few steps of hers. She kept her gaze resolutely forward as the skin at the nape of her neck tingled, her mouth suddenly dry.
‘Lady Mortram,’ his voice sounded behind her and it took everything she possessed not to flinch.
Pasting on a smile that had seen her through some of the darker days of her marriage, she turned to him. ‘Mr Ashworth, there you are. Are you sure you want to dance? It’s awfully crowded. Perhaps a turn about the room would be more pleasant.’
An emotion she couldn’t read crossed his face before his own fake smile made an appearance. She could tell it wasn’t real because the dimple she had once adored stayed hidden. ‘If you wish to take a walk with me once the dance has finished, I would be honoured. However, it is a long time since I performed a waltz and I would be grateful to get back into the dance with an old friend.’
Her heart cracked at the reference to their previous friendship; her mouth stretched as she fought to keep her smile in place. How could he act as if they did not know each other intimately? How could he face her so nonchalantly when she knew exactly how ticklish he found the soft scrape of her nails at the base of his throat? How dare he refer to their former friendship so casually? He should have treated the subject the way she was going to, which was to ignore it completely.
He took advantage of her momentary slowness to lead her onto the dance floor. As she turned to face him, she realised what a monumental mistake she had made. She should have refused him from the off, society manners be damned. She’d danced the waltz many a time; she enjoyed the elegant rhythm of it, the rise and fall of moving with a partner who knew how to lead, but she had never experienced anything like this. Ash towered over her, overpowering all her senses.
Her gloved hand felt tiny in Ash’s large one, and her skin burned where his hand rested on her shoulder blade. He tugged her a little closer and her breath caught in her throat as his familiar scent washed over her. She didn’t know where to look and so she focused on the point where his cravat met the collar of his shirt.
The music swelled around them and he spun her lightly around the ballroom. He didn’t speak and she couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to. For long moments, she concentrated on where she was placing her feet, forcing her eyes not to stray to the long column of his neck.
‘It’s called The Waterfall.’ His voice rumbled from above her.
‘What is?’
‘The knot in my cravat. You’re studying it very intently. I thought you might be wondering what style it’s folded in. I can’t tell you how to produce it, I’m afraid. My valet spent so much time perfecting it that I think I must have dozed off.’
Of all the arrogant… ‘Your toilette is of no interest to me, Mr Ash.’
‘Mr Ash,’ he repeated, his lips twitching.
Amelia ground her teeth together. This conversation was getting away from her. Ash was teasing her and she was responding in an irritated manner; she certainly did not sound like a woman intent on frivolous enjoyment.
‘I do apologise. Your full surname escaped me for a moment.’
His smile died and a muscle ticked in his jaw. She bit her lip to stop an unladylike snort. If the waterfall comment had been a win for him, pretending to forget his full name was a definite victory for her. Not that this was a battle; it was a mere skirmish before the end of an acquaintance.
They travelled through a few more rises and falls before Ash spoke again. ‘How is your brother? Is he living full-time at Merrimore? I did not have time to call on him while I was at Easton Hall.’
She swallowed past an unexpected lump in her throat. Talking about her brother was safe but oddly not what she wanted. Besides, Ash had been at his family’s estate for months; he’d had plenty of time to call on her brother and she did not see the reason for the lie. ‘Stephen is doing well. He spends most of his time at Merrimore with his wife and their sons.’
His fingers tightened momentarily. ‘And you, are you at Merrimore often?’
‘No.’ She liked her sister-in-law and adored her young nephews but visiting her childhood home was too painful; there were too many memories she didn’t want to revisit tied up in each of the rooms. Stephen came to town every few months and she visited Merrimore once a year. It was enough.
A silence grew between them, which the music did not fill. How funny that she used to be able to talk to this man about everything and now she had nothing to say. No, that was not true. She had plenty to say but none of it would be a good idea to utter. In the end, she settled on a commonplace. ‘How are Mary and Isabel? Are they looking forward to their debut next year?’
He twirled her around the edge of the dance floor and began leading her back towards the orchestra. She would not admit it to anyone, could barely even acknowledge it herself, but she was enjoying being led by him. He was a competent dancer, she’d known that anyway, but it was the strength in his body, a strength that his years in the army had honed, that made the movements so enjoyable.
‘The girls are excited, yes.’
If she hadn’t known him so well, Amelia would not have picked up on the annoyance behind those otherwise banal words.
‘But you are not.’
He glanced down at her and for a moment, she thought he would call her out for her overfamiliarity. For how would she know such a thing about him when she claimed to have forgotten his full name?
‘No,’ he eventually agreed. ‘I am not.’
‘Why?’
‘They are too young to be subjected to this.’ He nodded over her head at the crowded ballroom.
‘Enjoying themselves?’
He shook his head. ‘This isn’t pleasurable.’
She jolted in his arms, trying to pull her hands out of his grip. It was his idea for them to dance together, not hers, and yet his scathing comment was hurtful nonetheless.
His grip tightened before she could pull free. ‘I didn’t mean this dance,’ he hissed. ‘This is the most enjoyment I’ve had all evening.’ Oh. Her heart turned over as she struggled to find a suitable response. Nothing; her mind came up with nothing, not one simple word. Luckily, Ash carried on, not seeming to notice his devastating compliment. ‘I mean the scramble to secure a good match, all the while being watched over by harridans who think it is fine to discuss your family’s business out in the open.’
Ah, now his comment made more sense. He’d obviously overheard something that had hurt. She could almost feel sorry for him, but only almost. She’d no doubt faced worse; she wasn’t a celebrated war hero, and she’d had to face the harridans completely alone as an innocent young woman. She’d survived and so would he.
‘Mary and Isabel will have you to protect them from all of that.’
He growled something under his breath.
‘And you won’t have to do it alone. Your wife will help you.’
He ground to an abrupt stop. She stumbled over his feet and would have fallen if he hadn’t gripped her arm. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ His skin was flushed, his lips thin, the tendons in his neck stretched tight, and she was struck at just how different this man was from the boy she had once known.
‘I…’ She had no recourse. She had meant to provoke a reaction in him, had meant to remind them both that he would marry and that it would not be to her. Now that she had said it, she wished she could stuff the words back into her mouth. It had revealed too much, that she had thought about him marrying and expected him to do so soon.
‘You know nothing about my personal life,’ he ground out.
‘And whose fault is that?’ Anger caused her to snap at him.
Fire flashed in his eyes, his jaw so tight it looked like it might snap. ‘I thank you for the dance, Lady Mortram. I wish you good evening.’ And with that he left her at the edge of the dance floor. She watched him stride away from her, his large body cutting through the crowd. She was aware of murmurs around her and of sly glances cut in her direction, but that was not what bothered her the most. As his dark hair disappeared out of sight, she couldn’t help but reflect on her own behaviour. Far from being light and frivolous, she had been tense and provocative. If she’d wanted to prove to Ash and herself that he meant nothing to her, then she had failed spectacularly.