Page 8 of The Truth about the Marquess (Whispers of the Ton #3)

Chapter Seven

O liver scowled at his friend.

“You did not need to ask me such a thing so loudly!”

Lord Dunstable had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Forgive me. I did not think. Besides, this ballroom is so noisy, I was quite sure that no one would overhear and though that is not an excuse, I do not think that you are in any sort of danger of being discovered.”

The scowl on Oliver’s face dug in a little more deeply.

“All the same, there is the chance.”

When Lord Dunstable had asked him – in a very loud voice – whether he had read the letter in The London Chronicle, or if he had no need to because he had been the one to write it – Oliver had not known what to do or what to say. He had been standing alone at the time, but there had been others near him, and he had been sure that the occasional glances sent in his direction had been because of Lord Dunstable’s question.

“I am truly sorry, I did not think.” Lord Dunstable offered Oliver a small smile but, even then, Oliver’s spirits did not lift. “Though you did not answer my question, I notice.”

“That is because I was attempting to remove myself from the situation without being required to answer,” Oliver replied, grimly. “Goodness, the last thing I need is to have the ton speak of me even more than they already are!”

Lord Dunstable set one hand on Oliver’s shoulder, stopping him.

“My deepest apologies, my friend.”

Closing his eyes, Oliver nodded a little stiffly.

“I thank you.”

“And I do not believe that you are in any sort of danger… at least, not about that,” his friend continued, wincing when Oliver frowned. “Yes, the ton have been speaking about your connection to Miss Dutton, though given that there are also whispers about Lord Kettering, I am sure it will pass through society very quickly.”

“Lord Kettering?”

Lord Dunstable nodded.

“It appears that he has become quite the scoundrel! Though,” he continued, a glint in his eye. “Might you now be willing to answer my question? Did you write that letter to The London Chronicle?”

Looking away, Oliver gave a somewhat terse nod.

“It was Lady Harsham who suggested it,” he said, a trifle heavily. “No doubt she may also have been speaking of my foolishness to her friends and yet more rumors will have followed after her words! But yes, I do confess that I spoke a little more openly to her than might have been wise, but I could not seem to help it. She was very willing to listen, and her gentle manner was encouraging to me. Though now, I think, I will need to be a good deal more careful in what I say to Lady Harsham, for fear that she will take what I have said and speak of it to others.”

“I can assure you, I will not.”

Oliver’s whole body went cold as he slowly turned around to see none other than the very lady whom he had been speaking of, sitting in a chair just behind him. Her blue eyes were cold, pushing sharp needles of guilt into his chest as she gazed up at him, her hands clasped together in her lap.

“Lady Harsham, good evening.” It was Lord Dunstable who spoke first, bowing low and then offering the lady a small smile. “Forgive us both, we did not see you there.”

“I am well aware of that, otherwise I do not think you would have spoken of me in such a way,” came the answer, making Oliver’s face grow hot. “Though I should like to reassure you, Lord Edenbridge, that I will not ever speak a word of what you shared with me to anyone. I am not in the habit of gossiping, despite what you might think, and I have no interest in sharing what was a private conversation.”

Oliver put one hand to his heart and inclined his head, the embarrassment still burning through him.

“I am terribly sorry, Lady Harsham. Our acquaintance has been brief and, I confess, I assumed that you were very much like every other young lady of my acquaintance.”

Something changed in Lady Harsham’s expression, and she rose to her feet.

“I think I can understand that and, on this occasion, offer you some mercy instead.”

A tiny smile touched the corners of her lips, and her sharp gaze softened, making Oliver feel as though he could breathe a little more easily again.

“I thank you. You are most kind.”

“Indeed, you are,” Lord Dunstable agreed, smiling at the lady. “It is good to see you again, Lady Harsham, though I confess that it has been some time since we were first acquainted. Mayhap you have forgotten – I am the Earl of Dunstable.”

A streak of what felt like red hot heat rushed up Oliver’s spine, though he could not explain why.

“Lord Dunstable is my closest friend,” he said, as his friend bowed.

“Though I was just now being berated for some foolishness on my part,” Lord Dunstable added, making Lady Harsham smile brightly. “Foolishness which I have admitted to and now regret.” He tilted his head before Oliver could say a word. “Might I ask if you have read The London Chronicle today? All of the ton are speaking of the letter written, and the advice which has been given.”

A flicker came into Lady Harsham’s eyes, though her expression did not change. Was it curiosity? An awareness of what Lord Dunstable was speaking of? Butterflies began to flit around his stomach, though he told himself that Lord Dunstable would never inform the lady herself that Oliver had been the letter-writer.

“What did you think of the advice?” Lady Harsham’s eyes searched Oliver’s face before returning to Lord Dunstable. “It was brief, was it not?”

“Brief, yes but succinct,” Oliver spoke quickly, not daring to look at Lord Dunstable for fear that something in that would give him away to Lady Harsham. “The encouragement to be the very best gentleman he could be is excellent advice, for it is indeed the character of the gentleman – or the lady, of course – which matters the most, is it not?”

Lady Harsham’s smile crept upwards.

“Yes, I quite agree.”

“Though the practical instruction was certainly interesting,” Lord Dunstable added, making Lady Harsham’s eyebrows lift. “The suggestion to only consider three young ladies at any one time was not something which I would have said.”

“No?”

The question lingered in the air between them all as Lord Dunstable considered.

“No,” Lord Dunstable confirmed, after a moment. “I might have suggested to a gentleman that he considers a good many more than that, only to then narrow the selection if you understand me.”

“Though I think it a good suggestion,” Oliver interrupted, seeing how Lady Harsham’s eyebrows leaped up just a little. “To consider only three means that the gentleman, whoever he is, will not become distracted by the many names and faces that surround him. It is clear to me that he is a gentleman who is looking for a young lady with specific qualities and to throw the net wide, as you might say, could lead to a great struggle and no clear path. He could find himself exasperated rather than contented!”

“I am glad to hear you say so.” Lady Harsham flushed, then dropped her head for just a moment. “Forgive me, I mean to say that my opinion aligns with yours, Lord Edenbridge, and thus I do now feel a little relieved that I am not alone in my thoughts.”

“But of course.” Smiling at her, Oliver paused, then held out one hand, hearing the next dance being called. “Lady Harsham, might I ask if you would like to dance?” Realizing that he had not yet asked to be introduced to Lord Harsham, Oliver cleared his throat. “Only if your husband is contented with you stepping out with another gentleman, of course.”

Lady Harsham’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes fixing to his.

“Oh, Lord Edenbridge, I thought I had already told you, so you must forgive me if I have not. My husband passed away nearly two years ago now.”

“Oh.” Mortification swirled through him as he began to question whether or not she had already told him, and he had not been listening to her as she had done so. “I am terribly sorry – both to hear that from you and also for my lack of awareness. Perhaps you already told me and–”

“No, I am sure that I did not.” Lady Harsham smiled and then took his hand, rendering Oliver silent as shock – or was it relief? – rushed through him. “Yes, I should be glad to dance, I thank you.”

It was not until Lord Dunstable cleared his throat that Oliver started and then responded, going cold and then hot again as he realized that he had been standing staring at the lady for the last few minutes.

“Forgive me, I was lost in confusion for a moment.”

He smiled and then, lifting her hand in his, turned and walked towards the center of the chalked floor, ready to dance the cotillion with the lady.

They did not say much to each other as they danced, though Oliver found that there was no awkwardness there, no pressure upon him to find the right words to speak. Instead, he enjoyed her smiles, the few words that they did share, and with it, the relief that came in knowing that she did not hold his harsh words about her against him.

When the dance came to an end, Oliver offered the lady his arm.

“Might I find you some refreshment, Lady Harsham?”

She tipped her head, just a little.

“I should like to accept, but I would not like to prevent you from seeking out any young ladies, Lord Edenbridge. Three, was not the advice?”

Astonishment ran through him as he stared back at her, only for the lady to drop her gaze, her face turning a slow shade of pink.

“How… how did you know that I had written that letter?”

Lady Harsham closed her eyes and then pressed her lips together, as though she were preparing to give him an explanation, but struggling to find the words, only for a clear realization to strike itself across Oliver’s heart. With a groan, he shook his head, rubbing one hand over his eyes.

“Of course. You overheard my conversation with Lord Dunstable. Forgive me, I did not realize.”

“I – I should not have been eavesdropping,” the lady began, only for Oliver to shake his head.

“No, no. It was myself and Lord Dunstable who were speaking without any real consideration for who might be around us. I believe that I thought, in approaching a quieter part of the ballroom, that there would be no one to hear us, but that was a foolish thought, was it not?” He let out a wry chuckle, then shrugged. “I suppose there is no need for me to pretend any longer. Yes, Lady Harsham, I took your advice, and I wrote to The London Chronicle.” He offered his arm again and this time, much to his relief, she took it, and they began to walk together. “I am sure that you already suspected that I was the one who wrote that letter, after what you had witnessed between myself and Miss Dutton, and our conversation thereafter.”

A tinkling laugh came from Lady Harsham, though her cheeks were still hot.

“Yes, I confess that I was.”

“Then I confirmed it in what I said,” Oliver continued, with another rueful smile. “I do hope that you do not think me foolish, Lady Harsham. I do have specific... requirements, but I do not think that a bad thing.”

“No indeed! I think it an excellent notion,” came the reply, as Lady Harsham smiled warmly up at him. “It is always important to know the true nature of the person you might soon marry.” Her smile slipped, a flash of some emotion that Oliver could not make out coming into her eyes. “You are wise to be so considered.”

“I thank you.”

“And you can be assured that I will not speak of what I know to anyone,” she continued, as they stopped by a table, picking up a glass each, though Lady Harsham did take her other hand from his arm, separating them. She took a sip though her eyes did not leave his, as though she was considering something but not quite certain whether or not to say it.

Oliver waited, keeping a small smile fixed on his lips.

“I could…” Lady Harsham sighed and looked away. “I could assist you if you wish. I may not be any help since I have been out of society for so long, but I could certainly find out a little more about the characters of the young ladies you might consider a good deal more easily than you could.”

A surge of hope rushed through Oliver, making him beam back at her.

“That would be both welcome and wonderful, Lady Harsham!”

She looked surprised, perhaps having expected him to refuse her.

“Are you quite sure? As I have said, I might be of very little use.”

“But I trust you,” he said, realizing that he did, in fact, trust the lady’s word, even after such a short acquaintance. “You seem to understand what it is that I am searching for, and why I seek it so fervently and that, in turn, speaks to my heart. Yes, Lady Harsham, I would be grateful for any help that you can offer me.”

“Though I do think that you should still write to The London Chronicle if you wish for more advice,” she continued, speaking a little more quietly now, so as not to be overheard. “The advice you have been given seems to have been what you were hoping for and, though I can now help you as you search for the three young ladies to consider, I cannot offer much more than that.”

Oliver grinned, his shoulders straightening as a strong hope swept over him.

“I am a good deal more optimistic than I think I have ever been!” he declared, seeing her smile back at him. “With your assistance, with Lord Dunstable’s support, and The London Chronicle’s writer, I am certain to achieve success this Season. I am sure of it.”

“I do hope so,” came the reply as Lady Harsham lifted her glass in a toast to his success. “By the end of the Season, may you be betrothed to the young lady you have always hoped for.”