Chapter 8
Lord and Lady Bellamy had spared no expense on food or decorations. Luxurious fabrics cascaded from the marble columns that framed the ballroom, reaching up toward the ceiling. And hanging at the center of the room was a breathtaking crystal chandelier.
The flickering flames of the candles glinted off its many faceted stones, showering the dancers below in a beautiful rainbow of colors.
The dance floor was a spectacle of men and women donning their finest evening attire, executing elegant twists and turns as they danced. Della stood beside a large pot of exotic flowers, swaying to the music. The enchanting atmosphere, combined with the captivating music, made her feel like someone had cast a bewitching charm on her.
Della smiled and glanced at her dance card. She did not have anyone claiming the next dance, so she made her way to the refreshment table. She graciously accepted a drink from a footman, lifted the cup, took a sip. And she cringed as the overwhelming scent of spirits, oranges, and spices assaulted her nostrils.
Rum punch—she should have known. The Bellamy’s were famous for serving it at all their events, the recipe having come from some relatives in America. If this was what the Americans were drinking, their gatherings must have been quite…lively.
Returning to her previous location beside the dance floor, Della looked around to make sure no one was paying attention and discreetly emptied her drink into the flowerpot.
“I am sure those flowers needed the fortification as much as I do. However, I believe the concoction they call refreshment may have the opposite effect.”
Della let out a squeak as she spun around, looking guiltily up at a familiar face.
“Miss Rowntree.” Aden Aynesworth smiled at her, sweeping into an elegant bow. “How lovely you look this evening.”
“Thank you.” Della curtsied. “You look quite charming yourself. Have you only just arrived?”
“Unfortunately, no. I am afraid I arrived rather early. Royce said he had run into Miss Putnam earlier today and promised to talk with her later this evening. I guess you could say I accompanied him for moral support. Alas, his early arrival was in vain, as Miss Putnam only arrived a short while ago.”
Della nodded. “Where is he now?”
“Royce?” Aden turned to look around the room. “He is just there.”
Della glanced in the direction that Aden pointed, where she could see Royce engaged in conversation with Lord Ravensdale. Royce looked up as if he had sensed Della and Aden talking about him and politely excused himself from his conversation before walking toward them.
“Miss Rowntree.” With a small bow, Royce brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “You look lovely this evening.”
“Yes, I was saying much the same thing,” Aden agreed.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Della beamed.
“Would you do me the honor of a dance?” Royce asked, holding out his hand.
“Excuse me, old friend, but I believe you cut in line. I was about to ask for the honor before you arrived.” With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, Aden held out his hand out to her as well. “Miss Rowntree, would you be so kind as to honor me with a dance?”
There Della stood, two very handsome men standing with their hands extended, asking her to dance. She looked up to see several sets of curious eyes staring at her.
And so, she noticed, was Miss Putnam. With narrowed eyes, she directed her gaze at Della while Royce and Aden kept their hands extended.
“In all fairness, Your Grace, Lord Aynesworth was here first.” Della smiled at them both.
“Sorry, old chap.” Aden took Della’s hand and placed it on his arm.
“I am sorry, Your Grace. Perhaps a different dance?”
“Of course,” Royce said graciously. “As you may recall, I need to speak with Miss Putnam. Have you seen her this evening?”
“I have. She is standing with her father.”
“Thank you.” Royce nodded his head and left; his expression unreadable as he prepared for what Della expected would be an uncomfortable conversation.
“I never expected to see you on the dance floor, Lord Aynesworth,” Della said as Royce walked away.
“Such formality.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I dislike being called Lord Aynesworth by those I know, and you have known me long enough to call me by my given name, Della.”
“Yes, I have known you for a long time, Lord Aynesworth. Almost as long as His Grace. However, we are in a public place, amongst the Ton, no less. People would get the wrong idea if I were to call you by your given name or you, mine.”
“Noted,” he laughed. “It is rather warm in here. Let us make our escape and forget the dance, Miss Rowntree.“ Aden winked at her teasingly.
Knowing she would have to return soon so the next gentleman could claim his dance, Della allowed Aden to guide her into the cool night air.
“May I have this dance?” Royce bowed to Miss Putnam.
“It would be my honor, Your Grace,” Miss Putnam said, dipping into an elaborate curtsy.
Royce guided Miss Putnam onto the dance floor as the orchestra struck the first chords. Stepping in time with the music, he could not help but admire Della’s beauty as he watched her move across the dance floor with Aden.
Her virescent green dress was adorned with intricate silver details, complemented by her elegantly swept back hair, held in place with a silver comb. And with each step, the dress sparkled in the light, accentuating her graceful figure.
“You seem distracted, Your Grace,” Miss Putnam said, drawing Royce’s attention back to her.
“Hmm?”
“Shall we have that discussion now?”
“Very well,” Royce said, sweeping her into a turn.
“Might we start with what you talked to my father about the other day?” Miss Putnam asked.
Royce took a deep breath before speaking. “I see no reason not to tell you the truth. Indeed, if we are to marry, I would say that being honest about what is on our minds is the best way forward. What exactly has your father told you?”
“He said you asked to postpone, stating that you had business matters with your estate to see to and could not give our engagement the attention it deserves.”
“Those were my words exactly.” Royce nodded in confirmation.
“But you see, Your Grace, we only have an understanding. I have not said yes, as you have not formally proposed.”
Royce came to a stop, causing another couple to bump into them.
“What exactly are you trying to say, Miss Putnam?”
“Only that since rumors have spread about you postponing, I have had several offers from others.”
“What others?” Royce growled loud enough that people around him steered clear for fear he would lash out.
“Others, like Lord Haddock, who is currently talking to my father.” Miss Putnam glanced over her shoulder.
Royce saw Lord Milton standing by the wall, talking animatedly with Lord Haddock as they argued about something.
Lord Haddock looked dejected, but Lord Milton leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. The man’s mood quickly changed as he nodded and shook hands with Lord Milton.
If what Miss Putnam said was true, that handshake did not bode well.
“I see,” Royce simply stated, realizing they were still standing in the middle of the floor as couples danced around them. “Might we finish this conversation elsewhere?”
Miss Putnam nodded, allowing Royce to lead her out the same set of doors that Aden and Della had gone through.
He knew Miss Putnam was trying to bait him, to draw his attention to the fact that she was desirable. Informing him that if he did not decide soon, she would choose another. He took a deep, fortifying breath of fresh air, attempting to keep his temper in check.
If she decided she would not wait, then Royce would have to start his search over, or honor his father’s last request by marrying Della. Marrying Della would not prove a hardship for him; in fact, he was afraid it would prove far too easy.
Something had felt different between them when he had pulled Della into that dark alley. Something he did not want to acknowledge.
If he married Della, he was afraid the practical marriage he had planned could become a marriage where love could take hold, and he had to avoid that at all costs.
“What shall it be, Your Grace? Is there to be a proposal soon, or shall I continue my search elsewhere?” Miss Putnam looked up at him, schooling her features into a look of annoyance.
“Did you have someone else in mind?”
“And if I do?” she asked.
“I will have you know I do not take kindly to idle threats or ultimatums, Miss Putnam. As you have pointed out, we have only have an understanding. I have not asked you directly to marry me, nor have you said yes. If there is someone else you desire to marry, then do not allow me to stand in your way. I am not a man who would force a woman to do anything she is not also amenable to.” Royce attempted to keep his voice level despite his mounting anger at the entire situation.
He found himself growing increasingly suspicious as they descended the stairs to walk along the garden path. The way Miss Putnam was acting and the things she said made him question if she had potentially started the rumors herself.
Before Royce jumped to any conclusions, he needed to determine if his suspicions were correct and understand the reasons for her actions.
And despite his hopes that it was not true, he had to acknowledge the possibility.
“So, there I was, hanging from the rafters in the stable, over an enormous, reeking pile of freshly mucked bedding. My breeches were hanging around my ankles, and I was holding on with every bit of strength I could summon. Of course, Royce was no help at all. He just stood there laughing.” Aden chuckled as he recalled the story.
“What did you do?” Della asked, wiping a tear from her eye.
“I could not hold on forever, and eventually, I had to give in to the inevitable and just accept my fate. Mother was furious and had the servants throw cold buckets of water on me before she allowed me in the house.”
“What of Royce?”
“Oh, he had an unfortunate event later, involving disappearing clothes while we were at a local watering hole. He had to run, naked as the day he was born, back to the schoolhouse and avoid being seen by the headmaster. His clothes were never found, I am afraid.” Aden gave an impish smile.
“I can only imagine that it barely covers the trouble you got into while you were away at Eton. You may have grown up, but I cannot say you have grown out of your mischievousness. I heard what was said about you and Royce while you were away exploring the continent.”
“Come now, Della,” Aden said, being informal with her since they were alone outside. “I would have thought you—of all people—would know better than to listen to such gossip.”
“Oh, do not think that I believe everything I read or hear. I know not all of it can be true…or can it?” Taking advantage of Aden’s surprise, she continued. “Just because I am a woman does not mean I do not know how the world works.”
“How the world works, hmm?” Aden quirked the corner of his mouth and sat down next to Della. “And how does the world work, exactly?”
“Well, take rumors, for example. They are a tangled web of half-truths and lies. As the rumor spreads, it becomes so far removed from its original source one does not know what to believe. A rumor can make the mighty tumble and the meek rise among mortals to be made gods.
“It is, unfortunately, what makes or breaks people in our society. It can ruin the chances of making a good match; break hearts and destroy lives. Yet, people of the Ton turn a blind eye. If the rumor does not affect them, they are more than happy to gossip behind their fans. It is a rare person who does not add wood to the fire.”
“Do you speak from experience?” Aden asked.
“What do you mean, my lord?” Della looked at Aden, confused.
“Have you been affected by such rumors?” he asked with concern.
“We all have at some point, have we not?” Della shrugged her shoulder. “Some more than others.”
“Sadly, I cannot deny it,” Aden admitted.
They remained silent for a short while before he spoke again.
“Poor sod,” Aden mused out loud.
“What was that?” Della asked.
“Oh, I was just thinking about Royce and his current situation with Miss Putnam. You were in the park earlier today when he talked to her, yes?”
Della nodded. “I was. Miss Putnam was the only one who spoke. Lord Milton never said a word. It was an odd conversation, to say the least.”
“Yes, I can imagine it was.” Aden laughed. “At the risk of sounding like I am starting a rumor, let me just say, I am not. I am, instead, addressing the cause of a rumor. Namely, the one circulating about Royce and Miss Putnam.”
“I have heard only a little about it from his aunt when she arrived at my weekly tea with the Duchess and Maggie.” Della did her best to sound as ignorant of the matter as she could.
“Her version of events, I am sure, was far more elaborate. But in short, it is being said that Royce is getting cold feet and wants to cry off.”
“That is a much shorter story than the one his aunt gave.” Della laughed.
“Royce has been trying to figure out who started the rumor, but he seems to be at a loss as to who it could possibly be.” Aden’s face suddenly became pensive. “You do not suppose…” He shook his head.
“Suppose what?” Della asked.
“You do not suppose that Miss Putnam started the rumor herself, do you? Maybe to garner sympathy or force Royce’s hand after he spoke with her father?”
“Surely not. But if that were true, it would not sit well with Royce or Lord Milton. Am I horrible for saying that Miss Putnam is not a pleasant person” Della paused. “Perhaps he should cry off. It is not as if he loves her…Does he?”
“Good heavens, no,” Aden scoffed. “That is the exact reason he wants to marry Miss Putnam. He is not in love with her, nor she, him.”
“That seems like an incredibly lonely life, does it not?” Della looked out over the garden.
“Perhaps to some, but I believe you can love someone without being in love with them. And just because two people are not in love with each other does not mean that a marriage between them would not work.” Aden turned to look at Della. “What do you think?”
“I suppose that is true, and I am not one to judge how others live their lives. All I can tell you is what I would want if I were to marry.”
“And what is that, exactly?” Aden seemed to be genuinely interested in her answer.
“I want to be in love,” she said a bit sadly.
“Is that why you have never accepted an offer?”
“You seem positive that I have had any offers at all.” Della fidgeted with the fabric of her dress.
“Surely you do not expect me to believe that no man has offered for you.”
“I have had a few, but…”
“They do not love you,” Aden said, finishing her sentence.
“It is not too much to ask, is it?” Della let out a heavy sigh. “Perhaps that is a silly question.”
“I do not think that seeking love is silly at all. I just think it is something that has been bred out of the Ton, and they no longer know what love means. For those who find it…well, they are the rare and fortunate ones.” With a tinge of sadness in his smile, Aden extended his hand to Della. “I suppose we had best go back in. Your next partner will be looking for you.”
“I think I shall stay out here a bit longer. Could you please inform,” Della looked down at the dance card again. “Lord Haddock, I will not be able to claim our dance?”
“Of course,” Aden said, bowing his head.
“And one more thing,” Della added.
“Yes?”
“Could you see how those flowers have fared?”
Aden laughed as he bowed over Della’s hand.
“Thank you for a most stimulating conversation. You have given me much to think about.” With a quick bow, Aden went back into the ballroom.