A Viscount to Remember: Regency Romance (Brides of London)
Author: Alec, Joyce
Date: 2019-08-23

A Viscount to Remember

Brides of London

Joyce Alec

Contents

Love Light Faith

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

More Stories You’ll Love

Thank You!

A Viscount to Remember

Text Copyright © 2019 by Joyce Alec

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

First printing, 2019

Publisher

Love Light Faith, LLC

400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825

Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311

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Prologue

Nineteenth Century, England

She crept carefully towards the door, her feet barely making a sound. She was breathing rapidly, her heart beating with both pain and a desperate hope as she heard the murmuring of voices.

It had to be him. He was here now, within the house. He had said that he would speak to her guardian, had promised that he would do so just as soon as he could, and she had clung onto that promise with every bit of hope that she could muster. Her heart ached suddenly, her hands clasping together as she raised them to her mouth, closing her eyes where she stood and praying that he would be accepted.

Her breathing quickened. She could hear them now, speaking together. The truth was within her, desperate to be spoken, desperate to be let out, and yet she could not say it, would not say it, until she knew he had been given permission. The affection she had for him would not disappear merely because she had waited another day before speaking to him of it, but the desire to tell him the truth about her deep, unrelenting feelings for him was growing steadily. A smile crossed her face as she opened her eyes and leaned against the wall, next to the door. It would not be long now, would not be long until she could share with him the truth of her heart.

The door, being a little ajar, allowed her to hear what was being said without revealing herself. Surely there could be no reason for her guardian to refuse him. He was a kind, honest, and good gentleman, as far as she knew him, and would, she was certain, make an excellent husband. They would spend their years together in happiness, bound together by the cords of love.

“I am sorry, but no.”

Her heart stopped suddenly, forcing her to drag in a ragged breath. Her hands tightened together as a fist of ice gripped her heart.

“I do not consider you suitable,” she heard her guardian say, hardly able to believe that such a thing was being uttered. “You cannot court her.”

Her eyes slid shut, tears forming in them almost at once. She could hear the murmur of protest, could hear him trying to fight back against the determination, but knew her guardian well enough to know that there would be no reconsideration. He was a strong-willed man and once he had made a decision, there was nothing else for it. He had refused her the happiness she had been so desperate for, had refused to allow the only person she cared for to come any nearer to her.

Tears burned in her eyes as she turned around, leaning heavily against the wall for a long moment as she fought to gain her composure. She could not linger here, could not see him now. Nor did she want to see her guardian, for the pain of his judgment lay heavily on her soul. She could not understand him, could not even think of his reasons for refusing what could have been a joyous union. The pain in her heart grew so great that she had to press one hand to her mouth for fear of crying out, forcing her feet to move as she stumbled back along the hallway and towards the stairs that led to her bedchamber.

She was to be alone. She was not to be accepted into the arms of the man she loved. Her guardian had seen to that. He had ruined her one chance at happiness, for she would never feel such a thing for another, she was certain of it. His reasons did not matter, his thoughts did not interest her. All she felt was pain.

Tears poured down her cheeks like rivers as she staggered to the staircase. She could not linger here, not now. To continue to live in the same house as the man who had denied her so much was not something she could even consider. Her life had to change now but she knew that the pain would still linger. It would be something she carried with her throughout her life until, mayhap one day, she would finally be able to find a way to hide it from herself.

Her hope was gone, her heart was broken.

There was nothing left.

1

“You have not been successful.”

Miss Louisa Smallwood lifted her chin defiantly. “That is unfair, Father. You have given me no assistance in this matter.”

Her father, Baron Churston, was a slight man with a rotund middle, a round, unlikeable face with brows that were constantly furrowed, thin lips, and dark brown eyes that were, at the present, fixed entirely upon his daughter.

“That is not at all true!” the Baron exclaimed, throwing up one hand in evident disapproval. “I have aided you a great deal in finding a suitable gentleman, but no one has sought to court you and therefore, we are to return home.”

There was a slight look of guilt in Lord Churston’s eyes, however, for he did not look directly at Louisa as he spoke, turning to the left just a little as if he found her presence rather trying. Louisa, who was trying her very best to stand up for herself and, in turn, refused to accept her father’s verdict, noted this with a little satisfaction.

“That is not at all the case, Father, as well you know,” she stated with as much sternness as she could muster. “You have not introduced me to any gentlemen this Season. Not one. I have had to rely on my friend, Miss Grey, to do so.”

Her father’s expression darkened all the more. “I believe you mean Miss Grey, the lady who is now engaged to one Lord Marchmont.” An accusatory brow lifted, as though Louisa ought to have found a way to become engaged also.

“She is due to wed in a fortnight,” Louisa informed him. “But yes, it is she that I speak of. She has been the only one interested in encouraging my acquaintance with the gentlemen of the ton, whilst you, Father, have done nothing of the sort.” Louisa knew full well that without Miss Grey’s encouragement, she would never have found the confidence to speak to her father in terms such as these, having been somewhat quiet and accommodating in the months and years that had gone before. However, this year, her father had told her directly, and quite unexpectedly, that she was required to find a suitable gentleman and become engaged by the Season’s end, else she would never return to London again. Thereafter, he had commented that a gentleman near to his estate, one Sir Walton, might make her a suitable husband if she could not find someone with a better title and fortune.

The thought had turned her stomach. Sir Walton was not a young man and had, thus far, had three wives, all of whom had died from some malady or other, although quite what these maladies had been, Louisa did not know. Her father and Sir Walton were very great friends and, at various times, had done each other favors or offered help when there was none. Louisa strongly suspected that her father had made the suggestion that Louisa might be Sir Walton’s next wife once Lord Walton had completed his mourning period which, no doubt, Sir Walton would have agreed to at once. It would mean that her father would no longer have to look after her or be required to pay for her upkeep. It also meant that this, therefore, would be her very last Season, for Sir Walton would be completing his mourning period by the end of the year.

Louisa was not inclined to accept such a fate. She also suspected that her father had given her this final Season in the hope that she would be able to find a higher title and, therefore, a wealthier gentleman than Sir Walton but, having not held out a good deal of hope, had made very little effort to aid her.

“You have not helped me as you promised, Father,” she stated firmly. “Therefore, you cannot expect me to do as you ask. I will not willingly return home.”

Her father’s brows lowered. “You have never been so disagreeable before, Louisa,” he said disapprovingly. “When I tell you that your time in London is at an end, then you must obey.”

“I will not.”

Louisa drew in a ragged breath, steeling herself. Her father, clearly unused to his daughter being so disobedient and defiant, looked back at her in evident confusion, not at all certain what to do or say. Louisa knew she had to say more, had to state her case and demand that her father be of more assistance. Perhaps outright defiance was not the way to go about it, however. Mayhap she had to be a little more considered.

“Father,” she said, taking a few steps towards him. “You want me to be married and settled, which I well understand. However, do you not wish me to make a suitable match? To find a gentleman who will bring this family honor? And not to mention that there would be a good deal more wealth also. To have your daughter joined to… shall we say, a baronet, is decent, of course, but to have her married to a viscount or even an earl would be a good deal better, would it not?”

Her father’s brows lifted just a little.

“Yes,” he agreed slowly. “Yes, I believe it would. But Louisa, you have not shown any evidence of being able to capture the attentions of such a gentleman. I must therefore believe that a baronet or the like is all that you can achieve.”

Louisa shook her head firmly, her heart sinking within her as she realized that her suspicions had been correct. “But you have given me no aid, Father,” she answered, reminding him again of his failings. “That is unfair. You have left me to my own devices and to my friend, Miss Grey, whom I can no longer rely upon in the same way.”

Her father sighed heavily. “Mayhap I should find you a companion.”

The idea was not entirely to Louisa’s liking, but it was, at least, a good deal more improved than her father insisting that they leave London in the middle of the Season.

“It would certainly help me in my endeavors,” she replied cautiously, not quite certain whether her father was doing this for her benefit or for his. If he found a companion for her, then the onus would still not be on his shoulders when it came to finding her a suitable husband. “Have you someone in mind?”

Her father shook his head, clearly having decided to give into Louisa’s demand that they stay in London for the remainder of the Season. Louisa could not help but smile, finding it difficult to hide her emotion. She would have to write to Miss Grey at once and tell her that her encouragement to be bold and to stand up for what she wanted had done wonders. Lord Churston clearly had very little idea of what he was to do with his daughter when she behaved in such a fashion. This had led to Louisa managing to not only stay in London for the rest of the Season but also having a companion, which would give her more independence and certainly aid her as she attempted to circulate throughout society a little more.

“I am certain I can find someone very soon, however,” Lord Churston muttered, sitting down and slumping back in his chair, clearly no longer willing to try and fight his newly insolent daughter and betraying that singular lack of character that had been so often a part of his life. “We shall remain for the last two months of the Season, as you wish, Louisa. Thereafter, I think—”

“I shall be certain to find someone, of course,” Louisa replied hurriedly, hardly daring to believe that she had been successful in her endeavors as regarded her father. “You need not doubt that, with help from either yourself or my new companion, I shall be entirely successful.”

Her father passed a hand over his eyes, a small groan escaping from his mouth. He did not enjoy the Season, Louisa considered, although this was mostly due to the fact that he lost a lot of money playing cards and gambling when he ought not to do anything of the sort.

“Shall you search for a suitable companion for me, Father, or should I make some enquiries?” Louisa continued, when her father said nothing. She knew very little about how one went about finding a companion, but she was not about to let her father’s lack of decisiveness prevent her from succeeding. “We should go about it as quickly as possible, should we not?”

Lord Churston muttered something under his breath but then nodded, lifting his hand and looking at Louisa directly. “I shall take care of it, of course,” he replied, seeming now to be a little sullen. “Directly. You may go now, Louisa.”

Louisa, thrilled with the success of her endeavors, curtsied quickly and turned around, hurrying out of her father’s study for fear that he might stop her with a word and state that he had made a mistake. However, no such word came and Louisa was left with the delighted feeling that she had been completely and utterly successful. Clasping her hands together, she walked with quick, short steps, feeling as though she ought to write to Miss Grey immediately, to both thank her for her aid and her advice as well as to inform her that all was not lost, as she had first feared. She was to stay in London for the rest of the Season and now, it seemed, would have the correct sort of person beside her in order to improve and further her acquaintances. Surely there would be some gentleman from within the beau monde who might take an interest in her. Pausing for a moment, Louisa caught sight of her reflection in the mirror that hung in the hallway. She regarded herself, taking in her short, straight nose, her bright blue eyes, and dark hair that, today, had been pulled back into a simple chignon. Not overly pretty, mayhap, but what made things all the worse was the smattering of freckles that appeared over her nose and cheeks. Her lips twisted as she rubbed at one vainly, knowing that nothing she could do would remove them from her face. However, the way that she had conducted herself for the first few weeks of the Season had not been to her best advantage. She had been quiet and refrained, keeping back from the majority of the beau monde and feeling entirely uninteresting and rather dull. That had changed once she had met Miss Grey and for that, Louisa would be forever grateful.

A sigh left her lips as she turned away, climbing the staircase that led to her own bedchamber and, therein, her writing desk and quill. As she hurried within and shut the door behind her, Louisa felt some of her happiness return. She was about to embark on the next part of her Season refreshed and renewed. Who knew who she might encounter now? Her excitement began to grow as she seated herself and picked up her quill. She asked for neither love nor affection, but rather a practical companionship that would allow her to pass her years with genuine contentedness and, mayhap, a small fondness for the man she was to call husband. That was all she wished for, all that she hoped for. It would be more than enough for someone such as her, for a daughter of a baron—and one with freckles, at that—could not expect anything more.

2

A Sennight Later

“Well, Miss Smallwood, might I say that you look quite delightful.”

Louisa nodded, smiled, and looked across at her companion. “Thank you, Miss Martin,” she replied, thinking that this new companion of hers was certainly very complimentary, for this was now the fourth time she had commented on Louisa’s appearance. Miss Martin had only just left London, accompanying her prior charge, a Miss McBride, back to her father’s house, where the girl was soon to be married. This in itself was an excellent commendation and upon hearing of it from the girl’s father and his acquaintance, Viscount Whitaker, Baron Churston had hurriedly ensured that Miss Martin was immediately taken into his employ. She had, therefore, had to make her way back to London, having only just left it, but made no comment about her tiredness or the difficulties of such a long journey. Instead, she had been nothing but pleasant in her manner and most complimentary of Louisa. If things continued on as they were, then Louisa had no doubt that they would all rub along well enough together for the duration of the Season, and part of her prayed that whatever Miss Martin had done to aid Miss McBride in finding a husband, she might do the same for her.

Louisa turned her attention back to the full ballroom, feeling a slight pang of sadness over the loss of her dear friend, Miss Grey. “This is to be our first social outing together, is it not?”

Miss Martin nodded, although a light smile dusted her lips. “It is, indeed,” she replied calmly. “But you need not have any concern that I shall fail in my duties. I know precisely what is required of me.”

Louisa blinked, a little taken aback. “I had not even thought of such a thing, I assure you,” she said quickly, wondering if Miss Martin believed that she had, somehow, made an unfavorable impression. “I trust you absolutely, of course, as does my father.” She smiled as warmly as she could at Miss Martin, seeing how the lady relaxed just a little. The line between the lady’s brows began to flatten, pushing itself away, and her eyes cleared just a touch. Louisa studied her companion for another moment or two, taking in the lady’s sharp, brown eyes and the way that her thick, dark hair was pulled back tightly, accentuating her angular face. Miss Martin was not at all old, but evidently old enough to be considered a spinster, although Louisa was quite certain that should the lady be given the opportunity, she could appear quite beautiful in her own way. In fact, when she had first been introduced to Miss Martin, she had been struck by just how youthful the lady was, although she had not, of course, asked any impertinent questions. The same curiosity that had been there before began to rise within her again, making her wonder if Miss Martin had been forced, by way of circumstance, to become a companion or if she had been forced to do so by another. Louisa had very little knowledge of Miss Martin’s family and her past circumstances and inwardly resolved that, as their acquaintance grew, she would do her best to discover them.

“Now,” Miss Martin began, a little briskly as though to disrupt Louisa’s thoughts, “there are many gentlemen here this evening but not all of them will be suitable. It is good that I have been present in London prior to this, Miss Smallwood, for my knowledge of the gentlemen here this evening will be of great use.” She threw a glance towards Louisa, who was surprised at the stern expression that was now upon Miss Martin’s face. “You should look to me before you accept any gentleman’s request to sign your dance card. Do I make myself clear?”

Louisa blinked in surprise, stumbling over her words as she tried to agree. In one moment, Miss Martin had turned from a sweet, soft-spoken lady to a sharp-eyed, tight-lipped woman whom Louisa did not dare question.

“Good,” Miss Martin replied, looking across the room and, with a small nod to herself, beginning to walk further into the ballroom with Louisa hurriedly keeping up beside her. “Then we should have no difficulty whatsoever. Oh, and before I forget, there is one more thing I must state.” Turning, she stopped dead and looked directly into Louisa’s eyes, her brows lowering and turning her expression almost malevolent. “You must always return to me the moment your dance is at an end, Miss Smallwood. Do you understand? You should not tarry for even a moment and never once continue the conversation with the gentleman by your side without returning to where I am waiting.”

This, however, made Louisa frown. Miss Grey would not have done such a thing, for she had been bold and determined, and was quite content to continue a conversation with a pleasing gentleman should there be the opportunity to do so.

“I shall not leave the ballroom with a gentleman, if that is what you are concerned about,” she replied slowly, seeing how Miss Martin’s eyes flashed suddenly. “But I can see no reason why I should not continue to speak with a gentleman should he wish to do so. Surely you would be able to follow wherever I am gone, for it would only be in the confines of the ballroom and therefore, within plain sight of everyone else. I am not inclined to—”

“Miss Smallwood, I have been hired by your father to ensure that you find a suitable husband,” Miss Martin interrupted, ignoring the fact that there were gentlemen and ladies surrounding them both and instead continuing this strange conversation without even a momentary hesitation. “I intend to do just that. That means that you are required to do as I ask.”

Louisa twisted her lips to one side, her brows furrowing together. She did not much like the feeling of being kept on a rope, being hauled back to Miss Martin whenever a dance was at an end. Did Miss Martin not think her trustworthy?

“As I was about to state, Miss Martin, I am not inclined to disappear with a gentleman without consideration,” she said, trying to inject confidence into her voice and recalling how Miss Grey had shown her how to find such a strength within herself. “If a conversation is enjoyable and if the gentleman wishes to continue it, I can see no difficulty with me doing so. After all, you will have already approved of the gentleman, therefore there can be no particular difficulty if I choose to remain a little longer in his company.” She did not wait for Miss Martin to say anything more, giving her companion a quick smile and then turning away, making quick, hasty steps which managed to give the impression that she had seen someone she wished to converse with. Louisa’s gaze darted from one side of the room to the other, still inwardly astonished by the sharpness of Miss Martin’s voice and the hard expression she had worn. Had something occurred before which had made Miss Martin so wary? Surely not, for her previous charge was now engaged. There could be no earthly reason for Miss Martin to think so little of her, to have such a distrust that she expected Louisa to somehow throw herself at a gentleman without consideration, to the point that she was now insisting that Louisa return to her side immediately, like an obedient dog. It was a most unusual demand and certainly not one that Louisa would agree to. Yet again, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks for her friend Miss Grey and for the courage and the determination that she had helped blossom within Louisa’s heart. Without her, Louisa might now find herself standing quietly and in complete obedience next to Miss Martin instead of forging her own path into society.

“Ah, Miss Smallwood.”

With a grateful smile, Louisa greeted one of her acquaintances, Miss Buxton.

“Good evening, Miss Buxton,” she replied, dropping into a curtsy, which the lady returned. “It is a wonderful evening, is it not?”

“Indeed,” Miss Buxton murmured, as Louisa felt the presence of Miss Martin beside her, although the lady kept back just a little. “Now, allow me to introduce you to these gentlemen approaching, for I am certain you will enjoy their company.”

Louisa kept her head up and her eyes clear, putting a light smile on her face as not one, but three gentlemen approached Miss Buxton, bowing as one as they did so. Miss Buxton was not remarkably pretty, with rather dull brown hair that hung about her face in a less than charming manner, an overly long nose, and a lackluster smile, but she was also the daughter of a rich viscount and boasted a large dowry that would attract any number of gentlemen.

“Good evening,” Miss Buxton said, greeting each gentleman in turn. “And might I present to you Miss Louisa Smallwood, daughter of Baron Churston.” She gestured towards Louisa and, once again, spoke the three gentlemen’s names and titles to Louisa, whilst she curtsied and they bowed. There was a Viscount Broadbent, who was tall, thin, and carried himself with an air of arrogance, a Baron Manson, who hailed from Scotland and seemed to constantly have an overly large grin plastered on his face, and last came a Viscount Montague, who did not smile but merely bowed and looked away with an evident lack of interest.

Louisa sighed heavily within herself, thinking that these introductions, whilst she was most grateful for them, would not bring her the sort of delights she had hoped for.

“Might I enquire as to whether your dance card is…?” The Baron did not finish his question but continued to grin inanely at her and, with a small, quick sigh, Louisa held it out to him and tried to look grateful. Soon, her card held the names of all three gentlemen, although they each only signed their name for one dance and not two, for which, in a way, Louisa was most grateful. She was not relishing the opportunity to dance with each of the gentlemen before her, thinking that none of them exhibited any immediate interest in her.

“And are you here with your father, Miss Smallwood?”

Louisa looked up at Viscount Montague, seeing how his grey eyes flickered with what seemed to be a small amount of curiosity.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, suddenly recalling that Miss Martin was also present. “He is within the ballroom somewhere, although most likely, he has sought out the card room by now.” She tried to laugh, but given that Lord Montague did not give even the smallest of smiles in her direction, the sound cracked the moment it left her lips.

“Do you know Baron Churston, Lord Montague?” Miss Buxton asked, seemingly now rather interested in this particular conversation. “I was not aware that you knew him.”

Viscount Montague cleared his throat, his gaze seemingly drawn to something of interest just to his left. “I know of the baron, yes,” he admitted eventually. “But I have never been introduced to his daughter before this evening.” He drew his gaze back towards Louisa again, before snapping his heels together and inclining his head. “If you will excuse me, I am engaged for this next dance. Until later this evening, Miss Smallwood.”

“Lord Montague.” Louisa bobbed a quick curtsy, wondering if Lord Montague knew her father well and, therefore, was aware of just how little he cared about his daughter’s wellbeing. Or mayhap they had been involved in one of the many betting and gambling games that her father had partaken in over the last few weeks of the Season.

“Might I have a word, Miss Smallwood?”

Louisa jumped visibly, turning her head to see Miss Martin glaring at her, her eyes filled with an anger that Louisa could not quite understand.

“I am currently conversing with—”

“Now, Miss Smallwood.”

Utterly shocked at the behavior of Miss Martin, Louisa discovered that she had no other choice but to follow her companion, who began to weave in and out of the crowd, evidently expecting Louisa to follow her. Confused and embarrassed, she begged Miss Buxton to excuse her and followed after the lady, wondering what it was that had upset Miss Martin so. A stab of guilt to her heart made Louisa realize that she had failed in her promise to glance at Miss Martin before accepting any gentleman’s request to dance with her but, given that each gentleman had only offered her one dance this evening, surely there was nothing to be overly concerned about? Again, Louisa reminded herself that she had every reason to be confident in her own decisions and her own desires. Her companion was not to demand that Louisa did as she asked, for she was there to guide and encourage only. Anything more was overstepping the bounds of her employment.

“Yes, Miss Martin?” she asked, as the lady whirled about to face her, having led Louisa to a quieter part of the ballroom, where she now stood, next to the wall. “What is it? If it is to berate me for my lack of obedience when it came to accepting those gentlemen’s offer of writing their name on my dance card, I can only apologize. I quite forgot.” She offered an easy yet apologetic smile. “It is going to take a little time to become used to such a thing.”

Miss Martin’s brows furrowed, her expression dark in the shadowy light that surrounded them both.

“How dare you,” Miss Martin hissed, taking a small step closer to Louisa. “How dare you behave with such wantonness!”

Louisa stared at her companion before laughing aloud, unable to help herself. The suggestion that she had behaved with any such impropriety was quite ridiculous. “I have not shown any such shamelessness, Miss Martin,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I have accepted three gentlemen’s offers to dance with me and that is all. They have not behaved improperly and certainly are not cads or rogues, else Miss Buxton would not have introduced them to me.”

Miss Martin shook her head, her lips thin and flat. “You have no knowledge of these gentlemen, Miss Smallwood.”

“I have knowledge of my friend, Miss Buxton,” Louisa replied quickly, even though her heart was beginning to quicken with a fright that she could not explain. “I know that she would not introduce me to any gentlemen that were unseemly for one reason or another.” Feeling a spike of anger slam hard into her chest, igniting a spark within her, Louisa drew in a long breath and tried to make sure she spoke with calm eloquence. “What is it that you fear, Miss Martin? Do you fear that I shall behave improperly?”

“Yes,” Miss Martin replied with a hiss. “That is precisely what I fear, Miss Smallwood. In your desperation, you will do whatever you can to gain a gentleman’s favor, is that not so?”

A cold hand gripped Louisa’s heart, washing ice over her completely. “Desperation?” she repeated, blinking rapidly to keep a sudden flurry of tears from her eyes. “I may be many things, Miss Martin, but I am not so eager for a husband that I should behave improperly with any of them.” She shook her head, beginning to fear that this companion of hers would bring more difficulty than good. “I have no intention of behaving with anything other than absolute propriety, Miss Martin. You may have what you believe is an understanding of my current predicament and, no doubt, have heard many things from my father, but you have made an incorrect judgment if you believe that I shall do anything other than behave as I ought. I am not so desperate as to fling myself into the arms of any gentleman I choose, in the hope that a marriage proposal, whether forced or of his choosing, comes thereafter.” Her cheeks were burning now, seeing how Miss Martin’s eyes had narrowed in evident disbelief. “I would appreciate it if you would remove such a heavy hand from my shoulders. Else I believe our acquaintance, such as it is, might have to come to an end.”

Miss Martin shook her head, her gaze drifting away from Louisa for a moment only to jerk back directly towards her. “You are a fool if you believe that your father would simply remove me from his employ simply because you asked, Miss Smallwood,” she replied, sending another wave of ice crashing over Louisa’s head in an almost painful manner. “You have only a few weeks left, do you not? Therefore, I should expect you to do as I ask.”

“You may expect such a thing, but you will find your expectations unfulfilled,” Louisa replied, feeling herself begin to shake with restrained anger. “And I have no doubt that whilst my father might be grateful for you, he would be inclined to listen to me over you. So ensure that you remain aware of that.”

She could not bring herself to say more for fear that she might lose her temper entirely. Therefore, she turned her head and moved past Miss Martin, expecting her to follow her as she ought. Her cheeks were burning with heat, her eyes barely seeing where she was going, such was her fury. The way Miss Martin had spoken to her, the distress that had been caused by the anger in her words, was not yet gone from Louisa’s soul. In fact, it made her all the more upset to have had her companion, whom she had thought so kind at the first, to think so little of her that she suspected Louisa might try and force a marriage proposal by behaving improperly.

So caught up in her upset was she that Louisa did not notice the broad-shouldered, unsmiling gentleman approaching her. Nor did she see him stop, his gaze fixed, before clearing his throat and making his way towards her again. In fact, she did not notice him at all until she found herself walking directly into him, stumbling back in complete and utter mortification as the shame of what had just occurred flooded her completely.

This evening was not going as well as Louisa had hoped.

3

Daniel forced an easy smile to his face at once, seeing how the young lady’s cheeks flared with embarrassment as she dropped her head, curtsying quickly so as to cover her stumble.

“I am deeply sorry,” she stammered, her face still held low. “I did not—I mean, I was rather caught up with—”

“Please, do not concern yourself,” he replied grandly, seeing how her face burned an even deeper scarlet. “It was my fault entirely.” He bowed low, a trifle relieved when the young lady finally looked up at him. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, I assure you.”

The young lady managed a small smile and made to turn away, only for Daniel to prevent her from doing so by continuing their conversation.

“It is a little improper, I suppose, but might I introduce myself? We have bumped directly into each other and for that, I think, we might allow ourselves an introduction.”

The young lady glanced behind her and Daniel let himself look at Miss Martin, fully aware of who she was. They needed no particular introduction. He knew precisely who Miss Martin was and what she did. Now, it seemed, she was this young lady’s companion, having been so successful with the last. Miss Martin gave a sharp shake of her head, not allowing her charge to greet Daniel, and for a moment, Daniel thought that he would have to find someone to introduce them properly if he was to have what he wanted. This idea was then thrown entirely asunder by the young lady herself, who, with a slight lift of her chin, turned back towards him and put a small smile on her face.

“But of course,” she said, surprising him entirely. Had not Miss Martin refused to allow her to greet him in such a way? Why, then, was she going against her companion’s demands?

“I—I thank you,” he replied, still taken aback by the young lady’s singular determination to do as she pleased instead of obeying her companion. “Viscount Williamson, begging your pardon for such an unorthodox introduction.”

The young lady smiled at him and, for a moment, he was struck by the warmth in her vivid blue eyes.

“I am Miss Smallwood, daughter of Baron Churston,” she replied with a demure lowering of her eyes that caught his attention all the more. “I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Lord Williamson, even though it has been in the most peculiar manner!”

He laughed at this, unable to help himself. She had no knowledge of the fact that he was already acquainted with Miss Martin, of course, but that did not matter for the present. “Your dance card, Miss Smallwood,” he said, going on impulse. “I do hope you might allow me to prove to you that I am not as heavy-footed and clumsy as I have thus far appeared.” He held out his hand, his lips lifted in the hope that she would give him her dance card without hesitation.

He was not to be granted his wish, however, for Miss Smallwood did hesitate, looking up at him with a curiosity in her eyes that seemed to hold her back. Daniel wondered if she was about to look back at her companion, who would, no doubt, refuse him at once on her charge’s behalf, but he kept his smile fixed and his hand outstretched in the hope she might show the same singular determination that had allowed her to accept his introductions when Miss Martin had wanted her to refuse.

His wish was granted.

“But of course,” Miss Smallwood said eventually, holding out her dance card for him to grasp. “I thank you, Lord Williamson. I am certain you are an excellent dancer.”

Chuckling, he took the card and looked down at the remaining dances, a little surprised that the lady had so few filled as yet. Throwing a quick glance towards Miss Martin, he saw how the lady glared at him, her eyes filled with warning, and he immediately wrote his name down in two spaces on Miss Smallwood’s card, making the lady blush at his urgency.

“I look forward to proving that to you, Miss Smallwood,” he murmured, directing his attention back to the lady in question. “Until later this evening.”

“Good evening,” she replied, dropping into a quick curtsy before walking past him, her companion in tow. No doubt the chit would have furious whispers in her ear almost the moment he was out of earshot, but Daniel did not think that Miss Smallwood would refuse to dance with him or make some sort of excuse in order to escape from it. No, she seemed a good deal more strong-willed and determined, which he had to admit, he appreciated. Miss Martin would, of course, try to do all she could to separate him from the lady, but Daniel did not think that Miss Smallwood would capitulate and that brought him a good deal of pleasure. Of course, he was only dancing with the young lady out of spite towards Miss Martin, although he felt no guilt whatsoever over the matter and instead felt rather happy that he would be able to do so. Miss Martin obviously thought him entirely unsuitable and that in itself made him chuckle.

“You look much too happy for what is a rather dull evening.”

Daniel laughed, grinning broadly at his friend, Lord Townend. “Not at all,” he replied, smiling as he gestured to the crowd in front of him. “This is quite a wonderful occasion, I think.” He tipped his head and arched one eyebrow in his friend’s direction. “Unless you have been disappointed in some way?”

Lord Townend looked back at him darkly. “You know very well that I do not have that same ease of manner that you display,” he replied, a little frustrated. “Thus, I spend evenings such as this attempting to converse with young ladies who soon realize that I am less than interesting and, therefore, turn away.”

Daniel saw the frustration in his friend’s eyes and felt his heart lift a little with sympathy. “You have nothing to fear,” he told him, wondering if he ought to mention the young lady that he himself had only just met. “Such young ladies are not worth your time, I believe, for they find almost every gentleman staid and boring unless they seek to show an immediate and singular interest.” He shrugged, having met such young ladies before. Young ladies who did nothing but smile, simper, and bat their eyelashes in a vain attempt to secure his interests. Should he fail to show them an intense interest almost at once, perhaps by not quite managing to be caught by their beauty or conversation as they had hoped, then they would turn their attention to the next gentleman and seek him out to be their quarry. “Although I should also tell you, Townend, that Miss Martin has returned to London.”

Without looking at his friend directly, Daniel saw all too well how his friend reacted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Townend shift forward, as if to catch his breath, whilst his jaw tightened and his hands caught together in a firm grasp, as though to force himself to remain unaffected.

“I thought she was gone with her charge to ensure that the wedding went smoothly,” Lord Townend muttered after a moment or two. “Why now is she back in London?”

“I believe that she is here with another charge,” Daniel replied observantly. “Although she was less than pleased to see me, I will confess.” A slight pang of guilt rolled around his heart, as it always did when he saw Miss Martin.

Lord Townend snorted. “I should imagine so,” he replied with a roll of his eyes that was evidence that he cared nothing for Miss Martin’s reappearance. “Then I shall pray that she is as successful with this charge as she was with the last, so that she might again remove herself from town.”

Daniel said nothing, aware that Lord Townend knew of the difficulties that surrounded Miss Martin and that, in his own way, he was deeply sympathetic for what Daniel had to struggle with. Daniel, however, decided to put the knowledge that Miss Martin was back within society from his mind, thinking that he should simply focus on what would be a most enjoyable evening.

“Are you to dance with this new charge of hers, then?” Lord Townend asked, as Daniel allowed a smile to catch the corner of his mouth. “I presume that is how you managed to meet Miss Martin again.”

Daniel nodded. “I am,” he replied, choosing not to make mention of the fact that he had deliberately engineered an introduction so as to ensure that Miss Martin knew that he was now aware of her return to London. “Two dances, in fact, although Miss Martin was not inclined towards allowing her charge to even converse with me, never mind accept such an offer of stepping out on the dance floor.”

Lord Townend looked across at Daniel with interest. “And yet the girl did so anyway?” he asked, a little surprised. “A spitfire, then, is she?”

“I would hardly call her that,” Daniel replied with a laugh. “Just perhaps a young lady who does not like to be restrained by her companion’s agreement or disagreement.” He allowed his thoughts to return to Miss Smallwood, thinking that she was, he supposed, pretty and certainly a good deal more interesting now that he had seen her turn away from her companion’s advice. “I have two dances with her and the second is the waltz.” He chuckled as Lord Townend burst into laughter, clearly fully aware of what Daniel was doing.

“So you are doing your best to frustrate Miss Martin in any way you can,” Lord Townend said, rolling his eyes although his grin remained. “What is it that you hope to achieve in doing so, might I ask?” His eyes turned back towards Daniel, his smile beginning to fade. “Do you want to force her to realize that her choice of profession is not a wise one?”

Daniel’s smile was gone completely, his brow furrowing as he considered the question. The truth was, he had no particular idea what it was he wished to do, other than to ensure that Miss Martin knew of his presence and that he was aware of hers also. “I—I am not quite certain,” he admitted, seeing his friend nod. “You are aware that she is completely stubborn and will not be removed from her choice of path.”

Lord Townend’s eyes glinted. “Yes, indeed,” he grated, his smile also disappearing entirely. “I am fully aware of that, as you well know. I cannot see what continuing an acquaintance with her charge will do for you, Williamson.”

“It will not change her mind, that is for certain,” Daniel agreed, his brow furrowing as he thought of how Miss Martin had shaken her head so firmly at her charge, trying to convince the girl to stay away from him. “I just wish I knew what the reasons were for her to…” He did not finish his sentence, closing his eyes for a moment as a wave of pain washed over him, from his head right down to his toes. That was the worst of it. It was the realization that he did not know everything, did not understand it all. If only she had been able to speak to him of her difficulty, then he might have been able to help her.

“So you are simply going to dance with her charge this evening and, thereafter, leave things as they stand?” Lord Townend asked with a slight lift of his brow. “That does not sound like you, Williamson.”

“I left her last charge alone, did I not?” Daniel replied, a little more sharply than he meant. “I knew she was in London and left her to do her work, to go about her business without any sort of interruption. I can do the same again this time, can I not?”

“You could,” Lord Townend agreed quietly, “but from the look in your eye, I would surmise that you have no intention to do so.”

Daniel took in a long breath, settling his shoulders and glancing at his friend before returning his attention to the ballroom. “I do not know what it is I intend to do,” he replied honestly. “I am frustrated and angry, upset and despondent, all in one moment. It is a rather strange set of emotions and I admit that they quite confuse me.”

Lord Townend’s expression had cleared and he gave his friend nothing more than a nod, telling Daniel that he understood but did not want to comment further.

“I shall, therefore, dance and enjoy this evening without any further questions as to my own motives or my own desires,” Daniel finished, trying to convince both himself and Lord Townend that this was precisely what he wanted and certainly was the only thing he would do. “I have more than Miss Smallwood to attend to!”

Lord Townend chuckled, throwing Daniel a wry look. “I am quite certain that you do,” he replied with a grin. “Yes, I have seen how the ladies of the beau monde clamor for your attention, Williamson.” He sighed dramatically. “If only I could have both wealth and a handsome appearance. Then I might garner as much adoration as you.”

“It is a heavy burden to bear,” Daniel answered mirthfully. “But I must do so alone, I fear.” He bowed towards his friend in an affected fashion, making Lord Townend lift his eyes to the ceiling as though praying that Daniel would cease his dramatics, before waving a hand that told Daniel to go and seek his first young lady of the evening. Daniel, laughing quietly and feeling the burden roll from his back, did so at once, moving away in order to find the young Miss Winters, given that she was the first of his dances this evening. A small smile lit his features as he moved through the crowd, aware that what Lord Townend had said was quite true. Young ladies, and some older ladies as well, sought his attention without any hesitation whatsoever. Yes, he had wealth and a decent title, but Daniel was also aware that his dark hair and hazel eyes, square jaw and broad smile seemed to bring him even more attention. He had never considered himself vain and certainly dd not spend an inordinate amount of time in front of the looking glass before he made his way out to whatever social occasion he was called to, but he knew that he was not considered either plain or ugly.

“Might I ask what it is you think you are doing?”

A hissed, angry voice caught his attention and Daniel swung around at once, not at all surprised to see Miss Martin standing to his left, her eyes narrowed and angry and her hands planted firmly on her hips.

“Miss Martin,” he said easily, a little surprised that she had come to speak to him directly. “Is something wrong?”

“You know very well that something is wrong,” she replied, her words harsh and angry. “You cannot come near my charge.”

Daniel raised one eyebrow. “I cannot see why not,” he replied as amiably as he could. “Unless there is something wrong with her that, as yet, you have not told me?”

“I cannot trust you, Lord Williamson,” Miss Martin answered angrily, her brows furrowing all the more. “You are a cad and a—”

“I am not and have never been a cad,” he interrupted, his voice lowering and his anger beginning to flare. “You are mistaken, Miss Martin.” He held her gaze, her anger burning deeply within him as he looked back at her steadily. She had lifted her chin, her eyes bright with apparent fury, as though he had done something wrong when the truth was, he knew nothing of what she spoke. “If you would but speak to me of why you have such an opinion, you know that I—”

“Stay away from Miss Smallwood,” she interrupted, each word spiked and furious. “You are not to come near her again.”

She made to turn away, but Daniel, refusing to agree to what she had said, made sure that Miss Martin knew full well that he had no intention of complying with her demands.

“I shall dance with Miss Smallwood twice this evening and mayhap again another night,” he stated, his voice louder than he had intended. “I shall not do as you wish, Miss Martin. And if you continue to insist on such a thing, then I shall have to speak to you directly until you tell me the reasons for your anger towards me. You have never done so, and I will not be left in ignorance.”

“You know very well, Williamson.”

A flush darkened her cheeks as she bent her head and hurried away, leaving Daniel feeling as though he had struck her hard in front of everyone else present at the ball. A small flicker of guilt began to burrow its way into his heart, but Daniel dismissed it almost at once, refusing to let it linger. Miss Martin had stated that he was nothing more than a cad, as though he was well known amongst the ton as a rogue when the truth was that Daniel had done all he could to behave with the utmost decorum. He did not like treating ladies as though they were nothing more than playthings in whom he might take an interest for a while. Nor did he believe that one ought to take advantage of one’s title and standing within society, merely for his own pleasures. At times, it had been difficult not to do so, when he knew full well that he had the opportunity to behave as so many others had done, but his own personal sense of morality had driven him to stick to his decision. That was why it grated on him all the more that Miss Martin had called him such a thing, for it had no basis in truth and he could not understand her reasons for doing so.

“Ah, Miss Winters.”

Thankfully, his thoughts were caught up by the arrival of Miss Winters, who had seemed to appear out of nowhere, perhaps not wanting to miss even a moment of their dance. She accepted his greeting with a quick curtsy and bestowed an even brighter smile on him when he turned to offer her his arm so as to lead her out to the middle of the dance floor. As the music began, he bowed quickly and stepped forward to start the dance.

“And so, my opportunity finally presents itself!”

Daniel could not help but chuckle at the quizzical look Miss Smallwood sent him as he bowed before her.

“To prove to you that I am not a clumsy oaf,” he explained, seeing her eyes flare with a sudden understanding. “I know that we have already enjoyed one dance but that was the quadrille and certainly a good deal less was required of me compared to this particular dance.” He tipped his head, hesitating for a moment. “You are permitted to waltz, are you not?”

Miss Smallwood blushed furiously but did not drop her gaze. “I am, of course,” she told him unequivocally. “Else I would have told you from the start that such a thing would not be permitted.”

He inclined his head. “But of course.” Holding out his arm, he waited until she had settled her own upon it before making his way to the floor where so many other couples stood. “I must pray that my steps will be sure and that I will not stand on your toes, Miss Smallwood, for what then will you think of me?”

She did not laugh, however, as he had expected. Instead, she merely looked up at him, her gaze questioning. “My companion has reservations about you, Lord Williamson,” she said honestly. “I do not know of them precisely, but—”

“Have you had your companion long?” he asked, as the music began. He stepped forward and took her carefully in his arms, moving quickly across the floor. “Has she been with you throughout this Season?” He knew full well, of course, that Miss Martin had not been with Miss Smallwood for long, given that she had been the companion of another, but did not want Miss Smallwood to be aware of his prior knowledge.

“No,” Miss Smallwood replied, a touch uneasily. “This is the first outing we have gone on together and I have been a little surprised at her… firm direction.” These words were obviously chosen carefully and Daniel suppressed a smile as he twirled her about the floor. “Although,” Miss Smallwood continued, “I shall, of course, listen to her concerns when she comes to share them with me.”

“Indeed,” he replied, suddenly hearing a warning ringing in his mind. “But you must also remember, Miss Smallwood, that such concerns may not be entirely factual.”

She looked up at him, moving easily with him as they waltzed, her steps never faltering as they conversed. “You mean to say that my companion might be unfairly prejudiced against you?”

He nodded, surprised at the openness that was growing between them. It was not something he had ever experienced before with a young lady of the ton and, as such, he was not quite certain what to do with it.

“That is something I must consider, I suppose,” Miss Smallwood murmured, her eyes still latched onto his, framed by dark eyelashes that seemed to beg for his attention. “As I have said, Lord Williamson, I am a little confused as to my companion’s sharp tongue and resolute decisions. I thought her to be rather gentle and kind, but it appears that I may have misjudged the lady.”

Daniel wanted to say that, yes, she had misjudged the lady entirely and that underneath the gentle expression that could appear on Miss Martin’s face, there was a shrewd and often harsh character, but to speak such things aloud would be to inform Miss Smallwood that he already had a prior acquaintance with Miss Martin and that was not at all necessary.

“I do hope, Miss Smallwood, that you might permit me to dance with you again, at another ball or some such thing,” he found himself saying, although whether it was from a true desire to dance with the lady or to merely prove to Miss Martin that he was not a dangerous cad, he could not quite say. “I know that Miss Martin thinks poorly of me and will inform you to stay far from me, but I must beg of you to make your own decision on the matter.”

Miss Smallwood hesitated, turning her gaze away for a long moment. “I am not of a particularly strong character, Lord Williamson,” she told him, showing her vulnerability without hesitation. “I do not much like being told what to do or whom I should or should not speak to, but I must admit that it takes a good deal of strength on my part to do such a thing. It will be difficult to continue arguing with Miss Martin, when she may have good reason for her request.”

“Reason which you can listen to but not necessarily believe without evidence,” he stated, not wanting Miss Smallwood to believe that he was a cad simply because Miss Martin thought him so. “Seek things out for yourself, I beg of you. Do not allow rumors to bind your hands.”

Much to his surprise, Miss Smallwood laughed, her eyes brightening and her whole expression filling his heart with an unexpected delight.

“I know very well that rumors are not to be trusted,” she told him, her eyes twinkling. “Lord Marchmont and Miss Grey are my very dear friends and I was with them during what was a very difficult period that was filled with swirling rumors and the like. So you are correct to state, Lord Williamson, that I should not give any weight to rumors without evidence to back them up. Have no fear.” She dimpled at him again. “I shall not do so.”

The relief that filled Daniel’s chest surprised him. He had hoped that Miss Smallwood would not allow Miss Martin’s judgment of his character to hold her back from what might be a charming acquaintance, but to feel such an overwhelming sense of relief was quite unexpected and unexplained. The music, as though sensing that he was ready to bring this dance to an end, began to slow and within a few minutes, he had released Miss Smallwood and was bowing before her.

“Good evening, Miss Smallwood,” he said, seeing how she smiled at him. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

A faint pink appeared in her cheeks as she rose from her curtsy. “As do I, Lord Williamson,” she replied with evident honesty. “Thank you for your conversation and your company. I have enjoyed both.”

As have I, Daniel found himself thinking, as he led Miss Smallwood back to the visibly angry Miss Martin. As have I.

4

“Miss Martin.”

Louisa walked into the drawing room and came to a sudden stop, seeing Miss Martin standing just in front of the hearth, her arms crossed over her chest and her chin lifted. Her eyes were ablaze, her lips pulled taut and her cheeks quite pale.

“Good morning, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin replied, her voice thin and lacking warmth. “You appear to be in fine spirits this morning.”

Louisa held Miss Martin’s gaze, still questioning her companion’s strange demeanor. “I enjoyed myself last evening,” she answered, seeing how Miss Martin’s frown drew low, as though she ought not to have done such a thing. “Therefore, I am quite contented this morning.”

Miss Martin drew in a sharp breath and turned her head. “You mean to suggest, then, that you will dance and converse with Lord Williamson again, should he ask you.”

“Of course,” Louisa replied calmly, moving towards a seat and, only after tugging the bell pull, plumping down into it. “Lord Montague also stated that he would be glad to seek me out on our next social occasion and I accepted that compliment gladly as well. I can see no difficulty in accepting either such compliments, Miss Martin.”

Miss Martin turned her head back towards Louisa with an almost pitying expression on her face. “I think, Miss Smallwood, that it would be wise for me to tell you everything that I know of Lord Williamson, else you may—”

Louisa, recalling what Lord Williamson himself had said only last evening, and well remembering the sorrowful look on his face as he had spoken of rumors and the like—a look which he had quickly tried to hide—held up one hand, silencing Miss Martin at once.

“I think that unless you can speak to me with facts and truths as regards Lord Williamson, then I am not at all inclined to listen,” she told her companion, seeing how Miss Martin’s eyes flared with evident anger. “I will not listen to rumors and gossip.”

“He is a cad!” Miss Martin exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “It will do your reputation no good if you go near him.”

Louisa blinked in surprise. “My reputation?” she repeated, arching one eyebrow in Miss Martin’s direction. “What is so very wrong with Lord Williamson that my very reputation will be tainted if I dance or converse with him, Miss Martin? What is it about him that makes him a cad? If you will tell me of it all, without hesitation or basing your convictions upon rumors, then I shall be glad to listen.” She shrugged. “Else, I would rather you keep such considerations to yourself, for I will not be glad to hear them.”

Miss Martin drew herself up to her full height. “I have been employed by your father to guide you through society and to find you a suitable husband,” she stated coldly. “If you will not accept my advice, then I must go to your father.”

Louisa’s heart quickened but she showed no outward signs of concern. “Please do,” she replied with a small shrug. “In fact, I—”

Her sentence was cut off with the arrival of her father, who suddenly entered the room without so much as looking up from the letter he had in his hand. He did not even notice Louisa or Miss Martin, his brow furrowed low as he read the lines on the page.

“Ah, Lord Churston.” Miss Martin’s voice was high and shrill. “How good it is that you have arrived at the very moment we require you.”

Louisa got to her feet, her father’s eyes catching hers as he looked up, startled.

“Oh, good morning, Louisa,” he stammered, not so much as looking at Miss Martin. “My apologies. I was reading something of great interest and I came in here to…” Looking about him, he scratched his head, clearly having forgotten why he had made his way into the drawing room. “I meant to go to the study, I think.”

“It is good to see you, Father,” Louisa said quickly, before Miss Martin could say more. “Miss Martin and I were discussing the merits of one Lord Williamson, just as you came in.” She flashed Miss Martin a quick smile but saw that she was merely standing quietly, her arms folded and her eyes resting on Louisa with what appeared to be an expression of triumph. “Viscount Williamson, I believe.”

Lord Churston cleared his throat and dropped his hand to his side. “Viscount Williamson, eh?” he repeated, looking at Louisa with interest. “He was with you last night, I believe.”

“Yes,” Louisa said, smiling at her father. “We were introduced, in a manner of sorts, and Lord Williamson danced with me twice. He hopes to do so again, at the next ball.” She held her breath, waiting for her father’s reaction. “Does that please you?”

Her father frowned, glancing at Miss Martin. “Lord Williamson danced with you twice?” he asked, looking back at Louisa. “That shows a flicker of interest, does it not?”

“He was just being gentlemanly, I am sure,” Miss Martin interrupted, but Louisa took a step forward, drawing her father’s attention again. She did not want Miss Martin to unjustly prejudice her father’s opinion of Lord Williamson, especially when she did not know the truth about his character and wanted very much to decide for herself.

“He did ask if we might dance again at our next social occasion,” she said quickly. “I wanted to ensure, Father, that you were aware of such a thing. It is to show you that I am making progress, as you had hoped.”

Lord Churston nodded slowly, looking at his daughter and then at Miss Martin, who, thankfully, had decided to remain quiet as Lord Churston made his deliberation.

“I know Lord Williamson has a decent fortune,” Lord Churston began, a small smile beginning to spread across his face. “Better than that of Sir Walton, at least!”

“Yes,” Louisa murmured, not at all interested in how much someone had or did not have. “That is indeed true.”

“And a better title, too,” Lord Churston finished, looking quite delighted at the prospect. “Then yes, of course, Louisa! You must accept any attentions he throws at you.”

Miss Martin took a step forward, clearing her throat. “My lord, if I might, I do have some concerns about Lord Williamson.”

“Oh?” Lord Churston swung back around to face Miss Martin, his brows rising. “And what might they be?”

Miss Martin blinked, lifting her chin and holding herself almost taunt. “I have heard rumors that he can be something of a rogue, Lord Churston. You must know that—”

“Pshaw!” Lord Churston exclaimed, throwing his hand in Miss Martin’s direction. “All gentlemen have something of the rogue about them! Just so long as his reputation is not one of utter disgrace, then I can see no reason not to allow my daughter to accept his attentions. After all, it is not as though she has a good deal of time left with which to find someone now, is it?” He waggled a finger in Louisa’s direction, although a smile split his features. “There shall not be another Season for you, so you must make the most of what is given to you, Louisa. Yes, by all means, yes, accept Lord Williamson’s attentions—although if there is some deep, dark secret that he hides, then you have my agreement, Miss Martin, that Louisa should be taken from his side at once. But,” he finished, walking towards the door and bringing an end to the discussion, “I do not think that such a thing will occur. Do let me know if there are any further developments.” Throwing open the door, he turned around and looked over his shoulder at Miss Martin. “And my congratulations on being so successful thus far, Miss Martin.”

Louisa looked back at Miss Martin as Lord Churston closed the door behind him, feeling a big sense of both triumph and relief settle over her. Her father had given his support for Lord Williamson’s attentions should they occur, and Miss Martin would not be allowed to prevent it either.

“You are making a mistake, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin replied with a toss of her head that did not move her chignon even an inch. “Lord Williamson is not a gentleman worthy of your time.”

“But why?” Louisa insisted, moving closer to Miss Martin and trying to see into the depths of the lady’s eyes. “If it is only rumor that makes you fearful of him, then I cannot believe that such a thing is all you base your concern of him on.” She arched one eyebrow towards Miss Martin, feeling as though the lady had a great depth to her that Louisa had not yet even had the chance to see. It had all been so sudden. Miss Martin had appeared in her house and in her life and all had seemed to go well for the first few days. And then, at the ball last evening, everything had changed, and for Louisa, there was no explanation.

Miss Martin drew in a long breath, turned her head, and looked away from Louisa. “You will not listen to me, it seems. Therefore, Miss Smallwood, I do not think that you shall be successful with this Season. You shall not find a suitable gentleman for a husband.” She sat down on her chair, stiff-backed and still not looking at Louisa. “I shall not say that you will not get married, for that may yet happen, but you shall not be happy. You shall not find joy with such a gentleman as Lord Williamson. I will continue to warn you, shall continue to try and dissuade you for that is my duty as your companion, but I fear that your stubbornness and arrogance will bring it all to a sorrowful end.”

Louisa blinked rapidly, looking at Miss Martin and seeing the slight flush of her cheeks. “You have not yet told me, Miss Martin, why you believe Lord Williamson to be so much of a cad,” she stated, trying to keep her mind on Lord Williamson and not the many questions about Miss Martin herself that flew about her head. “Is it rumor only?”

Miss Martin closed her eyes, turned her head and opened them again, so as to look at Louisa. “I have had charges before, Miss Smallwood. Do you believe that I have not had the measure of some of the gentlemen here in London?”

“How many charges have you had, Miss Martin?”

Miss Martin blinked. “Two.”

“And you have found them both suitable husbands?”

“Yes.”

“And you have ensured that they avoided Lord Williamson?”

Miss Martin nodded. “Of course. They did as I instructed.” Her chin lifted, a slightly arrogant look in her eyes.

Louisa took a breath. “You will discover, Miss Martin, that I am not as obliging as your other charges. I do not base my consideration of someone based on rumor or gossip.” She lifted her chin a notch herself, matching Miss Martin. “Should you have been my companion last Season, or even earlier this Season, then I might have done as you asked, might have agreed without question, but thankfully I have discovered a new sense of determination and courage within myself of late.” She gave Miss Martin a half smile, which the lady did not return. “So therefore, I shall dance and converse with any gentleman I wish, unless I learn that their reputation is unequivocally stained.” With a sense of pride growing within herself at her newfound resolve, she let her smile spread all the more. “Do we understand each other, Miss Martin?”

“Yes, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin replied, her voice quiet and yet filled with a sternness that told Louisa she was not about to give up yet. “I believe we do.”

“Good,” Louisa replied with a small sniff, turning her head away from Miss Martin and feeling a sense of unease settle over her. She did not think that Miss Martin would end her attempt to convince Louisa that Lord Williamson was a cad and a rogue and wondered just how easily they would be able to progress if she continued to behave in such a manner. “Now, I am to go out walking this afternoon, Miss Martin. Do you intend to accompany me?”

Miss Martin did not immediately answer and Louisa could almost feel the cold, hard stare that was turned in her direction, although she did not look directly back at her companion.

“I am your companion,” Miss Martin replied eventually, her tone tight and her voice angry. “Therefore, of course I shall accompany you this afternoon. Might I ask where it is you intend to walk? And whom you intend to walk with?”

I would walk with Lord Williamson should he ask me, Louisa thought to herself stubbornly, almost wishing that she could state such a thing unequivocally, simply to show Miss Martin that she was disregarding her obvious dislike for Lord Williamson. “I am to walk with Miss Buxton,” she replied, catching the flash of relief that washed over Miss Martin’s tight expression. “We thought to take a turn about Hyde Park, a little before the fashionable hour as it can become awfully busy around that time.”

“I shall accompany you, of course,” Miss Martin answered, her eyes lowering to her lap. “And if you would but look at me for guidance if any gentlemen come to speak to you, then I would be grateful of that.”

Louisa cleared her throat, making her companion look up sharply. “I shall manage to converse with any gentlemen that approach without your help, Miss Martin,” she told her, wondering why Miss Martin seemed so desperate to protect her from seemingly almost every gentleman of the ton. “Should any seek to court me, then that is when I shall seek your thoughts and advice, although as I have said before, I shall not allow any rumors or gossip to be spoken of.”

Miss Martin shrugged and turned her head away. “Very good, Miss Smallwood,” she stated with a calmness that made Louisa all the more concerned. “I look forward to our walk this afternoon.” And so saying, she got up and excused herself, hurrying to the door and leaving Louisa sitting alone.

Sighing to herself, Louisa passed one hand over her eyes, hating that there appeared to be enmity between herself and Miss Martin. This was not what she had wanted. When seeking a companion, she had longed for someone to understand her difficulties and her urgency in seeking a husband. She had wanted someone to laugh with, someone to stand with her and discuss the merits of one particular fellow or to sigh over another who was perfectly eligible yet entirely out of reach. In short, she had wanted a companion she could respect yet could also become friends with. In Miss Martin, she had found neither. It was most disappointing.

And yet, Louisa had to admit that there were now a good many questions going on in her mind. What was it about Lord Williamson that Miss Martin hated so much? Was it merely that she believed the gossip and rumors that swirled throughout society? That was very strange indeed, for even Louisa knew that all such whispers often held only a modicum of truth.

“Just who are you, Miss Martin?” she murmured, her gaze on the closed door where Miss Martin had only just walked through, half-expecting her companion to return, sit down and begin to explain matters. When no such thing happened, Louisa sighed, shook her head, and sat back in her chair, her head resting to one side as her eyes closed. Whatever the matter was, Louisa was not about to let Miss Martin sabotage what could be a pleasant acquaintance. It might come to nothing more than that, but at least she could enjoy Lord Williamson’s company and conversation and that, Louisa thought to herself, a slow smile spreading across her face, would be quite lovely indeed.

5

Daniel sighed and ran one hand over his dark brown hair, looking at his reflection in the looking glass.

“And I thought you had not an ounce of vanity in you.”

The voice of Lord Townend made Daniel start, turning around to see his friend grinning at him.

“Indeed, that is true, I hope,” he answered, chuckling. “But for whatever reason, I find myself hoping that my appearance is as good as it can be this evening.” He arched one eyebrow in Lord Townend’s direction. “And it has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that Lady Esther has accepted your invitation to this evening’s soiree.”

Lord Townend laughed, shaking his head. “You are quite ridiculous, Williamson. Lady Esther is to be present, yes, but she will be accompanied by that dragon of a mother, Lady Vasquez, and I doubt you shall be allowed to go anywhere near her without approval!”

Daniel sighed in mock dismay, although he could not pretend that he did not find the idea of meeting Lady Esther a little enticing. Lady Esther was one of the diamonds of the first water of this Season, and it helped enormously that she was the daughter of a marquess—Marquess Vasquez—and had an exceptional dowry to go with it. Marquess Vasquez would not be present, having been caught up with business, but Lady Esther would be accompanied by her mother, who would, of course, ensure that her daughter spoke to those she first approved of.

Silently, Daniel thought that Lady Esther would not take even the slightest notice of him, given that he was nothing more than a viscount and certainly not at all highly titled enough to interest the lady. Although the fact that Lady Vasquez had accepted the invitation of Viscount Townend suggested, at least, that she was willing to move through this particular social circle.

“Remind me of how you are acquainted with Lord Vasquez?” Daniel commented, as the last of Lord Townend’s staff took their places, ready for the guests to arrive. “Or is it that you know Lady Vasquez?”

“I was introduced earlier this Season,” Lord Townend replied with a small shrug. “Lady Esther even permitted me to dance with her on one occasion. I must admit, when I sent my invitations, I did not think even for a moment that Lady Vasquez would accept, but here it is!” He grinned at Daniel and held out a glass, which he had just filled with brandy. “I do hope the evening will go well.” His smile flickered for a moment, betraying his anxiety.

“It will go very well indeed,” Daniel replied at once. “There will be plentiful conversation and the food will be quite sumptuous, as it always is.”

“And do not forget that I have hired a small group of quite remarkable musicians,” Lord Townend replied, waggling a finger in Daniel’s direction. “And one or two of the young ladies are bound to play or sing thereafter.”

“Of course,” Daniel reassured him, wondering why his friend appeared so anxious. Was there someone he wished to impress? Or was it merely that Lady Vasquez and her daughter were to, unexpectedly, attend the soiree?

“Oh, and that young lady that you danced with some days ago is also invited,” Lord Townend told him, waving a hand in Daniel’s direction. “I was introduced to her at the time also, although we did not dance.” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I thought her quite agreeable and thought to invite her.”

Daniel blinked, a little surprised. He had not thought of Miss Smallwood since that particular evening, even though he now recalled insisting that he should seek her out for another dance should they meet at another social event. The matter with Miss Martin grated on his mind, irritating him a little as he considered seeing Miss Smallwood again. “That means that Miss Martin will, no doubt, be accompanying her,” he said, seeing how Lord Townend looked away. “Unless her father, Lord…” He closed his eyes, trying to remember.

“Lord Churston.”

“Yes, Lord Churston. Unless Lord Churston is to attend?”

Lord Townend shook his head. “The gentleman sent his regrets but insisted that his daughter would attend and would do so with her companion, so yes, both shall be in attendance this evening.” He looked at Daniel with a slight flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “I thought you quite liked the chit.”

“She was agreeable, yes,” Daniel admitted carefully, “but she did not capture my attention in any significant way, if that is what you are asking me.” His heart twisted for a moment, as though he had betrayed himself in some way, but Daniel thrust that aside quickly. Miss Smallwood had been easy to converse with, yes, and certainly he had discovered himself being a good deal more open with her than he had with any other young lady of his acquaintance, but that meant nothing in particular… did it?

“I think Miss Smallwood might be glad to see you,” Lord Townend offered, another broad smile settling over his face. “She appeared quite taken with you that evening.”

Dismissing this, Daniel rolled his eyes. “I hardly think you can suggest such a thing just because she and I danced together on two occasions that evening.”

“Oh, then you did not see her watching you with those intense blue eyes of hers,” Lord Townend replied with a quick chuckle. “You did not see how, in the middle of her conversation, she quite lost her thoughts for she was distracted by your nearness to us.” He lifted one eyebrow, sending Daniel into a whirlwind of confusion. “I know that you state you enjoy your life as it currently stands, but I do think that Miss Smallwood might merit a little more interest.”

“Or you just wish to see if Miss Martin will continue on her path to push me from her new charge,” Daniel replied dryly, not wanting to allow Lord Townend to convince him of something that was not truly there. He could not tell whether or not what Lord Townend had said about Miss Smallwood was true or whether he was simply saying it in order to convince Daniel to seek out Miss Smallwood again, perhaps to see how Miss Martin behaved thereafter. His friend was always seeking out something or other to occupy his mind, although some of the time it was not in Lord Townend’s best interests. This, Daniel suspected, was just another of Lord Townend’s schemes.

“You shall just have to wait and see, then, shall you not?” Lord Townend replied, not answering Daniel’s questions. “Miss Martin will attend, yes, although I do not think that she knows what to do with such a headstrong and determined young lady as Miss Smallwood!” He laughed and moved away, seeing the footman open the door for what was the first of his guests. “I do hope you have an enjoyable evening, Williamson.”

Two hours later and Daniel had still not gone to speak to Miss Smallwood, who was now conversing with Lord Montague. Lord Montague was showing Miss Smallwood a good deal of interest, Daniel thought, for the gentleman had been talking with her for almost half an hour and showed no sign of wanting to move away. Miss Martin was standing just behind Miss Smallwood, her eyes flickering back and forth across the room, as though she needed to prepare her charge should another gentleman approach.

The urge to approach Miss Smallwood and engage her in conversation grew steadily, despite Daniel’s insistence that he had no interest in the young lady. Whether it was because Lord Townend had made the suggestion that Miss Smallwood had been caught by his attentions during the evening of the ball, or because he himself found himself wondering what Miss Martin might do should he greet her charge, Daniel found it difficult to battle the increasing desire to draw near to her.

Allowing himself to study her from across the room, he took in Miss Smallwood’s fine form, seeing her sparkling blue eyes even from where he stood. She was laughing at something Lord Montague had said and, much to his surprise, Daniel felt a flicker of jealousy stir in his heart.

“Quite ridiculous,” he told himself sternly. “You have nothing whatsoever to be envious of!” However, he could not seem to drag his gaze away from Miss Smallwood, his hands clasping together tightly as he fought against the way she seemed to draw him near to her. It was quite absurd! He had never allowed his heart to become engaged to any young lady of distinction before, for there were far too many for him to consider, and even though he knew he would need to marry, he felt no particular urgency over it. But now, for whatever reason, he could not lift his gaze from Miss Smallwood and found himself recalling their prior conversation. He had been rather open with her, he had to admit, remembering how he had practically begged her not to listen to rumor but to allow herself to discover the truth about his character without influence from others. Why he had said that, he still was not quite certain. He knew full well that Miss Martin would be doing all she could to dissuade Miss Smallwood from furthering her acquaintance with him, but was that reason enough to practically beg the girl to seek out her own opinion of him?

Frowning, he turned his head away and rubbed at the lines that had formed on his forehead. He did not need to be so caught up with Miss Smallwood, he told himself firmly. There were plenty of young ladies here this evening whose company he might enjoy. Lady Vasquez and her daughter, Lady Esther, had arrived only a few minutes ago and there was certainly an increased interest in their arrival for the room had seemed to buzz with unhindered excitement.

“Lord Williamson, good evening.”

His head jerked up to see none other than the object of his thoughts coming towards him, a light smile on her face. Miss Martin was behind her, her face white and her eyes narrowed, but Daniel ignored her easily enough.

“Ah, Miss Smallwood,” he replied with a quick bow, wondering if she had caught the way he had been watching her and feeling a rush of heat climb up his spine. “Good evening.”

“You have been standing here alone for some time, Lord Williamson,” she said, her eyes flickering with good humor. “I thought you might appreciate some company.”

The way she smiled up at him had Daniel’s heart quickening, although he could give no explanation as to why that might be.

“That is most considerate of you,” he answered, inclining his head again and thinking that Miss Smallwood was, in fact, a most thoughtful creature. “I was merely thinking on some matters that had captured my attention of late.”

“Oh?” The curiosity in her eyes and her voice had Daniel flushing hot, realizing quickly that he could not exactly say what it was he had been thinking of. She leaned in, conspiratorially. “Is it to do with Lady Vasquez’s arrival?”

Surprised, he looked down at her, seeing how she grinned and finding his own lips curving upwards also. “It is the talk of the evening, I know,” he replied, his unease beginning to fade away. “Are you acquainted with either of them?”

Miss Smallwood surprised him by the sharp exclamation that came from her mouth, her cheeks flushing at his astonished look.

“No, of course I am not,” she replied, trying to cover her obvious embarrassment with a shrug of nonchalance. “I am the daughter of a mere baron, Lord Williamson. I do not think that the daughter of a marquess would be particularly interested in greeting someone such as myself, who has such a lowly position within society compared to their own.”

Daniel frowned, tilting his head just a little. “I do not think that one’s title or fortune should matter when it comes to acquaintances and the like, Miss Smallwood. I rather think that one’s character should speak for itself.”

“I quite agree,” she replied, her cheeks still a little flushed which, Daniel thought, gave her quite a charming appearance. “And yet that is not the way of society, is it?”

He chewed on this for a moment or two, aware of how the sparkle seemed to have gone from Miss Smallwood’s gaze. Did she truly think so little of herself, based only on her father’s title? There were many within society in a similar situation, for did not he feel such a thing himself, given that he was a viscount and Lady Esther the daughter of a marquess?

“I do not believe, Miss Smallwood, that we should allow our own consideration of ourselves and our standing within society to prevent us from greeting Lady Vasquez and seeking an introduction to her daughter,” he replied with a sudden firmness of mind and heart. “Here, come now.” Offering her his arm, he saw how she hesitated, glancing towards Miss Martin for just a moment. He himself did not look at Miss Martin, fully aware that the lady would be strongly discouraging Miss Smallwood to accept his arm, but thankfully, the lady ignored her companion entirely and, eventually, placed her hand on his arm.

A flurry of warmth rushed into his heart, but Daniel merely cleared his throat, seeing how Lord Townend was, at this very moment, talking to Lady Vasquez and her daughter. If they were to be introduced, then this would be the perfect opportunity.

“Come, then, Miss Smallwood,” he said, beginning to walk towards his friend. “Let us be bold and seek an introduction from Lord Townend. Who knows? We may find ourselves quite surprised at the reception.”

“I find myself a little surprised already,” Miss Smallwood murmured, her cheeks flaring with color as he glanced at her. “But I thank you for your consideration, Lord Williamson. It is most kind of you.”

“Not at all,” Daniel answered, feeling quite satisfied with himself. “I am glad to be in your company again, Miss Smallwood, and shall do all I can to ensure you have a wonderful evening.”

Quite where such a sentiment had come from, Daniel could not say, but he accepted it without hesitation or inner reproach to himself. There was something quite satisfying about having Miss Smallwood on his arm, Daniel thought to himself, seeing how Lord Townend turned towards them, his eyes flickering with interest. Perhaps he should consider seeking her out again so that they would not have to meet by chance at the next social occasion. Mayhap he ought to be a little more purposeful in his intentions—although quite what those attentions were, he was not at all certain.

“Good evening, Lord Townend,” he said, bowing as though he had not seen his friend all evening.

“Good evening,” Miss Smallwood murmured, looking demurely towards their host. “Thank you for a lovely evening thus far, Lord Townend. It has been most enjoyable.”

“I am glad you have had such a pleasant time,” Lord Townend replied, throwing a knowing look towards Daniel, who ignored it completely. “And do let me introduce you to my acquaintances, Miss Smallwood, if you would.”

Daniel felt his satisfaction grow as the introductions were made and both he and Miss Smallwood greeted Lady Vasquez and Lady Esther. For whatever reason, he felt almost proud that he had ensured Miss Smallwood had furthered her acquaintance and could now boast that she had conversed with the daughter of a marquess and the marchioness herself.

“You have been enjoying Miss Smallwood’s company again, I see.”

Daniel looked at his friend, seeing how Lord Townend spoke out of the corner of his mouth as Miss Smallwood continued her conversation with Lady Esther.

“I am,” he agreed, trying not to make anything of it. “And thank you for the introductions, Townend.”

Lord Townend chuckled, his sharp eyes not missing a single thing. “You do not seem particularly eager to speak to Lady Esther, however. Is it because you find yourself contented with Miss Smallwood’s company?”

Frowning, Daniel gave a tiny shake of his head, telling his friend that now was neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. Lord Townend merely chuckled and then returned his attentions back towards Lady Vasquez, who was watching Miss Smallwood and her daughter with interest. Daniel smiled to himself. Miss Smallwood was more enchanting than she knew, and certainly more interesting that she believed herself to be. Why, she had even satisfied Lady Vasquez, who apparently thought that the daughter of a mere baron was more than able to have a lengthy conversation with her daughter. Daniel found himself hoping that Miss Smallwood’s confidence would be buoyed by this, feeling a good deal of satisfaction that he had chosen to bring her towards Lord Townend.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Daniel immediately caught sight of Miss Martin, who was standing a few feet away, almost hidden in shadow. Were it not for the sharpness of her eyes and the angry expression on her face, he might have overlooked her entirely but, as it was, he could not miss her. Sighing inwardly, Daniel shook his head to himself and turned his head away. Miss Martin could be as frustrated or as angry as she wished; he was not doing anything improper. He was, in fact, doing more for Miss Smallwood than Miss Martin herself was able to do. Surely then the lady would be grateful, glad for the opportunity that had been given to her charge to further herself within society. But no, it seemed that Miss Martin was determined to dislike him, as she had always done. What he could do or say to convince her that he was not the rogue she believed him to be, Daniel did not know.

Turning his attention back to Miss Smallwood, Daniel felt his spirits lift. Yes, he would have to see if Miss Smallwood could be convinced to walk out with him one day soon, or if he might be able to call upon her. There was something about her that caught his attention, something that was drawing him to her—and it was a feeling that he did not want to fade away.

6

“It is very kind of you to ask me to walk with you this afternoon, Lord Williamson.”

Louisa smiled up at Lord Williamson as they walked together in the park, relieved that she had managed to leave Miss Martin back in the waiting carriage. She had promised that she would not go out of sight of it and thus insisted that there was no requirement for Miss Martin to walk with them both.

“It is a very fine day, is it not?” he asked, throwing her a quick smile. “A very fine afternoon.”

She nodded, looking about her and taking in the beautiful flowers, the shrubs, bushes, and trees that lay all over the gardens. It was, as Lord Williamson said, a very fine afternoon and she was enjoying every moment of it thus far.

The fact that he had asked her to walk out with him had come as something of a surprise, although she had been more than delighted to accept. Her father had agreed without hesitation, waving away Miss Martin’s obvious concerns and stating that he had not discovered anything of note about Lord Williamson’s conduct. This was, as far as Louisa knew, nothing more than a lie, for her father would have done nothing of the sort when it came to finding out more about Lord Williamson. Most likely, he had simply told himself that they were nothing more than rumors whilst being inwardly glad that his daughter was now making progress with a gentleman who would be richer and have a better title than that of Sir Walton.

“You appear to be a little distracted, Miss Smallwood.”

Her steps stumbled as a jolt of shame rushed through her. “My apologies, Lord Williamson,” she stammered, looking up at him and seeing the easy grin on his face. “I am so terribly sorry. I thought—I was merely thinking about something that has been on my mind of late.”

“Indeed. And what might that be, Miss Smallwood, if it is not too bold to ask?”

She hesitated, wondering if she ought to be truthful with him. There was a growing acquaintance between them, she had to admit, and she had found herself being rather open with him thus far in a way she had not been before, but this did concern him and he might not wish to speak of it.

“It is only that Miss Martin continues to encourage me away from you,” she replied, biting her lip after she spoke. Daring to look up at him again, she saw how he began to frown, the interest fading from his eyes. “I cannot help but wonder why she believes you to be a cad when I myself have heard no such rumors.”

Lord Williamson sighed and shook his head. “I am no cad, Miss Smallwood.”

“I can easily accept that, given that I have not heard any gossip even relating to such a name,” she answered honestly. “But why, then, does Miss Martin believe you to be so?”

Silence drew out before them, winding itself around her and tightening about her throat. Her awkwardness began to grow steadily, her question lingering between them and yet remaining unanswered. What was it that Lord Williamson did not want to say? Was it because there was, in fact, something in his past that Miss Martin knew of? Something that he had kept so well hidden that only one or two knew of it—and with Miss Martin being a companion, not many would listen to her? Terror began to clutch at her heart, making her breath hitch as she waited for Lord Williamson to answer. When he did not, she began to stammer nervously, trying to tell him that it did not matter, she had not meant to pry, but that it was only that Miss Martin’s vehemence was so overwhelming, she could not help it.

“Pray, do not worry, Miss Smallwood.” Lord Williamson stopped, sighed heavily, and turned to face her. “Might we sit for a moment?”

“Yes, of course.” Looking behind her, she saw a small wooden bench and seated herself on it quickly, smoothing her skirts and throwing a glance to her right, seeing that they were both in sight of the carriage. “As I have said, Lord Williamson, I did not mean to pry.”

“You have not,” he answered easily. “It is quite understandable that you should have such questions, when it is your companion that is urging you away from me.” Again, another sigh issued from his lips. “There is nothing in my past nor my present that should make Miss Martin believe me to be a cad or a rogue. That truth is there for everyone to see. I have never taken advantage of a young lady, nor have I lost myself in gambling and thereafter tried to escape paying what I owe. I have not treated anyone poorly, nor have I lorded myself over those less fortunate than I.” Shaking his head, he spread his hands, looking down at her where she sat. “I do not mean to boast, Miss Smallwood, but you must understand that I seek to clear my character and my name in your eyes.”

“I do understand,” Louisa replied hastily. “I just wish to understand why she thinks so poorly of you when there is no reason for her to do so.”

Lord Williamson shook his head again, his brows low over his eyes. “And she has said nothing?”

“No, she has not,” Louisa answered truthfully. “She gives me no explanation.”

Lord Williamson nodded slowly, his brows knotting as deep grooves lined his forehead. His eyes were turned away from her, as though he were considering something of great importance and deciding what it was he should do next.

“Then I can give you no explanation either,” he stated eventually, looking at her directly. “Your companion thinks ill of me and there is no reason for it, as far as I am aware. I wish I could tell you more, Miss Smallwood, for I do not want you to think poorly of me or to have questions about my character. If I could, I would ensure that your consideration of me was entirely positive.”

Her heart quickened at the sudden yearning in his eyes. “But it is, Lord Williamson,” she found herself saying, aware of the sudden change in his demeanor as she spoke. “What I mean to say is that I do have an entirely positive consideration of your character—thus far, at least.”

He looked at her steadily for some moments, not saying a single word. She took in the sudden lightness in his hazel eyes, the tiny lift in the corner of his mouth, and felt her heart quicken suddenly. A blush graced her cheeks, a blush that spoke of her heightened awareness of him, of the intimacy that seemed to grow with every beat of her heart. Mayhap she had spoken too openly or with too much conviction. Mayhap she ought not to have said a single word.

“You are most kind, Miss Smallwood.”

She swallowed hard. “I thank you,” she replied with as much sincerity as she could. “I speak of what is in my heart, Lord Williamson, that is all. I do not want you to think that talk of rumors will influence me.”

“Then you are most unusual,” came the reply, making her brows lift in surprise. “I beg you not to take offence, however, for I mean that you are one of the few to consider rumors, gossip, and the like to be precisely that—whispers that often have no basis in truth. You are one who would, I believe, not accept a rumor just upon hearing it but would then go and seek out the truth before making a decision.” Surprising her still further, he sat down on the bench and looked into her eyes. “I do not think, Miss Smallwood, that you would give someone the cut direct without being entirely certain that they deserved it.”

Louisa pressed her lips together, aware of how her stomach tightened and her fingers laced together. Had she ever been this near to a gentleman before? Had she ever seen such a look in a gentleman’s eyes before? She did not think so, for she would have recalled feeling as overwhelmed as she did at this present moment, she was sure.

“I—I should like to call upon you again, if I may.”

“Of course,” Louisa said at once, a thrill running up her chest as she saw him smile. “I would be glad of your company, Lord Williamson.”

“Good.” He held her gaze for another moment and then rose from his seat, offering her his hand. “We should return to the carriage. Miss Martin will not be particularly pleased if I should keep you out here for much longer.”

Louisa laughed, feeling the tension begin to drain from her. “I do not think she would be pleased with any length of time, Lord Williamson.” She accepted his hand, trying to ignore the way her heart thudded furiously with the touch of his hand on hers. “Not that such a thing matters to me.”

“No,” he answered, smiling down at her and, to her surprise, placing her hand on his arm so that they might walk together. “No, I am certain it does not and I am, I admit, rather glad of your consideration, Miss Smallwood.”

Louisa made to answer as a happiness began to bubble up within her heart, only for another voice to call out Lord Williamson’s name. She turned, her hand dropping from his arm as he let out a short exclamation of surprise.

“Lady Burton,” he said at once, bowing quickly. “Good afternoon! I—”

“Did you forget, Lord Williamson?” she cooed, ignoring Louisa completely. “I thought we were to meet some twenty minutes ago and as you can see, I have been patiently waiting.” She smiled and simpered in Lord Williamson’s direction, batting her eyelashes delicately.

Louisa tensed at once, not quite certain what this lady meant by suggesting that she was to meet Lord Williamson in the park, for surely Lord Williamson had called upon only her and would not have made another arrangement with someone else. She glanced up at Lord Williamson, seeing how a line formed between his brows as he looked back at the lady.

“I—I do not know what you mean, Lady Burton,” he said firmly. “I am sorry if you have made a mistake, but I have not made a prior arrangement to meet with you.” He gestured towards Louisa. “As you can see, I am currently walking with Miss Smallwood.”

Lady Burton trilled a laugh again, her perfect pink lips stretched into a wide smile that spoke of an understanding that, apparently, Louisa did not have.

“But of course,” Lady Burton murmured, her expression now becoming rather coy. “I quite understand.” She gave Lord Williamson a long look, her lips now curved in a seductive smile. “You must return to Miss Smallwood. Never fear, I shall not hold your tardiness against you.” Laughing, she turned away from them both, still having refused to give Louisa even a single look. “I shall be waiting precisely where we arranged, Lord Williamson, have no fear. I am nothing if not patient.”

The lady walked away from them both, leaving Louisa feeling utterly foolish and completely disregarded. Lady Burton, whomever she was, clearly thought that Louisa meant very little to Lord Williamson, for he was expected just to remove Louisa from his company and thereafter return to Lady Burton.

“Miss Smallwood, I must assure you that I did not make any arrangements with Lady Burton,” Lord Williamson began, turning to her with an expression of growing panic coming over his face. “I certainly did not tell her that I had any intention of walking with her in the park this afternoon.”

Louisa tried to nod, tried to smile, but felt her confusion grow so steadily that it was almost impossible to do so. “Of course,” she murmured, still not at all certain about what had just passed between Lady Burton and Lord Williamson. “I—I understand.”

“Quite where she got the idea that I was to walk with her today, I do not know,” Lord Williamson continued to protest, not moving an inch but rather continuing to stand in front of her. “I swear to you, Miss Smallwood, I would not have treated you with such disdain as to make arrangements with another lady of quality when I am meant to be solely in your company.”

Such was the eagerness in his eyes and the sound of desperation in his voice that, despite her own confusion, Louisa felt herself inclined to believe him. Quite how there could be such a misunderstanding, she did not know, but for the time being, she was content to accept Lord Williamson’s promise that he had nothing whatsoever to do with what had occurred.

“Shall we return to the carriage?” she asked, not wanting to consider the matter any further for the time being. “Look, I can see Miss Martin watching us both with her usual sharp eyes.”

This, it seemed, brought a small smile to Lord Williamson’s expression, his relief all the more evident when she accepted his arm once again.

“Thank you, Miss Smallwood,” he murmured, looking at her as though she had brought his every wish to life. “You are most understanding.”

Wanting to say that she did not quite understand everything that had just occurred but was willing to accept his word for it regardless, Louisa merely smiled and fell into step with him, walking quietly and quickly back to the carriage. Opening the door for her, Lord Williamson once more bestowed a warm smile upon her, which aided her reassurance all the more.

“Was that Lady Burton I saw talking with you both?” Miss Martin asked, the moment Lord Williamson had settled himself on the seat opposite Louisa. “She is that very rich widow, is she not?” A small, triumphant smile began to play about her mouth, but Louisa frowned back at her, not allowing her to grasp a hold of whatever victory she thought she held.

“I was glad to make her acquaintance, Lord Williamson,” she stated, even though Lady Burton had not so much as said a single word to her. “Thank you for such an enjoyable afternoon. I look forward to your next visit.”

Lord Williamson gave her a grateful smile whilst Miss Martin sank back in her seat, scowling. “A walk to the bookshop, mayhap?” he suggested. “Or an ice at Gunter’s, if the weather is fine?”

“I should be glad to do either,” she told him, throwing aside the last threads of confusion and doubt that held her. It had been a mistake, that was all. Lady Burton must have made arrangements with another and somehow thought it was Lord Williamson for whom she was meant to be waiting.

“Capital,” he replied, back to the easy, warm manner that she had enjoyed so much at the first. “Shall we say tomorrow? Or the day after that?”

Aware that Miss Martin was throwing angry darts in her direction, Louisa smiled back at Lord Williamson and let happiness fill her heart once more. “Tomorrow would suit me very well, Lord Williamson,” she replied contentedly. “I shall look forward to being in your company again very soon.”

“As will I,” he assured her, warmth in both his voice and his expression. “Thank you, Miss Smallwood. I have greatly enjoyed this afternoon and that has been singularly thanks to your excellent company.”

She blushed at the compliment and looked away, now more certain than ever that Lord Williamson had been caught up in a case of mistaken identity. He was genuine in his compliments and honest in his words, no matter what Miss Martin thought. She smiled to herself and looked out of the carriage window, seeing the London streets busy with ladies and gentlemen of the ton, all on their way to Hyde Park for the fashionable hour and feeling, for the first time in her life, a good deal of hope that she might, one day soon, walk these streets as a lady courted by an eligible gentleman. A gentleman like Lord Williamson.

7

“I cannot understand it!”

Daniel shook his head as he sat down in White’s, seeing Lord Townend gesture to a footman for a drink to be brought to them both.

“I have not seen Lady Burton in some time,” he continued furiously. “Whatever gave her the impression that I was to walk with her in the park, on the very same afternoon and at the very same time that I was to walk with Miss Smallwood?” He slapped one hand down hard on the table, the brandy in his glass sloshing at the impact. “It is most ridiculous.”

“Indeed,” Lord Townend murmured, looking at Daniel thoughtfully. “You say you have not seen Lady Burton for some time? Is that the truth?”

Feeling as though Lord Townend had slapped him hard across the face, Daniel felt his jaw jut forward, his brow lowering. “I am not inclined to mistruths,” he told his friend, seeing the flush of shame that immediately crept into Lord Townend’s face. “I am well aware that Lady Burton has a decent fortune, is widowed, and is inclined to share her favors, but I am not at all inclined towards her. Surely you know me well enough to understand that, Townend!”

“I do,” Lord Townend replied at once, looking a little ashamed. “Forgive me. The question was on my mind and I merely meant—”

“I have not spoken to the lady in weeks,” Daniel interrupted firmly. “I have not made any sort of arrangement with her. She has no interest in me, as far as I am aware. Therefore, I must try to understand why she thought I was to meet her in the park.”

Lord Townend twisted his lips, nodding slowly. “Did you return to the park once you had said farewell to Miss Smallwood?” he asked, to which Daniel nodded. “Did you try to explain?”

Daniel shook his head. He had not known what to do, for seeing the look on Miss Smallwood’s face as he had said farewell to Lady Burton had thrown him into a dither. The way she had nodded and tried to smile, had tried to pretend that what Lady Burton had said had not affected her in any way, had made his heart ache with confusion and frustration. “I did go back to the park, yes,” he admitted, recalling how he had hurried his carriage back towards Hyde Park, jumping out from it and wandering through it in search of Lady Burton. “But I did not find her.” It had been the fashionable hour by the time he had returned and so the park was practically filled with ladies and gentlemen of the beau monde, which had made it almost impossible for him to single Lady Burton out, but part of him was suspicious that she would not have been there anyway, even if the park had been practically empty. Something about it had unsettled him.

“It is most peculiar, I grant you,” Lord Townend replied, throwing back the rest of his brandy and then immediately ordering another. “So you were out walking with Miss Smallwood, did you say?”

“Yes,” Daniel replied distractedly. “But that does not matter. What concerns me is—”

“I should think it matters a great deal,” Lord Townend replied with a quick grin. “You were out walking with Miss Smallwood! That is excellent news.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, feeling his frustration begin to give way to exasperation. “Miss Smallwood accepted my explanation that there must have been some sort of confusion on Lady Burton’s part,” he replied quickly. “There is nothing to concern us there.”

“And you would not want Miss Smallwood to have a poor impression of you.”

Aware of what his friend was trying to squeeze out of him, Daniel spread his hands. “I am certain she does not,” he replied, seeing Lord Townend grin. “And yes, I am to call upon her again come the morrow, since no doubt you are eagerly going to ask me about such a thing in a moment.” He sighed as Lord Townend laughed, wishing that his friend would concentrate on what Daniel considered to be the much more important matter. “And yes, I consider her excellent company and I admit to looking forward to being with her again. There. Does that satisfy you?”

“Indeed,” Lord Townend replied with a wave of his hand. “You forget, Williamson, that I have not seen you in such a state before. You have never once shown much interest in a young lady of note.”

“That is because there have been none so open and none so interesting as Miss Smallwood before,” Daniel replied honestly, not hiding anything from his friend. “Young ladies often bat their eyes at me but care nothing for what I say or what my opinions are on any given thing. They see my title and fortune and nothing else.”

Lord Townend nodded slowly. “You believe she sees more?”

“I know it,” Daniel stated firmly. “She is interested in what I have to say, as I am in hearing her thoughts also. She is vastly different from the mostly insipid, rather vacant young ladies that have so often come close to me.” Feeling his exasperation begin to die away as his thoughts centered on Miss Smallwood, Daniel let out a long breath. “Pray do not mock me for it, old boy.”

Lord Townend looked surprised, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly ajar. Catching himself, he began to bluster, shaking his head and stuttering for a moment.

“I would do no such thing, no such thing!” he protested vehemently. “I do not think it mirthful that one should find oneself caught up with a lady, Williamson! I am surprised you think it of me.”

Daniel shrugged. “You must admit that it is a state that neither of us have discovered ourselves in before.”

Much to his surprise, Lord Townend turned his head away, looking a trifle uneasy. Daniel sat forward in his chair, astonishment seeming to push him forward. “Do not tell me that you consider yourself to have been so caught before, Lord Townend!” he exclaimed as the footman put down two fresh glasses of brandy on the table between Daniel and Lord Townend. “That cannot be!”

Lord Townend cleared his throat quickly, reaching forward for his brandy so that he would not have to look Daniel in the eye. “I would not speak of it.”

“But you must!” Daniel replied, a sudden burst of excitement rushing through him. “Who is the lady? Have you spoken to her father? Is he amenable?”

Holding up one hand in silent protest, Lord Townend turned sorrowful eyes back onto Daniel, silencing him completely. The smile fell from Daniel’s face as he took in his friend’s demeanor, a little surprised to see him so downcast. He felt as though he had come very close to something dangerous, something that, if opened completely, would bring Lord Townend a good deal of pain.

“Forgive me,” he stammered, feeling more than a little awkward. “I did not mean to upset you, Townend. Pray, do not speak of it if you do not wish to. I will not hold you to it.” Picking up his brandy, he sat back in his chair, wishing he could simply blow away the evident tension that was now between them, as a cloud moves away from the sun. Gruffly, he cleared his throat and tried to think of something to say.

“There is nothing to forgive.” Lord Townend’s voice was quiet, quieter than Daniel had ever heard it. “It is something that I have carried for some time, Williamson, and have not spoken of it to anyone.”

“I am sorry,” Daniel replied slowly, looking at his friend, only to discover that he was gazing at the table, a lost look in his eyes. “Why did it not work out as you had hoped?”

Lord Townend screwed up his face, his eyes squeezing shut. “I could not say,” he replied, his voice a little ragged. “That is the worst of it, you see. We were acquainted, that was all, but I found a fondness and an affection growing for her within my heart that I could not deny. Such a feeling scared me half to death and for some time, I did not want to even admit that my heart was gone to her.” He shook his head, throwing his hands wide as he opened his eyes. “But then I discovered that she had been out walking with another gentleman and that she had accepted his courtship. Before I could speak to her, however, she was gone.”

Daniel frowned. “Gone?”

His friend nodded. “She was simply no longer seen in society and when I enquired, I discovered that she had turned away from her life as she knew it. Even to this day, I cannot tell what it was that pushed her away although I fear that it was something to do with this other gentleman. I fear that he had attempted to take advantage and that she…” He shook his head. “I never once had the opportunity to tell her how I felt. It was much too late and I had not taken a hold of the boldness required to speak to her when I had the chance. She was gone. My heart was gone with her. Even when I see her now, it is as though we are strangers.”

Daniel blinked in surprise. “You see her still?” he asked, tilting his head. “I thought you said she turned from her life as it was.”

“Yes,” Lord Townend answered bitterly. “She did. For a time, at least. Now, it seems, she has returned to it, although not in all its fullness.”

Hesitating and aware that further questions might cause Lord Townend yet more pain, Daniel let out his breath slowly before pressing forward. “Might you try to seek her out again? To pursue her and to tell the truth? If you still care for her as you do, then—”

“I love her!”

The words seemed to rebound off the walls as Lord Townend, wide-eyed and red-faced, stared at Daniel with utter desperation. It was a state that Daniel had never seen his friend in before and, as such, did not know what it was he should do.

“I love her desperately,” Lord Townend continued, his voice lower than before. “And it breaks my heart every time I see her and every time she refuses to return my gaze, refuses to speak to me, refuses to even come near me.” Closing his eyes tightly, he thrust one hand into his hair, his head hanging low. “I do not know what it is that holds her back from me for I have tried to converse with her, but she merely turns her head away. It is utter torment, Williamson, and one that I might battle alone.”

Daniel was almost voiceless with the shock of what Lord Townend had revealed, aware that there was a part of Lord Townend’s life that he had no knowledge of. The inability to help him continued to burn into his mind, his thoughts flying from one thing to the next in the hope that he might find something to say to ease his friend’s suffering. Lord Townend had always been so jolly, so outgoing, and constantly cheerful that he had never once suspected there was a deep sorrow held within. It was more than a little astonishing and Daniel felt himself sink lower into the mire as he fought to say or do even a single thing.

“I—I am sorry,” he stammered, feeling utterly useless. “I wish there was something I might do to aid you.”

“There is not,” Lord Townend replied, drawing in a long breath and seeming to regain some of his composure. “I had thought that such feelings might leave me, but as yet, they have not.”

Daniel shook his head, picked up his glass of brandy, and drained it, feeling it warm his belly and take some of the shock from him. “You have always seemed very contented with life and I have never once suspected that—”

“I have tried to bury it within myself, but I have never been able to do so completely,” Lord Townend interrupted, beckoning to the footman and indicating the empty glasses. “At least now I might be the one to tell you that if you have even a hint of affection for this young lady, if you believe that you might rub along very well together, then you must grasp at the opportunity with both hands for it may never come to you again in this lifetime.”

Daniel nodded slowly, still quite astonished by what Lord Townend had revealed. “I understand,” he replied, finding this sober Lord Townend to be something of a conundrum. “I shall do as you suggest.”

This seemed to satisfy Lord Townend for he nodded sagely and then accepted another glass of brandy from the footman. “I thank you for your willingness to help me, Williamson,” he added as Daniel accepted the second glass. “I wish there was something you might do to remove this torment from me, but I fear there is not. I would tell you more but…” He trailed off, his eyes on the swirling brandy that he moved about the glass. A peculiar smile came over his face as he watched it, leaving Daniel with the unsettling feeling that there was more to what Lord Townend had said thus far, but also aware that his friend did not want to reveal anything else.

“But it would do no good, I suppose,” he finished, as Lord Townend sipped at his brandy. “You know that I should be very glad to listen to you, however, if there is ever anything more you wish to share.”

“I do,” Lord Townend replied, his voice and expression now a little firmer. “I do apologize if I shocked you somewhat with that outburst. I did not intend to let anything like that slip from my mouth and yet it did so without intention.”

Daniel shook his head. “Pray, do not apologize,” he told Lord Townend. “Truly, I was glad to listen.” He raised his glass. “And might I say that I hope, in time, things improve in whatever way they can.” He had not liked to see his friend so upset, hardly daring to imagine what it must feel like to care so deeply for a lady, only to lose her without explanation. And to see the lady in question again and have her refuse to even acknowledge one’s presence must make it almost unbearable.

Lord Townend smiled ruefully but raised his glass also. “One can hope, I suppose,” he muttered, before throwing back the rest of his brandy and draining the glass completely.

8

“Good evening, Lord Williamson.”

Louisa smiled in greeting as Lord Williamson bowed, clearly happy to see her, given the broad smile on his face.

“Good evening, Miss Smallwood,” he replied, raising his head. “I do hope you have had an enjoyable day.” His eyebrow lifted, his mouth quirked, and Louisa laughed in response.

“A most enjoyable day, yes,” she replied as his grin grew all the more. “In fact, I was out walking in the afternoon and came across a wonderful little bookshop. It was utterly charming and within it, I found some excellent new books to read.”

“Indeed,” he replied, sounding interested. “And were you able to purchase them?”

Louisa shook her head at his teasing, aware that he was pretending he had not been present so that she might compliment him. “I did not purchase them, in fact,” she answered, a twinkle in her eye. “However, I had an excellent companion who agreed to purchase them for me.”

“A companion, you say,” Lord Williamson murmured, his eyes darting towards someone over Louisa’s left shoulder. “You do not speak of your companion, Miss Martin, do you?”

A faint blush climbed into Louisa’s cheeks as she answered, knowing full well that she had enjoyed a wonderful afternoon with Lord Williamson and that even Miss Martin’s evident disapproval had not detracted from it. “No, I do not,” she replied warmly. “I had an excellent gentleman with me, and it was he who purchased the books. I must hope that he knows just how kind I think him to be, and how much I enjoyed being in his company this afternoon.”

Much to her surprise, Lord Williamson dropped his head, clearing his throat a little gruffly. A smile was still lingering on his face, however, making her wonder if he was a little embarrassed with the compliments she had lain out in front of him.

“You are very kind, Miss Smallwood,” he told her, glancing towards her. “I also had a most enjoyable afternoon, I must admit. Mayhap we might go to that bookshop together again soon—once you have finished those books, of course.”

“Of course,” she agreed quickly, her heart fluttering at the hope in his eyes. “I am a vivacious reader, Lord Williamson, so it shall not be too long, I should think.”

“Excellent.” He gave her another quick bow as though she had done him a great honor. “And before then, I must hope that you will be inclined towards walking with me again? Hyde Park? Or St. James’ Park?”

Louisa blushed with pleasure, hope flooding her heart as she looked into Lord Williamson’s eyes. “I should like that very much,” she answered, seeing his immediate smile. “In fact, Lord Williamson, I should be glad to go anywhere with you. I do enjoy your company.”

He blinked, perhaps a little surprised by her honesty, only to incline his head and then look down at her again. “Wonderful,” he said, looking as delighted as she felt. “Mayhap it should be St. James’ Park then, since we have already walked within Hyde Park.”

“I would like that very much.”

“Excellent.” Quickly arranging the day and time when they might walk together, Lord Williamson excused himself, saying he could see that there were others who wished to speak to her, and moved away from her side.

“What a shame.”

Louisa tensed at once, the smile dropping from her expression immediately as she turned towards Miss Martin.

“Miss Martin, I have no need of your involvement at present,” she told her companion sharply, not wishing to hear Miss Martin speak ill of Lord Williamson. “I am able to keep matters under control at present.”

Miss Martin sniffed, her face a little white and her eyes narrowed as she watched Lord Williamson walk away. Still, Louisa did not know what it was about Lord Williamson that Miss Martin seemed to despise so much, wishing that she knew the truth in all its entirety, but believing that Miss Martin would never give her what she wished. If not for the fact that the Season was nearing its end, as well as the fact that her father might well refuse, Louisa would have begged Lord Churston to find her a better, more suitable companion, but as it was, she had to keep Miss Martin by her side. It would not matter for too much longer, however, Louisa considered, for if things continued to improve with Lord Williamson, then she might soon have no need for a companion.

“Lord Montague seeks to speak to you also, Miss Smallwood.”

Louisa frowned. “Lord Montague?” She had not set eyes upon that particular gentleman since they had first met almost a fortnight ago. “He is present here this evening?” The musicale evening had around forty guests, by her estimation, but as yet she had not noticed Lord Montague, although that might have been due to the fact that she had only been looking for Lord Williamson.

“Indeed,” Miss Martin replied, her lips thinner than Louisa had ever seen them. She turned her head away, giving Louisa the impression that this was yet another gentleman that she disapproved of. “I believe he wishes to converse with you.”

“And you do not think that I should consider him either,” Louisa replied with a heavy sigh. “What is it about Lord Montague that you dislike, Miss Martin? Pray do not tell me that there is rumor and gossip surrounding him, for you know very well what I think of such things.”

To her very great surprise, Miss Martin took in a long breath and turned to face Louisa, her eyes no longer narrowed and filled with spite but instead holding a measured gaze.

“I am aware that I have given you a poor impression of my judgments thus far, Miss Smallwood, and whilst I cannot hope that you will listen to me now, I must tell you that I believe Lord Montague is not an appropriate gentleman for you.”

Louisa wanted to throw up her hands in exasperation, wanted to groan aloud and ask Miss Martin if there were any gentlemen within the ton that she would approve of, but given that she was surrounded by other guests, she knew she could not. Instead, she contented herself by expressing her exasperation in one long, heavy sigh, with a fixed, firm gaze and a slight shake of her head.

“I am aware that you wish to make your own judgments about such things, Miss Smallwood, but in this matter, I am correct in my warning. Lord Montague does not care for your company, but rather only for his appearance.”

Louisa frowned. “His appearance?”

“It will do him well to be seen in the company of a beautiful young lady such as yourself, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin answered, although her voice held no intonation, making her speak in a most dull fashion. “If you knew the gentleman better, you would see that he seeks to surround himself with beauty, charm, and good company, but that he cares for none in particular. He will not be the sort of gentleman who considers the future and looks to courtship and matrimony. You have my promise in that.”

Louisa wanted to throw aside Miss Martin’s comments at once, wanted to disregard them completely, but there was something in her companion’s voice that made her hesitate. There was no anger, no fury, and no evidence of frustration in her eyes or her speech, as there had been when she had spoken of Lord Williamson. Again, Louisa was convinced that there was more to Miss Martin’s dislike of Lord Williamson than she had said so far, but when it came to Lord Montague, Louisa found herself beginning to consider what Miss Martin said.

“It does not matter, does it?” she answered slowly, seeing how Miss Martin’s eyes flickered. “I do not care to be courted by Lord Montague, for my intentions are towards Lord Williamson.”

Miss Martin dropped her gaze. “You know that I—”

“You need not speak of it, Miss Martin, for as yet I have not discovered any truth to the rumors that you speak of as regards Lord Williamson, and therefore have decided to accept his courtship, should he ask it of me,” Louisa said firmly. “Therefore, Lord Montague, whilst I will speak to him, will not gain any attentions from me.”

Miss Martin let out a long breath, seeming to steady herself. “If I were to guide you towards one of them, Miss Smallwood, then it might surprise you to know that it would be the former,” she said as Louisa regarded her with a good degree of astonishment. “Lord Montague is not the sort of gentleman that anyone with your… requirements should consider.”

“I thank you,” Louisa murmured, feeling a small stab of sorrow over the fact that she and Miss Martin had never once drawn near to becoming friends. The lady held so much within herself, held so much back and seemed to speak only with dislike and anger towards Lord Williamson that it had driven them far apart from each other. Silently, Louisa wondered whether things would have been different had Lord Williamson not been a part of her immediate acquaintance. “I do appreciate your thoughts, Miss Martin, although I do not appreciate your anger when I do not do as you want.”

Miss Martin colored a deep scarlet, but her eyes held Louisa’s regardless. “I am only seeking to do what I believe is best for you,” she answered. “After all, have I not managed to seek out a husband for both my first and my second charges? I have done so using my knowledge of the beau monde and in guiding them carefully.”

Feeling as though she were making a little progress, Louisa let herself frown but only gently, not wanting to push Miss Martin away. “And yet you have given me no reason as to why you believe Lord Williamson is so entirely unsuitable. You have told me that he is a cad but have shown no evidence for such a statement—and, indeed, I have found none to make your statement true. How differently you have reacted to the news that Lord Montague wishes to speak to me. You have told me outright that he seeks out my company but have given me adequate warning as to his lack of sincere intentions which, I am quite certain, I will be able to find evidence for very soon, if what you say is true. You are not demanding that I stay back from him, or that I not even entertain his company.” She saw Miss Martin’s gaze drop to the ground and fought to keep her voice steady. “Why, then, Miss Martin, is there such evident dislike for Lord Williamson but, for Lord Montague, only a clear warning but no urgency to pull me away from him entirely?”

Her breath caught as Miss Martin looked all about her, seemingly desperate to land her gaze anywhere but on Louisa’s face. There was a struggle in Miss Martin’s expression, as if she wanted to state the truth but had found it quite impossible to do so. Louisa felt herself growing desperate, wanting to know what Miss Martin was hiding but fearing that she would say nothing.

“Lord Williamson quite broke the heart of Miss McBride,” Miss Martin said, her voice low and tremulous. “Miss McBride, my prior charge, believed herself in love with Lord Williamson but he turned her away, after having sought to court her for some weeks.” The lady drew in a shaky breath, lifting her head and finally looking Louisa in the eye. “It broke Miss McBride entirely, to the point that she almost made a dreadful scene in the middle of Lord Pottinger’s ball.” She shook her head, passing a trembling hand over her forehead. “Thank goodness we were able to find another gentleman to marry her so quickly.”

Louisa’s heart had slowly been filling with dread as Miss Martin spoke. She could not quite believe that someone as good and as kind as Lord Williamson could ever behave in such a cold, calculating manner and yet it did, she supposed, make sense. It explained why Miss Martin had such a vehemence towards Lord Williamson and also explained why there were no particular rumors about him that she could find.

“Why did you not tell me this before, Miss Martin?” she enquired, reminding herself that she still had to verify all that Miss Martin had said, for it was still merely hearsay. Mayhap Miss McBride had believed there was something more to her acquaintance with Lord Williamson than there had truly been.

“It was not my place to say.” Miss Martin drew herself up, her eyes now fixed upon Louisa’s, her gaze firm and steady. “I did not wish to bring any shame onto Miss McBride.”

Louisa shook her head, her forehead wrinkling as she tried to make sense of this. “But Miss McBride is now wed and contented,” she replied, confused. “It makes no difference to her whether or not you speak to me of her difficulties.”

Miss Martin swallowed hard and gave a minute shake of her head. “I am loyal,” she replied, lifting her chin a notch. “I keep secrets. I hide what I have seen and what I know. Understand this, Miss Smallwood. I would share nothing about my former charges unless it was absolutely necessary, not even if they have been married for a decade and produced a good few children within that time.”

“And it is very good that you have such discretion,” Louisa considered slowly, “But if it would aid my—”

“There are things I cannot share, Miss Smallwood!” Miss Martin interrupted, her face slowly turning crimson. “Things that I would not share with another living soul.” Gathering herself, she set her shoulders and clasped her hands in front of her, the implication of what she was trying not to say beginning to dawn on Louisa. “Now, shall I accompany you to Lord Montague?”

Louisa’s heart began to pick up speed as she looked into the cold, hard eyes of Miss Martin. She had appeared open and almost vulnerable for a moment but then, after what had only been a few minutes, that had faded and the sternness returned. Louisa knew full well what Miss Martin had been trying to suggest about Lord Williamson, and, fearing that there was more to his acquaintance with Miss McBride than Miss Martin was willing to say, she wondered whether, if such a thing were true, Lord Williamson was really the gentleman she thought him to be.

“Yes, yes, of course,” she stammered, trying to push such thoughts from her mind so that she could consider them at a later time. She saw the glint of steel in Miss Martin’s eyes and felt her own resolve steady. She would speak to Lord Williamson about what Miss Martin had said, would try and discover the truth without immediately believing what had been suggested. That, Louisa determined, was the only way forward.

“I can see he is waiting for you,” Miss Martin murmured as Louisa moved towards where Lord Montague stood, his eyes fixed upon hers. “I would ask you to at the very least consider what I have said about him, however.”

“I will,” Louisa answered with a steadiness that she did not truly feel. “And if I find there to be any truth in your concerns then I shall, of course, act appropriately.” She let out a long breath, forced a smile to her face, and greeted Lord Montague, who looked inordinately pleased that she had come to speak to him. As he bowed, Louisa caught sight of Lord Williamson looking over towards them, a smile fading from his face as he watched Lord Montague lift his head. Louisa held Lord Williamson’s gaze for a moment or two, telling herself that she had nothing, as yet, to worry about. She would speak to Lord Williamson directly and discover the truth about Miss McBride from his lips. If it was as Miss Martin said, then of course, there could be no furthering of their acquaintance and everything that Louisa had hoped for would fade in an instant.

“And are you enjoying this evening, Miss Smallwood?”

Dragged back to the present, Louisa quickly pasted a smile on her face and turned her attention back to Lord Montague. “Yes, indeed,” she lied, hiding her troubled heart from everyone, including herself. “And you?”

“It has improved all the more now that I have your company,” he replied with a broad smile. “And I must insist that I sit by you when the performances begin. I am quite certain that you will be the most entertaining of company.”

Louisa, who did not want to do any such thing, merely smiled and inclined her head, beginning to wish that she had never attended this evening. It had all been going so wonderfully and then, within a moment, her hope had begun to shatter, although it had not yet broken completely. She just had to hope that Lord Williamson would be truthful with her and that, when it came to it, he was not the cad that Miss Martin wanted her so desperately to believe him to be.

9

Something was wrong.

“You appear to be a little lacking in spirit this afternoon, Miss Smallwood.” Daniel did not hold back from speaking honestly to the lady, finding that her ready smile and her sparkling eyes were entirely absent this afternoon. “Is there something the matter?” His eyes narrowed as he saw her glance behind her, to where her companion walked a few steps away from them. Miss Martin had something to do with her present difficulties, then, whatever they were

“I—I have something I must ask you, Lord Williamson,” Miss Smallwood began, looking up at him with what appeared to be a hint of fear in her eyes. “Something that has been brought to my attention.”

He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“It is to do with Miss McBride.”

The name did not immediately capture his attention nor remind him of anyone in particular.

“You do not know her?”

He shrugged. “If she is part of the beau monde, then there is every chance that I have become acquainted with her, yes, but I do not recall her name or her face, Miss Smallwood.” A little nervous that this was the wrong answer to give her, he saw Miss Smallwood’s face furrow. “I apologize if she is someone that means a good deal to you.”

Miss Smallwood shook her head, looking up at him again. Biting her lip, she hesitated and made to say something, only for the words to die on her lips. A slight breeze brushed between them as they continued their walk through St. James’ Park, sending a small chill down Daniel’s spine. What was it Miss Smallwood meant by such a question? He did not know anyone by that name and certainly could not recall their face.

“You are quite certain?”

“I am certain that I do not know anyone by the name of Miss McBride,” he said, a little irritated that he had to repeat himself. “Why do you ask, Miss Smallwood?”

Again came that hesitation and the biting of her lip. Her cheeks colored as she dared another glance up at him, making him wonder just what it was that lay so heavily on her mind.

“It is because I have heard that you were very well acquainted with her, Lord Williamson,” she told him eventually, each word cautious and careful. “I have heard it said that you sought to court her and that thereafter, you turned from her and broke her heart entirely.”

Daniel’s steps slowed as he looked down at Miss Smallwood, seeing the color in her cheeks and the shame in her eyes at having spoken so boldly and having asked so intimate a question. He could not speak for a moment, feeling as though someone had laid out a trap for him to fall into.

“I do not know anyone named Miss McBride,” he promised firmly. “I have danced and been acquainted with a good many young ladies over the Season and, indeed, the Season before it, but I have never once sought to court any of them. You might ask any of my friends, should you wish to verify it, but I am not the sort of gentleman who considers matrimony or the future and, therefore, I have had no eagerness to seek out courtship with any particular lady. You are mistaken, Miss Smallwood. I have never once sought to court Miss McBride, nor any other lady of my acquaintance. It is not a desire I have.”

Miss Smallwood stopped dead, her feet seemingly stuck to the path. Her bright blue eyes looked up at him, the color draining from her cheeks. For a moment or two, Daniel could not think what was wrong with the girl. Looking down at her in some confusion, he was about to ask what the matter was when he realized what he had said.

Heat climbed up his spine, blossoming color into his neck.

“That is, of course, until I—”

“If you have no desire to truly court me, Lord Williamson, then that is something you must share with me now,” Miss Smallwood began, her voice a good deal firmer and louder than he had expected. “I would not have you hide it from me. Please. I would like to know the truth.”

Daniel shook his head, his mouth feeling dry and his throat painful. “No, indeed not, Miss Smallwood,” he tried to say, wishing he could come up with an easy explanation. “It is only that—what I mean to say is that my heart and my mind have never once considered matrimony before. It has been something that I have tried to avoid, in fact.” Seeing her frown, Daniel groaned inwardly, realizing that he was making matters worse instead of better. “When I met you, however, Miss Smallwood, things changed entirely. I have begun to consider things that I have never contemplated before.”

“I see,” Miss Smallwood replied, nodding slowly as though she were trying to convince herself that he was speaking the truth. “And you are quite certain that you do not know a Miss McBride?”

“No!” His exclamation rang around the park, making Miss Smallwood’s eyes flare wide with surprise and shock and sending embarrassment crashing into Daniel’s heart. “No,” he said again, lowering his voice and dropping his head. “No, Miss Smallwood, I do not know a Miss McBride. I have not courted her, if that is what you fear. I have never courted a young lady before and yet that is the intention I have towards you.” He lifted his head and looked directly into Miss Smallwood’s eyes, seeing the shock still lingering there. “Forgive me for losing my temper, Miss Smallwood. It is only that I find that so many things are being said of me by one or two individuals that I find it both irritating and immensely frustrating. I want to be well thought of by you. You told me that you do not give credence to rumors and that is why—”

“It is because I do not give them any weight that I come to you now, asking to know the truth,” she replied, her eyes lifting to his and holding them with a fierceness that surprised him. “Can you not see that, Lord Williamson? I seek to know the truth so that I might discard all rumors that swirl around me.” She shook her head, her brows binding themselves together as she frowned. “I cannot understand why Miss Martin thinks so ill of you,” she added, tilting her head just a little as she looked at him. “Why does she speak so poorly of you? Could there be any possibility that she is simply making up this story of Miss McBride so as to influence me further?”

Daniel let out a long breath, the urge to tell Miss Smallwood the truth about Miss Martin burning in his mind. He had made a promise, however—a promise that he was bound to keep. He could not tell Miss Smallwood the truth about Miss Martin unless Miss Martin chose to do so first. He was not the sort of gentleman who spoke untruths, but neither was he the kind who made promises only to shatter them when things suited him.

“Miss Martin is mistaken,” he told Miss Smallwood, praying that this would be enough to satisfy her. “I am not the gentleman who broke Miss McBride’s heart, if that is what she fears. I do not even know the lady! I cannot recall her face or even her name. Please, Miss Smallwood, do not allow this untruth to remain in your heart.”

She managed a small smile and made to say more, only for their conversation to be suddenly interrupted by the arrival of two gentlemen, who were walking together through the park. Miss Smallwood made to step out of their way, but one of the gentlemen looked up and, catching sight of Daniel, stopped in his tracks.

“Ah, Lord Williamson,” the gentleman began, gesturing towards Daniel as though the second gentleman had not seen him. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” Daniel stammered, trying to recall where he had seen this gentleman before and wondering if they were, in fact, acquainted, given that he had no knowledge of whom he might be. “Lord…?”

“Look, tis Lord Williamson!” the first gentleman continued, elbowing the second, who looked at Daniel and then nodded sagely, as though to confirm that his friend was correct. “We have just been reading about your bet, Lord Williamson.”

A stone launched itself directly into Daniel’s stomach. “My bet?” he repeated, not at all understanding what they meant but fearing that this conversation ought not to be had in front of Miss Smallwood. “I have no idea what you mean.”

The second gentleman laughed loudly, but it was not a kind sound. Rather, it was harsh and grating, burning into Daniel’s mind and making him wince.

“You need not pretend, Lord Williamson,” the second gentleman said with another long laugh. “We are hoping and praying that you win, so that you might use your winnings to buy a good glass of brandy or two for those who have supported you.” He nudged the first gentleman. “As we are doing, of course.”

“Of course,” the first man agreed hurriedly, as though to convince Daniel that he was not about to back away from whatever it was that Daniel had supposedly done. “I can see that you have already begun, however!” He turned to Miss Smallwood and bowed low. “Might I be so bold as to make your acquaintance?”

Miss Smallwood looked at him, then back at Daniel, before turning her head away from him again. “I am Miss Smallwood,” she replied slowly, clearly very uncertain as to what was occurring. “I do not believe we are acquainted.”

“Miss Smallwood, eh?” the second gentleman said, laughing again. “How very good to meet you. Lord Williamson, I shall remember the name of this particular young lady, have no doubt—although I may struggle to recall the names of the others that shall come hereafter!”

Daniel frowned, his eyebrows dropping low. “I do not know what it is you speak of, good sir,” he answered through gritted teeth, seeing how Miss Smallwood glanced towards him again. “I have no intention of accepting attentions from any others, if that is what you are inferring.”

The first gentleman stared at Daniel for a few moments, appearing quite horrified. “But the bet!” he exclaimed, as though Miss Smallwood was not present. “You must do all you can to win, Lord Williamson, for many of us have added our coffers to your own, in the hope that you will be victorious.”

Daniel made to clear his throat and then to ask the gentlemen what it was they were speaking of, only for Miss Smallwood to take a small step back from them all, her face growing a little pale as she looked at them.

“I would wish to know what it is you speak of, gentlemen,” she said, her voice calm and clear. “I do not want to be made a mockery of, as I am certain you can understand.”

The second gentleman began to stammer, now appearing to be a little ashamed, as though he had only just realized that he was about to open the floodgates on what should be a private conversation between gentlemen. “I—I do not think…” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Forgive me, Miss Smallwood. I spoke much too hastily and far too openly. The matters at White’s should remain entirely as such—and ought not to be discussed in public. Again, I beg your forgiveness.”

Daniel let out a slow breath, wondering if this would satisfy Miss Smallwood, only to see the way she narrowed her eyes and settled her hands on her hips. Throwing a glance towards Miss Martin, who was standing a few feet away, he was riled to see a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth, as a look came into her eyes that he immediately disliked. What was going on? Was there more to this than he knew?

“I think, sir—and you will forgive me for, as yet, I do not know your name or your title—you had best speak openly for I am not inclined towards feigning ignorance about a matter that, in some way, seems to involve me.” Miss Smallwood arched one eyebrow and looked towards Daniel, who could only give her a helpless shrug. “Therefore, might I suggest that you finish what you were saying and explain to both myself and Lord Williamson—for he does not seem to understand what you mean—exactly what it is you have discovered about this bet.”

There was a long, pronounced silence where the two gentlemen looked at each other with clear yet silent questions going between them and Daniel himself began to feel an increased anxiety that caused him to tense visibly. He had no knowledge of what either of these gentlemen were speaking of, for neither of them were known to him and he certainly had not made any bets in the White’s betting book, but they appeared to believe that he had done.

“If you wish it, Miss Smallwood,” said the first gentleman eventually, giving Daniel a small half shrug and an apologetic smile as though to say sorry for what was about to occur. “It is only that Lord Williamson had made a bet and has written it down in the betting book that is situated in White’s. That is all.”

Miss Smallwood narrowed her eyes and the gentleman swallowed hard, clearly understanding that she was not about to accept such a response.

“The bet is merely that Lord Williamson will take out a different lady each day, both in the afternoon and in the evening, for the duration of one sennight,” the second gentleman added hastily.

A rush of horror ran down Daniel’s spine, rendering him entirely speechless.

“It is meant to be evidence of the fact that Lord Williamson is just as eligible and as welcomed by the beau monde as ever,” said the second gentleman, continuing on quite blithely as though all ought to make sense now. “Another gentleman has stated that he believed Lord Williamson unable to complete such a task, declaring that there were other, more eligible and handsome gentlemen than he. It is simply to prove that such a statement is quite incorrect, that is all.”

“That is entirely untrue,” Daniel replied, his voice hoarse and not filled with angry confidence, as he had intended. “How dare you suggest such a thing!”

The two gentlemen glanced at each other, each looking confused.

“But we have only just come from White’s,” the first gentleman answered, looking a little concerned now over Daniel’s reaction. “I have added my coffers, as I have said, in the hope that you will be successful and collect the winnings.”

“I have done no such thing.”

The second gentleman sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. “I can see that we made an error in coming to speak to you, Lord Williamson, when you are in company. I do hope that we have not unfairly disadvantaged you.” He bowed low, touching his hat. “Forgive me, Miss Smallwood. I am quite certain that you are a favorite of Lord Williamson’s, else he would not have chosen you for the first. I do apologize if I have caused any upset. I shall leave you now.” Lifting his head, he threw Daniel what appeared to be a scornful glance and then turned on his heel and began to march away, leaving his companion to stammer an apology and follow after him.

“I do not understand what they are speaking of, Miss Smallwood,” Daniel protested, the very moment that the gentlemen had left them. “I swear to you, I do not know what they speak of.”

Miss Smallwood looked up at him, her expression entirely blank and leaving Daniel questioning what it was she was thinking or feeling. He wanted to fall on his knees, wanted to beg her to believe him, but no words came to him. He could find nothing to say to try and excuse his behavior. All he could do was pray that she gave him, yet again, the benefit of the doubt.

“Such a thing would be easy enough to prove, would it not?”

Miss Smallwood’s voice was soft and she blinked rapidly as though to chase back tears. “All you need to do is go to White’s.”

“But I cannot prove it to you,” he explained sorrowfully. “The betting book can never be lifted from White’s. Nor can I beg for you to be allowed to enter. In short, Miss Smallwood, there is no way for me to prove to you that what has been said about me is entirely false.”

Miss Smallwood’s lips twisted, her eyes still fixed on his.

“I have done nothing wrong!” Daniel said again, his heart aching within his chest. “I do not understand what is going on, Miss Smallwood! I have not made such a bet. I would not do something so foolish. Please, I beg of you to trust me.”

“That is rather a lot you are asking of Miss Smallwood, Lord Williamson.” From behind Miss Smallwood, Miss Martin stepped forward, evidently having overheard everything that had been said. Her expression was somewhat stern, but Daniel fancied he could still see the hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth. His anger began to burn all over again. Had she something to do with this?

“What did you do, Miss Martin?”

The words came out in a growl, making both Miss Smallwood and Miss Martin start violently.

“What did you do?” He took a step closer, pointing one long finger in Miss Martin’s direction and seeing the color drain from her face.

“I did nothing, Lord Williamson,” Miss Martin replied, although her pale coloring hinted at a singular lack of confidence and, mayhap, a little fear. “I have no part in this.”

Miss Smallwood pressed her lips together, her eyes darting from her companion to Daniel and back again.

“If you have made a foolish bet and now wish to use me to cover up your idiocy, then I will tell you here and now that I will not stand for it,” Miss Martin continued, her voice growing steadily louder. “I tell you now, Lord Williamson, I have had nothing whatsoever to do with this.”

“And it is a little unfair to blame Miss Martin when she could not possibly have gone into White’s and written the bet within the betting book,” Miss Smallwood added, her eyes slowly lifting to his face, her lips trembling just a little as she spoke. “I think, Lord Williamson, that I shall return home with Miss Martin. If you will excuse me.”

“No, please.” Without intending to, he reached out and caught her hand, capturing it entirely. “Please, do not go, Miss Smallwood. I am not involved in this!”

“And I suppose you had not made arrangements with Lady Burton either,” Miss Martin said scornfully, taking Miss Smallwood’s other arm and giving it a gentle tug. “Do not be ridiculous, Lord Williamson. Miss Smallwood is not as dim-witted as you might think.”

Desperation flooded him. Until this moment, he had not realized the depth of his affections for Miss Smallwood, for whilst she had begun to infiltrate his heart and his emotions in a way that he had not experienced before, he had thought that he would have time for such feelings to continue to develop to the point that he might openly profess them.

“Please, Miss Smallwood, believe me when I say that I am not that sort of gentleman,” he protested, still clinging onto her hand and looking down into her eyes, horrified to see that they were glistening with tears. “I am not a cad. This has been set up somehow, in order to make me appear worse than I am. For some reason, someone must wish to set us both asunder.” As much as he wished to throw a dark look towards Miss Martin, he resisted the urge to do so and instead kept looking down at Miss Smallwood, who was not making any attempt to remove her hand from his. “I have begun to care for you deeply, Miss Smallwood. I look forward to our every moment together. My heart holds a fondness for you that I cannot explain. Please, do not turn your back on me now.”

Miss Smallwood closed her eyes and, to his dismay, a single tear tracked down her cheek. She wiped it away hurriedly, freeing herself from Miss Martin before settling that hand on top of their joined ones.

“I must think, Lord Williamson.”

He nodded, feeling a small surge of hope at the way she held his hand. “I quite understand.”

“There is a good deal I must consider,” Miss Smallwood continued, opening her eyes and blinking rapidly to keep the rest of her tears at bay. “Please, allow me some time, Lord Williamson.”

Dropping his head, he let her hand go wordlessly, stepping back and feeling as though he had lost some great battle whilst Miss Martin stood in victory.

“I want to believe you,” Miss Smallwood whispered so only he could hear. “But there is more to this than I am, as yet, aware of.” She sighed heavily, her sorrow and confusion whispering towards him. “I want to trust your words, for my heart also holds a good deal, in the same way as yours.”

Daniel’s head flew up and he looked at Miss Smallwood in astonishment, but she only nodded slowly, as though convincing herself that she spoke the truth.

“Tomorrow evening, I shall be at Lord Mercer’s ball,” he told her, filled with a sudden, desperate hope. “Might you dance with me then?”

It took Miss Smallwood a few moments to decide, her face set and her eyes still sorrowful, but eventually, she nodded.

“Thank you.” The words came out of him in a breath of relief, a sense of weakness crashing over him. “You cannot know how much that means to me, Miss Smallwood. To know that you have not set yourself against me, as so many others might have done, is nothing less than a blessing.”

Miss Smallwood gave him a tiny smile. “It is as I have said before, Lord Williamson. I do not immediately trust what someone says unless I have proof of it. I shall, somehow, try and decipher the truth, but I can see from your expression that there is a great deal of trouble in this. A trouble that I do not want to swirl all about me, no matter how much I might feel for you.”

Daniel could only look down into her face, his throat working painfully as he felt his world begin to crack around him. He could not even wish her good day as she turned and walked away, with Miss Martin walking smartly by her side. If only he had not made that promise not to reveal the truth about Miss Martin to anyone, then he might now be able to make Miss Smallwood understand a little more about the lady she called her companion. Miss Smallwood might then be able to understand why he had chosen to lay the blame for this matter at Miss Martin’s feet—although, no doubt, she would have still protested that she had nothing to do with it.

“I shall discover the truth,” he muttered to himself, angrily stalking down the path in the opposite direction from Miss Smallwood and Miss Martin. “I shall find whoever is doing this and prove to Miss Smallwood that I am not the gentleman they make me out to be. Of that, I am utterly determined.”

10

“This is ridiculous!”

Daniel stared down at the betting book, horrified to see what was written there in large, bold letters.

The bet was just as the two gentlemen had said.

“I did not write this!” He glared all about him, as though the gentlemen within the establishment were the ones responsible for this assault on his good name. “I did not stand here and write this bet on these pages.”

The gentlemen of White’s began to mutter amongst themselves, leaving Daniel feeling both foolish and angry. The handwriting was in large, flowing letters but was not at all like his own hand. The bet stated that he would be able to accompany any young lady of his choosing during the fashionable hour in the afternoon and then a different young lady to a social occasion he decided. This was to prove, apparently, that he was as eligible and as welcomed by the beau monde as ever before—although there was no mention of the individual that Daniel was meant to be betting against, as had been disclosed by the two gentlemen.

Nor was there any record of any other gentleman placing bets on his name, for if there was no one to defeat, then there was no need to do so. They would simply be betting for him to fail in his task and, from how it appeared, not many gentlemen believed that to be the case.

Clenching his jaw hard, Daniel ripped out the piece of paper from the betting book, drawing gasps of both shock and horror at his action. The betting book was almost sacred and to desecrate it so was a great sin in the eyes of the gentlemen who frequented here. Daniel did not care. All he wanted to do was rip up the paper in front of everyone here, proclaim that he had not made any such bet, and demand that if anyone knew who had written this in supposedly his hand, then they had best inform him at once.

“Ho there, Williamson!”

Daniel turned around at once, seeing the surprised look on Lord Townend’s face as he slowly began to amble towards Daniel, his eyes on the paper.

“What is it you are doing, old boy?” Lord Townend asked, his voice amiable but his eyes stern. “Ripping out pages like that—well, it’s just not done.”

“Someone has written a bet in my name, Townend,” Daniel retorted, his eyes narrowing into a sharp glare towards his friend. “You do not have any thought as to whom it might be now, do you?” He had not meant to add an accusatory tone to his voice, but it was there nonetheless and Daniel saw Lord Townend flinch, as though he had pained him in some way.

“If you mean to imply that I had something to do with this, then you are mistaken.” Lord Townend’s voice grew rather hard. “What bet is it that you are speaking of?”

Frustrated, Daniel thrust the paper towards Lord Townend, who took it carefully, flattened it just a little, and then began to read. Daniel watched angrily as Lord Townend’s eyebrows rose in evident surprise, glancing towards Daniel as he re-read it.

“It is not your hand, that is for certain,” Lord Townend commented, somewhat mildly given the circumstances. “And you say that someone wrote this and then told you of it?”

Hastily, Daniel told Lord Townend of what had occurred, seeing the astonishment grow in his friend’s expression. Guilt enveloped him, breaking into a thousand pieces as it sat on his heart. He should not have even thought of blaming Lord Townend. That had been entirely unfair.

“I am sorry,” he finished, coming closer to Lord Townend so as to avoid the stares of the other gentlemen of White’s. “I should not have thought you responsible, not even for a moment.”

“No,” Lord Townend agreed with a wry smile. “You should not have even thought it, Williamson, although I understand your anger and distress. You say that you were approached by two gentlemen you did not know?”

“Indeed,” Daniel replied, walking towards a couple of empty chairs and plumping gratefully down into one. “And they accosted me quite openly in front of Miss Smallwood, who, of course, had to know precisely what they were speaking of.”

Lord Townend did not smile but rather looked pointedly at Daniel, as though he were missing something quite obvious, something that was staring him in the face.

“She, of course, wanted to know what they meant in its entirety,” Daniel continued, not quite certain what to make of Lord Townend’s pointed stare. “And so the truth came out and she was utterly horrified. Although just as shocked as I, I might add.”

“How interesting that it had occurred when you were with Miss Smallwood,” Lord Townend replied, rubbing his chin as his eyes roved about the room in evident thought. “First you had to deal with Lady Burton when you were walking with Miss Smallwood in the park, and now you have had this situation occur, again when Miss Smallwood was with you.” He shrugged. “Coincidence, do you think?”

A rueful smile crossed Daniel’s face. “I have already accused Miss Martin, Townend, and that did not go particularly well.” Seeing his friend’s surprise, he winced heavily. “She could not have written the bet in here now, could she? And I doubt that she would have been able to convince someone to write it on her behalf without someone seeing her do so.”

“That is true,” Lord Townend agreed slowly, “but can you think of any other who is against you? Whoever is doing this is determined that you shall not have any happiness with Miss Smallwood.”

A sudden thought struck Daniel. “What if it is to prevent Miss Smallwood herself from finding such happiness?” he asked, peering at Lord Townend, who now appeared to be frowning heavily. “What if this is naught to do with me and solely to do with Miss Smallwood herself? What if I am being targeted so that Miss Smallwood might find herself alone and despondent?”

Lord Townend shook his head. “I can see why you might think such a thing, but what reason would there be for anyone to do so? Her father, Lord Churston, is quite amenable to her courting, for she now has a companion and is allowed to attend as many social events as she wishes. It is not as though he has someone else chosen for her, is it? At least, not as far as I know.”

Daniel sighed and ran one hand through his hair. “I shall ask her, of course, but if there is no reason for such a thing then I suppose I must consider it to be my burden.” Closing his eyes again, he let out a small groan. “And Miss Martin is the only one I can think of who wishes me ill, even though I know not her reasons for hating me with such vehemence.”

Lord Townend, who knew precisely who Miss Martin was to Daniel and why he had to keep silent about his knowledge of her, gave him a long, hard look.

“You have never once discovered the reason for her dislike of you?” he asked, as though this was almost unbelievable. “And yet you insist on keeping silent about her?”

“I must,” Daniel replied with a heaviness that pierced his very soul. “I promised her that I would, for she begged me with tears and utter sorrow and it was the only way that I could relieve it.” He shook his head again, aware that Lord Townend knew all of this already. “I have tried to remain out of her affairs as I promised, but now that she seems to be stepping directly in between myself and Miss Smallwood, I do not know what I should do.”

“But you have no evidence that she has done that,” Lord Townend pointed out. “Aside from the fact that she has tried to keep Miss Smallwood away from you, which Miss Smallwood has steadfastly refused to do.”

Daniel nodded, sighing as despair washed over him. “Mayhap I should speak to Miss Martin alone,” he suggested, seeing Lord Townend shrug. “If I speak to her directly, insisting that she tell me all, then mayhap matters might become a little clearer.”

“She has never told you her reasons for calling you a cad?”

“Never,” Daniel replied, remembering how Miss Martin had accosted him shortly after his introduction to Miss Smallwood. “I have asked her, but she insists that I already am aware of it.” Spreading his hands, he sat back and rested his head against the chair. “I have no understanding, no reason to believe that I am as she states.” It felt as though he had been caught up in a torrential storm, being battered on every side with confusion and doubt and sorrow. If he told Miss Smallwood the truth about Miss Martin, then not only would he break his promise, but he might upset Miss Smallwood all the more because he had kept such a thing from her. In addition, even though he was upset and angry over Miss Martin’s insistence that he was not suitable for Miss Smallwood, he did not want to bring the truth to light without her consideration. She called him a cad and, if he were to break his word and tell Miss Smallwood everything, then that is precisely what he would be.

Groaning aloud, Daniel sat forward and put his head in his hands.

“Might I speak to Miss Martin, Williamson?”

Daniel screwed up his eyes, wishing that there was a clear path ahead for him. “I—I do not know,” he muttered, not lifting his head. “I do not know what will help. I have Miss Martin’s utter disdain for me, Miss Smallwood’s confusion over the sort of gentleman I am, and now my own upset as to who it is that has tried to ruin my character and for what purpose.” He rubbed his eyes before sitting up and seeing Lord Townend accepting two glasses of brandy from a waiting footman. Accepting one gratefully, he threw it back almost at once, letting the warmth fill his chest and bring him a little encouragement. “Speak to Miss Martin if you wish, Lord Townend. I must discover who is doing this—” he gestured to the bit of paper Lord Townend now held on his knee, “and discover why they wish to disgrace me so.”

“That is to be a difficult task indeed,” Lord Townend murmured, looking entirely sympathetic. “I shall do what I can to help you, of course.” He gestured towards the ripped page of the betting book. “What shall you do to start?”

Daniel hesitated, a million thoughts rushing through his mind at once, making it difficult for him to focus on one thing. “I shall find anyone who was present the evening this bet was written,” he decided, knowing full well that each bet was dated. “And at the same time, I shall seek to continue to court Miss Smallwood and attempt to prove to her that I am not the callous, arrogant oaf she might think me to be.”

Lord Townend nodded slowly, although another frown wrinkled his brow as he looked down at the paper again. “The bet was made in the early hours of this morning,” he said slowly. “At a time when most gentlemen would either be too inebriated to recall who or what was within this place or gone back to their residences.”

“There has to be someone,” Daniel replied, hoping desperately that, somehow, he would be able to find at least one person who might aid him. “I cannot think of another way to reveal the truth to both myself and Miss Smallwood.” Gesturing to a footman, he waited until the fellow came over and, pulling a couple of coins from his pocket, held them out towards him.

The footman accepted the coins without a word.

“Might you tell me whether or not you were present last evening?” Daniel began as Lord Townend held up the paper. “Did you see which fellow made that bet?”

The footman moved towards Lord Townend, his face impassive. Taking a moment or two to read the writing, he eventually shook his head. “It states that you, Lord Williamson, made this bet,” he intoned.

“And yet, I did not,” Daniel replied, trying not to allow even a hint of the irritation he felt to come into his voice. “Do you recall which gentlemen were present last evening or in the very early hours of this morning?” He held his breath, seeing the footman’s forehead pucker, clearly trying to remember.

“I retired before the last few members quit the establishment,” the footman said slowly, his lips twisting for a moment. “There were only four gentlemen still present, although one of them was rather tired.” A hint of a smile caught the footman’s lips, although it disappeared the moment Daniel looked sharply at him. “The gentleman who was asleep was Lord Mercer, if I recall correctly.” Shaking his head, he spread his hands. “I fear that I cannot remember the other gentlemen, Lord Williamson. I do apologize.”

Daniel’s frustration bubbled up within him again, but with an effort, he set his face into a grateful expression.

“I thank you,” he replied, feeling his heart sinking into the floor. “Now, two more brandies, if you please.”

The footman clicked his heels together. “At once, my lord.”

Waiting until the footman had gone, Daniel let out a long, heavy sigh and saw Lord Townend shrug.

“I suppose, then, we must visit Lord Mercer,” Lord Townend murmured in an encouraging fashion. “Mayhap he will recall those present with him last evening. You are to attend his ball, are you not?” he asked as the footman handed them a brandy each. “Then why not speak to him then?”

“I am and I will,” Daniel answered, remembering how Miss Smallwood had agreed to dance with him at Lord Mercer’s ball. “I shall see Miss Smallwood then also and I must pray that once I speak to Lord Mercer, I will be able to speak to Miss Smallwood about what I have discovered.”

Lord Townend’s eyes softened with compassion for the difficult situation Daniel now found himself in. “She seems to be wise enough, Williamson,” he replied quietly. “She will consider things with a clear head.”

“I must hope so,” Daniel murmured, rubbing one hand across his eyes. “I do care for her, Townend.”

“I can see that,” Lord Townend stated with a slightly wry smile. “And I will do all I can to ensure that your happiness with the lady will, in time, be reached.” He gestured to the piece of paper as Daniel drew in a long breath, settling his shoulders and feeling a small flicker of hope. “And we start by asking Lord Mercer about this.”

11

Louisa had never felt as anxious as she did at this present moment. Lord Mercer’s ball was in full swing and, as yet, she had not seen even a glimpse of Lord Williamson. Part of her feared that he was not the gentleman she had believed him to be, worrying that what the two gentlemen had said about his bet in White’s was, in fact, the truth.

It had not helped that Miss Martin had been insistent that this was evidence that what she had stated about Lord Williamson’s character was true. Walking back home from the park that day, Louisa had struggled against tears for she had felt slighted, small, and sorrowful, not quite certain what was true and what was not.

However, in the time that had followed, and given that she had been able to reflect on what had happened and remember the desperation with which Lord Williamson had addressed her, Louisa had decided to wait until he had come to speak to her about what he had discovered before making her final decision.

“He has not yet arrived, I believe.”

Turning to her companion, Louisa’s anger flared hot in her chest. “I am aware of that, Miss Martin.”

“You need not wait for him,” Miss Martin continued as Louisa waited by the side of the ballroom, not feeling any particular urgency to step out into the crowd. “There are others who might offer to dance with you, Miss Smallwood.”

“I am aware of that,” Louisa replied tightly. “But I am contented here for the present.”

Miss Martin sniffed, her hair pulled back even tighter than usual, her eyes seemingly sharper than Louisa was used to. “You are being foolish, Miss Smallwood. Lord Williamson is not worth your time.”

“What is it that you dislike so much about Lord Williamson?”

The words fired from Louisa’s mouth before she could stop them, and she swung around to face Miss Martin directly, her arms folded in front of her chest as her anger began to burn furiously.

“You say that he is a cad and you believe him to be at fault without question. Why is that?”

Miss Martin blinked, collecting herself before she answered. “I have already told you about Miss McBride, have I not?” she replied, but Louisa held up one hand, silencing her.

“I have spoken to Lord Williamson about such a thing and he appeared not to know what I was speaking of,” she told Miss Martin, seeing the lady flush with color. “You told me that Miss McBride had been broken-hearted by the sudden loss of Lord Williamson’s attention, but the gentleman seemed to not know of what I spoke.”

“Of course he will deny it!” Miss Martin exclaimed, looking at Louisa as though she were nothing more than a fool. “Why would you choose to believe him without question?”

Louisa hesitated, knowing that to tell an untruth was not a wise course of action, but wondering whether or not such a thing would prompt Miss Martin to, finally, tell the truth.

“I have written to Miss McBride,” she bluffed, seeing Miss Martin start in evident astonishment. “I am yet to receive a reply, but I am certain that she will do so very soon.”

Miss Martin’s cheeks faded from pink to milk-white.

“So, I shall give you one more time to tell me, Miss Martin, whether or not what you have said about Miss McBride and Lord Williamson is true, as you have claimed.”

Miss Martin said nothing for some minutes. It was as though she were waiting for Louisa to give in, to turn around and state that she did not require the truth from Miss Martin after all, but Louisa did not so much as blink. Her heart quickened to an almost violent pace, feeling as though she were standing on the very precipice of something and about to fall headlong into it.

“Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin said eventually, her voice a good deal more high-pitched than before. “I think that I should—”

“Why are you hiding here, Miss Smallwood?”

Swinging around, Louisa came face to face with a smiling Lord Montague, who was beaming at her with evident joy at seeing her again. There came an immediate urge within her to rail at him, to exclaim that she was having a private conversation and did not want to be interrupted, for she had been on the very cusp of discovering something that she was certain would be vastly important.

Glancing behind her, Louisa frowned in displeasure, seeing that the place where Miss Martin had been standing was now entirely empty. Her companion had, it seemed, decided to fade into the shadows for once, escaping from the conversation that would have been required should she have remained. More irritated than she could express, Louisa turned back towards Lord Montague, who was now looking at her with curiosity.

“Forgive me, Lord Montague,” Louisa grated, unable to even force a smile to her lips. “I was speaking to Miss Martin and we had not yet finished our conversation.”

“I see.” Lord Montague cleared his throat, looking a little abashed. “I do apologize if I interrupted you unnecessarily, but I saw you standing here at the side of the ballroom and could not help but seek you out in order to procure a dance or two.” He smiled at her again and Louisa let out a long, slow breath as if that might aid her in pushing her frustration from her heart.

“That is very kind of you,” she said, forced to admit that Lord Montague had meant no wrong in doing such a thing. “As you can see, my dance card is not yet full.”

Much to her surprise, Lord Montague did not grasp the dance card that dangled from her wrist but rather took her hand in his, holding it tightly whilst, with the other hand, he took the card. Louisa’s skin prickled uncomfortably beneath her glove, aware that she disliked what Lord Montague had done. It was a little too forward, a little too intimate for her liking and, most likely, he was doing so simply because she was close to the wall and, therefore, it was easy to hide his actions in the shadows.

Lord Montague let out a soft gasp, making Louisa’s brows rise in question.

“You have not a single dance as yet, Miss Smallwood!” Lord Montague exclaimed, as though this was the most awful situation he had come across in some time. “How can that be? I thought you would be swept away by attentions from almost the very moment you set foot in the ballroom.”

Louisa tried to smile but did not quite manage to force her lips to do so. “As you see, Lord Montague, I have not yet made my way through the crowd of guests and, as such, most do not know of my presence here as yet.”

“All save I,” he replied, finally letting go of her hand but only so that he might write his name on her card. “I was the only one who saw you standing here, Miss Smallwood. Your presence cannot be hidden from me!” This was said with a long look towards her, which Louisa noticed, but rather than feeling any sort of flattery or delight, she felt only embarrassment. Lord Montague was being rather forward and she did not much like it.

“Thank you,” she murmured as he let the card drop. “You are most kind, Lord Montague.”

“And if you will accompany me, Miss Smallwood, I would like to ensure that you have company for the rest of the evening,” he said grandly, offering her his arm and leaving her with no other choice but to accept it. “Come now, I can see Lord Raeburn looking in our direction and I know he would be delighted to dance with you also.”

Louisa did not smile, frustrated that she was being taken away from her conversation with Miss Martin as well as being dragged from her hiding place. She would not be able to wait for Lord Williamson, it seemed, for Lord Montague was quite insistent that she do as he ask. Placing her hand reluctantly on his arm, she allowed herself to be tugged towards a small group of ladies and gentlemen, who were talking together in loud, bright voices. Knowing that she would have to give them her full attention, Louisa forced all thoughts of Lord Williamson to the back of her mind for the present. She could not be rude. She would behave impeccably and hope that, when he could, Lord Williamson would find her, for she did not think she could go the rest of the evening without speaking to him.

“It is quite extraordinary!” she heard one young lady exclaim, as she and Lord Montague drew near. “I do not know the gentleman particularly well at all, but to have behaved in such a bold and outrageous fashion is quite astonishing!”

“Indeed,” the gentleman Louisa knew to be Lord Raeburn agreed, his broad grin and dark, twinkling eyes unsettling her as they rested on her for a moment. “I believe you are acquainted with him, Miss Smallwood.”

Curving her lips into a small smile and hoping that she appeared somewhat disinterested, Louisa gave Lord Raeburn a small shrug. “I do not know of whom you are speaking, Lord Raeburn.” Her heart began to ache with pain and confusion over Lord Williamson, finding it difficult to remove her thoughts from him as she had intended. She did not want to be here, did not want to speak to these gentlemen and ladies who were so caught up in sharing every single last piece of gossip they could.

“Why, you must know Lord Williamson!” one of the ladies protested, looking at Louisa eagerly. “I saw you walking with him recently.”

“As did I,” said another, looking at Louisa with shining eyes. “Come now, you must tell us what you know of him. Did you have any suspicion that he was that sort of gentleman?”

Louisa stiffened, her heart slamming into her chest quite painfully as she looked back at the young ladies. “I am not one inclined towards gossip,” she stated quite firmly even though she knew that such a thing was not what they wanted to hear. “From what I know of Lord Williamson, he is a generous and kindhearted gentleman.”

The first young lady snorted and rolled her eyes. “He has fooled you entirely, has he not?”

“Come now, Miss Smallwood,” Lord Raeburn interrupted, cajoling her to speak more about Lord Williamson. “You must have a better idea of his character than that. You cannot expect us to believe that he is a wonderful, untainted soul when we know that he has done something so uncouth!”

A chill ran through Louisa as she looked back into Lord Raeburn’s eager expression, knowing that she was going to have to ask them what it was they spoke of. “I am unaware of what he has done, Lord Raeburn. Therefore, I speak of what I know.”

Lord Raeburn laughed delightedly, making others join in as they all turned to Louisa as one, making her feel as though she were being mocked for her apparent lack of understanding of Lord Williamson’s true character. Even Lord Montague was laughing, his tone brash and grating over her skin painfully.

“Goodness, you are not at all inclined towards gossip, are you, Miss Smallwood?” Lord Raeburn teased eventually. “Else you would be aware of what has occurred, for it is already all over London.”

Louisa said nothing, her heart twisting painfully in her chest as she waited for Lord Raeburn to elaborate. She did not want to say anything more for fear that her heart might give way entirely, aware that a wave of tears was beginning to form behind her eyes.

“He was discovered in a rather…” Lord Raeburn tipped his head, evidently trying to think of a way to say what was required. “A rather delicate situation, one might say.” He chuckled, making the two ladies who had spoken to Louisa already blush and look away. “In a bawdy house, of all places!”

Louisa went sheet-white, her heart hammering with fright as a sense of horror began to rise up within her.

“Not that he did not pay what was owed, apparently,” chimed in another gentleman, grinning broadly at Louisa, who could neither speak nor move, it seemed. “It just took him some time to find his things, that is all!”

The crowd that surrounded Louisa began to laugh aloud, whilst she stood there silently, trying to take in what was being said about the gentleman she felt so much affection for. Lord Williamson had frequented a bawdy house? It was, she supposed, something that gentlemen were permitted to do, but they were always careful not to allow the ton to know of it, for fear of their reputation being thoroughly disgraced.

And now, it seemed, Lord Williamson had done precisely that.

“You—you are quite certain it was he?” she asked, her voice barely loud enough for any of them to hear, to the point that Lord Raeburn had to step forward and ask her to repeat what she said. When she did so, he laughed and shrugged.

“Of course I am sure,” he replied with a broad grin. “The fellow who was playing the hand of cards with Lord Williamson told me everything.”

Louisa blinked, not quite sure what to make of this. “I thought you said he was discovered in a rather awkward situation,” she replied, putting one hand to her stomach in an attempt to catch her breath. “And now you say he was playing cards?”

Lord Raeburn’s smile became dark, one side lifting slowly as the gleam in his eyes became almost malevolent. “You do not quite understand, Miss Smallwood, and that, I think, is for the best.” He lifted one eyebrow, still gazing at her. “It is possible, you know, for a gentleman to play cards and be discovered in a delicate situation, Miss Smallwood.” One of the ladies tittered, making Lord Raeburn smile all the more. “But as I said, at the very least, he did pay what was owed—once he had found his things.”

A sense of disgust began to roil in Louisa’s stomach, her hands tightening together as she clasped them in front of her. But, despite the urge to believe everything Lord Raeburn had said, to agree that it was utterly despicable and decide to turn away from Lord Williamson’s company, a small part of her held her back.

You always sought to find the truth amongst the rumors and the gossip, she thought, trying to be firm with herself. Why would you turn away from that now?

Drawing in a long breath, Louisa held Lord Raeburn’s gaze, steeling herself and trying to find a sense of courage from deep within her. She was not about to go back to that quiet, unobtrusive young lady who did not speak a word of what she felt or what went on in her heart. If there had ever been a time to ask questions, to discover the truth in all its entirety, then this was the moment.

“Might I ask, Lord Raeburn,” she began as the rest of those within the small group fell silent, giving her their full attention, “whether or not you can be certain that everything you speak of is true?”

Lord Raeburn frowned, his smile dropping from his face entirely. “Of course I am certain it is true, Miss Smallwood,” he replied, a line forming in between his brows as he frowned. “I have it on the highest authority that what I have been told is the truth.”

“By the gentleman who was there with Lord Williamson,” Louisa persisted, aware of how the two young ladies standing by her were now beginning to whisper amongst themselves. “The gentleman who was playing cards with him.”

“Yes,” Lord Raeburn agreed, looking at her with a slightly scornful gaze. “Does that satisfy you, Miss Smallwood?”

Louisa looked back into Lord Raeburn’s face, seeing the dark look in his eyes and practically feeling the rest of the crowd’s attention being drawn to her. Her heart began to pound, knowing that she could easily turn away from Lord Raeburn and agree that what had been said was more than enough evidence of the fact that Lord Williamson had been present, but her heart would not allow her to do so.

“No, it does not,” she told him, her words eliciting a gasp from one of the young ladies, who now looked at her with wide eyes. “What is the name of this gentleman, Lord Raeburn?”

Lord Raeburn blinked for a moment, his gaze darting to Lord Montague as though he sought Lord Montague’s opinion about whether or not he ought to share such an indelicate thing with Louisa.

“I hardly think that such a thing is required, Miss Smallwood,” Lord Montague murmured, his tone a little condescending as though he had some right to tell her what she ought or ought not to ask.

“And yet, I shall seek the answer, Lord Montague,” Louisa replied smartly, turning to him and looking into his surprised face with a sudden fierce sense of determination. She had to know the truth about what had been said of Lord Williamson, determined that she would not turn her back on him yet, even though everything within her told her that she was making a fool of herself by persisting. “I do not think it fair to pass judgment on another without being quite certain that everything that has been said is completely true.”

“Of course it is true!” Lord Montague protested, waving a hand in Lord Raeburn’s direction. “Why would a gentleman lie?”

Louisa hesitated, recalling how Lord Williamson had begged her not once, but on two separate occasions, to believe that he had not had anything to do with either Lady Burton or the bet. Something began to roll about her mind, making her begin to question what she knew of Lord Williamson. He had always seemed so eager, so desperate to be trusted, and yet, despite that, there was still more evidence of his supposed ungentlemanly behavior.

Something did not make sense. Louisa’s lips twisted, her frown growing steadily heavier. Surely if a gentleman was desperate to have a young lady believe that he was not a cad, that he was not a rogue nor a gentleman with poor morals, then he would do all he could to ensure that she did not have cause to fear that her consideration of him was wrong. Lord Williamson had vehemently protested that he had not planned to meet Lady Burton in the park, and then, only a few days later, had been met with another difficulty in the form of the two gentlemen stopping him to talk about the bet that he had placed. And now, it seemed, he had been discovered in a bawdy house, which, of course, would ignite rumors about him all through London.

Louisa shook her head, her head feeling heavy with the depth and weight of her thoughts. No, she had to discover all. She had to know which gentleman it was that had discovered Lord Williamson so. Then, she would speak to that gentleman in as bold a fashion as she dared, to ensure that he had not made a mistake somehow. Liquor was always aplenty, Louisa knew, which meant that there was the possibility that something was awry.

“The gentleman might merely be mistaken, rather than lying outright, Lord Raeburn,” she said slowly, hearing the two young ladies begin to whisper furiously again. “The name of the fellow, if you please.”

Lord Raeburn looked back at her steadily, his lip curling slowly. Louisa, uncertain as to why her determination had brought about such a reaction, held his gaze without pause, refusing to look away or be cowed by the dark expression in his eyes.

“I hardly think—” Lord Montague began to protest, but Louisa held up one hand, silencing him with her gesture as she continued to regard Lord Raeburn.

“You are not to be put off, it seems,” Lord Raeburn said with a long, heavy sigh that held a good deal of weight. He glanced about the rest of those involved in the conversation, as though to share his disappointment over Louisa’s behavior, but Louisa still did not move. She could hear her heart beat in her ears, could feel the tension running straight through her, and still, she waited. Lord Raeburn, clearly now fully aware that she was not about to turn aside as he had hoped, sighed yet again and spread his hands.

“You are quite determined, are you not, Miss Smallwood?” he muttered, throwing yet another glance to Lord Montague. “Very well, I shall tell you.”

“I do not consider that wise, Lord Raeburn,” Lord Montague interrupted. “Surely there is no good reason to—”

“Lord Montague himself was the one to discover Lord Williamson,” Lord Raeburn continued, ignoring the gentleman entirely. “If you have questions, Miss Smallwood, then might I suggest that you direct them to Lord Montague instead of further inconveniencing me with them?”

Louisa, a good deal surprised that it was Lord Montague who had joined Lord Williamson at the bawdy house, turned her astonished gaze upon the gentleman whom, she noted, had gone a rather dull shade of grey. His eyes were roving from one place to the next, refusing to meet her gaze.

“Lord Montague?” she said softly, only for the music for the next dance to begin swirling about her.

Lord Montague started violently. “Ah,” he said quickly, recovering himself. “I am promised to Miss Elgin, I think, am I not?” He bowed, a smile on his face that did not quite cover the fright in his eyes as he looked towards one of the young ladies on Louisa’s left. “Shall we take to the floor?”

Wishing that she could prevent Lord Montague from leaving her side, her mind now buzzing with a thousand questions, Louisa could only watch in frustration as Lord Montague stepped away from her and led Miss Elgin away. She had a suspicion that Lord Montague would not return to her side for his dances, for there was obviously a good deal of reluctance on his part, not wishing her to ask him questions about why he himself had been at a bawdy house. Her heart twisted violently as her thoughts turned back to Lord Williamson, making her realize just how much she felt for the gentleman. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him so that she might allow her affections to break free completely, but for the moment, she could not do such a thing. There was still so much uncertainty, so much doubt and confusion that Louisa felt it cloud her mind, making her both frustrated and upset in equal measure.

Where is Lord Williamson?

Her eyes roved about the crowd as she turned away from Lord Raeburn and his companions without a single word. Their company had left a stale taste in her mouth and she did not want to linger any longer. There was much to be done, much to consider, and much to discover. The truth was hidden in the shadows, held back from the light by untruths, confusion, and the deep uncertainty that bound it all. Where was Lord Williamson? He had said that he would be present this evening, and yet, she could not see him. Would all of society mock him when he finally made an appearance? Would they turn from him, give him the cut direct? Or would gentlemen simply laugh and point, giving him a knowing look as though to say they approved of his choice of enjoyment?

Her heart slammed hard into her chest as she looked all about her, suddenly catching sight of Miss Martin. Miss Martin, her companion, who was failing in her duty entirely, given that she was not so much as glancing in Louisa’s direction. Setting her shoulders, Louisa made her way towards her companion, knowing that it was best that she kept near to her companion for propriety’s sake.

And then, Miss Martin moved away. Pausing, Louisa watched her with sharp eyes, keeping her gaze fixed upon Miss Martin’s dark brown head, so distinct amongst the crowd by way of her plain chignon and dull-colored gown. Her heart leapt in her throat as she saw none other than Lord Williamson emerge from the shadows. She watched in horror as he began to speak to Miss Martin, seeing how Miss Martin gesticulated wildly. What was it that was being said? Why had Miss Martin gone to him? Was it to inform him that he had to stay away from Louisa? Or was there something more?

Louisa’s heart began to pound furiously, her gaze fixed on Miss Martin. Her companion had evidently finished saying what was required, for she shook her head and made to turn away, only for Lord Williamson to reach out and grasp her shoulder.

A gasp escaped from Louisa’s mouth as she watched Miss Martin’s expression change. She turned but did not forcibly remove Lord Williamson’s hand from her shoulder. Instead, she simply looked up at the gentleman, who was now leaning down and speaking in what appeared to be a most urgent manner.

Louisa closed her eyes momentarily, struggling to draw breath. Forcing herself to do so in order to calm her frantic mind, she opened them again to see that Lord Williamson had released Miss Martin, who was now nodding slowly, her head a little lower than before. More than anything, Louisa longed to discover what was being said, wanted to be near them so as not to miss a single word, but yet knew that she could not do so without being seen.

Miss Martin turned away and Louisa watched as Lord Williamson let his gaze rest on Miss Martin’s retreating form, something in his eyes that ripped at her heart. There was a tenderness there, she thought, feeling as though he had kicked at her stomach, hard. A tenderness for Miss Martin, instead of for her.

For a moment, Louisa thought she might faint in a most spectacular fashion upon the floor, only for a gentleman to tap her on the shoulder, greet her, and ask if he might look at her dance card. Louisa, entirely numb, somehow managed to hand him her card and waited for him to sign his name. The gentleman said something else about looking forward to their dance before moving away, leaving Louisa to look back to where Lord Williamson had been.

There was no sign of him. He was gone. He had not come in search of her, had not wanted to come and dance with her as he had promised. Instead, he had sought out Miss Martin and had given her more of his attention than he had ever given to Louisa.

Her heart tore violently, making her gasp. The pain was real and tormenting, burning through her chest with such agony that she could not catch her breath. Lord Williamson was not the gentleman she thought him to be. Secrecy surrounded him. Perhaps she merely had been his plaything, someone he had used simply to flatter his own self-confidence whilst he had gone about doing whatever he pleased.

“Miss Smallwood, where have you been?”

The sharp voice of Miss Martin met her ears, making Louisa flinch.

“I have been looking all over for you.”

“Is that so?” Louisa turned to her companion, her voice low and lacking intonation, such was the dullness that began to creep into her soul. “You were not speaking to Lord Williamson? You did not leave my side when I asked to know the truth of what you had said of him and Miss McBride?” Knowing her tone was accusatory but finding that she did not care, Louisa pointed one long finger at Miss Martin. “You keep the truth from me for whatever purpose you have, Miss Martin, and I have determined to discover it. But,” she continued, her anger beginning to burn hot within her, chasing the dullness from her soul, “I do not think that our acquaintance shall continue.”

The color left Miss Martin’s face all at once, her cheeks fading to paper white. “What do you mean?” she breathed, one hand against her heart.

“You may have been successful with your other charges, but you have failed me entirely,” Louisa replied firmly. “You have tried to pull me from Lord Williamson by mistruths and lies, and now I see you going to him and speaking to him in a most intimate fashion!” Her voice was growing louder now but she could not prevent it from being so. “Is it because you care for him, that you do not want me to go near to him? Is that why you have been so determined to pull me from him?”

“No, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin protested weakly, her eyes rounding. “No, it is not that, it is—”

“Tomorrow, I shall speak to my father and insist that your employment is brought to an end, and I doubt very much that you shall have an excellent reference,” Louisa finished, aware that this might very well mean the end of her own Season but feeling as though that might be, in its own way, a blessed relief. “For the moment, I am fatigued and wish to return home. Do accompany me, Miss Martin, if you can bear to drag yourself away from Lord Williamson.”

She stalked past her companion, tears burning in her eyes, but her head held high. Knowing that she had spoken callously, Louisa let her pain burn itself all through her, accepting it for what it was and yet hating it at the same time. She did not know what Miss Martin had been speaking of to Lord Williamson and yet found that she no longer cared. There was too much confusion, too much doubt and pain when it came to that particular gentleman. No matter how much she felt, no matter how much affection there was for Lord Williamson within her heart, she did not have the strength to keep going, to keep seeking the truth. It was too hard. She was weary now, feeling as though the path to what could have been a wonderful happiness with Lord Williamson was now broken up before her feet.

Her time here in London was drawing to a close. Lord Williamson could mean nothing to her now. She was nothing but a pawn in his convoluted game and Louisa could not bring herself to continue playing. It was, she decided, quite at an end now.

12

“I beg your pardon?”

Daniel stared at Lord Townend, feeling a wave of revulsion crash into him.

“That is what I have heard, yes,” Lord Townend repeated gravely. “How glad I am that you have decided to stick to the shadows for the time being, my friend, for I do not think that the ton would easily welcome you now.”

Daniel closed his eyes and ran one hand over his face. They had been deliberately tardy, thinking it best to ensure that the ball was in full swing before seeking out Lord Mercer and questioning him as to who had written the bet in the White’s betting book. Unfortunately, it now appeared that Lord Mercer was swallowed up by his crowd of guests and was, most likely, already deeply in his cups. He was a gentleman inclined towards liquor, Daniel had been told, although that was not always a bad thing. Some gentlemen were much more liable to speak openly and honestly when a good deal of brandy was running through their veins.

Now, however, Daniel feared that he would not be able to even speak to Lord Mercer, given what society now believed him to have done.

“I do not understand,” he muttered, dropping his hand and leaning his head back against the wall of the ballroom as a bead of sweat ran down his spine. “What is it precisely that is being said?” He looked at Lord Townend, whose gaze drifted away almost at once, shuffling his feet in evident awkwardness. “Do not hide it from me, Townend,” Daniel pleaded, even though a deep sense of dread settled in his chest. “Be honest with me.”

Lord Townend sighed heavily and finally fixed his gaze back upon Daniel. “There are a few things that are being said. They all center around you being at the bawdy house and playing far too many hands and betting a good deal too much—to the point that you lost some of your possessions.”

Daniel’s stomach twisted. “Possessions?”

Again, Lord Townend looked away. “Clothing included.”

Awash with both horror and disgust, Daniel closed his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth. There was no truth to those words, of course, but no doubt the wagging tongues of the beau monde would latch onto the story regardless, adding to it in their own way however they wished. “And who has said such things about me? From whom did you hear it?”

Lord Townend shook his head again, his eyes blazing with an anger that Daniel, as yet, did not quite feel. “I cannot say,” he replied honestly. “I have tried to discover the source but, as yet, I have made no progress whatsoever.” He shifted uneasily. “I cannot help but wonder if it is wise for you to remain here, Williamson. Not because I fear that you are guilty of such a thing, for I know you are not, given that you and I were in company last evening, but I fear that the ton may very well turn against you should your presence here become known.”

Wishing he could protest his innocence in front of all the guests, which he knew would include Miss Smallwood, Daniel let out a long breath and closed his eyes tightly, screwing up his features.

“I am aware that this is most unfair,” Lord Townend continued, evidently seeing Daniel’s distress, “but you must think of your own reputation and also of Miss Smallwood.”

Daniel groaned. “She will have heard yet more of my poor behavior and will believe it,” he exclaimed, opening his eyes to see Lord Townend’s jaw working hard. “And this accusation now is something more than merely a poor decision or a lack of consideration. It is…” he trailed off, his head in his hands. “It is downright obscene.”

His heart began to quail within him. It was as though something had been ready to set him and Miss Smallwood asunder from the very first, as though some unknown force was trying to set them both apart even though they wanted to be near to each other. That was the worst of it, Daniel realized. The more he had enjoyed Miss Smallwood’s company, the more he had spent time with her, the more he had conversed with her, the more he had come to realize that his heart was willingly becoming engaged to hers. He wanted to be in her company and did not like being apart from her. It was foolish of him not to have sought her father’s permission to court her as yet, even though that was his intention. At least he had made that clear to Miss Smallwood, although what she would think of that statement now, he had very little idea.

“Do not look so disturbed, old boy,” Lord Townend hissed, making Daniel lift his head from his hands. “You must not gain anyone’s attention, do you understand? To do so would make things all the more difficult. I shall do what I can to find out the truth about where such rumors have come from, of course, but I fear that you yourself can do nothing.”

“I must speak to Mercer.”

Lord Townend hesitated, his expression tight with both anger and a touch of worry. “I know you are eager to, but I cannot think that it is a wise idea. Not when you might very well be seen and called out by some gentleman or other—once you are known to be here, then all and sundry will seek you out, ready to find yet another sliver of gossip upon which they might chew.” He winced as Daniel closed his eyes, knowing that his friend was still determined not to hide away.

“I must find out something,” Daniel declared, opening his eyes and setting his shoulders. “I must know if Lord Mercer can do anything to aid me in my quest to discover who is behind this.”

Lord Townend shook his head. “You are being foolish.”

“And yet, I will do so regardless,” Daniel told him determinedly. “I do this not for my own sake but for that of Miss Smallwood. I cannot bear to have her going through the rest of the Season, and mayhap the rest of her life, thinking so ill of me! Not when there is a chance for her happiness, Townend. Not when there might be a happiness for us both.”

Lord Townend sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. “Very well. But you must be cautious.”

“I shall be,” Daniel promised grimly. “I am well aware of what is at stake.” The gossipmongers were present this evening, in their usual great numbers, for it seemed to be a pastime of married ladies to talk about every single piece of rumor they could discover. There was, it seemed, already a good deal being discussed about him and he did not want to give them anything more. At the very least, should he have the opportunity to speak to Miss Smallwood, he would be able to give her proof that he had not been at the bawdy house, as was being suggested. He could direct her to Lord Townend, who could state, honestly, that Daniel had been at his residence last evening for a late supper and a discussion about what else they could do to discover who was fighting against Daniel with such determination. Even Lord Townend’s staff could be used to prove that he spoke the truth.

But he had to hope she would speak to him at all. If she had already heard all that was being said of him—and he quite believed that she would have done by now—then she might decide that he was not worth her time any longer. She might refuse even to acknowledge him. The very thought sent an arrow through his heart.

“I shall return to your residence thereafter, shall I?” Lord Townend asked, as he made to step away. “I do not expect you to be lingering here long.”

Daniel shook his head. “Come tomorrow,” he replied, thinking that he could benefit from a quiet evening with nothing more than his thoughts as company. “Early, if you wish.”

Lord Townend nodded. “Of course. Try to rest easy. I am certain that we shall find a way through this ether.”

Daniel, who felt as though the darkness was closing in on him on every side, could barely bring himself to nod, although he managed a small one before Lord Townend moved away. Taking in a long breath, he moved a little to the right, so as to keep his features as hidden by shadow as he could. The music, the dancing, and the laughter held no joy for him now. All he could hear were the whispers and the mocking laughter that were certain to come his way, should he reveal himself.

And then, he saw Miss Martin.

She was watching him from her own, dark corner, although her pale face was clearly visible from where he stood. Her eyes were fixed on his, wide and holding a look of fear that had his own heart filling with concern. Miss Martin had always kept away from him since she had become a companion, kept her distance and made it quite clear that she did not wish for his company, but now there was something in her face that had him wondering if there was, for the first time, a need for her to seek his aid.

“Come here.”

The whispered words did not meet Miss Martin’s ears, of course, but he beckoned her along with them, to which he immediately saw her react. Her glance to the left and then to the right made him wonder if she was immediately about to refuse him, if she was immediately about to turn her head and look in the entirely opposite direction, but then, much to his surprise, she began to make her way towards him.

His breath caught in his chest as she drew close, seeing a vulnerability in her expression that he had not seen in a very long time.

“Miss Martin,” he murmured as she looked up at him. “I presume you have heard the rumors.”

She nodded but said nothing.

“They are not true,” he insisted, wondering if she was questioning whether or not he was being honest with her. “Just as matters with Lady Burton were untrue, just as the bet in White’s was not written with my own hand. Someone is set against me and I pray, Miss Martin, that it is not you.”

His words were quiet, but still, Miss Martin jerked visibly as if he had prodded her, hard.

“No, Williamson, these things are not of my doing,” she answered him, her head low now. “Although I cannot pretend that I have not done my part to keep Miss Smallwood from you.”

“But why have you done so?” he begged, the desire to finally discover the truth burning up in him again. “Why have you tried to keep your charge from me? Why have you called me a cad when you know I am not?”

Miss Martin looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “I believe you are,” she told him without hesitation. “You use your power and authority to keep things from occurring in a way that would bring happiness to others. You need not deny it, Williamson. I know you did.”

Daniel blinked, his mouth a little ajar as he stared at her. He did not understand what she spoke of, shaking his head as he fought to make sense of it.

“I do not know what you mean, Miss Martin, truly,” he promised, seeing how she looked away. “Please, I—”

She turned around and made to walk away and, in his desperation, he reached out and grasped her shoulder, making her turn at once.

“Please, Christina.”

Her expression softened at once and she closed her eyes, slowly turning back to him.

“Will you not help me?” he pleaded, his voice tremulous, such was the weight of his emotions. “I am being torn apart in front of the beau monde and have no understanding as to why or for what reason. I care for Miss Smallwood, whether you wish to believe it or not. I had every intention of speaking to her father about courting her, with a view to proposing soon thereafter.”

At this, Miss Martin’s head shot up, her eyes wide.

“Tis true,” he asserted, seeing how her face paled a little. “I care deeply for Miss Smallwood, but now I am being kept from her by nothing more than lies and rumors. I want to set things aright but I do not know how to do so. I cannot discover who it is that is fighting against me, Christina. Do you know nothing? Is there not one word of insight you can give me that would aid me in this?”

Miss Martin swallowed hard, her eyes filling with tears. Tears that he had not seen fall in years.

“I—I have lied about you to Miss Smallwood,” she whispered, a single tear coursing down her cheek. “I wanted to bring you pain. I wanted to keep you from happiness, in the same way that you kept it from me.”

Daniel wanted to bellow aloud with frustration. “I have done nothing of the sort! I—” His hand tightened on her shoulder without intention and he dropped it to his side, seeing how she shook her head.

“I think my charge is aware of my falseness,” Miss Martin continued sorrowfully. “I have let my anger bubble over to the point that I now see I have not treated you or her with fairness. Perhaps…” She looked away, clearly ashamed. “I will encourage her to call upon you tomorrow. I shall tell her everything then.”

“And you shall tell me everything also,” Daniel insisted, seeing a frown darken her features. “I speak the truth when I state that I do not understand what it is you hold against me, Christina.”

She nodded but said nothing, her disbelief evident. Turning, she made to leave him, only to turn her head. “Tomorrow,” she said, as though this was a promise she was making to him. “Tomorrow, all shall be known, no matter what happens to me thereafter.” Turning her head away again, she moved back through the crowd, leaving Daniel standing in both relief and frustration. Relief that she was to tell him everything, but frustration that it had taken her so long to even consider doing such a thing. He wanted to find a footman and down at least three brandies, in the hope that it might take the edge from his frantic, whirling thoughts and emotions, but knew that he could not. Lord Mercer was to be the gentleman he found next.

Thankfully, Lord Mercer was not particularly difficult to locate. A quiet word to a footman directed Daniel to the card room, where many gentlemen went when the dancing and the revelry became a little too much. Daniel heard Lord Mercer before he saw him, catching the gentleman’s booming voice echoing out from the room and into the hallway.

He could not go in, that much he knew. To walk directly into the card room would be to face a good many gentlemen, all staring at him with full knowledge of the stories and rumors about him evident on their faces. Lord Mercer himself might react badly to Daniel’s presence, particularly if he was in his cups. Sighing heavily, Daniel moved slowly forward, seeing a small alcove just beyond the door of the card room where he might hide himself. Slipping past the door, he stopped dead upon hearing his name being spoken by another gentleman.

“I could not quite believe it!” he heard the fellow say, flattening himself against the wall as a ball of anger settled itself in his stomach. “There he was, half-dressed and half cut by the look of it!” A loud guffaw crashed about the room, setting Daniel’s teeth on edge. “Of course, Lord Williamson will deny it, but there is no doubt about what I saw. In fact, I even have his money to prove it!”

Daniel wanted to shout that money was no proof at all, but the other gentlemen within the card room all laughed uproariously at this and Daniel knew there was no point in trying to defend himself. Clenching his jaw tight, he balled his hands into fists and tried to keep his composure.

“I do not know what has come over the man, behaving like that!” he heard Lord Mercer exclaim. “As far as I know, he is not at all that sort of fellow.”

“Obviously he is,” came the first voice, still chuckling. “It is just that he has been well able to hide it from us thus far.”

There was a short pause. “So it would seem,” Lord Mercer muttered, as Daniel fought to hear what was being said. “A little disappointing, I must say.”

Still battling the urge to fling himself into the room and defend himself against these vile accusations, Daniel struggled to think clearly, trying to work out what was best for him to do next. He could wait for Lord Mercer to come out of the card room, although that might take hours, or he could try and identify the gentleman that had been speaking. Surely one of them would emerge soon enough? Nodding to himself, Daniel moved slowly towards the alcove, making sure his feet made no noise whatsoever on the floor. He had only just managed to draw near it, hiding himself away, when two gentlemen walked from the card room, talking to each other in an animated fashion.

“Do you think it is true?” said the first as they walked away. “Lord Williamson is not inclined to such behavior, surely?”

The second man shrugged, his voice fading away as Daniel strained to hear him. “But he was seen there,” the man answered. He laughed loudly. “Although why no one is questioning his behavior, I could not say!”

The first gentleman laughed as well, before saying something more that Daniel could not hear.

His mind began to fire with painful darts, his heart slamming into his chest as the chance to discover just who it was that was telling such lies faded from him. Groaning in irritation, he slammed his head back against the wall much harder than he had intended, sending a wave of pain coursing through his skull. His head began to ache furiously and he bent low, covering his head with his hands as he fell to his haunches, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“I shall take what you took from me.”

Daniel looked up, hearing those hissed words but being quite unable to make out the face of the gentleman who now stood over him. He was about to stand up when, out of nowhere, something came crashing into the side of his head. Falling to the floor in a crumpled heap, Daniel tried to look up, tried to speak through the haze of pain that now surrounded him, but found he could do neither. Shadows were slowly but surely blocking out the light from his eyes, his head screaming in torment.

“You denied me and so I deny you,” said the low voice, filled with wrath. “You are undone, Lord Williamson.” This was accompanied by a sharp kick to Daniel’s stomach, which had him curling in pain, a groan escaping from him. The gentleman began to walk away, with Daniel trying to shout after him, but the darkness was becoming too great. It held him back, prevented him from speaking until, finally, it stole his consciousness completely.

13

“Miss Smallwood?”

Louisa did not move an inch, although her back stiffened immediately. She continued to gaze out of the window, not reacting in the least to the arrival of Miss Martin.

“Please, Miss Smallwood, might I just have a moment? It is of great importance, I assure you.”

“I do not want to hear what you have to say, Miss Martin,” Louisa replied, her spirits lower than they had ever been before. “Were it not that my father was still abed, you would find yourself without employment any longer and be gone from this house.” She knew her words were cruel and cutting, but she did not care. In a way, she felt as though Miss Martin deserved them, for there was clearly a good deal that she was keeping from Louisa and Louisa knew quite certainly that she could not trust her companion in any way. Nothing made sense to her, but she did not want to try and understand it. She would resign herself to being the wife of Sir Walton, even though that would, most likely, break her spirits entirely. Gone was the newfound confidence in herself, the determination and the strength of spirit that Miss Grey had so encouraged within Louisa. There was nothing but sadness now.

“Please, Miss Smallwood, I beg of you.” Miss Martin’s voice was filled with desperation and she practically flung herself at Louisa’s feet, making Louisa start with surprise. This was not the Miss Martin she knew. This was not the lady who had been so sharp and so direct with her, almost from the very start of their acquaintance. Why now did she seem so upset?

“I did not tell you the truth about Lord Williamson, Miss Smallwood—Louisa,” Miss Martin began, sounding more and more desperate as she spoke. “I confess that I did so for my own ends, as a way to punish Lord Williamson. I believe he deserved it, but it was not until last evening, when I saw the look on your face as you heard Lord Montague tell you of the rumors, that I realized just how much you have come to care for him.” She pressed a hand to her eyes and drew in a ragged breath. “I believe I understand everything now.”

Louisa drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening as she stared at Miss Martin. “Do you mean to say that it has been you who has been treating Lord Williamson in such a cruel fashion?” she asked, one hand pressed against her thundering heart. “You have been spreading lies?”

“No, no,” Miss Martin protested weakly. “No, I have not had anything to do with Lady Burton, nor the bet, nor even the stories that now meet our ears about his time in the bawdy house.” Wincing, she looked away, her skirts still billowed about her on the floor as she sat by Louisa’s feet. “I told you that Miss McBride was broken-hearted over Lord Williamson and that he had treated her ill. That was not the truth.”

Louisa shook her head, her confusion growing all the more. “Then why did you say such a thing?” she asked sorrowfully. “Why did you try to push me from him?”

Miss Martin closed her eyes, her throat working as if she were trying to hold back tears. “I wish to tell you everything, Miss Smallwood, but it would be best spoken of in front of Lord Williamson. You will have questions, I know, and he will be able to answer some better than I.”

Louisa stared down at her companion, not understanding in the least anything that Miss Martin spoke of. It was evident now that Miss Martin and Lord Williamson had been previously acquainted, but what Miss Martin held against him, she had not even the slightest notion. It was clearly something that had caused her companion great anger and distress, but it was not a good enough reason to have told Louisa such lies about him.

“He cares deeply for you, Louisa,” Miss Martin finished, slowly getting to her feet and brushing down her skirts. “I did not think that such a thing would be possible, but it seems that it is so. He wants to marry you, I believe.”

Again, Louisa drew in a sharp breath, blinking rapidly as she looked up at Miss Martin’s pale face.

“He regrets not speaking to your father sooner,” Miss Martin continued, her head low and her voice dull. “I know that he will make you an excellent husband, Miss Smallwood, if you would only think of accepting him.”

“How can I?” Louisa whispered, struggling to find her voice. “How can I when he is so covered with the lies and the rumors that all of the ton now speak of? My father will not stand for it.”

“All will become clear, I am quite certain,” Miss Martin replied, finally looking back at Louisa and trying, it seemed, to smile. “He will be able to explain things to your father and I, too, shall do my part if it is required.”

Louisa did not know what to say, for there was such a change in Miss Martin’s demeanor that she was quite overcome. Miss Martin was now dabbing tears from her eyes, her breathing ragged as she tried to regain some sense of composure. A slight pang of sympathy forced its way into Louisa’s heart, even though she did not want it there, did not want to feel any compassion for Miss Martin whatsoever, but it still lingered there regardless. Closing her eyes, Louisa leaned forward in her chair and pressed her hands to her eyes, her elbows resting on her knees. What was she to do? Either she could refuse to call upon Lord Williamson and, therefore, set herself towards her future with Sir Walton and all the sorrow that would bring, or she could attempt to find a little of her courage once more and go to speak to Lord Williamson, in the hope it would bring her some fresh understanding that might, in the end, bring a good deal of happiness with it.

It was not a choice that she had any difficulty making.

“Despite my reservations and my deep confusion, I shall go with you to call upon Lord Williamson,” she said slowly, seeing Miss Martin’s eyes flare wide. “I shall not speak to my father either, until this matter has been resolved.” An apology was on the tip of her tongue, but the words seemed to stick to her lips, forcing her to speak carefully. “And,” she added, forcing the words out, “I am sorry that I spoke harshly to you, Miss Martin.” The sentiment did not come easily to her, but she said it nonetheless, aware that in threatening to terminate Miss Martin’s employment and refuse her a decent reference, she had been overly harsh.

“You need not apologize, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin replied, her eyes still glassy. “Once you discover the truth in all its entirety, I am quite certain that you will regret apologizing to me.”

“I doubt it,” Louisa replied as firmly as she could despite her own personal misgivings. “Despite what has occurred and what may yet occur, I ought not to have said such things. Upon reflection, Miss Martin, it may have been wise, however, for you to speak to me openly about whatever it is that has now presented itself.”

She wanted to say more, wanted to give voice to the annoyance and the confusion that was roiling around inside her, but wisely chose not to. It was clear that Miss Martin was visibly distressed and to say more would only add to the lady’s difficulties. “I should prepare myself. If you will excuse me, I will not be long.” Rising to her feet and feeling a slight trembling taking a hold of her, Louisa moved quickly towards the door. Could it be true that Lord Williamson sought to make her his wife? That in itself was something of a weighty matter, given that she felt so uncertain about the gentleman himself, but Louisa had to admit that there was a rush of pleasure that came with that thought. Hurrying up to her room to change and ensure she looked her very best, Louisa tried her best to quieten her fractious thoughts. There was no reason to linger on what might be or what could be, not when she did not know the truth in all its entirety. She had to wait until she was, once more, in Lord Williamson’s presence.

Louisa’s nervousness began to grow steadily as she sat down in front of her dressing table, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were a little flushed, her eyes holding both hope and doubt in equal measure. Just what was Lord Williamson going to say? And what would she herself do, once she knew the truth?

“Miss Smallwood.”

Louisa held her breath as Lord Williamson turned from where he had been standing by the window, tension swirling all through her as she tried to hold his gaze.

A gasp slipped from her mouth as she looked into his eyes and saw the large, dark bruise that bloomed from one side of his forehead, reaching out towards his eye. It looked fresh and new, and for one horrible moment, Louisa thought the bruise must have come from the night he had supposedly spent at the bawdy house.

“I was set upon last evening, at the ball,” Lord Williamson said quickly, reaching for her hand and taking it in his. Louisa blinked rapidly, not quite certain what she should say or do, looking at the bruise and wincing at the severity of it.

“I foolishly threw my head back a little too hard against the wall,” Lord Williamson continued, by way of explanation. “Battling the pain, another gentleman slammed something into the side of my head. I was knocked to the floor.”

“Goodness,” Louisa whispered, feeling herself sway just a little with the shock of what she had heard. “Why would someone do such a thing?” Forcing her eyes away from the bruise, she looked into Lord Williamson’s eyes and saw him shake his head, his gaze lowering to the floor.

“I do not know,” he answered softly. “The fellow muttered that he was to take from me what I had taken from him, that he was to deny me what I had denied him, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head again. “As yet, I have no knowledge as to who such a person might be.”

Louisa swallowed hard and then, after a moment, tugged her hand carefully out of Lord Williamson’s grasp. There was still a good deal she did not understand and the last thing she wanted was to lose her focus. Lord Williamson, evidently realizing what she intended, cleared his throat and, with a tight smile, gestured for her to sit down. Louisa made to do so, only for the door behind her to slam itself hard against the wall as another gentleman flung it back and strode into the room.

“Good gracious!” the fellow exclaimed, hurrying towards Lord Williamson. “I must apologize, old chap! I did not hear of what had occurred until this morning. Why did you not come and find me in the melee? I would have come to your aid at once.”

Louisa blinked in surprise, realizing that the gentleman in question was Lord Townend, to whom she had been introduced before.

“Townend,” Lord Williamson replied, his voice rather quiet although holding a good deal of mirth. “I do have guests.”

“Oh.” Lord Townend turned around at once, his face flushed with color as he noticed both Louisa and Miss Martin who, as yet, had not said a word. For whatever reason, his gaze lingered on Miss Martin for a moment or two longer, although Louisa noticed that Miss Martin looked away almost immediately. It was, mayhap, merely that Lord Townend was surprised to see Miss Martin sitting here in Lord Williamson’s house when, no doubt, he was very well aware of the lady’s apparent dislike of Lord Williamson.

“All the same, it is good that you have arrived,” Lord Williamson continued, his hand on Lord Townend’s shoulder for a moment. “You might be able to, at the very least, confirm to Miss Smallwood that I was not at the bawdy house two nights ago, as the rumors have stated.”

Louisa sat down quickly, seeing Lord Townend nod fervently, his expression now growing serious. Her heart quickened at the look in Lord Williamson’s eyes, having heard the eagerness in his voice as he had encouraged Lord Townend to speak.

“Miss Smallwood, I must inform you that the rumors you have heard are nothing more than lies,” Lord Townend began, spreading his hands wide. “Lord Williamson cannot have been at such a place for he and I spent the evening at my residence. My staff can all vouch for it.”

Sweat began to bead on Louisa’s forehead as she let out her breath slowly, seeing Lord Williamson stare back at her with a desperate hope shining in his eyes.

“I do not understand,” she murmured faintly, her gaze darting from Lord Williamson to Lord Townend and back again. “You say that Lord Williamson was with you. Why, then, does someone else say that he was with him at the bawdy house?”

At this, Lord Williamson began to frown, taking a step closer to Louisa as his brow furrowed.

“Do you mean to say, Miss Smallwood,” he began, his hands coupling in front of him, “that you know the identity of the person who has begun this rumor?”

Louisa nodded, not quite understanding the significance. “I do, yes. I discovered it last evening, for I was quite determined—as I have always been before—to ensure that the rumors have basis in fact rather than being mere stories that grow in all manner of direction.” She closed her eyes momentarily, unable to hold Lord Williamson’s intense gaze. “But the gentleman in question stated that he had not only seen you there but gambled with you also.” Her eyes opened. “That is why I could not immediately disregard the notion.”

Lord Williamson let out a long breath and then rubbed one hand over his forehead. “I see,” he muttered, sounding frustrated. “For you see, Miss Smallwood, last evening I overhead a gentleman speaking about me in such an intimate fashion that I felt certain that all those he spoke to would believe him without question.” Dropping his hand, he gestured to Lord Townend. “Lord Townend and I had thought to speak to Lord Mercer, for we had discovered that he had been present in White’s on the evening that the bet I supposedly made was written. Last evening, Lord Mercer was playing cards in the card room and I made my way to it, only to hear someone state that he had seen me the previous evening in practically a state of undress!”

This brought such a blush to Louisa’s cheeks that Lord Williamson, upon seeing it, had to quickly stammer an apology before he could continue.

“I could not immediately enter the card room to speak to Lord Mercer or to confront the gentleman out of fear that my actions would thereafter be known throughout the ballroom and, yet again, more rumors would spread.” He swallowed and looked away. “I could not bear it, Miss Smallwood. Knowing that you were already affected by what had been said of me and what you mayhap already believed of me, I knew that I had to be careful. Therefore, I decided to wait until Lord Mercer left the room, so that I might speak to him privately.” One shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “It was not to be. I believe that the gentleman who spoke to Lord Mercer was the very same who, thereafter, knocked me to the floor. He is also, most likely, the gentleman behind the other rumors, who wrote the bet and encouraged Lady Burton to pretend that she and I had already a prior engagement.” Sighing, he spread his hands. “And the motive, for whatever reason, is that he wishes to deny me something that I supposedly denied him. I cannot understand such a thing, Miss Smallwood. Therefore, if you are quite certain that you know the fellow behind such a rumor, then I beg of you to speak his name to me now, for mayhap then I might be able to rest a little easier. Mayhap then all will begin to make sense.”

Louisa hesitated for a moment, going over the conversation she had shared with Lord Raeburn and Lord Montague last evening. Was she quite certain that Lord Raeburn had pointed to Lord Montague? There could be no doubt now, could there?

“I believe I am quite certain,” she told Lord Williamson, her fingers twisting together as her hands sat in her lap. She felt as though she were a coiled spring, under a good deal of pressure and about to spring apart at any moment. “I spoke to Lord Raeburn and insisted that he tell me the name of the gentleman who told him of your appearance at the bawdy house.”

“And who might that gentleman be, Miss Smallwood?” Lord Townend asked, his own expression suddenly dark. “What is his name?”

Louisa drew in a quick breath, settled her shoulders, and gazed directly into Lord Williamson’s face. “It was Lord Montague, my lord. Lord Montague is the man you want.”

14

At that moment, everything in his world shifted. Lord Montague was the gentleman behind the rumor about the bawdy house. Daniel blinked rapidly, color draining from his face as he realized that Miss Smallwood was now looking at him with a good deal of concern in her expression.

“That name is significant to you, I think,” Miss Smallwood observed as Lord Townend cleared his throat and hurried to the small table in the corner of the room, where he quickly poured two glasses of whisky. Handing one to Daniel, he gave him a small nudge, forcing Daniel to recollect himself.

“Yes,” he said, hoarsely, looking at Miss Smallwood and wondering why he had not thought of such a thing—although, to be entirely fair to himself, he had barely even noted that the gentleman was back within London society. Balls and soirees were always busy and, given that he and Lord Montague did not have a good deal to say to each other, it was not at all surprising that he had not noticed the fellow.

“I do not understand,” Miss Smallwood murmured quietly, looking from Daniel to Lord Townend and back again. “Why would Lord Montague treat you so?”

“It makes sense now,” Daniel admitted, running one hand through his hair and turning to face Miss Martin. “Does it not, cousin?”

He both heard Miss Smallwood’s swift intake of breath and saw, out of the corner of his eye, the way she visibly started. However, he did not look at her but held Miss Martin’s unsteady gaze, seeing the way tears clung to her lashes. It had to be explained now. He had kept his silence for far too long and whilst he had done so out of a sense of loyalty and a desire to keep his word, there was no need for such secrets to be held any longer.

“Cousin?” he heard Miss Smallwood breathe, her voice ragged. “You are Miss Martin’s cousin, Lord Williamson?”

“I am sorry, Miss Smallwood.” Miss Martin was crying now, her eyes squeezing shut as tears dripped off her chin. “I had made a decision to keep myself far from Lord Williamson, after what he did. I could not bear it.”

“I—I do not understand.” Miss Smallwood’s voice was barely audible, forcing Daniel to turn towards her so that he might hear her better. “You are related to Lord Williamson?”

Daniel swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how much of a shock this was to Miss Smallwood. Her face was ashen, her knuckles whitening with the obvious tension that now coursed through her. Daniel’s heart burst into a racing beat, suddenly fearing that this would be too much for Miss Smallwood to accept, that she might turn from him entirely.

“I am sorry I did not tell you from the very first,” he stammered, taking a stumbling step towards her. “I had promised Miss Martin—Christina—that I would do as she wished and be as a stranger to her. It was the only way I could bring a smidgen of relief to her apparent torment.”

Miss Smallwood blinked. “Torment?” she repeated, as Lord Townend cleared his throat gruffly, a similar expression of confusion on his face. “I cannot… I do not…” Frustrated, she shook her head, lowering her gaze for a moment. “None of this makes sense.”

Daniel made to speak, only for Miss Martin to rise to her feet and, visibly trembling, come a little closer to both Daniel and Miss Smallwood.

“I should tell you the truth from the very beginning,” she said, her voice low and yet with a thread of determination running through it. “It is as Lord Williamson has said. He and I are acquainted, and yes, we are cousins. And, as he has said, I begged him to remove himself from my life for I could no longer bear to be in either his house or his company.”

Moved by his cousin’s tremulous voice and the pain burning in her eyes, Daniel took a step towards her, putting one hand out to her, but Miss Martin shook her head sharply, forcing him to step back. Questions began to burn in his mind, the very same questions that had been there from the first. What had he done—or did she think he had done—that had turned her away from him in such a manner?

“Please,” Miss Smallwood said, making him turn towards her. “Allow Miss Martin to speak. It is clear that she wishes to say a good deal and I fear that interruption will only hinder our understanding further.” Her eyes were clear now, her voice a little stronger, and once again, Daniel was reminded of just how strong a character Miss Smallwood could display. A newfound trait, she had said, but apparently one that was becoming an integral part of her.

“Of course.” He inclined his head and sat down at once in a chair near to Miss Smallwood, whilst Lord Townend took another one, clearly intrigued. Seeing them all seated, Miss Martin drew in one long, shaking breath, set her shoulders, and closed her eyes.

“I know, Miss Smallwood, that you were surprised at my youthfulness when I first came to you as your companion,” she began, Miss Smallwood leaning forward in her chair as if it would help her not to miss a single word that was being said. “There is reason for that.” She paused and opened her eyes. “My parents had been unable to take me to London for the Season as they were both rather unwell, and therefore, I had been required to stay at home.” Again, she took in a long breath, tears glistening in her eyes. “My mother passed away soon afterwards and my father then followed. I had to endure my mourning period, which took yet more Seasons from me—although I was not sorry to miss them due to my grief. Thereafter,” she gestured towards Daniel, “I was left to my charge, Lord Williamson, who was, and still is, my first cousin.”

Daniel saw Miss Smallwood turn her gaze to his, her eyes rounding.

“I did, of course, insist that Miss Martin enjoy a Season in London,” he said hastily, fearing that Miss Smallwood might believe that he had been the one to force Miss Martin into becoming a companion. “We were in London and, from my point of view, things went exceptionally well.” He saw Miss Smallwood give a tiny nod, although Miss Martin said nothing. “There were a good few young men interested in furthering their acquaintance with Christina.”

“But only one that I had any true interest in,” Miss Martin interrupted, her voice shaking badly now as she dropped her head. “One gentleman in particular, one that I thought you would accept.”

Something began to creep into the edges of Daniel’s mind as he looked at his cousin and thought back to the time when she had been making her way through society, when she had been dancing and conversing and laughing with a brightness and a happiness that he had been so glad to see in her. The sorrow that must have been in her heart over the death of both her parents was a pain that he had not thought he would ever be able to understand, and then to see her smiling and enjoying her Season had brought a happiness to his own heart. It had made it all the worse when he had seen how it had been torn away, how she had turned from it all and begged him to allow her to be a companion and nothing more.

Was it because she had been heartbroken over a gentleman that she had come to care for? He had not known of it.

“I did not realize that you had an affection for someone within your heart, Christina,” he told her softly, leaning forward in his chair and trying to get her to look up at him. “Why did you not say?”

Much to his surprise, Miss Martin’s head shot up, her cheeks coloring as her eyes narrowed suddenly. “You were fully aware of the gentleman, Williamson!” she exclaimed, reaching out one hand and pointing at him. “Do not pretend that it is not so!”

Daniel’s mouth fell open at the vehemence in her voice and the fury in her eyes. He had no understanding of what she meant and wanted to protest, but the shock of her anger caught his words and tugged them away.

“I do not think that Lord Williamson knows, in fact, whom you speak of, Miss Martin.” Miss Smallwood glanced from Daniel to her companion and then back again, her eyes betraying a small measure of understanding and, within that, sympathy for both Miss Martin and himself. “Might I ask you to speak of it a little more?” She returned her gaze to Miss Martin, a small, encouraging smile on her face. “Please.”

Miss Martin closed her eyes, fresh tears running down her cheeks. “I heard you refuse him, Williamson. He had told me that he wished to seek your approval before anything further occurred, and yet, when the time came for him to do so, you turned him away.” Daniel could almost feel her pain, hearing her ragged gasps as she fought to keep her composure. “You told him that you were sorry, but you did not think him suitable.” Her eyes opened, piercing his heart like a small, sharp dagger. “How could you do such a thing?”

Daniel’s mind filled with the memory of that day and shock once more overwhelmed his senses. Yes, he had refused a gentleman who had come to ask him if he might court Miss Martin, but it had not been someone he had ever thought she would care for. And yet, now, he realized, it might very well have been the case that they both had an affection for each other which he had not understood.

“Christina.”

Before Daniel could speak, Lord Townend spoke up. Turning his head, Daniel was utterly astonished to see the sheer desperation etched into every line of Lord Townend’s expression, for his eyes were a little wider than before, his gaze fixed upon Miss Martin and his hands clutching the arms of his chair as though he were required to keep a hold of them for some reason.

“No, Christina. It was not I.”

A gasp of shock ripped from Miss Martin’s throat, one hand covering her mouth as Daniel looked from one to the next.

“I had every intention of doing so, but I did not,” Lord Townend continued hoarsely. “I should have done, I know, but the truth is, I was hesitant, overwhelmed with the emotions in my heart and trying to understand them for what they were.” He shook his head, a groan escaping him as he put his head in his hands. “I understand now why you have turned from us both, but you are mistaken, Christina. I did not go to your cousin to seek permission. I should have done, but I did not.”

“No,” Miss Martin whispered, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed a deep red as she stared back at Lord Townend. “No, it cannot be. I thought it was… I was so certain that it was…” Closing her eyes, she let out her breath slowly, her hands trembling as she clasped them together in her lap.

“You have been under a misapprehension,” Daniel said slowly, still trying to work things out in his own mind. “It was not Lord Townend who spoke to me, but rather Lord Montague, Christina.”

Miss Smallwood jerked in her chair. “Lord Montague?”

“Indeed.” He sighed and rubbed at his forehead, feeling a dull ache beginning to form within it. “Lord Montague came to me to seek my permission to court my cousin. Being her guardian and knowing Lord Montague’s reputation, I had no hesitation in refusing him.” Recalling the gentleman’s anger, he shook his head. “I did not think him suitable, but now, mayhap, I wonder if he had a true affection for you, Christina.” Turning his attention back to his cousin, he spread out his hands. “I have never sought to do you wrong. I have only ever sought your good.”

Miss Smallwood shook her head, got to her feet, and then, after a moment, made her way to where Miss Martin now sat on a small couch. Taking a seat next to her, she reached out and took one of Miss Martin’s hand, making her companion burst into yet another flood of tears. Miss Smallwood smiled gently in compassion and understanding, handing the lady her handkerchief with her free hand.

“I am sorry for the torment you must have been through these last few years,” Daniel heard her say to Miss Martin. “You believed that your cousin refused Lord Townend and in the midst of your sorrow and upset, you thought to escape from this life by any means you could, is that not so? You asked to be a companion, you begged your cousin to find you a suitable situation and to never interfere with your life in any way again.”

“And I agreed,” Daniel admitted, throwing a glance towards Lord Townend and seeing how he stared at Miss Martin in utter shock, his face pale and wretched. “I could not understand the grief that filled you, nor the anger that seemed to burn in your every word, and the only way I could seem to relieve some of your torment was to agree to what you asked.”

Miss Martin’s shoulders shook as she dabbed at her eyes, looking towards Lord Townend. “I loved him,” she wept, as Lord Townend closed his eyes tightly. “I could not bear to be a part of society where I was to be kept from the one gentleman I cared for, and so I determined to leave it. I have held such an anger towards you, Williamson, that to know I was mistaken in it is now almost too much to bear.”

Daniel opened his mouth to reassure her, to tell her that he held her no ill will and that he could understand where such a pain had come from, only for Lord Townend to get to his feet suddenly. He watched in astonishment as his friend strode towards Miss Martin, falling on his knees directly in front of her and reaching to take her hands. Miss Smallwood rose at once in a flurry of skirts, her cheeks a little red as she moved away, allowing Lord Townend the space he needed to speak openly.

“I have never lost the love for you that came into my heart when we first met,” he told Miss Martin, who was still sobbing desperately. “It has been within me for so long, wound about with confusion and pain and sorrow. I did not know what to do or what to think, for I feared that you had turned your back on me and did not understand the reasons why.” He spoke with such evident compassion that Daniel looked away, feeling as though he should give his friend and his cousin the space to speak without his interference. Miss Smallwood was watching them both with her hands clasped together, her fingers touching her mouth. Tears were glistening in her eyes, but a small smile played across her lips. His own heart lifted, reminding him of everything he felt for this lady. The time was not at hand when he could speak openly to her, but he had every intention of doing so. Lord Townend would not be the only one to speak of the love that dwelt within his heart.

“I am sorry for what I did,” he heard Miss Martin say, as Miss Smallwood’s gaze met his own, her eyes bright. “I thought you had been refused and I could not bear to even speak to you again, knowing that I was to be kept apart from you. And now, so much time has passed—”

“And yet my feelings have remained the same,” Lord Townend interrupted, gripping Miss Martin’s hands. “Say that you will marry me, Christina. Say that you will bring my happiness to its joyous fulfilment. Promise me that you will be mine for the rest of my days, so that this dark time might become nothing more than a shadow in our memories.”

Daniel looked back to his cousin, seeing how she glanced up at him. He nodded at once, his own heart beginning to ache with an understanding of all that she had gone through, dealing with her pain and sorrow alone. He got up and drew near to Miss Smallwood, and together, they walked towards the window, looking out over it so that the couple might have a few moments alone.

“Yes,” he heard Miss Martin whisper. “Of course I will marry you, Townend. You know that my heart has always belonged to you.”

Beside him, Daniel saw Miss Smallwood wipe at her eyes with trembling fingers, her handkerchief still in Miss Martin’s possession. Quickly pulling out his own, he handed it to her and she accepted it gratefully, giving him a watery smile. Wishing that he could do more, he pressed her free hand for a moment, seeing how she leaned towards him as though eager to go into his embrace, only to pull herself back again. This was Miss Martin and Lord Townend’s moment, he knew, and that was something that both he and Miss Smallwood did not want to interrupt. But by this week’s end, Daniel determined that he would speak to Miss Smallwood of all that he felt, in the hope that she might accept him in the very same way that Miss Martin had accepted Lord Townend: without hesitation, without restraint, and speaking true words of love.

15

Louisa drew in a long breath and walked quickly into Lord Townend’s drawing room. This little soiree had more than one purpose to it, but as yet, she was not to give anything away.

Her eyes searched each and every dark corner, seeking out the one gentleman that she knew would be present, but she did not see him. Her heart quickened as she pressed her hands tightly together, praying that this evening would allow Lord Williamson to have his good name restored.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Smallwood.”

Lord Townend was beside her in a moment, not failing in his duties as host as he bowed in front of her, although she noted how his gaze lingered on Miss Martin, who was still playing the part of companion. Louisa smiled and nodded, her heart filled with happiness for them both.

“Thank you for your kind invitation, Lord Townend,” she replied with a quick bob of a curtsy, glancing about her to ensure that no one could overhear their conversation. “Has he arrived as yet?”

Lord Townend shook his head, his expression a little troubled. “Not as yet, Miss Smallwood, but I am certain he shall do once he is ready. Lord Montague, however, has joined us already. As has Lord Mercer.”

A sense of nervousness settled about Louisa’s heart although she did not betray this to either Lord Townend or to Miss Martin. Instead, she simply nodded and tried to smile, not wanting to show any sort of anxiety.

“Thank you, Lord Townend,” Miss Martin murmured, her eyes fixed upon her betrothed. “I am certain this evening shall bring us the conclusion we all hope for.”

“I am sure it will,” Lord Townend agreed, a smile spreading across his face. “I look forward to being able to tell all of society that I am no longer a bachelor but rather betrothed to the one lady I have loved for such a long time.”

Louisa smiled at how Miss Martin dropped her gaze, seeing her blush and smile at the same time. However, as she did so, she saw that behind Miss Martin, there came Lord Montague, advancing towards them with a dedicated expression on his face. Placing one hand on Lord Townend’s arm, she cleared her throat gently, reminding him that now was not the time for such expressions, giving a slight jerk of her head in the direction from which Lord Montague was advancing.

“If you will excuse me, Lord Townend, I have just seen someone that I must greet,” she said, dropping her hand and making to move away. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” Lord Townend replied, back to his usual formality and not so much as glancing in Miss Martin’s direction. Clearing his throat, he turned to greet Lord Montague, allowing Louisa to escape without difficulty.

“I did not think that Lord Montague ever had such feelings for me that he would go after Lord Williamson,” Miss Martin murmured, once they had made their way to a quieter part of the room. “I feel truly terrible for my part in this.”

Louisa shook her head. “You have no reason to feel any such guilt,” she told Miss Martin firmly. “You did not know of Lord Montague’s determination to court you and from what I understand, you quite agree with Lord Williamson’s determination to refuse him.”

Miss Martin nodded quickly. “I would not have wanted to court Lord Montague,” she admitted. “I am glad that my cousin refused him, even though I did not know it was he that he spoke to at the time.”

“And yet,” Louisa added softly, her gaze fixed on Lord Townend and Lord Montague as they spoke, “Lord Montague must truly have cared for you in one way or the other. Not that I feel he would have been willing to give up his many flirtations and the like, no matter how much he felt, but to now attempt to bring down Lord Williamson’s reputation in such a way speaks of a long-held anger over his refusal.”

Miss Martin nodded slowly, her expression forlorn. “I believe Lord Montague has been waiting for some time, with the sole intention of ensuring that Lord Williamson is robbed of the happiness that Montague believes should have been his.” She sighed and looked at Louisa. “It is only because Lord Williamson has come to care for you that he has decided to act. I am sorry for that, Miss Smallwood.”

“Miss Martin, please,” Louisa replied warmly. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Christina.”

Louisa laughed softly. “Christina. You have nothing to apologize for. You did not engineer this. You have had nothing to do with it, aside from trying to keep me from Lord Williamson.” She shrugged, not wanting Miss Martin to feel any further guilt. “It will all work out in the end, I am quite certain, and, if I may say, I am glad that it has brought a happiness to both yourself and Lord Townend that should have been there from the very beginning.”

Miss Martin blushed. “I thank you,” she replied solemnly. “It is more wonderous than I could have ever hoped for.”

“And it is as Lord Townend said,” Louisa added, smiling at Miss Martin. “Do not look back and allow this shadow to linger in your future happiness. You will have a joyous future together, I am quite certain of it, and I must hope that, in the same way that Lord Townend and Lord Williamson are fast friends, we might become so also.”

Miss Martin’s eyes glistened with tears as she nodded, her smile wobbling just a little. Were it not for the fact that they were in Lord Townend’s drawing room and about to enjoy a soiree of sorts, Louisa would have hugged her companion tightly, feeling the strain and confusion of the last few weeks fading away completely.

“There he is.”

Miss Martin’s hiss caught Louisa’s attention at once. Lord Williamson strode into the room, his shoulders back and his head held high.

“Good evening, Townend,” he boomed, his voice filling the room and causing practically everyone to turn towards him. “Thank you for the invitation.”

At once, murmurs of consternation rolled about the room, making Louisa all too aware of the rumors and whispers that were running amok through society at this very moment. Her heart pounded as a light sheen of sweat began to form on her brow. This could all go disastrously wrong.

“You are most welcome,” Lord Townend replied with a broad grin. “You know that I do not give credence to any such rumors, do you not?” His voice was loud also, and given that there was near silence in the room, there was no difficulty in hearing what was being said. Looking all about him at the rest of his guests, Lord Townend spread his hands out towards them. “In fact, ladies and gentlemen, I can prove to you that Lord Williamson was not at the bawdy house, as so many of you believe.”

One gentleman cleared his throat and stepped forward, his brow furrowed low and his hands held tightly by his side. “If you will forgive me for speaking bluntly, Lord Townend, I do not think that we should hold your words in high regard, for it is well known that you are closely acquainted with Lord Williamson and, therefore, it is understandable that you would wish to defend him.”

Louisa held her breath, knowing that this was what Lord Townend and Lord Williamson had intended, but still finding her anxiety building rapidly.

“Again, my apologies for speaking with such honesty in front of your guests, Lord Townend,” the gentleman finished with an inclination of his head.

“I quite understand,” Lord Townend agreed as Lord Williamson looked across the room to where Louisa stood, his eyes catching hers and filling her with such an overwhelming longing for him that her breath was taken from her lungs. Miss Martin’s hand grasped hers and she held it tightly, aware that her companion, too, felt a good deal of tension.

“I could produce my butler, my cook, and my footman to tell you that Lord Williamson was here on the night in question, I suppose, but given that they are my staff, I must presume that you would not accept that either.” He spread his arms wide and looked across the room, evidently seeing the nods of heads and hearing the murmur of agreement. “I could also produce a note from the lady who runs the bawdy house, stating that Lord Williamson was not there, but you would not accept that either, for it is well known that such ladies are easily manipulated with a decent amount of coin.” He arched one eyebrow and looked directly towards Lord Montague, who stiffened visibly. “Is that not so?”

Another gentleman cleared his throat, the tension in the room rising with every moment. “I do not understand what you mean by this, Lord Townend,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention. “If you wish to have Lord Williamson here as your guest, then none of us can protest that.”

Lord Townend nodded sagely, as though this was the most remarkable piece of advice. “That is true,” he agreed, his voice soft but yet seeming to fill the room. “The reason I have invited you all here this evening, however, is not merely to enjoy an evening of conversation, music, and the like, but rather to ensure that you each understand and believe that Lord Williamson is not the guilty gentleman that you believe him to be. His reputation is not stained, as you might think it. He is innocent of the slurs thrown at him.”

Louisa closed her eyes momentarily, hearing the full weight of Lord Townend’s words and knowing that those words alone would not convince anyone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will permit me, I wish this evening to have a few minutes of your time to show you that I am, as Lord Townend has said, entirely innocent of this vicious rumor.” Lord Williamson spoke up, taking a few steps forward, as a few ladies sank down into chairs, their eyes wide and yet taking everything in. Louisa knew full well that this evening would give the gossip mill more than enough to run on for some weeks, no matter the outcome. Both she and Miss Martin sought out a place to seat themselves, sinking down onto plush chairs and praying that all would go well. “I am not the sort of gentleman who would even consider visiting such a place.”

“And yet you were seen,” another gentleman replied, gesturing towards Lord Montague. “The very gentleman who told us of it is now standing before you.”

“Then I must ask,” Lord Williamson replied, “why his reputation does not bear the same stain as mine.” His words were sharp and thrust from him, making a murmur of voices rise louder. “Why does he not bear the same shame as I, given that he was in the very same place?” He turned towards Lord Montague, who pushed himself away from the wall, his expression malevolent.

“I was merely playing a hand of cards, that is all,” Lord Montague replied, his voice thick with anger. “You need not try to convince the beau monde that I was in a similar state of disgrace.”

Silence ran through the room for a moment or two and Louisa gripped Miss Martin’s hand a little tighter, seeing how every eye was fixed upon Lord Williamson and Lord Montague. The truth was soon to come out, but whether or not the ton would believe it, she did not know.

“I was not present that evening, Montague,” Lord Williamson said softly, turning towards the gentleman. “You have made that story up and used your coin and your influence to ensure that some of the ladies who work at such an establishment will confirm your words. I have sought them out and confirmed this with them.” He tipped his head just a little. “Although that will not be evidence enough, of course.”

Lord Montague said nothing, although a smug smile began to form on his lips, sending a wave of anger crashing through Louisa. She wanted to rise to her feet, to demand that Lord Montague admit to everything he had done so that Lord Williamson could be freed from his disgrace, but instead she had to merely force herself to sit quietly. Now was not the time for her words.

“Lord Mercer,” Lord Townend said quickly, shattering the silence. “A bet was supposedly made by my friend Lord Williamson on the evening that you were present at White’s.” Gesturing to a footman, he waited until the fellow had brought him over the piece of paper and, accepting it, unfolded it and read the bet aloud to the gathered crowd. Louisa’s stomach tightened as a few gasps came from the assembled ladies, aware of how they glanced at her and feeling heat climb into her cheeks.

“Might I ask, Lord Mercer, whether you were aware of Lord Williamson making this bet?”

Lord Mercer cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other. “I was present but not fully aware of what was going on,” he replied in a slightly haughty tone, as though he wanted to cover up the fact that he had been in his cups. “I did not see Lord Williamson make this bet, however, no.”

Lord Townend inclined his head. “I thank you. So Lord Williamson was not in White’s when you were present?”

“No, he was not,” Lord Mercer admitted as a few murmurs caught up into the air. “I did not see him present.”

“And you were at White’s that evening for a good few hours?”

Again, Lord Mercer cleared his throat, still looking rather uncomfortable. “I was,” he admitted slowly, “but I did not see Lord Williamson attend during that time.”

“The fellow was asleep!”

Louisa’s heart leapt up into her throat as Lord Montague’s voice rang out across the room, making everyone turn to face him. Lord Montague, whose outstretched hand had been pointing towards Lord Mercer, dropped his arm quickly and began to bluster, his face going scarlet as Lord Williamson turned towards him, an expression of keen interest on his face.

“You say, Lord Montague, that you were present at White’s that evening?” he asked as a hush fell on the gathered crowd again. “You were with Lord Mercer at White’s when this bet was made?”

Lord Montague cleared his throat and nodded jerkily, perhaps aware of just how foolishly he had behaved. “Indeed. And… and I saw Lord Williamson make that bet.”

“How interesting,” Lord Townend interrupted in a quiet voice. “First, you are present at the time that Lord Williamson makes this rather inappropriate bet, which no other gentleman can verify, it seems, and next you are the only gentleman to see Lord Williamson at the bawdy house.” He paused for a few moments, allowing the significance of his words to fall upon each person’s mind. “And then we come to Lady Burton.”

At this, Louisa noted, Lord Montague went sheet-white. Her own heart cheered loudly at the sight, feeling that there was now a chance that the ton might believe that Lord Williamson was not the guilty party in all of this, that the stain might be removed from him.

“What of Lady Burton?” Lord Montague hissed, trying to keep his expression scornful but failing terribly. “There is nothing that—”

“Lord Townend has spoken to me at length, Lord Montague.” Lady Burton rose from her chair, her face rather white and her fingers twisting together. “I would not have two lots of happiness ruined, for I am not as cold-hearted as you might believe.” Drawing in a long breath, she turned to the rest of the gentlemen and ladies, seeing how they watched her. This was, Louisa knew, taking a good deal of courage and for that, she was greatly appreciative.

“Lord Montague sought me out and begged me to interrupt Lord Williamson and Miss Smallwood as they walked in the park, under the pretense that Lord Williamson had made an arrangement to walk with me. This was merely to confuse Miss Smallwood and to ensure that she was no longer interested in being accompanied by Lord Williamson.” Lady Burton’s chin lifted, her eyes flashing as she turned her gaze back to Lord Montague, who seemed to be slowly sinking into the floor. “If I did not do as he asked, then there would be consequences for me.”

Another ripple of shock ran around the room.

“What consequences, I will not say,” Lady Burton finished, her face now a little grey. “But they were of the most dire sort and I felt such a fear over it that I knew I had very little choice but to obey.” Her voice trembled as she looked towards Lord Williamson. “I am sorry for my part in this, Lord Williamson, but I felt as though I had very little choice. It was not until Lord Townend came to me and told me what he knew of Lord Montague’s involvement in other matters that I felt safe enough to speak the truth.”

“That is quite all right,” Lord Williamson replied gently. “You may sit down, Lady Burton. I am sorry for the burden you have had to carry, but be assured it is gone from you now.”

Louisa watched Lord Montague as Lady Burton sat, seeing how his eyes flashed but how the arrogance was draining from his expression. He was slowly coming undone and there was nothing that he could do.

“You have tried to separate Lord Williamson from Miss Smallwood, Lord Montague,” Lord Townend began as the rest of the crowd stared, fixedly, at the gentleman in question. “By your own statement, you have confirmed it. It was you who spoke to Lady Burton, you who made the bet in White’s, and you who then supposedly saw Lord Williamson in the bawdy house.”

Lord Montague tried to scoff at this, although there was no certainty in his words. “I have no reason to do so.”

“That is not at all true.”

Much to Louisa’s surprise, Miss Martin got to her feet and spoke loudly, making Lord Montague swing around to face her. His expression was one of shock, as though he had not even noticed her presence before.

“You spoke to my cousin about courting me, did you not?” she continued, rising from her chair and taking a step closer to him. “My cousin being the very man you have now accused of being found in the bawdy house. The one whose potential happiness you have tried to ruin, all for the sake of gaining some sort of revenge upon him for refusing you.”

The sense of shock that ran about the room was, to Louisa’s ears, practically audible, for only in that moment did people realize that Miss Martin was speaking of Lord Williamson. She looked at every face, seeing the open mouths, the widened eyes, and the bright expressions on one or two faces as they considered what gossip they might be able to chew upon next.

“You deny this?” Miss Martin asked as she took another step closer, her back rigid with both tension and anger. “You deny any of this?”

Lord Montague swallowed hard, his chin lifting. “I wanted to court you, Miss Martin,” he stated darkly. “But he refused me.” He jerked his head towards Lord Williamson, a furious expression rippling across his face. “And then he sent you to some young woman as her companion!” The word ripped from his mouth with force, making it slam about the room, burning into Louisa’s mind like a fiery dart. “He took you from this place and forced you to become something you are not worthy of.”

For a long moment, Miss Martin said nothing. She merely looked back steadily at Lord Montague, her chin lifted and her gaze fixed.

Then, she spoke.

“You are mistaken, Lord Montague,” she began, her voice soft and yet filled with such determination that Louisa felt the weight of her words settle on her shoulders. “Lord Williamson did not send me away. I chose to leave.” She glanced behind her towards Louisa, who could only give her the smallest of smiles, such was the tension that ran through every sinew. “I need not go into my reasons for such a decision, but I did so without even a thought directed towards you, Lord Montague.”

Louisa caught her breath, aware that every eye was fixed upon Miss Martin. Her every muscle seemed frozen in place as she waited for her to continue.

“I would not have accepted you even if you had wished it of me,” Miss Martin continued. “You may have thought you cared for me, may have believed that you wanted me for your own, but I knew the gentleman you were and the gentleman you still are today.” She shook her head. “You would not have given up your pleasures, Lord Montague. You would not have given up your flirtations, your coy smiles, and your delights taken at your leisure. You would have wanted a marriage where you could go about as you had always done, whilst knowing that I remained at home, waiting for your return.” Again, she shook her head, before turning back towards Louisa. “I warned Miss Smallwood away from you, Lord Montague, and would have continued to do so had you shown any continued interest in her. You have no true consideration for others. Instead, you seek only your own pleasures and for that, I would have had no consideration for your desires, such as they were. I would have refused you and am more than glad that my cousin and guardian sought to do the same.”

“He should not have refused me! He deserves the consequences!”

The words shot from Lord Montague’s mouth before he could stop himself. His hands were curled into fists, his mouth one hard, angry line, and his face whiter than Louisa had ever seen it before. The way he glared at Miss Martin suggested that he almost hated her, hated her with more passion than he had ever thought he had for her. Miss Martin remained standing steadfastly before him, whilst Louisa put one hand to her throat, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. With her considerable courage, Miss Martin had unmasked Lord Montague entirely, had proven to them without doubt that he had been attempting to stain Lord Williamson’s reputation and remove any chance of happiness from him.

“I believe, Lord Montague, that you have shown your true colors to us all,” Miss Martin murmured, her voice cutting through the air and making Louisa’s heart clamor all the more. “You have lied and manipulated and done all you can to ruin Lord Williamson—but not because you care for me. It is because he has slighted you, because you believe that he is guilty of treating you poorly, and because, to your mind, you deserve better than such treatment. Lord Williamson needs to be punished because he has slighted you by refusing to accept your courtship of me, is that not so?” She waited but Lord Montague said nothing, clearly aware that what he had said had revealed too much already. “There is nothing more to be said, Lord Montague. Lord Williamson bears none of the stains you have tried to throw at him. These ladies and gentlemen present this evening are witnesses.”

The first gentleman who had spoken at the very start now cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“We are indeed,” he agreed, his bushy brows low over his eyes. “Lord Montague, you shall have no escaping from this. The beau monde shall not be enticed to give Lord Williamson the cut direct, nor remove him from our society. Instead, it shall be you who will find yourself rejected. Your plan has failed, sir. You are no longer welcome in our company.”

Louisa closed her eyes against the swell of tears that rushed to her eyes, hearing the hurried footsteps and the sudden slamming of a door. Lord Montague, she knew, was gone. It was at an end. Lord Williamson would not be pulled from her any longer.

“And might I announce,” Lord Townend cried, before the hubbub could begin in earnest, “that Miss Martin and I are now engaged! We are to be married within the month.”

Louisa began to laugh with the sheer delight of it, looking out across the crowd that was now swarming around Miss Martin, only to see Lord Williamson looking back at her. His face was alive with happiness, his eyes warm and fixed upon her own. Her heart swelled with love, knowing that there was nothing now to hold her back. All she had to do was go to him.

Epilogue

“It is at an end.”

Louisa practically melted into Lord Williamson’s arms as he stepped out onto the terrace, reaching for her at once. They had managed to escape the hubbub for a few minutes, knowing that no one would miss them and that they would have all the opportunity they needed to speak in private. She let out a long breath, leaning into him and settling her head on his shoulder. It was more intimate than she had ever been before, but it felt right, felt as though she belonged right here, safe in his arms.

Lord Williamson sighed contentedly, his arms about her waist as he held her close.

“You do not fear me now, I think.”

Louisa looked up in surprise. “I have never feared you,” she said honestly. “I did not understand, did not know what everything meant or whether I could trust my own heart.”

He nodded slowly, his face lit by the moonlight that seemed to brighten all about them, as though seeking to envelop them in particular. “Your heart, Miss Smallwood… what does it say?”

She smiled tenderly, taking a small step back so that she could look into his face. His eyes were gentle now, with every trace of anxiety and fear gone from his expression. Louisa took one hand in hers, feeling her heart quicken and enjoying the tumult of sensations that rushed through her at his touch.

“My heart wanted to believe that everything I knew of you was the truth,” she told him, seeing him smile. “I wanted to believe that you were honest, that the words you spoke and the affections you presented were entirely true. And yet, there came so much trying to force me to do the very opposite.”

He nodded, clearly not holding anything against her. “I can well understand that,” he replied quietly. “And I am sorry that I could not tell you the truth about Miss Martin. I had made her a promise that I would not reveal my connection to her, and by the time she returned to London with her charge, she looked and behaved so very differently that I fear only myself and Lord Townend recognized her.”

Louisa put her free hand against his chest, not wanting him to feel any guilt whatsoever. “I understand why you could not break your promise,” she answered, her heart free of all fear and doubt. “I am glad that the truth has been revealed now, however, such is the happiness that I see in Christina’s eyes.”

“And in Townend’s,” Lord Williamson replied with a chuckle, although he began to lower his head, to look into her eyes with a little more intensity. “It is a happiness I would seek for myself also, Louisa.”

Her name spoken with such tenderness made Louisa’s heart jump in her chest, sending a flush of heat to her cheeks.

“I would not hold myself back from you,” he continued, his words quick as though he could not wait another moment to speak them. “I would not keep a single word when it comes to telling you the truth about how I feel.” His hands took both of hers and raised them to his chest, as he held them tightly. “Lord Townend told me that I should not wait, that I should not hesitate when it came to telling you the truth about how I felt, and therefore, Louisa, I shall do so at this very moment.” Pausing for a long moment as if to regain some courage or to allow himself the time he needed so that he might find the perfect words, Lord Williamson raised her hands to his lips and kissed them.

Louisa’s very soul seemed to burn with a passion that seared right through her, her breath escaping from her as a myriad of sensations coursed through her all the more. Her skin burned hot, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

“I love you,” Lord Williamson said softly, looking into her face earnestly as he lowered their joined hands again. “When the thought of losing you from my life was upon me, it was only then that I realized just how much I cared for you.”

“And when I realized the truth,” Louisa interrupted, feeling the urge to speak of her own feelings growing within her steadily, “I knew then that there was nothing that need hinder my own affection for you, Williamson.” Her lips trembled as he began to lower his head, knowing what was coming and yet wanting to prolong the moment. “I have found a happiness with you that I did not even imagine was possible. My heart is yours, for it can never belong to another. And there is no need to ask. You know that my only hope is to become your wife.”

His lips touched hers just as she finished speaking, enveloping her in a cloud of dazed excitement, wonder, and love. Leaning into him, she let his mouth play over hers, feeling such a joy that it could not be contained. Throwing her arms around his neck, she pulled him tighter, making Lord Williamson laugh softly against her mouth.

“Your determination has seen you through, my love,” he murmured, his head still low. “You have sought the truth and you have found it. I cannot think of anything better than making you my bride.”

* * *

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