The Disgraced Bride: The Spinsters Guild (Book 2) Read online

  Miss Crosby did not hesitate, however, but began to nod fervently. “I think it is an excellent idea,” she said, making Emma smile. “I must hope that Lady Smithton will be agreeable to such a thing, however.” Her look of hope began to fade. “What if she does not wish to help us?”

  “Then we cannot say we have not tried,” Emma replied, firmly. “I must hope that Lady Smithton has a kind heart, for she must surely understand just how difficult it is to make one’s way through society when there are rumors and whispers abounding!” Lady Smithton was able to throw aside such gossip without seemingly any difficulty, and it was this that made Emma hope the lady would be willing to, at the very least, give them some advice. “I do not know when I shall see her next nor when I will be able to approach her to explain what it is I am hoping for, but I have every intention of doing so just as soon as I am able.” She gave Miss Crosby a broad smile, seeing the light flickering in her friend’s eyes and realizing that Miss Crosby felt the same small hope that now lit her own heart.

  “Then I will confess to be rather excited at the prospect,” Miss Crosby said, getting to her feet and brushing down her skirts. “You will keep me informed, will you not?”

  “Of course I will,” Emma replied, warmly, also rising. “You must return to your cousin now, I think?”

  Miss Crosby grimaced but nodded. She was practically a chaperone to her cousin, who was only a few years younger than Miss Crosby herself but who had such a beauty about her that the ton was already speaking of her as a diamond of the first water. “Yes,” she muttered, clearly frustrated. “I must return to her. I believe we are to take tea with some gentleman or other and, of course, I must attend with her to ensure that everything is quite proper.” She rolled her eyes at Emma, who could not help but laugh.

  “Let us hope that Lady Smithton will be able to advise you as to how to extract yourself from such a role,” she said, laughing, as she linked arms with her friend again. “Or that your cousin finds a match very quickly so that you are free to pursue such a thing for yourself.”

  Miss Crosby did not answer but let out a small sigh that Emma understood too well. It was a sigh that spoke of sadness over lost opportunities, over the difficulties that they had both endured in different ways. It was a pain that filled her heart over and over again, each time a gentleman stepped away from her or allowed his gaze to merely brush over her without showing any particular interest. But no, Emma determined, lifting her chin and finding a new resolve filling her heart. She would not allow herself to be torn down by frustration and pain. Instead, she would allow herself to hope; to hope that Lady Smithton would be the answer to their troubles, that she would be their one light in what had been a very dark few weeks.

  And it was a hope that bolstered her confidence with every step she took.

  Chapter Two

  Viscount Nathaniel Morton decided, quite firmly, that he did not want to be here this evening. The ball was already well underway, and the crush of guests made even the thought of stepping into the crowd more than a little unwelcome. He could not simply turn on his heel and step away, however, for his friend, Lord White, would be most displeased if he were to do so given that he had only just arrived.

  Nathaniel sighed to himself and made to run his hand through his thick, dark hair, only to stop himself from doing so when he recalled just how long it had taken to settle it. It was a bad habit of his, for he often did so when he was frustrated or irritated by something or another, but given that he was in his very finest clothes and needed to ensure that he remained as pristine as possible for as long as possible, thrusting his hand through his hair was not a good idea.

  Sighing, he turned around, not wanting to descend the three small steps that would take him into the ballroom but finding that he had little option open to him. Behind him was the door that would lead him back to where had come from, and to either side there seemed to be nothing other than small alcoves, both of which were rather poorly lit. Aware that he would have to soon enter the ballroom regardless of whether he wished to or not, Nathaniel moved hurriedly into one of the alcoves, pressing himself into the shadows as the door opened again to admit a few more guests.

  A tall, gray-haired lady walked past him, talking rapidly with another lady who appeared to be of similar age. Two others followed them, both young ladies who were clad in gowns of light cream or white. Nathaniel gave them no more than a cursory glance, thinking to himself that he was a little too old to be interested in debutantes. Yes, he would have to consider matrimony and, therefore, seek out a wife for himself, but a debutante would not do. They were much too flighty, much too easily overcome by almost anything and everything that the ton provided. No, he required a lady who was a little more balanced than a debutante. Mayhap someone who was on their second or third season, who knew precisely what a gentleman such as he was seeking in a wife and who would remain levelheaded and entirely proper throughout their courtship and engagement. He did not want a creature who thought only of her gowns, or who lost herself in a flurry of excitement over some new bonnet or other. Nor did he want someone who found their happiness in speaking gossip or rumors about others amongst the ton. His stomach twisted at the thought, knowing that there were those amongst society who sought to do nothing more than spread the latest titbits from one person to the next. No, he had no time for that sort of creature.

  A sudden sound startled him. So caught up had he been in looking after the debutantes and reflecting upon just how little they interested him that he had not seen that the other alcove now held someone within it. The young lady was pressing herself into the shadows, just as he had done, and her hands were clasped tightly together in front of her. She did not look at him but rather let her gaze stretch out towards the crowd, her lips pressed together. Was she afraid of the ton for some reason?

  Nathaniel found his interest growing steadily as he continued to watch her, wondering at her audacious behavior, for a young lady ought not to be standing alone in a place such as this! She ought to be with her chaperone or her mother, depending on who she had attended with—but this young lady showed no intention of hurrying after those who had walked in with her. Not quite able to make out her features, Nathaniel contented himself with allowing his gaze to rest on her, his mind filling with questions as regarded her behavior. What was she looking for? Was it a particular gentleman that had promised to be here this evening? He hoped that it was not some sort of assignation, for he would be honor-bound to intervene if such a thing was to occur, and he was not the sort of gentleman to do such a thing. Instead, he preferred to keep back from society as a whole, to remain fairly quiet and unobtrusive.

  The young lady sighed heavily, and the sound caught his ears just as the music from the orchestra died away. His heart began to grow heavy for her, wondering what it was that seemed to pain her so.

  “You must do this,” he heard her say, and before he could remove his gaze from her, the young lady turned back to the steps and moved out of the alcove—only to stumble back with a small shriek at the sight of him.

  His heart dropped to the floor.

  “I do apologize,” he stammered, hurrying out of his alcove and moving towards her as she struggled to regain her balance. “I did not mean to startle you.” Reaching out his hand, he waited for her to grasp it, not wanting to press himself forward more than he was doing. Thankfully, the young lady took a hold of it at once, and he was able to pull her gently out of the alcove and back to a steady stance. Breathing hard, he dropped his hand to his side and made to apologize again, only for a sudden realization to hit him hard, forcing his breath from his lungs.

  It was Miss Bavidge.

  “Miss Bavidge,” he stammered, without thinking. “Good evening.”

  The young lady blinked rapidly, color rushing into her face. “Good evening,” she replied, slowly, fanning herself with one hand as though to cool her reddened cheeks. “I do not think we have been introduced, sir.” One eyebrow lifted slowly, a look o
f recognition coming into her eyes. “Although I do believe that I have seen you at some other events of late.”

  Nathaniel flushed, realizing too late that not only was this young lady particularly astute but that she was also unafraid of speaking to him in such a blunt manner. Yes, it was true that she had seen him at something prior to this evening—and it had not only been on one occasion but on a few. He had not thought that she had noticed his interest in her, but apparently, he had been wrong. However, a part of him was grateful at her lack of recognition. It meant that she had no knowledge of his part in her father’s downfall only last season, and that, he hoped, would continue to be the case as the season continued.

  “I—I believe we were introduced last season,” he stammered, the lie coming quickly to his lips. “Or mayhap it was the season before that.” The truth was, he had no knowledge as to whether or not Miss Bavidge had been in London two years ago, but he had needed to say something to give some explanation as to his interest in her. “I did not know whether or not you would recall.”

  It was Miss Bavidge’s turn to look embarrassed, although Nathaniel felt a swell of guilt in his heart that he had made her so when the words from his mouth had been nothing more than a lie. It was too difficult to take such words back now, however, and so he had to continue as they were.

  “I apologize that I do not recall your name nor your face, sir,” Miss Bavidge replied quickly, her eyes darting from his. “Might you be good enough to introduce yourself to me again?”

  He cleared his throat, trying to behave as gallantly as possible so as to cover his shame. “Viscount Morton, Miss Bavidge.” He managed a small bow, although the space did not give him adequate room to perform one correctly. “Might I accompany you into the ballroom?” He held out his arm, hoping that their presence here together at the door to the ballroom had not been noticed by anyone. “We might then seek out your chaperone?”

  Miss Bavidge’s eyes narrowed, which took him completely by surprise. She did not accept his arm but walked down the three steps alone, turning to the left as she reached the ballroom and melting into the shadows. Nathaniel was left standing alone, not at all certain what had just occurred nor what he had done to offend the lady so. Unable to prevent himself from following her, he too descended quickly and then turned to the left just as she had done.

  Miss Bavidge was not standing too far away, although she lingered in the shadows again, clearly trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible. Watching her for a moment or two longer, Nathaniel cleared his throat and then came towards her again, inclining his head as her attention was caught.

  “I apologize if I have offended you, Miss Bavidge,” he said, telling himself inwardly that he had no reason to worry over what she thought of him but finding it quite impossible to turn away from her. “I simply meant that—”

  “I am aware that my presence here in London brings more than a few rumors and gossip whispers with it,” Miss Bavidge interrupted, not looking at him but rather keeping her gaze out towards the crowd. “You need not suggest that I find my chaperone so as to keep those rumors at bay, Lord Morton, for I am certain that nothing I do and certainly nothing I say will prevent the beau monde from taking great pleasure in speaking about me.”

  “Indeed, that was not at all my intention when I said such a thing, Miss Bavidge,” Nathaniel replied urgently, wanting to dissuade her of the notion that he gave any consideration to the rumors, such as they were. “It was merely because I thought the lady, whomever she might be, would be looking for you. Concerned, mayhap, as to where you had gone.”

  This did not seem to satisfy Miss Bavidge, for she looked at him sharply, her lips pulled tautly, and she took a step closer to him, coming a little more into the light. Nathaniel held her gaze steadily, taking her in and praying that she would believe him to be entirely honest, for he had truly not meant any offense by his suggestion.

  In studying her, Nathaniel allowed himself to watch her closely, taking in everything about her. She was dressed in a rather plain gown of dark cream, with very little embellishments, and her fair hair was tied up with a few curls spilling down from the back of her head. The color of her gown did not lend itself to highlighting her golden head, for it was far too similar in tone. However, Nathaniel considered that he would not think her plain in any way, for her eyes, whilst still narrowed, were a comely shade of blue, framed by thick, dark lashes, and her oval face holding some delicate features. If she were not glaring at him so furiously, he might consider her to be quite pretty.

  “Very well, Lord Morton,” Miss Bavidge said finally, turning away from him and looking out across the crowd once more. “I shall accept your explanation but, whilst I appreciate your concern, I can assure you that there is none required. My…chaperone, as you so put it, has no consideration for me whatsoever. Therefore, you need not be troubled.” A tight, pained smile caught her face, her eyes flicking to his for just a moment, although nothing more was said. Nathaniel felt his heart rip at the pain in her eyes, a pain that she was trying so hard to conceal through her fierce demeanor, yet still leaked through.

  “Might you care to dance, Miss Bavidge?”

  Quite where those words had come from, Nathaniel did not know, but he found himself inclining his head and extending one hand out towards Miss Bavidge before he could stop himself. Lifting his gaze to hers, he saw her blinking rapidly again, clearly a sign of astonishment, although she said nothing to him.

  “I mean no harm to you,” he assured her, wondering if she was ever going to take his hand or if he would be forced to drop it and step back in embarrassment. “Truly, Miss Bavidge, it would be my honor to dance with you.”

  Miss Bavidge tipped her head to the left just a little, regarding him carefully as though wondering whether or not he could be trusted. Nathaniel did not blame her. He had seen how she had been caught off guard by other gentlemen seeking to dance with her who had then, once the dance had come to a close, done nothing but whisper about her to their friends. It was as though it were some cruel trick, as though they wanted to give her hope only to dash it away again. Being amongst the gentlemen of the ton and frequenting Whites as often as he did, Nathaniel was all too aware of how Miss Bavidge’s name was often thrust about in conversation, with many a gentleman asking whether or not another had danced with the ‘daughter of the notorious scoundrel, Viscount Hawkridge.’ It was almost a sense of pride that came with stating that yes, one had done so, and Nathaniel had hated to hear the coarse laughter that had followed. Some had even gone as far to suggest that Miss Bavidge would be so desperate for company, so longing for the interest of a gentleman that she could easily be cajoled into any sort of liaison that a gentleman wished to pursue—but thankfully, no one, as yet, had attempted to do such a thing.

  Not that he thought Miss Bavidge would be as easy to encourage as the other gentlemen of the beau monde seemed to think, Nathaniel considered wryly, his hand still extended as the lady continued to study him. He was just about to give up and take a step back, only for the lady to sigh and place her hand in his—although she turned her head away as she did so, as though too ashamed of her behavior to look at their joined hands.

  “I have been made a mockery of by almost every other gentleman present at some time or another over the last fortnight,” she said heavily. “Therefore, what does it matter if I do so again?”

  Nathaniel shook his head, pressing her fingers for a moment. “I am not such a gentleman, I assure you, Miss Bavidge,” he replied, firmly, wanting to remove that consideration from her mind almost at once but knowing that it would be impossible to do so with only words. “Ah, a waltz begins, I see. Might you care for that?”

  Miss Bavidge heaved a great sigh as though to suggest this was a great tribulation for her, but then nodded. “I can see no reason why not,” she murmured, looking at him sidelong. “But be aware, Lord Morton, that you shall have a good many people watching you.” She shrugged as he led her onto the floor. “But mayhap th
at is what you seek, despite your protestations otherwise.”

  Nathaniel said nothing, taking her onto the floor and bowing as he was supposed to. Miss Bavidge curtsied beautifully, although the expression on her face stated that she did not much care for either him or their dance. Nathaniel did not hold it against her, knowing that she had been ill-treated by the ton thus far, and finding himself feeling a tad guilty over his lies to her only a few minutes earlier. The music began, and he took her in his arms, seeing how she turned her head away from his, as though to keep as far apart from him as was possible in such a hold. As he began to move her about the floor, Nathaniel found that Miss Bavidge was as stiff as a board and did not soften in the least in his arms. She showed no enjoyment, did not speak even a word to him, and by the time the music ended, Nathaniel himself found himself relieved that it had come to an end.

  “Thank you, Miss Bavidge,” he murmured, bowing over her hand before letting it go completely. “I do hope that you will come to think better of me now when I prove that I am not as every other gentleman that you have come across thus far.”

  Miss Bavidge frowned, looking at him with a tinge of curiosity in her gaze as he let go of her hand. “I look forward to being proven wrong, Lord Morton,” she told him, quickly turning away to make her way back to the side of the ballroom. “And thank you.”

  Nathaniel let her go from his side without wanting to call her back, finding that his frustration with her behavior towards him was tinged with guilt. The reason he had been watching Miss Bavidge since he had first noticed her back in society, the reason that he had danced with her to prove that he was not as any other gentleman of the ton was, he realized was merely to assuage his own guilt over the situation she was currently in. The blackening of her father’s good name had been entirely Lord Hawkridge’s fault, of course, but Nathaniel himself had been the one who had brought the incident and Lord Hawkridge’s intention to light. Unfortunately, he had trusted one of his closest friends to keep such news to himself and not to spread it about London, but he had made a mistake in doing so, for his friend had immediately gone to Whites and crowed about it from the rooftops. Nathaniel had hoped that the news of Lord Hawkridge’s downfall could be kept quiet, aware that the gentleman had an unmarried daughter, but instead the opposite had happened. In some ways, Nathaniel felt to blame for Miss Bavidge’s damaged reputation, which was why he had been watching her closely over the last fortnight, wanting to see how society accepted her. Unfortunately, it had not gone particularly well, which, it seemed, Miss Bavidge herself was all too aware of.