Page 108 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘Where is Lady Westcroft?’ He had spent the journey mentally cataloguing all the issues they needed to discuss now he was back in England, from where they would both live to how they should handle enquiries into their personal lives.

‘At the Livingstone ball tonight, my Lord. I doubt she will be back until the early hours of the morning. She tells me it is one of the biggest events of the year, even if half of London has left for their country residences already.’

He frowned. He hadn’t considered the possibility his wife would not be at home. He had to admit he had not thought of Lady Westcroft much this past year, but when he had, he’d never thought she would be out enjoying the balls and dinner parties of a London season. Of course he did not begrudge her a little fun, but he was keen to discuss their plans for the future, and after spending the best part of a week on the road to get back to London, he did not want to delay any longer. He’d been a mess when he had left London so abruptly a few weeks earlier, and he regretted fleeing without properly taking his leave of his wife. He wanted to apologise and to begin to discuss the future that they inevitably shared.

‘The Livingstone ball?’

‘Yes, my Lord. They live just off Grosvenor Square, I believe.’

He checked the time and then nodded decisively. He would go to the ball. Although he had not responded to any invitation, he would not be turned away, and if Lady Westcroft was there already there would be some expectation that he be in attendance too.

‘I need to freshen up and change, then I will go to the ball at the Livingstones’ house.’

‘Very good, my Lord. We do not have anyone employed as your valet at the moment, but I will send young Smith up with everything you need just as soon as he hands over your horse to the stable-boy.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re in the green bedroom,’ Miss Stick said, watching him carefully. Many men would refuse to let their wives have the master bedroom, but Simon merely nodded his head and made his way up the stairs.

Ninety minutes later he was standing on the threshold of Mr and Mrs Livingstone’s house, wondering if he had made a terrible mistake. Mr Livingstone was obscenely wealthy, having made his money in importing luxury fabrics. It was said even Queen Charlotte waited excitedly for Mr Livingstone’s shipments to arrive at the docks and would get first refusal on anything new and exotic. The house was illuminated by hundreds of candles, and even from the doorstep he could hear the loud hum of conversation over the music. If he stepped into the ballroom he would be seen by half the ton within seconds, and news of his second return to London would spread quickly.

After a moment he pushed aside the doubts, telling himself he had to return to society at some point. Over the next few months he would need to step up and ensure everything for his tenants was running smoothly and see if there was any work that needed doing to his properties, but he would also have to take up his role as earl again in more public ways. In October he would be expected to return to Parliament, and there were always obligations throughout the social season.

The door opened, and he was welcomed into the house. Thankfully the ball was well underway with a dozen couples dancing in the middle of the ballroom whilst everyone else watched from the sides, talking in little huddles.

‘Lord Westcroft, we were not expecting you,’ Mrs Livingstone said, hurrying over as soon as she spotted him. ‘How delightful to have you back in society after your year of travels.’

‘It is wonderful to see you again, Mrs Livingstone.’ He craned his neck a little, trying to see if he could spot his wife amongst the guests that lined the ballroom.

‘You are looking for Lady Westcroft, no doubt,’ Mrs Livingstone said with an indulgent smile. ‘She is—’

‘On the dance floor,’ he murmured before she could finish.

For a moment it felt as though time slowed as his eyes followed Lady Westcroft around the ballroom. She stepped gracefully, with none of the hesitation he had felt from her when they had first danced together at the Midsummer’s Eve ball. She looked beautiful in a dress of dark green, the material shimmering as she moved, and the skirt swished around her ankles. It complemented her pale skin and red hair to perfection, and Simon could not take his eyes off her.

She smiled then, and he felt a stab of disappointment that it wasn’t at him, watching as she dropped her head back and laughed at something her dance partner had said.

He bowed absently to Mrs Livingstone and made his way through the crowd of people, murmuring greetings as he went. He could not tear his eyes away from his wife, and as the music swelled and then quietened, he was standing at the front of the small crowd at the edge of the dance floor.

At first she did not notice him standing there, but as she turned to face him and her eyes met his, he saw a shadow cross her face. It was momentary, and if he hadn’t been watching her so intently he would have missed it, but he felt a sadness that he could be the one to ruin her evening when she otherwise looked as though she were having a wonderful time.

‘You’re back, my Lord,’ she said, excusing herself from her companion.

‘I’m back.’

It wouldn’t be a complete shock this time. He had ensured he had written before leaving Northumberland and sent the message by fast rider so she would not be taken by surprise at his arrival, but the good conditions on the roads meant he had made fast progress and was in London a couple of days before he was expected.

‘Are you well?’

‘Yes, thank you. And you?’

She inclined her head, and for the first time he felt regret at how formal their interaction was. It was entirely his fault, he knew that. He’d married a complete stranger and then disappeared for a year. Of course their conversation was going to be stilted and awkward: they barely knew one another.

‘How are Maria and the girls? And your mother?’ she asked, warmth flaring in her eyes.

‘They are well. The girls have grown and changed a lot in a year, but they are happy and healthy and have progressed well with their schooling.’

‘Are they still terrorising that poor governess?’