The Maiden At Midnight (16 page)

Miss Hathaway, with her customary bullish
approach, practically flung them both into the throng and before
Harry knew what he was about, she was in his arms and they were
immersed in a waltz. It took him a minute to find his feet and his
breath.

Glancing down at the girl in his arms, he
found that she appeared unusually pale. There was a fixed set to
that soft, full mouth and she was leaning a little to one side,
trying to see around his right shoulder.

‘Miss Hathaway?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Miss Hathaway, what is going on?’

‘Going on?’ she glanced up at him
distractedly. ‘What do you mean, going on?’

‘I mean that we are now dancing together and
yet a moment ago we were talking on the terrace. Who did you see
that made you run away?’

‘I did
not
run away. I merely… beat a
strategic retreat.’

‘An interesting euphemism but it still comes
down to running away.’ He was intrigued. Isabella Hathaway did not
seem the kind of girl who would run away from anything. He had made
a disconcerting discovery when he had taken her in his arms that he
enjoyed holding her close. She smelt of flowers and, for some
peculiar reason, sunshine although he had never thought that
sunshine possessed a scent until now. She was a good dancer too,
for even in her obvious distraction she followed the steps with
innate grace, fitting into his arms seamlessly.

‘I saw somebody out on the terrace that I
did not care to speak to, that is all. You do not have to dance
with me for long.’

‘I don’t object to dancing with you. Who did
you see?’

Isabella hesitated, clearly
not wishing to discuss it, which in itself, was odd. His
acquaintance with her was not extensive but she did not strike him
as being one for holding back. ‘If you
must
know, I saw my ex-fiancé,’ she
said crossly.

Harry resisted the urge to turn and look
himself, thanks to the surge of incredulity her words prompted.
‘You were engaged?’

‘I was.’

‘Good God! What happened?’

He heard a sigh. ‘What do you think? A great
many men do not like their wives to be associated with
scandal.’

‘Your fiancé ended the engagement because of
your father?’

‘Of course he did.’ Dark
blue eyes met his briefly, then looked away. ‘It does not
matter
now
, of
course. I was just… taken aback by the sight of him. I had not
realized he had come up to town.’

‘I see.’ The two words were vastly
inadequate but he could not think of anything to say. He was
struck, all over again, by the fact that Miss Hathaway had
experienced a difficult time of it. Her father’s ugly death and
then, apparently, she had been rejected by the man she was going to
marry… ‘Who is he?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Lord Willett Proctor. His estate lay beside
Barnstable, our family home. I have known him forever.’

‘And yet he treated you in such a manner? In
that case, let me felicitate you on your rare good fortune, Miss
Hathaway. You might have married such a man and his true character
would not have been revealed until after the event.’

This brought her eyes back to his face. She
stared up at him, puzzled. ‘He only did what a great many others
would have done. To take on somebody with such a history… I am
afraid it would be a burden that few would relish. That is why I
have enlisted his lordship’s help for without it, I may well end
the Season without any prospects.’

Harry nodded slowly. He had not realized the
true extent of the situation. A father who had blown his brains out
owing money to a multitude of debtors would be bad enough but if it
were widely known that she had not been considered suitable
marriage material by her own fiancé…

‘I had not realized your situation as so
dire.’

‘Why thank you. I am glad you understand how
unlikely it is that any man will make me an offer.’

The irony in her voice was not lost on him.
‘I did not mean to imply that it is hopeless -’

‘Not in so many words, anyway.’

Harry looked down at her,
exasperated. She was so damned prickly! ‘You
will
find a husband. I had not fully
understood the situation before, but let me assure you, Joss and I
will discover the best possible man for the role.’

He half expected an acerbic
rejoinder to this but instead, after a moment a smile peeped out,
the first since he had seen since she had undergone her unfortunate
shock on the terrace. It was an appealing smile and, coupled with
the wicked gleam in those sapphire eyes, made the girl
extraordinarily appealing. So much so that his thoughts once again
wandered towards what it would be like to kiss her. He had found
himself pondering that a lot in the past few days. In fact, this
stray thought had been popping into his head more and more. He
regularly found himself musing about what it would be like to hold
Isabella Hathaway in his arms, just as he was now. Not that they
would be dancing. His daydreams ran in quite a different direction.
Harry suspected it would be very nice indeed, which was hardly
helpful for holding Isabella was exactly what he should
not
be doing.

He was not in need of a wife and even if he
were ready for such a drastic step, she would not do at all.
Rather, he should marry a fishwife for that would be all the peace
he would be likely to have. She was abrasive, contrary and willful
and he sincerely regretted the fact that he found her so damn
appealing for it distracted him to a quite ridiculous degree.

‘What an irksome creature you are, Miss
Hathaway,’ he said, almost without thinking.

The comment did not seem to offend her in
the least. ‘Something we share in common then, Mr. Carstairs.’

He gave her a reluctant smile. ‘I trust you
will be more accommodating to the poor fellows we present to
you.’

‘Oh yes,’ she agreed
serenely, ‘I don’t want to scare them off. I will disguise my true
nature until
after
the marriage, of course.’

‘The poor devil!’

‘Indeed,’ Isabella gave him a particularly
sweet smile, ‘whoever he may be, he has no idea of the trouble that
lays in store for him!’

Jest about it she might but later, in the
privacy of her bedchamber, she allowed herself to acknowledge that
the night had quite overset her emotions. She was truly aghast to
discover that Willett had come up to town. And it appeared that he
had made a new alliance, something Mama had discovered from her
friends. She had broken it to her daughter as gently as possible in
the carriage on the way home and, while Isabella had shrugged it
off, the news had still shaken her.

‘It seems that he will be making an offer
for Miss Amaryllis Feathering, my dear. I heard it from Lady
Manville and she is astonishingly reliable.’

‘Oh Mama, I saw them together quite early in
the evening,’ she had said carelessly, ‘and I will allow that I was
shocked. But why should he not be in town? And as for his new
tendre with Miss Feathering… it is only to be expected, after all.
We all knew that he must marry.’

‘Well I think it wretched of him!’ Audrey
had been uncharacteristically incensed. She had always been very
fond of Willett and when he had ended the relationship she had been
stunned by such a betrayal. ‘He must know you are in town. To form
an alliance with somebody and… and flaunt it under your nose. I
call it shameful.’

‘He is hardly flaunting his new relationship
and there is no reason why he should not go about in public,’
Isabella had chided her sister gently. ‘On the contrary, he must be
behaving with some discretion for this is the first I have heard of
a new alliance.’

‘He has only been in town since Sunday,’
Mama had said wryly.

‘I wish he wasn’t here at all!’ Audrey had
muttered viciously.

‘I am sure he will act with all civility
when he meets us,’ Lady Hathaway had said, rather grimly. She had
squeezed both of her daughter’s hands. ‘Chins up, my little chicks.
We are doing very well. Why, that Mr. Carstairs was paying you
particular attention tonight, Isabella. He seems rather nice, don’t
you think?’

Isabella had blinked, taken aback by this.
She had not thought, with her plots and plans, that anybody would
take the time she spent with Harry Carstairs as a sign that he was
interested in her but indeed, it must seem to be the case. Rather
than explain herself, which would be awkward, she elected another
path. ‘Well yes, but he’s rather a rogue I’m afraid and not in the
least bit interested in finding a wife for himself.’

‘Oh,’ Mama had shaken her head regretfully.
‘Well that’s unfortunate for Lady Manville was telling me that he
comes into a fortune when his uncle dies and he is practically on
his death bed.’

‘Is that so?’ Isabella had thought about it
for a moment, but had almost immediately decided that it did not
matter a jot. Harry Carstairs was a lucky man to benefit in such a
way but, as they were not romantically on the same horse, so to
speak, it hardly helped her own situation.

Not that he had not been of assistance
during the evening. Isabella, determined to show the world that the
presence of the man who had jilted her did not matter, had laughed
and danced and had done her level best to convince the world that
she was indifferent to the entire situation. In this, Mr. Carstairs
had been invaluable for he had never been more than ten feet away
for most of the evening, stepping into the breach if there was a
lag in the proceedings. It had almost seemed that he was watching
over her and, if this was indeed the case, then she had reason to
be grateful to him for she had felt unpleasantly vulnerable.

It certainly seemed to show that the man was
not entirely dead to the finer feeling of life, which had come as a
surprise. She had the impression that Mr. Carstairs thought her an
inconvenience but he certainly seemed to have embraced her quest to
fine a suitable husband. Indeed, he would undoubtedly be of more
use than the earl for, as delightful as Stornley was, he was not a
particularly practical man. Only witness the way he had gone about
marriage. She thought it far more likely that Harry Carstairs would
arrange matters more satisfactorily.

She was finding herself somewhat bewildered
by the man. It was true that, with his air of condescension she
still found him vastly annoying but it was leavened by unexpected
flashes of kindness, such as he had shown her tonight. She wondered
what he would have done if her former fiancé had come to greet her
she would have been intrigued to discover but, as they had not
encountered one another, his reaction had remained a mystery. It
was intriguing, just the same and helped deflect her thoughts from
more painful paths.

Such as ignoring the pain
that the sight of her ex-fiancé had brought her. Such feelings were
only to be expected, after all. She had genuinely thought that
Willett, a man she had known since her childhood, was the man she
would spend the rest of her life with. She had
loved
him, for heaven’s sake, so
naturally, it hurt to see him in such changed
circumstances.

Now, at least she knew he was in London.
Warned of what she might expect, she could meet him with
equanimity, at least on the outside and those who were avidly
hoping to witness the meeting would be disappointed when it passed
off with nothing more than a few polite pleasantries.

At least, she hoped it would pass of in such
a way. She was determined not to say what she really thought of him
because a young lady did not express herself in such a manner. But
Isabella knew that, behind the pain was all the anger than she had
been shoring up since Willett had left her, speechless and hurting
after he had told her that he could no longer marry her.

It would be good to express that anger.
Unfortunately, it would also kill any chance she had of making an
alliance.

Tucked up in bed and left alone with her
thoughts, Isabella found that sleep remained elusive, her thoughts
going round and round in circles as she thought about the past and
the present and – most disturbingly of all – the future. The future
was the most troubling thought of all.

‘Life can be so unfair,’ she muttered to the
darkness, clutching a pillow to her chest.

For the Earl of Stornley would surely marry
his beloved Alora.

And Willett would propose to the – no doubt
– eminently respectable Miss Feathering.

And she would… settle for whatever she could
get.

The next morning, Isabella had recovered
from her bout of self-pity, so much so that she came down to
breakfast with cheerful determination, convinced that all was going
to be well.

After spending a peaceful morning, she was
informed by Gunter that the Earl of Stornley had arrived and had
been placed in the green parlor.

‘He asked to see you, Miss,’ the man added
austerely.

Isabella, Audrey and Millie had been darning
socks and stockings by the fire, chatting idly as they went about
this mundane task but the announcement of an unexpected visitor
(before luncheon – how odd!) brought Audrey’s eyebrows up. She eyed
her sister, who was happily laying her task aside.

‘Isabella! Is it proper for you to see him
alone?’

Her sister hesitated. She often forgot such
niceties. Mama had gone with Aunt Geraldine to Bond Street in
search of some new gloves for them all. Her absence seemed
fortuitous, under the circumstances. ‘Come with me, then. You too,
Millie but don’t be blabbermouths, I implore you. His lordship is…
is helping me with something that I do not think Mama would quite
care for.’