Luke scoffed at that. He knew exactly what she was referring to. “I have seen how that gentleman with whom you correspond treats you in public. And I shall tell you the truth of it now. Any gentleman who would wish to conceal their regard for you would be nothing other than a fool, or perhaps even a cad.”
He watched as she digested his words. When she did not respond, he felt emboldened to continue. He hardly knew what he was saying, but Miss Hervey was affecting him in a most unexpected way. “Really, Miss Hervey, anyone who is ashamed of you is a fool, a damned fool.” He uttered those last words more softly. He wished with all his heart that she would believe him and come to see her own value, regardless of what the vapid ladies and gentlemen of the ton thought of her.
She looked up at him again with a weak smile. “Your Grace, I apologize for my outburst. Please, will you forgive me? I fear that I have been most shockingly rude.”
“Not at all. I am sorry, too, for giving cause to such strong feelings in you. But please be assured that what I have said is true. There is no ruse, no game. Just someone who appreciates you for who you truly are, as much as I can know it, from so short an acquaintance.”
She smiled again, and he saw a hint of a sparkle in her eyes that gave him hope that she had truly accepted what he was saying as the truth. “Would you care to take a turn about the room with me, Miss Hervey, so that I can show once and for all that I am not ashamed of your company?” He asked the question with a hint of doubt in his voice, though; he suspected this would be a step too far for her at this stage of their acquaintance.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I will not. I must leave you and go and find some fresh air somewhere to clear my head.”
She turned away from him before he had the chance to reply and began to cross the room. His heart sank. If he chased after her, it would attract far too much attention, and it seemed unchivalrous to deny her when she had requested to be left alone. He resolved to seek her out later in the evening and perhaps ask her to dance with him again. She was a surprisingly good dancer, and he had not been lying when he insisted that he had enjoyed taking her to the floor.
But at that very moment, a loud gong sounded on the other side of the room, and everyone turned to see what the source of the noise was. He saw Lord Thomas standing at the front of the room, with his wife and daughter on one side of him and Lord Harry on the other. He felt his stomach drop in recognition of what he felt sure was to come.
He looked around and saw the look on Miss Hervey’s face, and he felt a surge of pain slice through his heart at what she was about to endure.
“My lords, ladies and gentlemen,” Lord Thomas announced with a flourish. “I am so delighted to welcome you all to our home on this fine autumn evening.” He paused, and there was a hum of appreciation and thanks around the room. He looked at his wife and daughter with an indulgent smile before continuing.
“I am also most delighted to share some news with you all of a happy event which we anticipate will take place very soon. My beloved daughter Sofia has just recently become engaged to Lord Harry Presley, and we very much look forward to their nuptials and to welcoming Harry into the bosom of our family!”
There was a flurry of excitement around the room, and a stream of footmen appeared with trays loaded with champagne, which were swiftly distributed among the guests. The noise in the room became more intense until Lord Thomas’s voice rang out above the din.
“To the happy couple!” he cried, and every voice in the room echoed his.
Or almost every voice. Luke was struck dumb by the events unfolding in front of him, and he knew that he would not be the person in the room most strongly affected by it. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, a side door opening and a distinctive flash of the yellow color of Miss Hervey’s gown as she disappeared through the door, out of the ballroom, and into the gardens.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Charlotte’s heart was pounding as she fled out into the garden. She prayed that no one had seen her running from the ballroom. She had enough of being stared at and whispered about this evening; enough to last a lifetime, in fact.
She cursed under her breath as she felt herself stumble. She righted herself just in time before reaching the shrubbery. It would not do to fall over in the mud and then have to show her face in the ballroom looking like a deranged thing from the depths of the forest. No, she must try to retain a scrap of composure, somehow.
But as she leaned against the wall at the side of the house, she could not keep her emotions in check any longer, and a sob escaped from her lips.
All along, Lord Harry had been toying with her. Why would he write such letters to her when the whole time he was courting another young lady? A lady with prospects so much better than her own, who wore gowns that fit her perfectly and had a mother who supported and cherished her and launched her into society in the right way, rather than shaming and humiliating her at every possible opportunity.
Charlotte was not generally given to succumbing to her grief and rage at how things had turned out for her sister, but now, in the half-light of the garden, she felt that all was lost. Lord Harry would marry Miss Sofia, and she and her sister would die old maids, forever judged and slighted by the ton due to their failure to fit into the norms of society.
She pined, at that moment, for her mother. For a kind word, some gentle advice, from someone who loved her and understood her as she truly was. Unlike her stepmother, who saw her merely as an obstacle to securing a good societal position for her own daughter. And not like Lord Harry, who saw her as nothing more than a toy to be played with and then discarded when he became bored with her or when something better came along.
She looked up at the sky, darkening already as night began to fall. She wondered if her mother was up there somewhere, in the stars, watching her. Another tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. She did not want to go back into the ballroom with her face all puffy from crying. The shame of it would be too much to bear. No, she had to try to calm herself down, then find her sister.
She was just about to head back inside when she heard footsteps approaching along the gravel footpath, which cut through the ornamental lawns in the garden. She moved along the wall so that she was almost hidden in the shadows, but it was too late. The man who rounded the corner was none other than the Duke of Seton, and he had seen her.
“Miss Hervey, are you well?” he asked softly. “Are you not cold out here?”
She stepped forward out of the shadows. “Your Grace, I am quite well,” she said stiffly. She was unsure whether she wanted to talk to anyone, let alone him, right then, but it seemed that she had no choice in the matter.
“Would you perhaps like me to fetch my coat for you?” he said.
She smiled a half smile in the gloom, despite the turmoil of her feelings. “We have had this conversation before, Your Grace.”
“Indeed we have, and you refused me then, too, preferring to shiver instead.” He paused. “But I know better now than to try to persuade you of anything.”
She sighed. What good was it to be determined and resolute in one’s own character when people treated you so badly anyway?
“Miss Hervey, I know that you will be thinking of other things right at this moment,” the Duke said, his voice gentle. “But I would very much like to assure you that what I said just now was true.”
