Page 26 of To Dance with a Devil

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25th October 1814. South Audley Street, London.

Bonnie made her way slowly down the stairs, clutching at the banister so hard her knuckles were white. Why, oh why had she allowed Jerome to bring her back to Matilda? Her friend was too observant, too concerned with Bonnie’s welfare not to notice that she was ill. It was only a matter of time before Matilda put two and two together and came up with an answer she wouldn’t like. Yet, Jerome had been right. Being alone had solved nothing. When she’d seen him standing in the parlour waiting for her, she’d wanted to launch herself into his arms and beg him never to leave her again.

Pathetic, she scolded herself. She’d not be that woman, throwing herself repeatedly at a man who didn’t want her. Yes, she had done it, she knew that, and now she was paying the price, but it was her price, not his.

“Oh, good morning, Bonnie,” Matilda said, beaming at her as she entered the breakfast parlour. It was clear Matilda had been up for some time and had finished her breakfast. At once the scent of bacon and kippers and a dozen other things that Bonnie usually loved, rose around her and her stomach lurched in protest. “Are you quite well, dear?”

Bonnie forced a smile to her face.

“Oh, yes. I’m fine. Just a little tired and… and I think the fish I had for lunch yesterday was not as fresh as it might have been.”

“Oh,” Matilda said, her lovely face screwed up in a grimace of sympathy. “How vile. Poor you. Is there anything I can get you?”

Bonnie shook her head. “I’ll just have a bit of toast and some tea. I’m sure I’ll feel much better then.”

“Oh, and it’s such a shame too,” Matilda said with a sigh, passing her the toast rack. “I was going to Madame Lanchester’s. My new gowns ought to be ready and I was hoping for your opinion.”

“Sorry, Tilda. I really couldn’t.”

“Oh, no. That makes me sound too dreadfully selfish. I wanted your company above all things, love, but you must stay and rest. I had planned to call in on Prue and Minerva in any case. I’m sure Minerva will come with me.”

“Oh, yes,” Bonnie said, almost sagging with relief at having the day to herself. “Minerva will love to come with you, and she has such a marvellous eye for fashion.”

“Well, I shall leave you to your breakfast and a quiet day. I do hope you feel better soon. Shall I send for some willow bark tea for you?” Matilda asked, getting to her feet and leaving the table.

“Oh, no, this will do fine, thank you. Don’t worry about me. I shall have a peaceful day reading and look forward to hearing all about your new gowns once you return,” Bonnie said, giving Matilda what she hoped was a reassuring smile until her friend was satisfied she would be all right, and left her alone.

Once Matilda had taken herself out, Bonnie settled herself before the fire in the elegant parlour and perused the stack of books Matilda had left for her. With a sigh, she selected one at random and stared at the first page for a good five minutes before realising she would never make it past the first word. She put the book back with the others and reached instead for the scandal sheet, which had been delivered that morning. Perhaps she could distract herself with other people’s folly and misfortune, she thought with a sigh. She’d certainly had her fill of dwelling on her own.

With little interest she scanned each story before a familiar name caught her eye.

Mr C. younger brother to the E. of S. C. has oft been seen of late in the company of Lady H. The two certainly made a lovely picture, shopping together arm in arm on Bond Street, says our source. We predict an announcement in that quarter soon, and wedding bells before Easter.

Bonnie’s stomach lurched and the nausea she’d fought back all morning rose with a vengeance. Stupid, stupid, she scolded herself. You knew this would happen. If you won’t marry him, someone else will. His mother will see to that.

She got to her feet, flinging the paper down in a crumpled heap on the floor. Her eyes blurred with tears and she felt ill, and more miserable than she’d ever done in her life before. The discreet knock and the appearance of Matilda’s butler was not, therefore, a welcome sight. His announcement of Lady Helena Adolphus and the sight of the dark haired beauty sweeping into the room as if she’d just stepped from a fashion plate was a blow Bonnie could well have done without.

“Forgive me for interrupting your morning, Miss Campbell,” Lady Helena said, with an overabundance of cheer that made Bonnie want to throw things. “I came to visit Miss Hunt but, on finding her absent, I hoped I could foist my company on you for a while. I declare, I’m bored to tears this day and in desperate need of some lively conversation. I felt sure you were just the person to provide it.”

She beamed at Bonnie, her smile faltering only a little when Bonnie just stared back at her.

They’d met, of course, at various parties. Indeed, Bonnie had liked the woman and admired both her beauty and her dry wit, and especially her sharp tongue. Right at this moment, however, she wanted to ram the scandal sheet between Lady Helena’s perfectly white teeth until she choked.

Helena glanced down at the crumpled paper on the floor and coloured a little.

“Oh,” she said.

“Oh,” Bonnie mimicked, folding her arms.

The two women stared at each other.

“It’s not true,” Helena said, after a long, uncomfortable moment. “He doesn’t want to marry me, and I don’t have the least intention of marrying him even if he did… which he doesn’t,” she repeated.

“What’s wanting got to do with it?” Bonnie asked dully. “His mother wants the match. No doubt Jerome will do as she wishes.”

Helena frowned, her elegant dark brows knitting over deep green eyes. “Do you really think he’s so easily managed? That’s certainly not the impression I got, but I dare say you know him better than I do.”