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Chapter Three
“Ouch!” Eliza stuck the tip of her bleeding thumb in her mouth and glared at the uncooperative rosebush before her. So far, her efforts to find a suitable replacement for her gardener had proven futile, and the inevitability of closing the gardens during the ball loomed. She’d been so looking forward to showing off some of the rare blooms she’d acquired over the previous year, but it seemed fate had other plans. After one last forlorn look at the increasingly neglected square, Eliza moved to return inside.
“Lady Aircourt, hello there.”
Years of practice at playing the serene society widow was the only reason Eliza didn’t shriek at the sudden voice. She turned back around, her irritation only simmering further as she spied James Berrington poking his handsome head over the garden wall. “Lord Dalton.”
He grinned. “Apologies for startling you. I was wandering about and heard you grumbling. I hadn’t even realized I was near your residence.”
“I certainly hope not, as it would be quite unsettling were you to be prowling about the back alleys of my home in hopes of finding me.” More than unsettling, if she were being honest. Though, the genuine smile he wore dissuaded her from drawing that conclusion.
“I was actually on my way to call on you. The proper way, of course.” He finished that statement with a charming chuckle that caused a most unwanted flutter in her chest.
She suppressed a sigh, both at her traitorous reaction and his flippant behavior. “Well, you are already here. Might as well come in. The gate is unlatched, I believe.”
“My thanks,” he replied cheerily and ducked back behind the wall. He must have hopped up and braced himself to greet her, she realized with mild bemusement. After a moment, the gate pushed opened and Dalton trotted through. “It would have been annoying to walk all the way around.”
“Why on earth were you taking such a strange route?” Even though she didn’t suspect him of anything nefarious, that he seemed to prefer the back alleys to the main road was an oddity.
The smile faltered, a mild blush staining his cheeks. “It is the peak calling hours, and everyone is milling about. There is always a bit of a ruckus when I’m spotted in public these days.” Which apparently was not often, as Eliza hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him outside of their revelatory conversation in the park a few days ago. She was glad for the distance, as his tale had upended just about every assumption she’d made about his character. His actions two years ago were still wrong, but that his intentions had been far less selfish than they originally seemed made him redeemable. He’d looked so lost sitting under the gazebo and pouring his heart out to her, that’d she couldn’t help the surge of empathy at his situation, hence why she’d tasked him with securing those apologies. Perhaps, were he to show his determination through action, she would believe his sincerity. “So?”
Dalton tilted his head. “So?”
Eliza huffed. “Did you do as I advised?”
He shuffled from side to side, his face twisting with anxiety. “I… tried.”
“Tried?” she repeated lamely.
Dalton held out a hand. “No, really. I knocked on the Duchess of Ashford’s door and everything. She was not at home. Er… well, I’m sure she was technically at home but not to visitors. To be more precise, me. I stood on the porch like the fool I was while passersby gawked. It was all quite the display, and I’m sure it will be in the scandal sheets come tomorrow morning.”
He was rambling, she realized, and rather adorably so at that. Perhaps he always behaved as such when nervous. She softened her countenance. “It is fine, My Lord. You made the attempt.”
“After that disaster, I was too afraid to brave the White Heather.”
She nodded. “Understandable.”
“But I thought you should know I made the attempt, hence why I am here this afternoon. Your opinion matters a great deal to me.”
Eliza laughed to conceal the blush threatening to take hold. “You think too much of me.”
“On the contrary. You are a reigning member of the Ton, blessed with both beauty and skillfully attained social acumen. I cannot stress how much of a boon your approval is.”
Such pretty compliments were commonplace for her, usually leaving the mouths of just about every shallow swain hoping to find themselves in her bed. Yet, hearing the words from Dalton’s mouth and seeing the genuine admiration in his eyes sent a wave of warmth rushing through her. She supposed that was why the man was so dangerous. “You have a way with words, Dalton.”
“Only when I mean them,” he retorted without missing a beat.
Perhaps his charming façade wasn’t a façade, after all. But such thoughts were treacherous ground to be treading, and Eliza chided herself for letting her guard down too soon. Barely two conversations with the man, and she was already changing her opinion and mooning after him like a fresh debutante. What in the hell was wrong with her?
Her judgement couldn’t be swayed so easily, no matter how lovely he appeared. But she could still throw him a bone or two. “I am not comfortable aiding you. I have a friendly acquaintance with both Her Grace and Lady Clifton, and my dearest friend is Lord Clifton’s relative by marriage. Helping you without their forgiveness puts me in a rather odd position.” When he moved to interrupt, she held out a hand. “But I can offer one bit of mild help. You followed my advice, and that speaks well about your intentions.” She paused a moment, ruminating on the decision she was about to make one last time before confirming that the action was wise. “I will try to obtain an invitation for you to some small event, one that the others are not likely to attend.” Which would not be terribly difficult. Lord and Lady Clifton tended not to run in polite circles terribly much thanks to the earl’s lowborn background and ownership of a gambling club, while the Duke and Duchess preferred more rowdy entertainments rather than the sedate afternoon tea or garden party that Eliza would seek out for Dalton. It would be an excellent way to give him a nudge toward respectability without risking any awkward run-ins.
Perhaps also seeing the wisdom in this, he exhaled in obvious relief. “Thank you, truly. Though I am disappointed that you cannot render further aid, I do understand.”
“You must be on your best behavior for this to even have a remote chance of working.” She’d never forgive him if he made a cake of himself and shamed her by association, especially considering how much cajoling she would have to engage in towards whichever kind matron of her acquaintance might listen.
Dalton straightened, stiffening his shoulders and wearing a resolute frown that made him seem more schoolboy receiving a dressing down than peer. “Yes ma’am”
“Please, don’t call me that. It makes me feel like an old maid.” Some of the children of her acquaintances had recently taken to calling her such, and a small, vain part of her hated to hear it. She was only twenty-nine, for heaven’s sake!
