AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Lord Weston,” Lady Whitehaven murmured, inclining her head. “How good to meet you.” This was said with no warmth whatsoever, and as Thomas struggled to know what to say in response, he saw how she took a step closer to her daughter, as though to reassure her that she would not be left alone to deal with Thomas’s conversation.
“My sister and my cousin are nearby, but not close enough to make introductions,” Miss Wells said, a little tartly. “Else, I would have done so at once.” These last few words were filled with nothing but sarcasm, and Thomas felt himself grow a little angry.
“I would speak to you if I would be permitted, Miss Wells,” he found himself saying, looking at her with a direct gaze. “It appears that my letter has not been an adequate enough apology, and I should like to speak to you further about the matter, if that would please you.”
Miss Wells looked back at him steadily, her chin lifted slightly. “If you wish to apologize in person, Lord Weston, then I would be glad to hear your words. However, I shall not pretend that any sort of acquaintance will arise from it, for that is not at all what I seek from you.”
Thomas stiffened; his whole body racked with a fierce heat that then led to a cold hand grasping at his heart. He did not know what to do with this lady! She was, at least, willing to hear him speak his apology in person but thereafter, there was to be nothing of what he hoped for. How was he meant to have her court him if she continued to refuse his attempts to make himself amenable to her?
“I believe Lord Featherstone is waiting, my dear.”
Thomas glanced to his left and saw a gentleman approaching, his eyes fixed upon Miss Wells. A groan left his lips. He had done remarkably poorly, and now, he was to be left wanting. Miss Wells was not even looking at him any longer but had turned her attention to the approaching gentleman.
“If I could only have but a few minutes of your time, Miss Wells,” he said desperately, seeing her throwing him only the briefest of glances. “I would be truly grateful.”
She sighed and looked back at him dispassionately. “It would ease your guilt somewhat, I presume?”
Immediately, he wanted to rail at her and state that he felt no guilt whatsoever and that the only reason he was doing such a thing was simply to try and gain her trust. Instead, he lowered his head and prayed that his look of sorrow seemed genuine enough. “Indeed,” he replied, softly. “It would.”
She sighed again, whilst the other gentleman greeted her mother. “I am certain I can give you a few minutes of my time at a later time, Lord Weston,” she replied, clearly a little frustrated. “But for the moment, I must dance with Lord Featherstone. Do excuse me.”
Without even giving him a moment to bid her farewell or to thank her for her generosity, Miss Wells stepped past him and drew closer to Lord Featherstone. She greeted him warmly, her tone much changed from what it had been when she had spoken to him. Thomas was forced to step back, out of her way, leaving himself standing alone whilst she greeted Lord Featherstone and stepped out onto the dance floor. For a moment, he was quite overwhelmed with the feelings that swamped him, having very little experience with the deep sense of embarrassment that came with her brush off. Had any of the ton seen her turn away from him with such determina
tion? Were they now whispering about his mortification?
“That did not go as well as you hoped, I would surmise.”
Thomas closed his eyes and let out an exasperated breath. “Might you say that a little louder, Lord Henderson?” he asked, sarcastically. “I do not think that everyone about us heard you say such a thing so explicitly.”
Lord Henderson merely shrugged and grinned at Thomas, who was still battling his anger and his embarrassment. “Please,” he continued, as he and Lord Henderson began to walk towards the footman bearing drinks on a large silver tray. “Please do not speak to me of Miss Wells any more this evening. She has quite infuriated me, and I need not have any reminder of the mortification her brush off has brought on.”
Lord Henderson chuckled and took two glasses from the footman, handing one to Thomas. “Might it be that you need some help in pursuing a young lady?” he asked, lifting one brow in question. “I know that such a thing may be fairly novel to you, having never needed to ask for anyone’s help or advice when it comes to the young ladies of the ton, but perhaps in this case, it is merited.”
Thomas said nothing for a moment, draining his glass of ratafia in a few gulps. This was not what he needed. He did not want Lord Henderson’s mockery nor did he want to be drinking ratafia. He wanted a good glass of the best French brandy; he wanted Miss Wells to be more open to him than she was; and most of all, he wanted to blot out the record of the bet from Whites’ betting book.
“I do not know what I am to do,” he admitted eventually, seeing the way Lord Henderson nodded in understanding. “It is most frustrating. Miss Wells will barely give me more than a moment of her time, and I had to press her heavily before she would permit me to speak to her again in order to offer her my sincere apologies.”
Lord Henderson shrugged. “That is something at least,” he agreed. “However, you must not see Miss Wells as a goal you must achieve, Weston. You must look at her as she is.”
Thomas frowned, reaching for another glass. “What is it that you mean?”
Lord Henderson hesitated, then nodded to himself, as if he were confirming in his own mind what he meant to say. “Miss Wells is unlike any lady of your acquaintance,” he told Thomas, as though he did not know this already. “Therefore, you must study her.”
Recoiling, Thomas shook his head. “I want as little to do with her as possible. I know I must play the part of a regretful fool, and thereafter, a devoted gentleman, but I cannot allow myself to know her better than at present. There is no need to do so!”
“That is where you are mistaken,” Lord Henderson replied firmly. “That is precisely what you must do, if you seek to win your bet. You must do all you can to know her, to find out the person that she is. The other ladies of your acquaintance are nothing more than vapid figures, who bat their eyelashes and paint on their smiles for you. That is not so with Miss Wells. If you are to have her eager to accept your court, then you must dedicate yourself to the learning of her true self. Discover who she is. Look to what she enjoys and force yourself to become the devoted gentleman, even though you know that you have no true affection for her.”
Considering this, Thomas sipped his ratafia instead of throwing it back as he had done before. Perhaps Lord Henderson was correct in his suggestions, as much as Thomas did not want to admit it. It would mean transforming himself entirely—although it would be nothing more than a façade which he would place upon himself until the wager was won.
“At least consider my suggestion,” Lord Henderson said, looking over Thomas’s shoulder, a wry smile on his face. “Now, I shall not take up any more of your time, given that you have admirers already approaching you.” He chuckled and Thomas turned around to see none other than Lady Finnegan and her daughter approaching. They both had bright smiles on their faces, and the daughter had a touch of pink to her cheeks.
Thomas greeted them both warmly, finding himself relaxing as he returned to his usual state, unencumbered by thoughts of Miss Wells and the trials she was bringing him. This was the gentleman he was, the gentleman he knew himself to be. The smile returned to his face, the easiness of his manner coming back to him almost at once. He would succeed with Miss Wells; he was quite certain. But, for the moment, he would do nothing other than enjoy himself.
Chapter Six
Quite why she was looking over her reflection in the mirror, Merry did not know. Looking away from herself and back towards the guests who stood before her, all talking amongst themselves, Merry told herself sternly not to be so foolish. She disliked intensely being forced to don this gown, which was a trifle too low cut for her liking, and had certainly detested sitting in front of a mirror whilst a maid had twisted her hair this way and that as Lady Whitehaven watched attentively. It was the third time that she had been forced to endure such a thing, and her mother showed no sign of relenting. First, she had been preened for a small, intimate gathering of guests, and then had come the ball, where she had met with Lord Weston. Now, she was supposed to be enjoying a musical soiree, although the music itself was yet to start.
Merry sighed and, with an effort, prevented herself from leaning back against the wall. She had managed to escape from her mother’s clutches for a few minutes and had returned to what were familiar surroundings – the quiet edges of a room where she might escape unnoticed. Sighing again to herself, Merry tried not to allow her thoughts to turn to the one man she was meant to be disregarding entirely but found that despite her attempts, she could not prevent herself from considering him.
