Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Chapter Eleven
Miriam Bathurst
Once I had loved to dance. As a young girl, I’d fancied dancing at balls. The reality was not very grand. Listening to one gentleman after the other talk of themselves as if they were trying to sell me a piece of property was tedious. The first chance I was given to escape, I did, right out the side door, leading onto a lovely rose-covered patio. Another couple stood to the far left talking while an older lady, who was no doubt the chaperone, stood a distance away. I breathed a sigh of relief and inhaled the heady scent of rose that filled the air.
Tonight’s ball had been my chance to focus and find a man suitable for marriage. I had been determined to keep an open mind and try and enjoy myself. Neither of those things had thus far happened. Instead, I’d had my toe stepped on, had suffered a terrible case of garlic breath being blown in my face, and was almost positive I’d received an improper advance from a married man. The only highlight of the evening had been that neither Mr. Compton nor Lord Ashington were in attendance.
I hadn’t expected for Lord Ashington to call upon me again; however, I was a touch surprised that Mr. Compton hadn’t after our walk. It had started out tense, but in the end, we had both relaxed and talked without pretense. We had even laughed more than once at different stories we both shared. I hadn’t expected to enjoy the outing, but I had. I’d thought he had too.
Apparently not, I thought sourly. It wasn’t as if he would be the husband I was seeking. I needed more than he could offer financially. Only for my sister though not for me. I hated the way it sounded even if it was just in my own head.
Giggling came from behind me and I turned to see two girls, and what I assumed was one of their mothers, exiting the ballroom. One of the girls held a glass of lemonade, looking annoyed, while the other was highly amused. I turned my gaze back to the roses and gave them their privacy. I recognized all three, but I didn’t know their names. The annoyed one with dark hair, the color of a rich mahogany, had danced with several of the same gentlemen I had tonight. She wasn’t a pale beauty, but a beauty none the less. She drew male attention. The other girl was younger and I was surprised she was already out in society. She seemed too silly and immature for the marriage mart.
“Stop giggling. You sound ridiculous,” the older of the two girls said.
“You’re just sour Lord Ashington didn’t attend,” the younger girl replied.
“The night is young yet,” the mother added, as if this was, in fact, the issue the eldest daughter was having.
“Even if he does arrive, he will seek out Lydia Ramsbury. Everyone knows he has called on her and taken her for a ride in the park this week. I even heard she went to the opera with him and sat in his box.” The youngest girl seemed to be enjoying herself.
I wanted to roll my eyes, but then I was the one eavesdropping on a conversation that wasn’t mine to listen to. I should be rolling my eyes at myself.
“Nothing is certain,” the mother said with a tone that made me shiver slightly.
“Lydia Ramsbury would make a perfect countess,” the older girl said grudgingly.
“As would you,” the mother said.
It had been obvious that Lord Ashington had been interested in Lydia Ramsbury at the last ball. The next morning, his visit to me had been surprising. His abrupt departure had not been. Not that any of this mattered. I was not interested in the affairs of Lord Ashington. Not in the least. He would make a most difficult husband.
Feeling as if I were a lurker in their conversation, I took one last deep inhale of the lovely fragrance before turning to go back into the ballroom. Just as I stepped inside, I scanned the room for Aunt Harriet, but my gaze locked on Mr. Nicholas Compton. He was here and he was dancing… with Lydia Ramsbury.
Disappointment stung and I truly hated to admit it. When just a few days ago I was sure I didn’t care for him at all. Yet he was here and he wasn’t just dancing with anyone. He was dancing with the girl his brother had spent the most time with this week. I wasn’t naïve and I understood completely what was happening. Which was why the sting of disappointment.
Reality was something I had learned to face at a young age and I knew now that the brief attention I had received from him had nothing to do with me at all but with his brother. Mr. Compton was indeed playing a game. A vicious hurtful one meant not only to affect his brother but others along the way. I had thick skin and a blow such as that wouldn’t wound me the way it would others. Sheltered girls who had lived easy lives with security wouldn’t survive such a scandal.