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And as Charles sat back down, seeing how Lord Brandley nodded his thanks, Charles allowed that sense of pride to fill his own soul. No matter what was to face them, no matter what it was that was yet to come, Charles was utterly determined that Sir Taylor’s death would not be in vain.
* * *
It felt very strange to go from a meeting of The King’s League to then a very fine ball, but Charles had become quite used to such a feeling, having done so for the last three Seasons. Bei
ng an earl, he was welcomed into a good many places and no one questioned why, as yet, he had not taken a wife. A gentleman could choose to wed whenever they pleased, whereas young ladies were expected to find a suitable gentleman very soon after making their debut. It worked entirely in his favor and suited him well for the task with which he was currently employed. Besides which, his large estate was very well run by his most excellent steward—meaning Charles himself had very little to do other than to find other ways to occupy his time. It was just as well that he had been recruited to work for The King’s League else he might very easily have fallen into so many of the vices that captured other gentlemen.
“Good evening, Lord Westbrook.”
Charles smiled warmly at the young lady who greeted him, seeing how her friend fluttered her fan just in front of her nose and mouth, her eyes alluring as she looked up at him beneath lowered lashes.
“Ah, Lady Isabella,” he said, bowing deeply. “And Miss Worthing, how very good to see you both this evening.”
“As we are glad to see you returned to society!” Miss Worthing replied, finally lowering her fan but keeping her warm smile firmly fixed in place. “We had heard that you were to be gone from London for many months and would not return in time to even attend a single ball!”
Charles, who knew that this was most likely nothing more than idle gossip, permitted himself a small smile and a shake of his head, which Miss Worthing accepted with a flicker of delight in her eyes.
“Then you must ensure that you make the most of this wonderful ball,” Lady Isabella said, a little too loudly for Charles’s liking. “You are to dance this evening, are you not?”
Hesitating, Charles immediately tried to think of an excuse – any excuse – as to why he would not be dancing this evening, but nothing came to mind. With a slightly labored sigh, he nodded and, of course, was thereafter forced to seek a dance from both ladies, who gave him their dance cards without hesitation.
Finally able to extract himself from both Miss Worthing and Lady Isabella, Charles decided to move to the side of the ballroom, in the hope that he might not be accosted by yet more young ladies seeking to have him sign their dance card. His heart was rather heavy to be engaging in such revelry, for he was still deeply sorrowful over the news that Sir Taylor had lost his life. The man, whilst holding the lowest title of the group, had been a friend and someone for whom Charles had a good deal of respect. He knew very well that Sir Taylor would not have given up any information whatsoever before his death and prayed that the cipher was still kept somewhere safe so that the French could not have the advantage over them again, but the struggle of the unknown darkened his mind. There always seemed to be so much for The King’s League to do, and yet it never felt as though they were achieving a great deal.
“Oh, goodness!”
A small, ripping sound, accompanied by a yelp of pain, caught his attention, forcing his head up as he realized that, in the depths of his thoughts, he had not only trodden on the back of a gown, but had also knocked a young lady entirely off balance! Reaching out instinctively, he seized her arm and managed to pull her back to her feet before she fell completely, only for another, louder ripping sound to reach his ears.
He closed his eyes tightly, shame creeping up his spine as heat rushed into his face. “I am truly sorry,” he murmured, letting the young lady go and stepping back in the hope that he would not do yet more damage. “I did not see you standing there, my lady, and I—”
Opening his eyes, he stopped dead at the look on the young lady’s face. She appeared to be on the point of tears, looking around herself in a hopeless fashion in an attempt to see the damage to her gown.
“I am very sorry,” Charles said again, feeling all the more terrible at what he had done—for not only had he damaged her gown, but he had brought the lady to the point of tears! “What can I do to help you, my lady?”
The young lady looked up at him, her emerald eyes sparkling with tears. She was, he realized, quite beautiful, although with such fiery red hair that he would not be able to forget her easily.
“I-I can fetch someone for you,” he stammered, seeing that she was standing alone. “Your maid is here with you, I suppose? Might I be able to fetch her for you?”
“I think you have done enough, sir.” The young lady’s voice was thin but steady as she looked back at him, blinking rapidly to clear away the moisture from her eyes. “My aunt shall return for me in a moment. She was just gone to fetch us both something to drink.” She waved a hand down at the back of her gown, where a large hole now gaped. “Although quite how I am to make my way to my maid without the entirety of the beau monde noticing it, I cannot think.”
Charles began to stammer, knowing that he had made an utter fool of himself and that, in being so caught up with his own thoughts, he had made this evening something of a disaster for her. He might offer to accompany her to find her maid, but then the ton would spot him walking with the young lady and might soon take notice. That was not at all what she either wanted or required.
“I-I shall pay for any damages, of course,” he said eventually, as the young lady looked about her impatiently. “For an entirely new gown, if you wish it.”
The young lady arched one eyebrow, no longer evidently upset with him. “That would suit me very well, my lord. Might I enquire as to your name so that I might have them send the bill to your residence?”
He floundered for another moment, his mind refusing to give him the answer he required. She was looking at him with such a strong gaze and he was so very greatly embarrassed that—for some moments—it seemed quite impossible to remember his own name.
“I am Lady Esther,” the young lady said, sighing with apparent exasperation. “Pray, do not wait for propriety’s sake, my lord. Might you give me your name also?”
“Of course, of course,” he said hurriedly, his words tumbling over each other. “The Earl of Westbrook, Lady Esther.” He bowed awkwardly. “And you shall send all bills to me, Lady Esther. I insist. The bill to repair this gown, if it is possible, and the bill for a new gown of your choosing, whatever the price.” His face burning, he bowed again and then turned away, wanting to leave the young lady alone in order to prevent further embarrassment to both herself and to him. “Excuse me.”
“You are excused,” he heard the lady say, her tone a little jarring. “Good evening, Lord Westbrook.”
“Good evening,” he muttered over his shoulder, knowing that now he was behaving abominably and certainly was unspeakably rude, “and again, Lady Esther, I apologize.”
His face still hot, he strode away at once, thinking that mayhap the shadows no longer held the protectiveness he had hoped for. Returning back to the center of the ballroom, he soon found himself surrounded by friends and acquaintances once more, all speaking of London gossip, of their hopes for the Season, and whispering about one gentleman or another. Charles tried to embrace the joviality, tried to let himself forget the embarrassment that had been his, but no matter how hard he tried, the image of Lady Esther remained firmly fixed in his mind. Her sharp eyes, her tight lipped smile – it would not leave him. No matter whom he conversed with or whom he led to the dance floor, there was none but Lady Esther lingering on his mind. He had never made such a fool of himself before, and it was that feeling, mayhap, that he did not like. It clawed at him, biting into his heart and rendering him entirely unable to enjoy any part of the evening. For whatever reason, Lady Esther had done what no other young lady had ever been able to do in capturing his full attention even though, he thought grimly, it was for all the wrong reasons.
Chapter Two
