Page 31

~May 29~

E llen boldly walked into the Countess of Midton’s ball entirely on her own. For the past two years, she’d been coming to parties on her own, but then she’d done so as a widow. She’d displayed this to all with her choice of colors, silently explaining she was there only to be mildly social. Tonight, however, she was there as an eligible, single woman in an emerald green silk gown, brash in her lack of escort.

“Good evening, Lady Moreton,” Mr. Sherman said, greeting her near the entrance.

“Good evening and”—she leaned a little closer so that only he could hear her—“and congratulations.”

His smile grew. “Thank you,” he whispered back.

“I assume Aunt Amelia is already here? She left before I finished dressing for the evening.”

“I believe she is speaking with the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society,” Mr. Sherman said, nodding his head in the direction of the ladies who, as usual, were standing about in a group chatting amongst themselves.

“Isn’t this room magnificent?” Lydia exclaimed to Ellen as she joined them.

“It is!” She actually hadn’t looked around much except to locate her friends, but now she turned to survey the room and wondered how her eyes could have glanced over such magnificence without acknowledgement.

“It looks just like I’ve heard Versailles described,” Diana said from Lydia’s other side.

“Have you not been?” Ellen asked with a teasing smile.

Diana burst out laughing. “No! Those are circles my father and I were never a part of, I’m afraid.”

“Just as well, I’m sure,” Ellen said.

“But this room! All the candles and mirrors.Why, it’s as bright as day,” Lydia said.

“It is spectacular,” Lady Sorrell said, joining in their conversation. “But Lady Moreton, what happened with Lord Pennyston? What did he say when you went over to see him?”

“Oh, yes! You must tell us everything!” Lydia exclaimed.

“Was he horrified when you showed up or happy you were so concerned for him?” Diana asked.

“Indeed, my lady, you must tell us what he said.” Even Lady Blakemore had turned from her conversation to hear what Ellen had to say.

“I’m very sorry to disappoint you all, but he didn’t say anything. In fact, he refused to even open his study door for me,” Ellen told them. “The butler almost didn’t let me in the house, but when Sergeant Jones—that is Lord Pennyston’s man—saw me standing there, he insisted I be allowed in. He was quite eager to see if I might break through to His Lordship who has, apparently, been shut up in his study for days taking only the minimal meals and not speaking with anyone.”

“Oh, the poor thing!” Lydia said with a shake of her head.

“But he refused to see you too?” Diana asked.

“He did. I didn’t let that stop me, though,” Ellen admitted. “I stood outside of his door and told him everything I’d meant to say to his face.”

“Good for you!” Diana said, giving Ellen a proud smile.

“And… what did he say?” Lady Sorrell asked.

“Nothing. There was absolutely silence. I do think he heard me, though. There was some slight shuffling from the other side of the door,” Ellen told them.

“Well, it was incredibly brave of you to go,” Lady Blakemore insisted. “And I’m certain you made some difference whether you know it or not.”

“Indeed, I would never have been so brave,” Diana agreed. Ellen was shocked to hear that coming from a woman who raced horses and had traveled Europe doing so.

“Thank you. I would never have had the nerve to be so bold if it weren’t for your support—all of you,” Ellen admitted.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Lady Blakemore argued. “You are an incredibly strong, brave young woman.”

“No, I’m sure—”

“Nonsense,” Lady Sorrell interrupted her. “You are! Dealing with being a young widow and then having your husband return from the dead? My goodness, I would have taken to my bed for weeks!”

“I can’t even imagine,” Lydia agreed.

Ellen was shocked and not a little pleased to realize her friends might very well be right. She had been brave. She’d been bold. She’d been strong—so much stronger than she ever imagined she could be. But then, Amelia had shown up. She was the bravest, strongest woman Ellen had ever met. Since then, Ellen had made a point to try to be stronger, and it seemed as if she’d done it, much to her own amazement.

“Speaking of your husband…” Lady Blakemore started to ask.

“Yes, I did speak with him, today in fact,” Ellen told them proudly.

“And?”

“We will petition for an annulment,” Ellen said.

“It is a terrible thing, but sadly necessary,” Lady Blakemore said with a shake of her head.

“I know. He told me to come to the ball this evening and celebrate my newfound freedom, but I cannot help but feel as if I should mourn the loss of our relationship instead,” Ellen admitted.

“Your feelings are admirable, my lady,” Lady Blakemore nodded. “The end of a marriage is nothing to celebrate.”

“But it wasn’t your fault in the least. You have done more than anyone could have expected,” Lydia told her.

“I did try. I tried very hard, but Lord Moreton is set on living his nomadic life and I just… well, I can’t.” Ellen did indeed feel sad over the loss, despite the fact that she didn’t love Richard in the way she should.

“Completely understandable,” Diana said. “Believe me, I know. It is not an easy life.”

“You did live that life for many years,” Lydia pointed out.

“Yes, but I was a child enthralled with all I saw and experienced, and even then, I was happy when we returned to England, so I could make my debut. It’s not an easy way to live.”

“Life is never easy,” a voice said from behind Ellen.

She turned and was shocked to see Lord Pennyston standing there, a slight smile on his face, looking more handsome than she remembered.

~*~

Going to a ball was probably the last thing Christopher wanted to do this evening. If he could, he would have been much happier staying at home, or if he felt the need for the company of others, gone to Powell’s. But he knew Ellen would be at this ball. Even in his seclusion, he’d read about Miss Sherman’s coming-out ball. It was all over the society pages. Everyone was either expecting it to be the event of the season or a flaming failure by an uppity young woman reaching beyond her station. Sadly, there were far too many hoping for the latter.

The only thing Christopher cared for was that Ellen would be there, and he needed to see her—more than he ever thought he would ever need anything.

His heart ached when he thought of her. It pounded when he remembered her words of encouragement spoken through his study door. He could think of almost nothing but how strong and brave she’d been to come to his home, flouting society’s conventions, simply to tell him to get himself together and move on.

She’d been right. Of course, she’d been right.

He’d been sitting, wallowing in his own self-pity. He’d done that for months at his parents’ home until he finally found the strength to get himself to London to see to Freddie. Now, he had to do so again but this time for Ellen.

He had hardly paused to greet Mr. Sherman when he saw him near the door. That clever man had laughed the moment he’d seen Christopher.

He slapped Christopher on the shoulder before turning and pointing to the group of mostly women standing about halfway down the room off to the side. “You’ll find her with the other ladies of the Wagering Whist Society.”

Christopher hardly thanked the man before striding off in her direction. He could see her standing, chatting with friends. Oddly enough, she didn’t look as happy as he would have expected. He didn’t know why, but he was determined to change that. Ellen deserved happiness, and he would do everything in his power to bring it to her. And if that meant coming to a ball and making pretty with her friends, he would do that.

At the moment, he rather thought that a dance would bring a smile to her face.

Lady Colburne was saying something about life not being easy, and Christopher could not agree more. “Life is never easy,” he said, coming up from behind Ellen.

She spun around, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping open a touch. At the shocked expression on her face he was filled with guilt tinged with hope. Instead, however, he bowed.

“It is, however, a great deal more pleasant dancing than dealing with life. Would you care to dance, Lady Moreton?” He held out his hand, hoping beyond hope she wouldn’t slap it away. He was certain she wouldn’t make a scene in public, but at the moment, he was having a slightly difficult time telling whether it was a shock of joy to see him or fury. It could, so easily, have been either one.

To his great relief, she gently placed her fingertips onto his and allowed him to escort her out onto the dance floor where a set was just forming.

They bowed to each other in silence and began to move with the dance. He wondered whether she would say anything or if it would have to be him who began this difficult conversation.

He was about to dive in when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. It was a man. Christopher turned his head to see him better and suddenly realized it was himself reflected in the mirror. He looked around the ballroom for the first time. It was filled with mirrors.

For a moment, he couldn’t imagine anything more horrifying, but then he caught that glimpse of himself again. It was him… but it wasn’t.

Christopher had the strangest sensation he was seeing himself but not tonight, not as of this moment. The man he kept catching sight of was the man he’d been , the fellow so many women had cooed over, fluttered their fans at, and giggled to when he was at his most charming. That man in the mirror was the man he’d been another lifetime ago.

The man he saw was whole and handsome. He was dashing and well-dressed, with a twinkle of mischief in his eye, a quick and easy laugh, and always a compliment or quip on his tongue. Christopher remembered that man. He remembered being that man. The question was, could he be that way again?

He caught Ellen staring at him, watching him.

“Have you ever seen yourself in the mirror and wondered who that person was?” he asked as he turned her in a gentle circle.

She looked startled for a moment, but then nodded ever so slightly. “I have. Soon after my husband was declared dead, I would catch a glimpse of myself and wonder who that young widow was.” She shook her head in wonder. “And then I’d remember—it was me.”

“It must have been an incredibly difficult time for you.”

“It was. Of course, it was made worse because I knew in my heart that I was grieving more for my childhood playmate than my husband.”

Christopher could only nod as the movement of the dance took them apart. He took the hand of the lady to Ellen’s right and bowed to her before stepping back and doing the same with the lady on her left. Neither one said a word to him. Neither one flinched nor screamed. One gave him a little smile.

But this wasn’t him. This wasn’t the man he’d been for the past year. He felt confused, off balance. Had his scar suddenly disappeared from his face? This was the oddest sensation. He turned and looked in the mirror, just to be sure.

It was there. The left side of his face was just as mangled as it had been, and yet the right side was whole and as perfect as ever. How had he not even noticed this? All he’d been able to see was his scar. The skin of his once-smooth cheek pulled and puckered. But now… yes, it was still there, but that wasn’t the only thing there. There was also… him. The man he’d been before the scar.

“You look confused, my lord,” Ellen said softly as she allowed him to lead her around another couple.

“I’m confused. I keep seeing this man in the mirror. A man I’m not sure I know anymore,” he admitted.

“Ah. Would that be the handsome man who makes a lady’s heart pound with the hope that he’ll grace her with his smile? Or the brave, wounded soldier who makes a woman’s heart beat strongly with pride? I see them both just about every time I look at you.”

Christopher almost stopped in his tracks. His feet very nearly stopped moving altogether. His mind certainly went completely blank for a moment. If it hadn’t been for years of training and his legs and arms knowing exactly what they should be doing on their own, he would have made an idiot of himself right there in the middle of the dance floor as he stood with his mouth hanging open.

“You and I are going to have a talk,” he told her when they were close enough.

“I do expect so,” she said. He couldn’t tell if she was happy about it or anticipating a serious conversation. He was hoping it would be both a serious conversation that would, in the end, make her very happy.

As they continued to dance, she would steal little glances up at him almost as if she were flirting with him. He found himself smiling and silently flirting right back—a touch held for just a moment too long, a look of smoldering intensity that sent her blushing. In the end, Christopher realized, it was most incredible dance of his life.

Without a word, after their final bows, Christopher led Ellen outside onto the balcony for a little privacy. Luckily, it was still early enough in the evening that there weren’t too many others yet out to either cool themselves from the dance or couples seeking a moment of amorous heat.

“Lady Moreton… Ellen, can you ever forgive me?”