Chapter Fourteen

"Good evening, Lord Childers." Martha dropped into a curtsy, recalling that she had been acquainted with the gentleman before, though it had been some time ago. "I am surprised that you remember me, I must say. We have been introduced before, I believe, though it was some time ago."

"Yes, it was." Lord Childers smiled and tilted his head, studying her. "Though you are just as beautiful today as you were then."

Martha smiled back at him, taking in Lord Childers countenance. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a rather square face, though he was not unhandsome. His light brown hair was carefully in place, his smile warm and his hazel eyes friendly. "You are very kind, Lord Childers." She turned to Miss Stockton. "Do you remember my dear friend, Miss Anna Stockton?"

Lord Childers inclined his head. "I am delighted to see you, Miss Stockton." Something flickered in his eyes. "You were engaged to my friend, I believe. Though that has ended very badly."

Martha's breath swirled in her chest as she looked to Miss Stockton, seeing how the smile now fixed itself to her friend's face, how her eyes had widened in obvious shock at such a thing being spoken of.

"You… you are closely acquainted with Lord Bavidge?" Miss Stockton's voice was a little hoarse and Martha quickly went to press her hand so as to give her encouragement. "I did not realise – "

"I was ," Lord Childers interrupted, though he smiled quickly by way of an apology for doing so. "I would not say that I am closely acquainted with him now. The truth is, Miss Stockton, I heard of what he did and I found myself so deeply displeased with it that I could no longer permit myself to be a friend to him. We are still acquaintances, of course, but there is no deep connection between us." His head lowered again for a moment, one hand at his heart. "I must tell you that I am deeply sorry for the pain and the sorrow you must have endured. Perhaps I should have been a little stronger in my words to Lord Bavidge at the time, for then mayhap he would not have done such a thing."

Much to Martha's relief, Miss Stockton smiled. "You are very kind, Lord Childers. In truth, I would have been all the more sorrowful had I married Lord Bavidge, only to realise that he cared for someone else entirely! You are quite correct that it was a very wrong thing for him to do and I will not pretend that I was not hurt for I certainly was." Her glance towards Martha was a questioning one, though Martha herself did not understand what her friend meant by it. "But I am glad of it, in a way. It means that my future still has a little hope within it, rather than a heavy darkness."

"I understand and think you very wise in speaking so." Lord Childers lifted himself from his bow and then smiled again at Miss Stockton, making Martha realise quickly that he was no longer interested in speaking with her. Was that what Miss Stockton had meant by her questioning look? Was she afraid that Martha would think poorly of her for having this gentleman's attention pulled towards her rather than towards Martha?

"I think Miss Stockton is the most patient, the most considerate and the most wonderful of young ladies," she said warmly, garnering her a look of surprise from her friend. "I have heard what happened and I confess myself to be more than a little astonished that anyone could be so forgiving and understanding! To have even a sense of relief over the fact that she is now unwed is, to my mind, the sign of a very considered and intelligent person. Do you not think so, Lord Childers?" So saying, she offered Miss Stockton a quiet smile, hoping that her friend would realise that she was not in the least bit concerned as regarded the gentleman's attention. If Lord Childers was caught by Miss Stockton, then Martha herself would be all the more agreeable to such a thing. She was not too caught up in her own situation to think about Miss Stockton also!

"I think you must be, Miss Stockton, though I can see that you shake your head as though to pretend you do not deserve such kind words from your friend," Lord Childers said with a smile, making Martha's heart squeeze with a gentle hope that she might soon see Miss Stockton as the apple of Lord Childers' eye.

"She is much too humble to ever agree to such a thing!" she laughed, making Miss Stockton's cheeks flush red. "I am glad that you see her as she is, Lord Childers." Her smile faded. "It is rather a pity that so many gentlemen and ladies choose to ignore Miss Stockton and leave her to stand at the back of the room on occasions such as this when she herself has done nothing wrong!"

Lord Childers nodded and rubbed at his chin with one hand. "You are quite correct, Lady Newton," he said, slowly, though his gaze lingered on Miss Stockton. "And that should be remedied." With a lift of his eyebrows, he inclined his head just a little. "Might I ask if you would be willing to dance with me, Miss Stockton? If I might be able to sign your dance card, then this evening would be all the more pleasant for me, I assure you." His gaze flicked to Martha. "And yours also, Lady Newton, if you like? I am sure that your betrothed will not mind for he does not seem inclined towards dancing."

"I am always inclined towards dancing."

A little surprised, Martha turned to see the Marquess of Granton coming towards them all, his expression a little tight as he bowed. "Lord Granton, good evening."

"Good evening to you also," he said, barely glancing at her but instead keeping his gaze fixed to Lord Childers. "I hear that you are to be dancing with my betrothed, Lord Childers – and that is even before I have had a chance to write my own name on her dance card!"

Martha frowned, a little uncertain as to why Lord Granton was behaving or speaking in such a way, though Lord Childers did not seem to mind given the way that he chuckled.

"Of course, of course, I shall take Miss Stockton's at the first, if you wish to take Lady Newton's," he said, looking again to Miss Stockton. "That is, if you are willing to dance, Miss Stockton?"

Much to Martha's delight, her friend nodded, smiled and handed the dance card to Lord Childers who took it with a broad grin beginning to settle on his handsome face. It was only when Lord Granton touched her elbow – and she jumped – that Martha realised that her betrothed was waiting.

"Your dance card, my dear?" Those words came from a rather stony-faced Marquess and, not understanding it, Martha handed it to him without a word. As yet, they had not danced together and Martha was a little confused as to why he was making such an evident fuss over the situation with Lord Childers when he had never shown any interest in standing up with her.

"Of course." With a sharp look in her eye, she gave her dance card to him but the Marquess did not appear to notice. Pulling out a small pencil from his pocket, he wrote something down and then, without even looking at her, handed his card to Lord Childers who gave Miss Stockton's back in return. Martha shared a look with her friend, though Miss Stockton appeared to be quite delighted with the attention she was receiving. Her face was still a little flushed but there was a spark of happiness in her eyes which made Martha's heart fill with gladness. If this could be an evening of enjoyment for Miss Stockton, then she would find herself very satisfied indeed.

"There we are, Lady Newton." With a nod, Lord Childers returned her dance card, only for there to come another voice to join their conversation.

"Your dance card, Lady Newton? If I might be so bold."

A little surprised that there was yet another gentleman come to join their situation, Martha managed to smile and then handed her dance card to the gentleman she knew to be Lord Billington. "But of course," she said, remembering how he had not judged her in the same way as Lord and Lady Kelling during their conversation at the park and of course after James had confronted him the first time. "How very good to see you, Lord Billington."

"And it is good to see you also, and it shall be even better to be able to dance with you," Lord Billington said, not even glancing at the Marquess as he spoke. "Though I see that Lord Granton has already taken my two favourite dances."

Something kicked in Martha's stomach. "Two?"

"Of course."

When the Marquess' hand settled at her waist, pulling her gently against him, fire roared through Martha's frame, making her breath hitch. She did not know what to make of this, for it was the most extraordinary feeling and yet it came from the gentleman she otherwise despised. Remembering her friend's warning, she shook off such a feeling as best she could, keeping her gaze fixed to Lord Billington rather than looking to the Marquess himself.

"It should not come as a surprise to you that the gentleman you are betrothed to wishes to dance not only once but twice, I suppose," Lord Billington said with a smile. "He has the country dance and the waltz, Lord Childers has the quadrille and I shall take the minuet and the cotillion, I think."

" Two dances?" This time, it was the Marquess himself who spoke up, the surprise echoing in his voice and making heat billow in Martha's chest.

"Why ever not?" Lord Billington grinned and, before the Marquess or Martha could say anything, wrote his name down. "I find myself eager to know your betrothed a little better, Lord Granton." Taking the dance card, he handed it back to her, that broad smile still on his face. "I do hope that you like dancing, Lady Newton for it looks to me as though you shall be dancing every one!"

Martha took the dance card back from him, a slight tremble in her frame. "Not yet, Lord Billington," she answered, forcing herself to smile. "There are still many dances remaining that are, as yet, empty."

"Ah, but do look behind you," he told her with a smile. "I am sure that Lord Rochester has come to make amends, as I have done, for the time he did not treat you as you ought to have been, Lady Newton. And I believe that Lord Middlesex and Lord Abernathy are coming to join you also."

Martha did not know what to say, her stomach twisting this way and that as she caught the eye of Lord Rochester, seeing him smile at her. Evidently, what Lord Billington had suggested was just as things were to be – which meant that, very soon, she might find herself dancing every single dance this evening. She looked up at the Marquess of Granton, hoping to see a flicker of a smile there, hoping to see relief that there was so much interest from so many other gentlemen but there was nothing but a heavy frown written on Lord Granton's face. She did not know why and did not dare ask him but as Lord Rochester came to join them, that frown only grew deeper. Was she doing something wrong? Ought she not to be accepting every dance that was asked of her? Or was there something more to the Marquess' dark expression?

***

"The waltz, my dear."

Martha put out one hand and took the Marquess' offered one, a flicker of heat beginning to burn in her fingertips as he lead her towards the centre of the ballroom. The evening had progressed very well and her conversation with both Lord Billington and with Lord Rochester had gone very well indeed. Both had apologised, both had complimented her and both had made her some very pretty promises about how they would not treat her in such a way again. That had been gratefully received though Martha was still a little wary given the dark expression which had lingered on Lord Granton's face. She had begun to fear that there was something amiss, something dreadfully wrong with ether Lord Billington or Lord Rochester which, as yet, she did not know about.

Perhaps now might be my chance to ask.

"Are you enjoying the evening?" she asked, a little tentatively as he reached the centre of the ballroom and, stepping back from her, dropped into a bow. "Have you danced with anyone else?"

"No, and I have no intention of doing so."

"Oh." Martha dropped into a curtsy and then, after a moment, stepped into the Marquess' arms. She did not ask him why, finding herself a little confused as to why a gentleman of distinction would refrain from dancing. Lord Granton's hands were settled now, one on her waist and one holding her hand, though his grip was not too tight but yet still strong enough to lead her without difficulty. Martha's breath hitched as he stepped close to her, reminding herself silently that she could not give in to any flirtations that the Marquess sent her way. Dancing the country dance was one thing but stepping out for the waltz was quite another. In this dance, they were as close as two people could be whilst still maintaining propriety and, much to her own frustration, the way her heart began to race made her feel uncertain and a little overwhelmed. The music began and the Marquess led the dance without any difficulty, spinning her around the ballroom without even a momentary hesitation.

"You are wondering why I did not dance with any other," he said, his eyes catching hers as she looked up at him before returning her gaze to his shoulder, finding his gaze much too intense to remain looking at steadily. "The reason is, Lady Newton, that I am meant to be a gentleman besotted with his betrothed. I want to make certain that it appears that you are nothing but distinguished to me. Therefore, in doing as I am, it makes all of society recognise that there is a great alteration in my behaviour."

"For previously, you would dance every dance?" she asked, a little breathless from the way she whirled around. "Yes?"

Lord Granton looked back at her, his lip curling. "Do not think you can judge me for that, Lady Newton."

She frowned, a little confused. "Judge you? Why should I do that?"

"You know very well why."

Finding herself rather lost – not only at the Marquess' dark manner but also the questions and statements he was offering her, Martha chose to fall silent again and to continue on in the dance. She kept her gaze fixed, her hand still in his, the other on his shoulder as the dance continued.

And then, much to her astonishment, the Marquess spun her into a corner of the room, a place where the shadows crept over them, hiding them from the sight of others.

"I do not want you to judge me simply because I take hold of as many opportunities as I can," he said, his hand still on hers, the other still at her waist and his body now pressed back against her own. "You know very well the gentleman I was – the gentleman I am – and I tell you now that I have not changed in the least. Yes, I would dance every dance I could in the hope of flirtation, in laughter and mayhap, in something a little more. I will not have your gaze settling on me in that way."

Martha blinked up at him, her cheek feeling the heat of his breath as it rushed across her face. She did not know what to say or what to do, finding herself a little flustered.

"There is nothing I can do or intend to do to change my character," he growled, lowering his head all the more, keeping it close to hers. "I do hope you understand that, Lady Newton."

"I – I do not think to judge you," she whispered, seeing the way his eyes suddenly flared, surprise filling them. "I had no intention of suggesting anything of the sort when I asked about the many times you would have danced. Truly, that was not my thought."

Lord Granton blinked, frowned, and then opened his mouth to say something more, only to close it again. Instead, he looked down into her eyes, seemingly captured by something he saw there. He did not move. He did not speak and as Martha looked up into his face, she felt something shift within her. She did not know what it was and certainly could not explain it but there was certainly… a change . The Marquess' expression appeared almost astonished, his eyes rounding, his breath hitching and his hand tightening on hers… and then he stepped back.

"The waltz." Pulling his hand from hers, he pushed it through his hair and then, with a set of his shoulders, reached for it again. Without another word, he led her back into the dance, continuing on as though nothing had ever happened. Martha felt herself clinging to him, feeling a little weak, a little stunned by all that had just happened. The Marquess had been angry, it seemed, only for that anger to then fade into something completely different – but exactly what that was, Martha did not know. She could not even say for herself what it was that had altered within her as she had stood close to the Marquess, feeling his hand on hers and his breath brushing her cheek. What was it that had swept through her? What was it that had made him catch his breath?

No answers came and as the waltz came to a close, Martha found herself relieved to be able to step back from him. Miss Stockton was waiting and Martha, after curtsying and murmuring a thank you, went quickly to take the arm of her friend, glad now to be far from her betrothed. Miss Stockton was full of excitement over her dances with Lord Childers and Martha was glad to listen. As they walked, Martha could not help but glance over her shoulder, only for another streak of lightening to course through her.

The Marquess was looking straight back at her, his eyes dark and his expression heavy. And as she held his gaze for a moment longer, he did not either turn or look away but his expression never changed.

Martha shivered.