Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

T he following evening, Aaron entered the hall, his eyes scanning the room. He hadn't been in Almack's since he returned from Italy a couple of weeks ago, and before that, it had been at least a year. Oddly enough, nothing seemed to have changed. Gentlemen mingled, many standing in small groups as they chatted, while women chuckled behind feathered fans, wearing their best dresses, and an orchestra played.

He spotted a footman carrying a platter of what had to be Almack's infamous, horrible, dried cake into the banquet room, a place he would surely avoid.

"Aaron!" a voice called, and he turned to see his friend Marius walking toward him, followed by Henry.

Usually, he enjoyed seeing his friends at events like this. They would sit together, drink, place wagers, and make merry, but since their meeting in the park, he felt differently.

"Well, well," Henry drawled. "Is she here? Or has she decided to stay at home and deal you a humiliating defeat before you could even start your quest?"

"She will be here," Aaron stated, though he had yet to spot Judith.

They had agreed that she would come with her maid and she would meet him inside before the minuet—the first dance. His hope was that he could ease her into dancing in the hope she'd be a good partner to others, rather than a stiff broom.

The orchestra was playing already, but the master of ceremonies had not yet called for the first dance. Therefore, she wasn't late.

But what would he do if she didn't show up? After their conversation, he knew she understood what was at stake—nothing short of her happiness. But she seemed so uncomfortable during their exercise yesterday, when he had made her look into his eyes to practice eye contact.

He wasn't quite sure why that had occurred to him. He never really thought about such things. Flirting came naturally to him, as it did to most of the ladies he knew. He never had to teach anyone.

Still, after their afternoon in the park, he had not been able to stop thinking about Judith and how uncomfortable she had been. He had looked at his task as an irritating one, only taken on out of duty to his friend, but now that he took it on, he had to do his best for her. And thus far, he hadn't.

Judith was right, her behavior had likely been due to him pushing her and making her feel insecure. And yet he couldn't deny that when he had stood with her outside in the garden and looked into her eyes, he had felt something.

"Aaron?" Marius prompted.

Aaron looked up. "Yes?"

"I asked what your plan is. The way I see it, you have a challenge ahead of you. The young lady does not seem as though she can manage on her own."

"Do not speak about her like that. I guarantee you that she will do just fine," Aaron added with confidence, although he didn't really feel it.

"You must hope she does, otherwise you'll lose your bet," Marius warned.

"Does she know you placed a wager on her—" Henry started but then snapped his lips shut as something, or rather someone, caught his eye.

Aaron frowned, turning around to see what the Earl was looking at when?—

"A wager? You placed a wager on me?" Judith snapped, and he inhaled sharply, catching a whiff of assorted sweet perfumes.

"Judith…"

"Indeed," she replied, her lips twitching with displeasure.

"You look lovely."

And she did. Clad in a mauve-colored gown that was cinched underneath her bust, she was a vision. The dress flattered her curvaceous figure, her hair pinned up with a silver band running through it.

He noted she had minimal makeup, her eyelids a hint of color reflecting the hue of her dress and her lips a pinkish red. She was a vision, there was no denying it. However, the fire in her eyes did not add to her allure.

"He is in trouble," Henry intoned and winked at her. "I do wish you the best of luck. Not too much," he said, then walked away.

Marius joined him, leaving Judith alone with Aaron. Her maid, Marianne, stood a few steps behind her, awkwardly staring at the ground.

"Did you place a wager on whether you could find me a husband?" Judith asked.

Aaron wanted to deny it, but that would've been a lie. "I did not mean to."

"So, you accidentally placed a wager on me and my marital prospects?"

Why must she challenge me at every turn?

"Well, if it makes any difference, I wagered that I can find you a husband and that you will be betrothed before your brother returns. So that should give you confidence in… my confidence."

He rubbed his temple. What was wrong with him? Confidence in his confidence? What did that even mean? Sometimes being around her seemed to jumble up his brain.

"I should've known," she hissed. "Everything is a game to you. Everything. Well, I will tell you, this is my life, not some frivolous sport that you can place wagers on." She paused. "How much did you wager?"

He gulped, surprised by the sudden change in her demeanor. "I…"

"Well? I should know how much my happiness is worth," she pressed sharply.

Unable to come up with a smart response, he told her the truth, and she nodded.

"Not too shabby. Well, I shall forgive you, but only if you give me half."

This totally shocked him, and he staggered backward two steps. "Half?"

"You are lucky. I'm not demanding all, since it depends on me whether you win or lose a tidy sum."

"What would you do with it?" he asked, although he should be happy that demanding half of his wager was all she was asking for. She could've just turned around and gone home instead.

"I will do as I please. Perhaps I will buy a new gown. I will take my friends to Brighton for a weekend. I hear the boiler room is marvelous. Didn't you tell me yesterday that I should live my life?"

"Touché, Lady Judith, touché. Very well. I agree. Half shall be yours."

She glanced at his friends, and he realized that it must've been a blow to her confidence to find out that other gentlemen had wagered against her. He was about to comfort her when she looked at him with a shrug.

"Very well. We will have to show your friends, won't we? It looks like the master of ceremonies is about to announce the minuet," she said, pointing at the man who was walking toward the middle of the dance floor with his ceremonial staff.

Aaron offered her his arm. "Shall we, then?"

"We shall."

"And after that, we will see about filling up your dance card."

As the music started, Aaron led Judith to the dance floor, the familiar strains of the minuet filling the room. He felt an unexpected thrill at having her in his arms. They began the dance, moving gracefully in time with the music.

He reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to enjoy her company—this was strictly an arrangement, after all. This he inhaled deeply and brought her attention back to the matter at hand.

"So, do you see anyone you'd like to add to your dance card?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are we playing a game now?"

"Why not? We may as well make it entertaining, and we have to choose some gentlemen somehow."

She glanced around the room. "How about that gentleman over there, dancing near the window?"

Aaron followed her gaze and saw Lord Pembroke, a tall man with a reputation for his charm and wit. Ladies often spoke of his good looks.

He felt a pang of envy, though wasn't sure why.

"I know him," Aaron said, trying to keep his tone light. "Lord Pembroke. We went to Eton together."

"It seems all of England went to Eton," Judith quipped, and he let out a chuckle.

"It does, doesn't it? Anyhow, he's quite popular among the ladies."

"Is he now?" Judith teased. "Well, perhaps you could make an introduction?"

"Of course," Aaron replied, though the idea did not please him.

Lord Pembroke, or Chucky as they used to call him, was a bit of a dandy. The type of man who'd soak his pantaloons overnight to make them extra tight. A peacock. Did she find that sort of man attractive? Was she genuinely interested or just playing the game?

"May I ask, why Lord Pembroke?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Judith laughed softly. "I just thought he looked like someone who might make interesting conversation. Why, is there something the matter with him?"

"Of course not," Aaron said quickly, but the truth was he felt a twinge of something he couldn't quite fathom. "I just want to make sure you're making a wise choice."

"Oh, Aaron," she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement, "did you not tell me I am to fill my dance card?"

"I did."

"Every dance, you told me," she added.

"That I said as well, and I meant it."

"Well then, I shall have to select more than just Lord Pembroke, do you not think?"

She smiled and looked around the room, and nodded at another man. Aaron made a note of who he was, and then the two continued both their dance and their selection process. It was almost entertaining, making such a game of it. Almost. For somehow, in the pit of his stomach, Aaron felt unease growing with each gentleman she selected.

Why did it bother him that she was doing exactly what he'd asked of her? Was it because… No, certainly not.

He wasn't charmed by her. He couldn't be. He, Aaron Fitzwilliam, charmed others. He was not charmed by them.

Except at this very moment, he could not deny that the way she looked around the room, a small half-smile on her lips and her eyes sparkling with newfound mischief, was… decidedly charming.