Brides of London: Regency Romance Collection Page 17

  “Indeed,” Joseph replied with a grin. “Where is your wife at this present moment?”

  Lord Irwin looked all about him, only to then point across the room. “There, do you see her? She is conversing with a young lady, whom I have only just been introduced to this evening.”

  Joseph peered out across the room in the direction that Lord Irwin pointed, catching sight of the lady as she spoke to another he himself was not acquainted with. Miss Lucas—or Lady Irwin, as she was now—was quite lovely, with red curls and sparkling green eyes, and the creature next to her seemed to pale in comparison. She had rather dark brown hair, with eyes that held no sparkle and there was no smile on her lips. She was watching Lady Irwin intently, clearly taking in everything that was being said as though her life depended upon it.

  “Let me take you to greet her,” Lord Irwin suggested, moving away before Joseph could say anything. “I am certain my wife will be glad to see you again and she can give proper introductions thereafter.”

  Joseph shrugged inwardly and began to follow his friend across the room towards Lady Irwin. It would do him no harm to greet Lady Irwin and to be introduced to her companion, whoever she was. In fact, it might be the very best thing for him, for it would at the very least remove the beautiful Lady Starling from his thoughts.

  As he drew closer, the young lady that he did not know looked up at him directly. Her gaze was sharp, her eyes watchful as he came closer. She did not smile and there was no color in her cheeks but, he considered, taking her in, there appeared to be an air of decisiveness about her. Perhaps it was the lift of her chin or the way she carried herself, but he had the sense that she had a strong character indeed.

  “My dear Lady Irwin,” Lord Irwin said, taking his wife’s hand and bringing it to his lips as though he had not seen her in some time. “I spotted you from across the room and could not help but be drawn back to your side.”

  Lady Irwin blushed at this, although her eyes sparkled with beauty. “You are most kind, Lord Irwin,” she replied sweetly, coming to stand next to her husband. “You are to dance with me soon, I hope?” She looked up into Lord Irwin’s face and Joseph felt a sudden kick of longing within his own heart. Longing that he might have what was so obviously between Lord Irwin and his wife.

  And then the moment passed and he was left standing quietly by his friend as he spoke to his wife, waiting for some sort of introduction.

  “Lord Ancrum, I must apologize for my rude manner,” Lady Irwin said quickly, as if she had read his thoughts. “Good evening. How do you fare this evening?”

  Joseph cleared his throat, bowed in greeting, and then shrugged in a somewhat hopeless manner. “I have been told that I may now be considered a rake,” he told Lady Irwin, who did not seem to be in the least bit surprised. “And your husband had been, of course, ensuring that I do not do anything foolish so that my reputation can be pulled free from such a description before too long.” He smiled tightly, seeing the sympathy in Lady Irwin’s eyes and feeling as though he did not deserve any of it. Then, his gaze shifted towards the other young lady standing opposite. She was standing quite still, her hands held loosely in front of her and her eyes fixed upon his face. There was curiosity in her gaze, her head tilted just a little to her right as though she wanted to know almost all she could about him from just a long glance.

  Seeing the direction of his gaze, Lady Irwin began to apologize all over again. “I have not made formal introductions; I am truly sorry.” Sighing and shaking her head, she gestured towards the young, blue-eyed lady. “May I present Miss Whitaker, daughter to Viscount Templeton. Miss Whitaker, might I present the Earl of Ancrum.”

  At this, the young lady’s eyes flared in surprise, her cheeks flooding with color as she looked back at him. Joseph sighed inwardly, bowing quickly so as to hide his frustration. Evidently, Miss Whitaker had heard of his stupidity last Season. When he looked up, she was rising from her late curtsy, her color still high as she lifted her head.

  “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said in a quiet voice. “Might I ask if you are enjoying the ball thus far?”

  Joseph lifted one shoulder. “I have only been here but an hour, Miss Whitaker,” he told her. “And as yet, have not managed to secure even a single dance. I am not certain that anyone would be glad of my company, however, given that it seems almost everyone is aware of my foolish actions last Season.” He gave the lady a rueful smile, which she did not return. Instead, she simply looked back at him steadily, her lips pressed together as though she were considering something important. Joseph did not know what else to say, looking from Miss Whitaker to Lord Irwin and seeing that, yet again, he was in quiet conversation with his wife. Lady Irwin laughed suddenly and Lord Irwin grinned, before realizing that Joseph and Miss Whitaker were both looking at them.

  “I do apologize,” he said, shaking his head as Joseph lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “I have become quite distracted by my wife’s beauty.” He grinned at the quick blush that came to Lady Irwin’s cheeks, clearly delighted that his words could have such an effect on her. “I must take her to the floor for the next dance. Do excuse us.”

  “But of course,” Joseph murmured, nodding in Lady Irwin’s direction as she took her leave of them. He was left standing beside Miss Whitaker, who looked after Lord and Lady Irwin with something of a longing in her expression. Joseph tipped his head and regarded her carefully, wondering if she might be someone he could consider courting. She had not backed away from him, had not made her excuses and hurried to leave his side now that Lord and Lady Irwin were gone from them. Instead, she had remained precisely where she was, standing quietly and without any urgency to depart.

  Perhaps his reputation was not as ruined as he believed.

  “You will forgive me for asking you this, Miss Whitaker, especially when we have only just been introduced, but I must know something.” He saw her turn her face back to his, her eyes alight with interest. “Does my reputation go before me?”

  Much to his surprise, Miss Whitaker laughed. “Goodness, Lord Ancrum, that is something of a profound question. I do not know the entirety of society, as you must understand, so therefore I cannot state with any certainty what the beau monde thinks of you.”

  He frowned, not content with her answer. “But you knew of me.”

  Miss Whitaker’s smile faded, her expression growing serious. “Yes, Lord Ancrum. Yes, I did. But that may be because I was present on the evening that the…. incident occurred.” She looked back at him steadily, no judgment or rancor in her voice or expression. “I saw what you attempted, saw how Miss Grey slapped you, and thereafter, heard the many rumors that swirled around about you.”

  “And now you are quite content to stand here and converse with me?” he asked, a trifle incredulous. “Will your father or mother not be deeply upset that you have been seen in the company of a rake?”

  Miss Whitaker stiffened, her lips thin and her eyes growing hard. “My father will not care a jot, Lord Ancrum,” she told him, her tone flat. “And my mother is, as you might notice, just a little behind me.” She turned her head and gestured towards a dark-haired older lady, who was laughing uproariously at something one of her companions had said, her glass of ratafia sloshing dangerously as she held it in one hand. “Therefore, Lord Ancrum, you must understand that I make my own judgments upon such things as the company I keep and those I choose to speak to.”

  His spirits buoyed and, thinking that Miss Whitaker was a determined yet considered young lady, Joseph turned his gaze back to her and found her watching him still with those light blue eyes of hers. She was not overly pretty but certainly tolerable enough. To have her own mind, however, was what drew him to her the most, for even though she knew what he had done, she had decided not to reject him utterly.

  “Then might I ask if you would care for a dance, Miss Whitaker?” he asked boldly, extending his hand. “I have not danced the waltz for some time, I will admit, but I shall make every effort n
ot to stand on your toes.” He smiled as he said this, attempting to put a note of teasing into his voice, but Miss Whitaker did not react in any way. Instead, she let her eyes linger on his outstretched hand for some moments, her face devoid of expression.

  Joseph felt himself grow hot, fearing that he was to be rejected and finding his mortification already beginning to rise, only for Miss Whitaker to let out a long breath and step forward, accepting the offer of his dance.

  “Thank you, Lord Ancrum,” she said softly, a light smile on her face. “I should very much like to dance with you. Shall we step out?”

  “Indeed, we shall,” he replied, his spirits lifting all the more as he walked Miss Whitaker out to the dance floor and prepared to take her in his arms for the waltz.

  2

  Lydia had been more than glad to accept Lady Irwin’s invitation to afternoon tea, for the lady had seemingly thought well of their interaction two days ago at the ball. Giving herself one last look at her reflection in the drawing room mirror, she nodded to herself, thinking that she looked satisfactory, and then proceeded to make her way to the front door.

  As usual, neither her mother nor her father were present to ask where she might be going. One was still abed and the other ensconced in his study, most likely studying the bottom of a brandy bottle. Her mother had imbibed a little too much last evening and, having called for Lydia to come and ensure that she was brought some laudanum and requesting that she place a damp cloth upon her head, Lady Templeton had groaned and sighed and complained until Lydia’s head had been so filled with her mother’s whining voice that it had begun to ache. Her mother had mentioned something about her debts, debts which were owed to some gentleman who had been playing cards with Lady Templeton last evening. Lydia did not know who this gentleman was or how much her mother had lost, but she had decided that it was not her business to either know or give it any consideration and so had set her mind to her meeting with Lady Irwin.

  “I am to call upon Lady Irwin, should my mother enquire as to where I am gone,” she told the butler, who, having been used to this way of things, merely nodded and gave her a small smile. “I shall return before dinner.”

  “Very good, Miss Whitaker,” the butler replied with a small inclination of his head. “Do enjoy your afternoon. Are you quite sure I cannot call the carriage for you?”

  Lydia shook her head. The day was fine and Lady Irwin’s house was not too far away and she quite fancied taking a stroll through London. Her maid was already prepared to walk behind her, so that she would not bring shame to herself. “I shall hail a hackney if I am tired upon my return,” she replied, thinking how strange it was that a servant of her father’s house should show her more concern than her father himself. “I thank you.”

  The butler nodded again, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at her, making Lydia’s sorrow that she was not so well treated by her father pierce her heart all over again. Taking in a deep breath, she stepped outside and took in a lungful of air, putting a smile on her face that she hoped might bring cheer to her heart.

  She had to recall what good things were in her life instead of remembering the sadness that came with her parents’ lack of interest in her life. For example, she was to call upon Lady Irwin, who was both kind and genteel, and Lydia hoped she would make a friend of the lady. To have someone to converse with, to have someone to seek out at any social occasion she might attend would be a great joy. Prior to this year, Lydia had simply stayed at the back of every room, not daring to greet anyone or introduce herself, for such a thing would be rude indeed and, therefore, she had not had any acquaintances she might consider to be friends.

  But at the ball two nights previous, Lydia had thrown her caution aside and, as such, had discovered that some within society would not think her ill-mannered in any way whatsoever. Lady Irwin had been glad to meet her, it seemed, for she had accepted Lydia’s murmur of greeting at once and had brushed away Lydia’s stammered apologies for not introducing herself in the proper fashion.

  Perhaps there was something in this way of conducting oneself. For not only had she met Lady Irwin and thereafter been introduced to Lord Irwin, Lord Irwin himself had then brought over another gentleman, who then had made Lydia’s acquaintance. Lord Ancrum had appeared to be quite amiable, although she had known of his reputation, of course. She had been present in the room the night he had attempted to kiss Miss Grey, although Miss Grey had slapped him hard enough to send him staggering backwards. It had caused quite the scandal, especially when it had become known that Lord Ancrum had only done so in order to win a wager.

  Of course, had she decided to remain as she was, she would never have allowed herself to accept an invitation to dance with Lord Ancrum, but, given that she was attempting to behave in an entirely different manner to what she was accustomed to, she had decided therefore to do something she knew was not wise.

  She had danced with Lord Ancrum.

  The way his face had lit up with relief when she had accepted him had told her more about what he was feeling inside than any words could express. He was, it seemed, quite ashamed of the fact that he had such a poor reputation, although he had stated very clearly that he was all too aware that it was his own behavior that had brought about such a change. She had found herself mildly curious, wanting to know the entirety of what had occurred and what had made him so desperate to act in such a fashion, but had not asked him a single thing. As yet, Lydia did not know whether she would be continuing her acquaintance with the gentleman, although she would be more than willing to do so if he wished it of her.

  He was handsome, she considered, walking quickly along the pavement and passing the many shops that lined the street. When she had allowed herself to study him, she had seen the strength in his broad shoulders and back, seeing how he held himself straight with his head lifted so as to exude a confidence he perhaps did not truly feel within. His face was rather angular, with a firm jaw and a Roman nose that accompanied dark grey eyes. It was those eyes that had caught her attention, for they seemed to swirl with mixtures of grey and black, changing almost every moment as she had looked into them. Fair hair and brows had added to his slightly foreboding appearance, although when he had smiled at her, that had dissipated somewhat.

  Why are you giving him such consideration?

  A faint blush touched her cheeks as Lydia thought on this for a moment. Lord Ancrum was, of course, an interesting character and had a handsomeness about him that could not be denied, but that was, at present, all he was. She could not allow herself to be caught up with him simply because he was the first gentleman she had been introduced to now that she had decided to behave in a different manner. If things continued as they were, then she would hopefully be introduced to a good many other gentlemen, and thereafter, might even have one showing a specific interest in her that she could return. Lydia considered the fact that an arrangement of husband and wife was not something she wished for, given that her parents’ marriage had been an arrangement between the two families. Their discontent and continued anger towards one another were not what she wanted to see repeated in her own life. Therefore, she had to hope that a gentleman who was amiable, refined, and, at the very least, kind would consider her. If she felt a fondness for him, then she would accept any offer that was given to her. However, if he was cruel and seemingly disinterested in her, then she would have no hesitation in refusing him, even if it meant that she would leave London this Season with no interest from any particular gentleman.

  So caught up was she in her own thoughts that Lydia did not notice the gentleman hurrying towards her. Her thoughts were pulling at all of her attention, her eyes looking ahead but seeing nothing.

  The gentleman in question was in a hurry, his eyes darting from here to there. His hat was pulled down low over his forehead as though to hide himself from view, even though he wore the attire of a gentleman.

  A sudden jolt caught Lydia entirely unawares. Someone had slammed hard into her
shoulder, knocking her completely off balance. With a small cry of pain, she staggered backwards, her hands flailing as she tried to regain her balance, but air was all she could cling to. She caught sight of a gentleman turning back towards her, his dark eyes looking into hers—and then, before she was truly aware of it, Lydia was flat on her back, looking up at the sky and feeling her head and shoulder begin to throb.

  “Good gracious!”

  A gentleman hurried towards her, bending down nearby and offering her his hand. Two ladies came with him, each with her hand pressed to her mouth as though in shock.

  “Can you sit up, miss?” the gentleman asked as she took his hand. “You took quite a nasty fall there.”

  Lydia held on tightly to the gentleman’s hand as he began to lift her carefully, making her wince as her head began to ache terribly.

  “You have quite ruined your gown!” one of the ladies cried, as though this was of much greater concern to Lydia than that of her painful head and sore shoulder. “Goodness, what could that gentleman have been thinking of?”

  Lydia blinked hard, looking into the gentleman’s face and realizing that this was not the man she had seen as she had fallen. He had light eyes and a round, boyish face instead of the dark eyes and grim expression she had caught sight of as she had fallen. Looking down at her gown, she saw the tear to the hem and the dirt and dust that covered her and felt heat rise into her cheeks. She must look a sight.

  “I—I thank you,” she stammered, realizing that a small crowd of onlookers had gathered as she rose, still clinging onto the arm of the gentleman who had come to her aid. “I do not know what occurred.”

  One of the ladies tutted loudly. “A gentleman knocked you over!” she exclaimed, gesturing behind her. “I do not know where he is gone, but I am quite certain it was a gentleman.”

  “Impudent fellow,” the gentleman who held her hand replied, looking into her eyes with concern. “Could I catch him, I would ensure that he be brought back at once to make amends.”