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“You are quite remarkable, Lord Weston,” he heard Miss Wells say, as she got to her feet. “You astonish me entirely.”
“Might I ask in what way?” he asked, as she accepted the offer of his arm again.
She laughed softly, her eyes bright. “In that you are not the rude, arrogant, crash gentleman I first thought you to be,” she replied, not unkindly. “You have proven yourself to be genuine in your consideration of me and in your desire to seek my forgiveness for your past mistakes.”
He shook his head, a deep ache beginning to settle in his heart. “I hardly think–”
“Oh, I still believe you to be a rogue, Lord Weston,” she finished, with a slight twist to her lips. “And I certainly do not give you my full trust—but, at the very least, you are improving in your acquaintance.”
Closing his eyes momentarily, Thomas bit back his first response – which was to tell her that she should not trust him in the least – only to stick a smile to his face and nod as though he agreed with her. “That is satisfactory indeed, Miss Wells.” Seeing that they were drawing near the carriage, he held her back from her steps for a moment, catching her full attention. “I would like to call upon you again, Miss Wells.”
Her eyes flared with surprise, a rush of color in her face. Blinking rapidly, she looked away, clearing her throat as though she did not quite know what to say.
“Perhaps an ice at Gunter’s?” he suggested, seeing her color rise all the more. “Or a quiet visit to a bookshop – in fact, wherever you might wish to go, Miss Wells, I would be glad to take you.”
She let out a long, satisfied breath and smiled at him, her shoulders settling as if she had made a firm decision in her own mind and was contented with it. “An ice would be most welcome, Lord Weston,” she replied, bringing him a cloud of relief as well as a stab of guilt. “Might we say tomorrow afternoon?”
“I look forward to it,” he replied, inclining his head before turning back towards the carriage. “I should return you to your cousin now, Miss Wells.”
“I doubt she will have noticed how much time has passed, Lord Weston,” she told him, laughing. “She is caught up with that book and certainly will not so much as look up once we arrive.”
To Thomas’s surprise, Miss Wells spoke the truth, for the young lady did not even glance at them when he helped Miss Wells into the carriage. He sat back in his seat and smiled at Miss Wells as the carriage left the park, hating that a deep sense of guilt was settling into every sinew of his being. He did not want to see that smile wiped from her face, nor see the pain leap into her eyes when she discovered that he was, in fact, the dastardly gentleman she had first thought him to be. His head began to grow heavy and painful with the confused thoughts that seemed to double with every moment that passed. What was
it that he was feeling for Miss Wells? It could not be a true fondness, could it? He had never experienced such a thing before and certainly had never believed it to be even possible for him to have these feelings for her, but now that he looked at her, now that he felt the heaviness of his own guilt lie on his soul, Thomas began to recognize the change within him.
Miss Wells was, as he had told her, unlike any of the other young ladies of his acquaintance and, somehow, in being so, she had begun to enter his heart.
The question was, what now was he going to do about the wager?
Chapter Twelve
“You care for Lord Weston, do you not?”
Merry looked up at her mother, opening her mouth to refuse but finding that the words would not come from her lips. She did not want to lie, did not want to pretend that she felt nothing for the gentleman, but yet also did not want to admit that she did have a strong affection for him.
“He is seemingly quite caught up with you, Merry,” Lady Whitehaven commented carefully, looking to see her daughter’s reaction. “He has been more than attentive this last sennight.”
“Yes,” Merry agreed slowly, aware that her heart was already fluttering in her chest over the thought of seeing Lord Weston again. “He has been.” She had gone from thinking the worst of Lord Weston, to realizing that he could be, when he chose it, a very kind gentleman, whose smile made her catch her breath whenever it was sent in her direction. She had discovered that her thoughts were nearly always centered on him, even when she had no expectation of seeing him until the next day. His handsome face would appear in her vision, reminding her of just what she felt.
“You look very well, Merry,” her mother said and laughed, as Merry turned to check her reflection in the large glass mirror that hung above the drawing room fireplace. “Goodness, I am surprised to see you behaving in such a fashion! I would have expected it from Titania, but you….”
Closing her eyes, Merry froze in place, one hand reaching up to press a curl a little further into the rest of her ringlets, realizing what it was she was doing. She was trying to look her very best for Lord Weston’s visit and, in doing so, had surprised not only her mother but also herself. When had she begun to consider such a thing? She often thought very little of what she wore or how she looked, but for Lord Weston’s visits, Merry realized that her attitude was changing somewhat. In her heart, she wanted to look her very best for Lord Weston. Was it because she was afraid he would look differently at her if she wore her hair in its usual chignon and chose a dull gown? Would he think less of her? Would his interest fade? Merry lifted her chin and looked at herself again, taking in the resolute tug of her lips and the way her eyes shone with determination. No, she knew within her heart that Lord Weston would not turn away from her no matter what she wore or how she looked. The time they spent together of late had been filled with conversation, and she had shared more with him than she had spoken of even to her sisters. The way he sought her to tell him the truth of what was in her heart behooved him, and she had found herself doing so without question – and he had, it seemed, welcomed it.
“He is here!” Lady Whitehaven hissed, hearing a murmured voice floating towards them. “Do prepare yourself, Merry, and stop gaping at your reflection. Lord Weston is come!”
* * *
“Might I ask you something, Miss Wells?”
She looked up into Lord Weston’s face, her hand under his arm as they walked together. “But of course, Lord Weston.”
“You – you would say there is a furthering of our acquaintance of late, yes?”
Nodding, she put a smile on her face and ignored the quickening of her heart. “Yes, of course.”
“And would you say that you have been glad of such a thing?” Lord Weston threw her a quick glance before letting his eyes return to the path in front of them. He seemed uncertain all of a sudden, which was very different to his usual proud and determined nature.
“If you are asking me whether or not I have been glad to know you better, Lord Weston,” Merry began slowly, glad that Hyde Park was, at the present, fairly quiet, “then of course I would say yes.” She squeezed his arm, feeling a concern for him rising up in her chest. “I have been glad to know you better, Lord Weston.”
