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“As am I, Lord Whitley,” Rebecca said. “Thank you.”
They finished their set, and Lord Whitley escorted her to Susan, who was in conversation with Mama. He bowed to each of them and then excused himself.
“The viscount seems a pleasant gentleman,” Mama remarked, watching him as he walked to whom Rebecca presumed to be his next dance partner, Miss Sarah Wentworth, the sweet young lady Rebecca had met at Almack’s and had instantly liked.
“He truly is, Mama,” Rebecca said. He was, indeed, a gracious gentleman to have noticed such a quiet young lady as Miss Wentworth.
There was only one thing that was casting a pall on Rebecca’s otherwise perfect evening. Ben had not written to say he was attending and had not arrived. The evening was well underway, and he hadn’t made an appearance. The reasonable conclusion to draw from that was that he had refused her invitation and had remained in Lower Alderwood.
She had tried to leave the supper dance on her dance card open, hoping Ben would appear. But he had not.
Hugh, whom Rebecca had greeted earlier, had disappeared, likely to the card room, but he arrived at her side as she chatted briefly with Susan and Mama. “I hope you do not think I have been negligent, Miss Jennings, although I daresay you were surrounded with so many suitors you scarcely missed me, but I am here now, and I wonder if I may have the honor of escorting you during the supper dance.”
Rebecca could not, in all fairness, say no. “Certainly, Hugh,” she said.
“That pleases me greatly,” he said after heaving a dramatic sigh of relief. He scrawled his name onto her dance card and then took her by the elbow and led her slightly away from Susan and Mama. “And if I may be so bold, I wonder if I might have the honor of a second set later in the evening.”
“Allowing two dances at my come-out ball might be misinterpreted by others,” she said.
“They won’t be misinterpreting anything,” he replied in a low, intense voice.
Rebecca forced back the panic that instantly flared within her and sought to find as light a tone as possible to offer her reply. “I am flattered, Hugh, truly,” she said. “But let’s not give the gossips too much to discuss this evening, shall we?”
“I am not dissuaded, you know,” he said, looking her squarely in the eye. “I daresay Iwillask you again later tonight, but I will allow that we can see how the evening proceeds.” He bowed and left her to calm her agitation.
Perhaps she shouldn’t care about the gossip that could occur. Perhaps she should simply agree to the second dance . . .
She was flattered by Hugh’s attentions; naturally, she was—as she was by the attentions of Viscount Whitley and the others. Hugh Mandeville was a fine figure of a man and drew the ladies’ eyes wherever he went. His clothes were of the highest fashion, his hair the latest style. He was well-spoken and elegant and had shown Rebecca only courtesy and—dare she say it?—a certain ardor regarding his apparent interest in her. No young lady could ask for more. She had grown to like him very much and even had an affection for him. She didn’t know a great deal about him yet, however. She guessed he must have had a fairly typical young gentleman’s upbringing, based on what little she did know of him. He’d gone to a reputable boys school, had spent time at Oxford, and had confessed to spending a bit too much money on hunting and gambling—he’d confessed to that with a chuckle when she’d pushed him to share some character flaws, which, surely, she knew, he must have.
Ben, on the other hand, the Ben Rebecca knew, at least, was moody; it was understandable, considering all he’d been through, but he’d been moody, nonetheless, during their entire acquaintance. And not always particularly careful in his choice of words when speaking to her. He had expressed a desire for her to be in his life—and then had declared he didn’t. It was the worst sentence anyone had ever spoken to her.
And yet, she also knew it had been difficult for him to encourage her to come to London and to enjoy what the remainder of the Season had to offer. He hadn’t allowed his painful personal history to hold her back from exploring her future. She trusted his character.
She loved him.
But he wasn’t here, and his absence ultimately gave the answer to what must be done.
Rebecca swallowed her disappointment and determined she would dance the supper dance with Hugh Mandeville and perhaps agree to the second set as well. She must set aside her hopes for a future with Ben, for her own sake and happiness.
She had clarity at last.
* * *
Ben finally arrived at Winton House in London on Thursday evening. He was here at last. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time once again, as he’d done all day yesterday and especially today. Rebecca’s ball would already have begun.
Davies, the butler, and Mrs. Webb, the housekeeper, rushed outside as Ben’s horses and carriage came to a stop at the entrance. They looked rather alarmed to see him, which was no surprise, as he hadn’t been able to apprise the permanent staff here in London of his plans. Regardless, they were a trustworthy and well-trained staff, and within a few short minutes, one wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss from their expressions.
“I apologize for arriving without giving you notice,” he said after exiting the carriage. “I would have written to inform you of my plans, but the letter wouldn’t have arrived much sooner than I did just now. Davies, may I have hot water brought to my room? And, Mrs. Webb, is there anything in the larder that can be put together swiftly? I am already late for an important engagement this evening, but I am dirty and hungry after two long days of travel.”
On his way to London, he had run into a patch of bad weather—but that was an understatement if ever there was one. They’d been hit by a virtual deluge just outside the little town of Baldock. Baldock, of all places! The road had become muddy and so slippery that it had been impossible to continue. Ben had half expected to see Noah float by on his ark at any moment.
Ben and his coachman and footman had, therefore, been forced to spend a few additional hours at a tavern in Baldock to wait out the storm. Thankfully, it had subsided nearly as quickly as it had blown in, but the added delay to Ben’s timetable had had the undesirable effect of making his mood a bit . . . fractious.
“Additionally,” he said, trying to control the tone of his voice as he took the main stairs two at a time, with Davies and Mrs. Webb following closely behind. “I have given instruction for Lady Rose and her nurse to be brought to London as soon as is possible.”
“Yes, milord,” Davies said, sounding out of breath.
“And I need one of my smaller conveyances prepared for use this evening,” he said.
“Yes, milord,” Davies said again. “May I ask where you are intending to go?”
Ben stopped briefly at the top of the staircase. “I am attending a ball hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Aylesham,” he said. “And I am already late.”
More than a day late, Ben thought but didn’t say aloud. He’d had no opportunity to speak to Rebecca before her ball, and that worried him to no end.
Blast the weather! Blast the roads! Blast life’s circumstances that buffeted one about and made one question one’s own heart and mind for much too long. He dearly hoped Rebecca was willing to forgive him once more. She had already forgiven him for the accident that had broken her ankle and the upset it had caused to her Season. Would she forgive him again after the terrible words he’d spoken to her?
He didn’t deserve to be forgiven. But at the very least, whether she forgave him or not, whether she had spoken the truth, that she really did love him, as she had said, he owed it to her to be at her come-out ball since she’d invited him. He owed it to her to be there, whether she loved him or not, because he loved her. Of course he did. He had been a fool to deny it for as long as he had.
He strode into his dressing room, stripped off his coat, and yanked off his neckcloth.
