“Be that as it may, my decision is still the same,” Tara replied firmly. “My words are not meant to weigh you down, however, but only to encourage you to take as much time as you require when it comes to making a match. Do not simply decide on the first gentleman who wishes to call upon you, for I will not be glad about that. Any gentleman who seeks your hand must be worthy of you and indeed, must prove himself of worthy character also.”
“I understand.”
There was no smile on her face, however, and her eyes were rather solemn, looking back at Tara, as though she were desperate to discover a way for Tara herself to find the very same happiness which she encouraged for Mary.
“I beg your pardon for interrupting your conversation.” Lord Talbert appeared beside them, smiling not at Tara, but at Mary. “It is the waltz, Miss Shaw.”
A gentle pink danced about Mary’s cheeks.
“So it is, Lord Talbert,” she answered.
Tara closed her eyes for a moment, aware that, despite what they had just spoken of, her sister was much too easily swayed by even the smallest bit of attention – which was one of the reasons behind her previous difficulties. Lord Talbert might very well be an excellent gentleman, but should he wish to court Mary, or even come to call upon her, then Tara would do everything she could to find out about his character and whether or not he would be worthy of Mary.
A sharp pang of envy ran around her heart as she watched her sister step out onto the floor with Lord Talbert. How long had it been since she had been in the company of a gentleman? How long since she had been asked to dance?
Much too long. I cannot even recall what it feels like to take a gentleman’s arm.
A sudden forceful memory of how she had settled a hand on Lord Pottinger’s shoulder that dark night encompassed her mind. Fire built in her face, and she turned her gaze away for fear that someone would notice her red cheeks and wonder at them. The last thing Tara wished for was to bring attention to herself. Her eyes closed for a moment as mortification ran through her. That despicable gentleman, the one who had forced her hand, knew all that she had done, and she lived in great fear that he might choose to reveal it and, if he did so, she would be quite ruined.
There is no reason for him to do such a thing, for he has already used me for his own purposes.
There would be no reason for him to mortify her all over again, she told herself silently. No reason at all.
My duty is done. Mary is safe. I need not to think about this any longer.
“Did you hear about Lord Pottinger?”
Tara jumped visibly as a voice caught her ears. Two ladies were standing to her left, their heads close together. They were not speaking to her, of course, but to each other, making no effort to lower their voice.
“What of him?”
Despite her determination to put the entire situation from her mind, including the gentleman himself, Tara could not help but listen, her ears straining to pick up every word.
“He has returned to society! He was seen only yesterday.”
The second young lady twisted her head around to look at the first, who nodded fervently.
“Has he now? That was a very strange absence, was it not?”
“I suppose it could be considered a little odd, yes,” came the reply. “For to come to London and then to depart again so swiftly, only to return some weeks later without explanation, is a little unusual.”
“More than a little!” The second young lady laughed and shook her head. “He is one of the most eligible gentlemen in all of London, and I am sure that a great many of us will be delighted to see him again.”
“And do you include yourself in that?”
A slightly shy giggle came to Tara’s ears.
“Perhaps, although I would admit it to none other than you.”
“I cannot blame you. I suppose,” her friend replied as Tara closed her eyes. “Anyone would be lucky to be in company with Lord Pottinger. I do not think he has ever courted any young lady, however.”
“And that is what makes him all the more desirable,” giggled the second. “I do look forward to seeing him again in the hope that I shall be able to encourage him towards me a little more. Perhaps that is why he has returned! Perhaps he has decided to seek out a bride after all.”
They moved away and Tara was left with a burden of guilt settling upon her shoulders. Lord Pottinger could not possibly have returned to find himself a bride. She knew precisely what it was that she had made him sign. She had not wanted to but there had been no other choice… her hand had been forced, just as she had forced his. And now Lord Pottinger would be in a pit of great despair. He would not be able to find himself a bride, not when he had very little money left.
Then why has he returned?
Shaking her head to herself, Tara let out a slow breath in an attempt to remove the wriggling anxiety from her stomach. She had no reason to involve herself in Lord Pottinger’s affairs - she had done more than enough already. At least there was very little chance of him recognizing her, not only because she was akin to a wallflower, but also because the darkness had hidden her face from him that night. She realized that she had never clearly seen the gentleman, for she had not been able to look into his face as he had been brought into that room. That was not because of the lack of light – for there had been a good many candles when he was being placed on the bed, but rather because her shame had been too great. It was more than just his wealth she had stolen, she realized. Yes, his coin was greatly diminished, but in doing what she had done, she had stolen his future from him. No longer would he be able to wander through society with everyone eager for his conversation and his company. Once they discovered the truth about him, they would do nothing but push him away.
