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T he noise from the party next door was disturbing. It was too loud. How had Christopher never noticed before how very loud parties were? He should have; he’d been to enough of them. And yet, somehow, when one was at a party, dancing, flirting, and enjoying oneself, you never noticed.

But Christopher noticed tonight. He noticed because he wasn’t there. He wasn’t at the party. He’d received an invitation, naturally, but… well, how ridiculous would that have been to attend and scare away all the guests with one look at his mangled face? He’d have no one to dance with, he thought with a painful chuckle.

Painful. Pain.

The saber slashed across his face in his mind’s eye.

No! He would not go down that road. He’d felt enough pain in the past year to last him a lifetime. He’d relived that day too many times. Not tonight!

But that damned party! It was distracting.

How he’d loved to sneak away from school with his friends. Oh, the parties they attended were never quite as exciting as London society parties, but for a school boy they were certainly a thrill.

His parents had forced him to attend a few parties in London after he’d graduated. Even after he joined the army, in the few weeks before being shipped off, he’d shown up at parties in his uniform, dazzling all the ladies. He laughed as he remembered them flocking to him. He’d had his pick of all the most beautiful girls.

He peered out his study window, but all he could see were the lines of carriages in the street. He wondered… he supposed it couldn’t hurt to just go and have a peek. He absolutely would not go in.

He finished his glass of port and headed out the back of his house. A short walk through his garden, out the back door, and into the alley behind the row of houses was easy enough. The door to the Emmerton’s garden was unlocked as well.

He went through hesitantly. He didn’t want to be seen. He paused, peering around the door to be sure there were no strolling lovers nearby. The way was clear, so he sauntered in as if he belonged there. He wasn’t in evening dress, but aside from that, no one would know he wasn’t a guest.

He could hear giggles as he walked past a rustling bush, so he hurried his footsteps. As a couple came around a corner just ahead of him, he quickly turned his back to the path and pretended to be fascinated with the row of flowers in front him. He tucked his head down into the high points of his shirt collar and tipped his head to the left so that only the good side of his face showed, just in case.

When they’d passed, he continued on, searching out a way to peer into the drawing room, which was surely filled to the brim with the beautiful people of society. The good, strong breeze probably kept most inside, and Christopher was happy for that.

He was peering ahead, hoping the moonlight, which was unusually bright, wouldn’t reveal him, when he saw a sight that stopped him cold. Standing not more than fifteen feet away was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Lady Moreton in a flurry of white flower petals was standing by a tree staring up into the sky.

She was wearing not her usual violet, but a pale pink gown that probably made the green of her eyes stand out. It was cut lower than the dresses he’d seen her in, but then he’d never seen her in an evening gown before. She was hugging her arms to herself, probably chilled by wind.

He quickly shucked off his coat and approached her. “Here, this will warm you,” he said, gently placing it around her shoulders.

She started, but her look of surprise quickly turned into one of happiness, making Christopher’s heart soar.

“Lord Pennyston, what a wonderful surprise. I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.”

“I’m not actually here,” he told her with a smile.

“Really? Don’t tell me I’m imagining the wonderful warmth of your coat and the happy sight of a friend?” she asked, her eyes dancing with laughter.

A friend. It was wonderful and heart breaking all at once. He suddenly wished he were so much more than just a friend to this lovely, warm-hearted woman. He gave an inward sigh. He should be happy with what he had. “No, you’re not imagining me here, it’s just… I’m not actually attending the party. I just slipped in to see who was here. I’m very happy to have found you.”

“I’m happy you did as well, but why are you not attending the party? Surely the Emmertons didn’t forget to send you an invitation?”

“No. They sent one. I just declined,” he explained.

“But why?” she asked with an adorable tilt of her head.

He looked down at her. “I think the answer to that is… well, plain on my face,” he answered honestly.

Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but then she shook her head. “I don’t think that should make a difference, truly.”

“Oh come now, Lady Moreton, I have made people scream with fright and women faint at the sight of me. I would not inflict that upon the good people of the ton .” It was a brutal truth, but one that needed to be said.

She shook her head. “I think you don’t give society enough credit. They will understand the wounds of war—whether they are on your face for all to see or hidden elsewhere.”

“You are too kind, and probably from the time you’ve spent volunteering at the hospital, too used to such things. Most people are not, and I will not inflict myself on those not prepared,” he said, wondering how he could ever have had the good luck to meet such a wonderful woman.

“I admit I am used to wounds, more so than your average lady of society. Still, I’m certain once people got used to it, they would hardly notice.”

“I could not—would not take that risk. But I am glad to have met you tonight. You are looking beautiful.” Something suddenly occurred to him. “But why are you out here, looking up at the sky, instead of inside dancing among the stars of society?”

She laughed. “I have danced once, and I’m certain I will do so again. The night is still young. Are you sure I can’t entice you inside? I would love to dance with you,” she said, taking his arm and pulling him gently toward the house.

He didn’t move. “No, not tonight. But you should go. Keeping yourself apart is too cruel on the eager gentlemen of the ton . Go and dance a dance for me.”

He slipped his coat from her shoulders and bade her a good night. He turned and walked back to the garden door, feeling as fulfilled as if he had actually gone inside. Probably more so since he hadn’t had to deal with the pain. No, right now there was no pain. Lady Moreton made him feel too good for anything hurtful to survive within him. She was better than any medicine he’d ever had.

~*~

“Would you care to promenade, Mrs. Rutledge?” Mr. Sherman asked Amelia just after Ellen went off to join the younger people.

She was so surprised at the invitation that she probably looked like an idiot, staring at him for a good minute. When was the last time a gentleman had asked her to do anything? Goodness, she and her Abraham had been married for so long that she’d forgotten how to behave. She was a widow now, though, and she knew for a fact that Abraham wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone for the rest of her life. Mr. Sherman seemed to be an interesting man—certainly one who she’d like to get to know better.

With that decision made, she gave Mr. Sherman a bright smile. “That sounds lovely.” She took his arm and allowed him to lead her away from the other ladies.

“I am quite pleased you didn’t ask me to dance,” she told him with a little laugh.

“I’m afraid I’m a little old for all that jumping around,” he admitted.

“I don’t know about that. You look to be a rather spry gentleman,” she told him.

He burst out laughing and rubbed his belly. “I left spry behind me about thirty years ago, madam.”

“Oh, come now, you’re not that old,” she protested. My goodness, was she flirting?

“All right, maybe twenty,” he conceded. “You, on the other hand, look quite fit. Is it living in America?”

“I have led quite an active life there. My husband and I like— liked —to travel up and down the coast and have even ventured as far west as the Ohio territory a few times,” she told him. She felt a stab of pain at having to use the past tense to talk about her life with Abraham, but forced herself to attend to the conversation and not get lost in memories as she had recently begun to do. Maybe she was getting old.

“That sounds very adventurous. You didn’t happen to meet any of the natives?” he asked curiously. “I don’t know very much about America but have heard some strange stories of the native people.”

“I have met some Indians. Some are very kind, others not so much—just like everyone else.”

“But still, you must be happy to be back in civilization?” he asked.

“It is quite civilized in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. I liked living in Boston most of all and do hope to move back there soon.” If she were there, she wouldn’t have to endure attending soirées. On the other hand, she wouldn’t necessarily be meeting handsome gentlemen such as Mr. Sherman.

“Ah, yes. As soon as you can find someone to change your father’s will, isn’t that right?” he asked with a wink.

She snorted a little laugh. “Yes, as if that could ever happen. Still, I put a bug into that solicitor’s ear, didn’t I?”

“That you did. Well, then, if you are going to be returning to America, we’re going to have to see what we can do to make your short time here in England all the more enjoyable, won’t we?” he asked with a little twinkle in his eye.

She looked up at him, liking this man more and more. “What are you thinking of?”

“I can’t know until you tell me of your interests. Do you want to visit museums? Parks? Go for a drive in the countryside? Or just a walk through Hyde Park during the height of the promenade?”

She returned her gaze to the direction in which they were walking, but the smile stayed on her lips as she considered her options. “Perhaps all of them. Would that be too much, do you think?”

“It depends on when you’ll be returning to America.”

“Oh, I’m certain to be here for the season as least.”

“Excellent. I’ll start making arrangements, in that case,” he said. “I will need to attend quite a number of these sorts of occasions,” he told her. “I’ve got my daughter to keep an eye on, you know.”

“Is Mrs. Sherman not…” She was fishing for information, she knew it, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He gave her a small smile. “Mrs. Sherman, sadly, was laid to rest a good number of years ago.”

“I am sorry,” Amelia said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze of commiseration.

“Thank you.” After an appropriate pause, he said, “I believe we should start simple with a ride in the park. Might you be available tomorrow afternoon?”

“My, you do get straight to it, don’t you? Very well, sir, tomorrow afternoon it is,” she said. She attempted to contain the excitement bubbling up inside her but wasn’t certain how well she did. She stole a sidelong glance at him. He was looking ahead with an expression of satisfaction, as if he’d just been handed the deed to a large tract of arable land.

~April 21~

All Ellen had been able to think of the entire night had been Lord Pennyston. The way he’d looked in his shirtsleeves in the moonlight. The smell and warmth of his coat engulfing her as it sat on her shoulders. Even now she could still smell it—the musky fragrance of whiskey and his lemon-scented soap. Never had she felt more cared for as when he’d placed his coat around her. It was almost as if he himself had been holding her.

She sighed happily. After such intimacy, Ellen was determined to learn all she could about Lord Christopher Pennyston. There was only so much Debrett’s could tell her, but happily, she knew someone who knew him well.

Ellen approached Sergeant Jones’s bed with some hesitation. She hated to bother the man to assuage her own curiosity. If he was asleep, she absolutely would not bother him, not at all.

She paused before reaching his bed and peered forward to see.

“Ho there, Lady Moreton,” the gentleman called out to her.

Not only was he awake, but there was no way she could change her mind now. He’d seen her. “Good morning, Sergeant. How are you feeling today?” she asked, sitting on the stool next to his bed.

“Doin’ ever so much better, thanks to you,” he said, smiling at her.

“Oh, I am pleased to hear it.” She searched her mind for a way to broach the subject without asking outright. “So, tell me, Sergeant,” she said a little hesitantly, “how long were you in the army?”

“Not long at all. I joined just five years ago. Thought it would be an easy way to get a position as a gentleman’s gentleman, you know. I’d been a footman for many years but could never get the promotion no matter how hard I tried,” he explained. “And between you and me, I was getting a little old for the job.”

“Old? You?” she said with mock surprise. She figured the fellow was in his thirties, but then she realized that was, in fact, old for a footman.

He laughed. “Right. Well, my devious plan worked like a charm—until that bullet caught me in the leg.”