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Chapter 28
Rage swam up and down Baldwin’s spine and stirred through his stomach. He sipped berry wine towards the edge of the ballroom. Ewan and Marta had sneaked out towards the garden with Aunt Margaret, fresh off Marta’s elaborate and terribly heart-wrenching dance with Lord Remington. Now, only Penelope remained on the dance floor, seemingly continually casting strange glances his way. Moments later, just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, she approached and apologised for dancing with Ewan. This surprised Baldwin a great deal, as he hadn’t considered Penelope in any sort of romantic sense in many, many months. In his mind, it had been a separate life, performed by two far different humans. The memories were jumbled images, garden light, and his awkward, pumping heart. Across everything had been the assured belief: it hadn’t been what he’d wanted.
“Do you feel something for him?” Baldwin asked Penelope. He suddenly found no reason to beat around any sort of metaphorical bush.
Penelope’s cheeks brightened. “I suppose there could be something there,” she answered.
This answer seemed outside the bounds of reason for Baldwin. In his case, when he’d first interacted with Marta, he’d known only:this creature is the one I wish to spend the rest of my life with. How on earth can I alter the course of my day to have just a thirty-second interval in her presence?
Still, he recognised that not all people operated as he did. In his world, everything was all-or-nothing: from his business to his romantic life.
It further surprised him that Ewan could have any sort of affection with anyone that wasn’t himself.
“Ewan is one of the best men I’ve known in my life,” Baldwin said, his voice booming over the music. He’d grown so terribly tired of string instruments. “Whichever woman is allowed to spend the rest of her days with him, I know she will be eternally blessed.”
“Thank you for saying that, Baldwin. It really does mean a great deal to me to know that,” Penelope said.
Lord Remington remained in seemingly disinterested conversation with another of his broad-shouldered and ominous, obstinate-looking friends. Baldwin excused himself from Penelope and marched into the garden, where the moonlight had flung its illumination over everything like a blanket. Marta’s face was clenched tight, her lips in a fine line, reminiscent of an older woman’s. The moment her eyes flashed across the crowd and found his, however, her face changed completely. Her supple lips parted. It seemed as though she translated several thousand thoughts through the air to penetrate his mind at this moment. It was clear: she had no interest whatsoever in Lord Remington. Her heart remained with Baldwin’s. Yet as she slipped out from the crowd, Aunt Margaret’s voice surged above the others’ once more.
“Darling, wherever must you run off to?” she demanded. “I wish only to explain more of the fantastic origins of your life. All the trauma she had to go through prior to her arrival here in England. Darling, you really mustn't leave.”
Marta’s eyes didn’t leave Baldwin’s for a moment. She paused, seeming to stumble, her hands gripping her skirts. The pain shifted behind her eyes. Ewan’s face shot back and forth, his eyes scanning the scene. Just when Baldwin thought that perhaps Marta wouldn’t turn back to acknowledge her aunt, however, Lord Remington appeared, in all his grandeur and glory. Baldwin’s heart sunk into his stomach.
“Lord Remington! What a remarkable pleasure to have you here with us,” Aunt Margaret said.
“I wouldn’t miss your company for all the world,” Lord Remington said. He beamed towards Marta, whose face remained turned towards Baldwin. Slowly, Lord Remington’s eyes found Baldwin, discovered the source of Marta’s seeming want and happiness. His smile twisted and turned cruel. Nobody else seemed to notice. It was remarkable to Baldwin that Lord Remington was given the benefit of the doubt in so many instances. He supposed it came with title, with remarkable good looks combined with charisma. If Baldwin had bothered to be kind and interested in anyone beyond Marta and Ewan over the previous months, perhaps he, too, would have been regarded as such. He bowed his head towards Marta, an indication that she had to turn back, to join them. A small tear rolled down her cheek, which she immediately flicked away.
Ewan cut across the crowd and joined Baldwin, his hands crossed over his chest. Lord Remington began to tell the surrounding throng about his wild travelling tales, prior to taking on his title. Everyone except Baldwin and Ewan waited with bated breath. They were mesmerised.
“What will you do?” Ewan asked.
Baldwin clucked his tongue. “I think tonight might be a lost cause.”
“Due to my mother?”
“Due to your mother,” Baldwin affirmed. “I don’t mean to be cruel, but she’s created a rather tepid environment for me. I don’t imagine I’ll make any headway this evening. Look at her. Crooning over him.”
“If only she were the young and vibrant blonde Austrian girl we see before us,” Ewan said with an ironic laugh.
Baldwin arched his brow. “You seemed rather hopeful this evening.”
Ewan gave Baldwin a tiny shrug. “To be quite honest with you, Baldwin, it’s clear what my feelings have been, but not entirely clear where they’re headed. I hope you’re not too pompous to understand I might take my affairs elsewhere.”
This was the first time in their history that Ewan had actually, genuinely, admitted his affection for Baldwin. He lent Baldwin a sombre smile then tilted his head towards the ballroom. “I might return to see if I might be honoured with a second. The second is where the real work begins. And if there’s anything I’ve learned from the many previous years of surveying the world of English courting, it’s nothing but hard work.”
He then patted his dear friend across the back and stepped out, back towards the ballroom and Penelope Sussel. Baldwin turned his eyes towards Marta a final time and reasoned that no, there was nothing yet to be done. He would collect his horse, and soon, he would be on his way. Surely, he would spend the majority of the following hours in a state of unrest and stomachache. But it had to be done.
