Chapter 13
The following evening, Della and Maggie wandered around the yard, waiting for their chance to greet their hosts.
Lord and Lady Ravensdale’s home had a certain air of dignity and stateliness to it. Candles glowed warmly in every window, casting dancing shadows over the lawn as servants offered refreshments to the waiting guests.
After making their way to the front of the line, they graciously thanked their hosts for the invitation and made their way inside.
Walking into the lavishly decorated ballroom, Della’s eyes quickly located her father, talking to a gentleman she had never seen before.
“Good evening, Father.” Della smiled, praying she and Maggie had not intruded on his conversation.
“Della! Lady Derrington!” Her father beamed. “Let me introduce you! Lord de Courtenay, this is Lady Derrington, sister to the Duke of Exeter.”
“My Lord.” Maggie curtsied.
“And this is my daughter, Miss Della Rowntree.”
“My Lord,” Della said, dipping into a curtsy as well. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“The honor is all mine, I assure you.” Lord de Courtenay smiled, bowing his head.
He was a striking gentleman, Della noticed—probably about the same age as Royce, if she had to guess. And it was obvious, by the smile on her face, that Maggie was just as aware of how attractive Lord de Courtenay was.
“Do you remember the business meeting I had to attend?” her father asked. “Well, I purchased some new ships in Topsham. Lord de Courtenay was in London and was kind enough to bring the paperwork for me to sign.”
“How thoughtful.” Della smiled, hooking her arm through Maggie’s. “If you will excuse us, we would like to get a drink before the first dance starts.”
“Of course, of course! Go have fun,” her father said, turning back to the conversation at hand.
As they turned to leave, Lord de Courtenay spoke. “Lady Derrington?”
“Yes, my lord?” Maggie answered.
“Would you honor me with a dance later this evening?”
“I would consider it a great privilege, my lord.”
Lord de Courtenay signed his name on Maggie’s dance card and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. A tinge of pink rose into Maggie’s cheeks as she smiled at him.
Excusing themselves once again, they maneuvered their way across the room to the refreshment table and selected Ratafia. Della took a sip, enjoying the berry sweetened wine. Even though it was watered down, it was still better than the concoction Lord and Lady Bellamy had served at their ball.
“What do you think of Lord de Courtenay?” Della asked.
“He is handsome, to be sure. And, by the look of it, he has already amassed enough women searching for a husband that he could have his own harem.” Maggie shook her head. “If one simply looks at his smile, they could see it does not reach his eyes. He is not interested in them,” she uttered, turning back to have her drink refilled.
“No, but he certainly seems to be interested in you,” Della said, seeing Lord de Courtenay staring straight at Maggie.
“What?” Maggie turned abruptly.
Della saw Maggie smile, nodding her head in acknowledgement, and Lord de Courtenay bowed his in return. The women surrounding Lord de Courtenay all looked in Maggie’s direction and glared at her.
When they turned back to the handsome lord, Della could see the sudden shift in their faces. Their looks of excitement quickly changing to ones of disappointment, realizing they no longer held his attention.
“When will those women understand that chasing a man only makes him run the other way?” Maggie laughed lightly. “Oh dear, my mother is waving at me to go to her. Hopefully, it is not another introduction. I had enough of those at the last ball,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I will find you later.”
Della nodded and was left to wander about the grand ballroom alone.
Eventually, Mr. Green, a taciturn and unassuming gentleman, approached and asked her for a dance. She agreed, and when the dance had concluded, Mr. Green escorted her to where Tilly was sitting, engaged in a lively discussion with a group of women.
To avoid the probing questions her aunt’s friends were sure to ask about her marital status, Della hastily made her excuses and left. Gradually, she made her way across the room to the open doors. She noticed an empty bench that had been beautifully carved in the balustrade and sat on it, watching the treetops sway back and forth gently in the breeze.
“Good evening.”
Della started when Aden appeared before her. “Good evening, my lord.”
“May I join you?”
“Certainly.” Della gathered her dress and moved over to make space for him to sit. “Lovely night, is it not?”
“Indeed it is,” Aden agreed as he played absentmindedly with the signet ring on his finger, a clear sign he was nervous about something.
Della cast a thoughtful look in Aden’s direction. Behind his cheerful fa?ade and mischievous personality, there always seemed to be an air of secrecy that followed him.
She was familiar with his father, fully aware of the man’s despicable nature and cruelty. And despite the close friendship she and Aden had shared over the years, she understood there were aspects about his life he chose not to discuss.
She was uncertain if Aden desired a conversation or if he was content just to sit with her in the peaceful silence, so she remained quiet as the orchestra’s discordant notes wafted through the air, signaling the beginning of the next set.
“Would you care to dance, Miss Rowntree?” Aden asked, standing suddenly. “I am positive that—”he glanced at her dance card—“Mr. Farley would not mind.”
“He does not exist. I always put a fictitious name on my card for the waltz. But if he was real, I am sure he would take great offense to someone trying to steal his chance to sweep me off my feet.“ Della laughed. “The true reason I sit the waltz out is that I do not know how to waltz. Father once hired a tutor for me. He was horrible and told me I had the gracefulness of a chicken. Father told him where he could stuff his chicken and fired the man.”
“That sounds like your father,” Aden chuckled. “I seem to remember a dance with a certain young lady at her debut,” he said, holding out his hand to Della.
“Yes, but you seem to have forgotten how many times I stepped on your toes.”
“All you need to do is let yourself feel the music and follow my lead. I will not let you fall—I promise.”
Della smiled and placed her hand in his. “I am trusting you, and that trust will be irrevocably broken should you let me embarrass myself.”
“If I should allow you to stumble or fall, you have my permission to stomp on my foot as hard as you can,” Aden joked, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth as he led them out onto the dance floor. “Just follow my lead, but if you should desire to count, a waltz is in three-four time; one, two, three, one, two, three, and so on.”
Della nodded and took a deep breath, letting Aden lean her into the first spin. She remembered he was a talented dancer, although he did not dance often, and this time was no exception.
“I have something I would like to speak with you about.”
“Oh?” Della asked, looking up at him.
“Yes, err, will you walk with me?”
“But we just started dancing.”
“I must be an excellent partner to have you protesting about stopping a waltz.” He smiled, lightening the mood.
Placing her hand on Aden’s arm, she let him guide her off the dance floor. Carefully weaving in and out of the crowd of dancers, they eventually arrived back at the bench on the terrace.
“I have a question to ask you,” Aden said as he paced. “Well, it is a question and not a question at the same time. What I mean to say is this will sound sudden coming from me, and if you say no, I will understand.”
“I am afraid you are not making any sense. What seems to have you so out of sorts?”
Aden rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. ‘Out with it man,’ he whispered aloud. “Della…will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
The words seemed to leave him in a rush.
“I am sorry,” Della said, not sure if she heard correctly. “Did you just ask me to…marry you?”
“I did,” Aden said matter-of-factly, with that sideways smirk of his.
“I am not entirely sure what I expected you to ask, but it was most assuredly not that.” Della paused before speaking. “May I ask why?”
“Well…” Aden said, fiddling with the gold ring on his finger again. “You may have noticed that my father has not been seen in public for a while now. He is not well, and I fear the time for me to step up and take his place will be here sooner than I would like. I cannot say I am happy about it, but if it means I no longer must deal with his tyrannical ways, then so be it.”
“I understand your fears. It cannot be easy to deal with that sort of situation, and I will be glad to help where I can. But why ask me to marry you? What does one have to do with the other?”
“I guess I want someone there beside me when the time comes. Someone to share it with. Someone I care for and whose opinion I respect.”
“Why not ask Royce?”
“I already did. He said—and I quote—that he would rather be married to a horse’s arse. I know he would set anything aside to help me, but I could not ask that of him. He has his own estate to run and family to take care of. Not to mention the situation with Miss Putnam.”
Della looked at Aden and could see the sincerity in his eyes. Until now, she had rejected offers without a second thought, but was not sure she could reject him so easily.
“Listen,” Aden said, gently taking Della’s hand. “I know I am not the best man to ask for your hand in marriage. Hell, I would turn myself down flat if I were in your shoes.” He laughed depreciatingly.
“You need not give me an answer now. I know my proposal probably came as quite a shock. But I cherish our friendship and I think we could make a marriage between us work. Just promise me you will think about it, hmm?”
She looked at Aden’s sweet face. He was such a dear friend, and as far as basing a marriage off their friendship, well…most people did not even have that much.
“I will think about it.” Della smiled. “I cannot tell you when I will give my answer. But I am flattered that, of all the women you are acquainted with, I am the one you asked first. Wait—am I the first one you asked?”
Aden threw his head back and let out a sharp laugh. “You see, Della, that is why I think we could make a marriage between us work. You can make me laugh without even trying. Which is more than I can say for most of the women who parade around these ballrooms.
“If it puts you at ease, you are the first person I have ever asked to marry me. Well,” he said, “except the one time I asked Royce.”
“What?”
“That is a story for another time.” Aden chuckled as he held out his hand.
“I guess it is time we rejoined the swirling masses.”
“If we must,” Della sighed. “I see Maggie over there.”
Walking over to Maggie, Della thanked Aden for the dance.
“And I thank you for the honor of your company, Miss Rowntree.” Aden brushed a light kiss over her knuckles.
His kiss to the back of her hand did not kindle the same fire in her it had with Royce but filled her with the fondness of a long-standing friendship.
Della saw his walls come up as he straightened and glanced in Maggie’s direction. How many people ever had the privilege of experiencing the true Aden? As far as she was aware, she and Royce’s family were the only people who truly knew him, or at least the version of himself he allowed them to see.
“Della dear, how was your dance with Lord Aynesworth?” the Duchess asked. “I must admit, you made a handsome couple out there on the dance floor. Could there be an understanding between you two in the offing?”
Maggie’s head whipped around to look at them.
“We are just friends, Your Grace. I do not think there will be an understanding between us.” Della did not dare mention that Aden had just asked her to marry him. If the Duchess were to find out about Aden’s proposal, Della knew she would be strongly urged to accept his offer.
The Duchess smiled and said, “I would not be so sure. Like I said, you two make a handsome couple. We have all known him since he was young, and I admire him. I can vouch for his character, unlike that reprobate father of his. Lord Aynesworth would treat you well, Della. It is something to think about.” With a tap of her fan on Della’s shoulder, the Duchess turned to speak with a group of ladies that had joined them.
Della stood there contemplatively for a while when she spotted Royce returning what looked like a very unhappy Miss Putnam to her father. As he turned and made his way over to Aden, Della could not control how her heart felt at the mere sight of him. How badly she had wanted him when he gently clasped his hand over hers, helping her guide the book back onto the shelf.
She had practically pleaded with Royce to kiss her, yearned for his touch to erase the horrible memory Lord Haddock had left behind. But his kiss had been too gentle, and she had wanted something that would steal her breath away. Something that would assure her that good men still existed.
Without thinking, she had grabbed his cravat and pulled him closer, showing him exactly what she desired. It might not have been the most sensible answer to her problems, but it had felt right in the moment.
When Royce had come to his senses and released her, she had hastily said her goodbyes and fled the library, knowing she had left her heart in the room with him.
Della knew she was in love with Royce, had been for a good while. But the weight of that knowledge did not change the inevitable outcome. Because, despite how she wished it were otherwise, Miss Putnam was the one he had decided to marry.
Della watched Aden and Royce as they spoke to one another and reflected on what the Duchess had said to her. If she married Aden, she would have a new life and family to occupy her. And perhaps, in time, the heartbreak would be more bearable when she witnessed Royce and Miss Putnam together.
Royce would still be in her life, even if it was only as a friend. And sometimes, loving someone meant having to accept they would never care for you in the way you cared for them.
Her hands trembled a little as she ran them down the front of her dress and forced herself to take a deep breath. It did not take her long to realize that the Duchess was right. Accepting Aden’s proposal was the sensible choice—even if she was not in love with him.
In doing so, she was giving Royce the ability to marry Miss Putnam as he had intended. He never needed to know she knew about the agreement—which he had failed miserably at. Not to mention, her father held Aden in high regard and would be overjoyed to learn that she had accepted a proposal from him.
Della had to speak with Aden quickly, before she changed her mind. But before she could take more than a few steps, she felt a firm tug on the back of her dress.
“I take it from the look on your face that your dance with Miss Putnam did not go well,” Aden said nonchalantly.
“It did not,” Royce grumbled as he leaned against the wall. “I have been thinking.”
“I hope you did not hurt yourself too badly.”
“This is serious, my friend,” Royce said sternly.
“My apologies.” Aden nodded.
“I have been thinking,” Royce repeated. “About my understanding with Miss Putnam. After speaking with her and the things she has said about the incident with Della and Lord Haddock at the ruins—“
“What did she say?” Aden interrupted.
“She all but blamed Della for everything that has happened, including Lord Haddock’s unfortunate proposal—that it had all been an act to gain attention.”
“We are speaking of Della, yes? She is the least attention seeking person I know. The absurdity of the accusation is so great it is hard not to laugh.”
“My thoughts exactly. Miss Putnam has proven herself to be unkind. Almost hateful. I cannot imagine bringing such a person into my family, especially with my younger siblings. I am thankful she has shown who she truly is before we took things any further.”
“Thankful indeed.” Aden paused a moment before continuing.
“Does this mean you plan to recant on your agreement with her and her father?”
“I am afraid it does.”
“Lord Milton will want recompense.”
“I know.” Royce sighed, nodding in agreement.
“And what about Della?”
“I do not know. I have done nothing to help her.”
“Oh, I would not say that,” Aden said, twisting the signet ring on his finger.
“Why not?” Royce looked pointedly at his friend.
“Because Mr. Rowntree requested your help to draw attention to her and I know one person in particular who has taken notice.”
“Lord Haddock?” Royce guessed.
“He was not who I was thinking of.”
“What other gentlemen have noticed her?”
“Do you honestly need me to answer that?” Aden looked at Royce as if he was being deliberately ignorant.
“I have seen only a few gentlemen approach her, other than you and—me.” Royce took a deep breath as the realization hit him.
“I was beginning to wonder when you would finally accept that you have done what you promised. Just maybe not in the way you thought you would,” Aden chuckled.
Royce pushed away from the wall without saying another word. It had taken this conversation with his best friend to make him see the truth and to acknowledge that he no longer wanted Miss Putnam by his side. He wanted Della; her smile, her caring nature, and her resilience when faced with difficult situations. Not to mention that his family adored her.
Looking around the room, he spotted Della bent over, attempting to pull her dress out from under a gentleman’s foot. He laughed, recalling a similar situation in the garden. Finally, she freed her dress when Royce noticed Miss Putnam approach her.
Watching intently, he met Della’s eyes as Miss Putnam spoke to her. Della’s complexion grew visibly pale, her expression showing just how much Miss Putnam’s words were affecting her.
After Miss Putnam had gone, Della stood there, alone, her gaze remaining fixed on him as if she was uncertain of the next steps she should take. Shaking her head, Della looked away and disappeared into the crowd.
The need to watch over her, to protect her, carried Royce across the dance floor in search of the woman he desired…but she was nowhere to be found.