Fourteen

Gwendolyn

29 November 1814

"You do the gown justice, my dear," Mother said as her eyes followed my descent down the staircase. I smoothed my hands over the layers of green satin that fell easily along my curves and to the floor. I tugged my white gloves into a respectable position above my elbows. Tonight, we were to attend the Suttons' Winter Ball and, regardless of how many attempts I made to evade recent social whirlwinds, both Mother and Aunt Meredith successfully thwarted my protests.

Secretly, I relished the occasion itself, but since my avoidance of a certain man has become quite the undertaking, I lacked the same eagerness as previous years. After he sent that audacious slab of cheese, I'd been forced to feign innocence of its origin or why we were the recipients of such an outlandish gift. Aunt Meredith, however, saw through the charade and read right through me with her natural shrewdness. Within hours, she extracted a full confession from me tucked away in the hushed privacy of our library. My only regret in confiding in her was the glimmer of wicked amusement that she gleaned from this capricious game of cat-and-mouse that Hunter and I inadvertently engaged in.

However, all that came to an abrupt end when we crossed paths on Bond Street nearly two weeks ago. I wasn't quite sure what to gather when we bumped into Lord Devon and his friend, Lord Zachary, but the moment I laid eyes on my betrothed in his rugged state of undress, a strange sensation tingled in my stomach and worked its way up to my chest. A mysterious attraction held me captive in his less than perfect state and I could barely take in the whole of him at that moment.

When I spoke of him being out of sorts , it began as a tease, though I had very little experience in the process and, after reflecting on our conversation for weeks now, can see how he heard it as a reprimand. Everything certainly went downhill from there.

The mortification I felt after he announced in front of my friend how much he detested our marriage arrangement but would proceed as forced—or something akin to that—I could barely flee before the stinging began behind my eyes. I refuse to ever cry in front of that man.

We had not spoken since that day, but I knew the marriage moved forward as planned, for the third week of banns was read.

My future felt like an iron vice, rotating slowly and suffocating me soundly.

Mother clapped her hands eagerly bringing me back to the present. "I knew my diamond necklace would accent your gown perfectly." She, herself, glowed in her blue and gold satin ensemble and Aunt in her plum lace, which only accentuated her ginger locks.

"You will catch the eye of every gentleman in the room," Aunt Meredith exclaimed as she reached to take her cloak from the maid.

"But only one will have you," Mother reminded me.

I groaned inwardly. I didn't dress for him . My love for fashion and gowns began long before the betrothal.

As we traveled the short distance to the Sutton estate in the family coach, I could not account for the reason my nerves tingled, having never been restless at these events before. While I loved dancing and socializing, I didn't mind sitting out a dance or two. With plenty of partners, I had never been accused of being a wallflower, but for some reason an unpleasant ache in the pit of my stomach had arisen tonight and seemed to have no intention of departing. Could it have anything to do with the playful banter Lord Devon and I engaged in? Did the chase give me something to look forward to? Or was his disappearance these last two weeks a result of me and our confrontation on Bond Street? It certainly could not be classified as playful at all.

As I continued to reflect, I realized I had no assurances he would even be in attendance at tonight's ball and if he came, would we interact as strangers once again?

And worst of all, why did that bother me?

"Are you well, Gwen?" Mother asked, sitting opposite me in the carriage.

I nodded, but then I wondered if I complained of an ailment, might we return home? Since Mother cherished Lady Sutton as one of her closest friends, it would be quite selfish of me to ask her to miss on account of my… whatever I felt .

"I'm fine, Mother." I smiled slightly for her benefit. Aunt Meredith's eyes burrowed into me. With her sharp wit and quick mind, she could always read through me, so I chose not to meet her stare.

Upon entry through the Suttons' colossal classic doors, one could determine straightaway the hosts had lavishly indulged their guests to the extreme. Dozens of ample-sized vases holding bouquets of hothouse flowers lined the corridor leading to the ballroom. The spicy sweet fragrance of Jasmine and my favorite, the Lily of the Valley, seemed to supersede all others. Long leafy boughs ranging in deep evergreen cascaded over every door and window casing and the number of candles glowing in crystal sconces outnumbered the attendees ten to one. The majestic chandelier alone effortlessly lit up the room like a heavenly manifestation.

Once within the main doors of the ballroom, I hesitated to show any particular interest in any one direction, but I could not help peering around for the one person I hadn't quite decided if I wanted to avoid.

"Countess Langley. Lady Gwendolyn."

Drat. Where did he come from?

I spun to the side to see Hunter Matthews standing behind us. His face was devoid of his heart stopping smile, but the cut of his suit drew many batting eyelashes and fluttering fans his way. The man seemed oblivious to the ripples he caused.

I curtsied. "Lord Devon."

I glanced toward Mother. Her inability to hide her delight surfaced in her broad smile. "Lord Devon, might I introduce to you Lord Langley's sister visiting from Bath, Lady Meredith Wendle."

He stepped over to her and bowed over her hand. "I'm delighted to see you again, Ma'am."

I shot her a surprised look. I did not know they were already acquainted.

Hunter promptly turned back to me and, as if someone else commanded his movements, he held out a hand in my direction. "Lady Gwendolyn, might I have the honor of the first set?"

The previous gleam in his eye was nowhere to be found. I suddenly missed the playful, competitive side of him and wondered if I was solely responsible for its absence.

"Gwendolyn?" Mother whispered.

I hesitated too long. Nodding in his direction, I placed my hand in his. "It would be a pleasure, my lord."

As we stepped away and out of ear shot, I could not help but attempt a tease, despite my aforementioned failure. "Quite the clever move, Lord Devon."

"I fear I'm ignorant of what you are referring to, my lady."

I made a second attempt at lightening our exchange.

"Pouncing on a young woman the moment she arrives at a ball without a moment to catch her breath, much like a cat, wouldn't you say?"

Instead of his hallmark deep chuckle coming forth, he spoke in a pragmatic tone. "If the lady didn't run and hide much like a mouse, I might not have to be so swift."

I pursed my lips. I had wrongly assumed we were still playing a game, whereas Lord Devon simply sought to fulfill his dutiful role of dancing with his betrothed.

I suddenly felt ill.

I risked a glance in his direction, and my cheeks warmed at the intensity of his stare.

"Please, call me Hunter. We are betrothed after all."

Though I didn't need the reminding, I found it a relief to finally say his Christian name and not repeat the name Lord Devon. In truth, I despised that title.

We reached the end of the line of dancers and he led me to my place opposite him. Before the music began, I mumbled a continuation to his comment, "Perhaps the mouse likes her freedom."

The music started and when we came together for the first move, I briefly felt the warm breath of my partner on my cheek as he spoke. "Perhaps the cat never intended on taking her freedom away."

We performed the rest of the dance quietly. I spent most of the time contemplating his final words—they silenced me. Were they truth? Did he not seek to own me as his brother did? The few times I glanced in his direction, his deep brown eyes never wavered. Had he watched me the entire time?

When the dance ended, he led me back to my mother and aunt and bowed. "A delight, Lady Gwendolyn." Then he left.

That was it?

I stared at his back. The grace in which he moved around the crowd emerged with flawless proficiency. I watched as women sighed when he passed, then silently fumed. Had he only intended to dance with me once and that was all? Or was this all part of the game we had started? Was the dance a conquest… a challenge that he could prove he could surpass? I blew out a breath of frustration and folded my arms over my chest. Even in this moment he was victorious, for he had taken the enjoyment of balls from me because his presence now haunted my every thought.

Aunt Meredith reached for my hand. "Let's take a turn about the room."

I nodded. Anything to get my mind settled.

"He is quite handsome," Auntie said.

I groaned aloud this time. This did not help.

"Furthermore, he seems to be quite the gentleman." Her head nodded in his direction as he moved to the back wall and asked a very obvious wallflower to dance. He even had to coax her out of the dark corner. I narrowed my eyes. Josiah would have never done such a thing. Each time we attended the same events, he went straight for the most beautiful, most scandalous women he could find. Of course, we always danced twice at each ball, but I knew it was more out of a sense of duty than anything.

"He is not Josiah, Gwendolyn." Aunt Meredith seemed to read my thoughts.

"I am still uncertain," I said even while I watched him smile and turn the poor shy girl into a red beet. I suddenly felt a twinge of frustration needling me. He didn't even try to smile that way at me tonight.

"I never told you what I thought of Josiah," Auntie hummed. I stopped in place near an open window to get some fresh air. The room had become stifling in a matter of minutes.

"Yes, it seems you already know my betrothed." I waited for her to finish her thoughts.

She smiled. "I know less of Hunter than Josiah. I met the boys several times prior to your engagement. Their father and my husband were friends. Even in their youth, Josiah and Hunter always drew the eyes of women wherever they went."

I sighed. Maybe if I became betrothed to an unattractive man, I would feel safe.

"I never believed Josiah suited you."

I smirked. "Aunt Meredith, you've always told me you didn't think anyone met my standards."

"Well, yes, that is true, but in my early observations Josiah seemed selfish, centered entirely on his own needs. I must beg your forgiveness for not speaking out when I learned of your betrothal."

I lowered my eyes to my gloves as they fidgeted against my skirt.

"What did you observe of this Lord Devon in his youth?" I asked.

"Well, as twins they were inseparable in childhood, but it was clear that they had very different personalities."

"Truly?"

"There is a sincerity and kindness in Hunter that was absent in Josiah. I cannot recall particulars, but I assure you, he is not his brother," she added.

When Lady Julia appeared, my aunt excused herself with a pat on my hand. "Do give him a chance, love," she whispered. "It will make for a more pleasant union, I am certain of it."

I responded with a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you, Aunt Meredith."

While I truly appreciated her words, I struggled to sort through all the chaotic thoughts that now muddled my brain. Turning from the window, I watched Hunter return the girl to the corner only to ask her friend for the next dance. Had I misjudged him? Or was it too soon to assume I had? So he's danced with a couple of wallflowers… does that make him a saint?

Without delay, a rush of words filled my mind. You are far from a saint yourself, Gwendolyn.

"Are you well, Gwen?" Julia faced me, her face twisted in worry.

I reached for her hand and fled the ballroom. I needed space, the room had become a veritable crush, and I had no logical grasp on reality.

In the ladies' retiring room, I moistened a corner of my handkerchief and wiped perspiration off my cheeks. "You won't be able to avoid the man forever," Jules sat on a settee and sighed.

"Of course not," I mumbled. "Eventually I will have to provide an heir. His father put that in the contract."

Julia's voice paled. "In the contract?" she choked. "What if either one of you are barren?"

"Oh, curse your tongue, Jules." I panicked. I hadn't even considered it. Though I doubted the possibility of love, I didn't find him unattractive. In truth, his handsome appearance stirred all sorts of turmoil… devilishly so. Trying for an heir would not be altogether dreadful unless I can't give him children… then he, like his brother will most likely seek that need elsewhere. The very thought made my stomach curl. I could not handle another wandering Matthews brother.

"Will you live in the country or London?"

"The country." Though I had thought of this often, I knew that was what the Matthews family expected as well. No need to pretend.

After three quarters of an hour, I was no closer to feeling confident of what I knew of Hunter Matthews and the enigma he was. Much like a puzzle, he was presumed to appear one way but with each new piece, a different image transpired.

"Let's get some refreshment," Julia suggested as we emerged from the retiring room and shuffled down the corridor. "Lemonade always clears my mind."

The sound of men socializing nearby led me to believe the card room was around the corner. As we neared, Julia tugged my arm backward and flashed a strange look in my direction.

"What, pray tell, has you all flustered?" I asked innocently.

"Shhh." She held her gloved finger against her lips. My eyebrows furrowed. I had no idea why she was behaving so peculiarly. She gestured to the doorway and the voices that came from within. "Someone is talking about you."

"Me?" I whispered.

"Well, I can't be sure," she mumbled, "though I heard the name The Ice Princess."

My face heated as we pressed our bodies flush against the wall and waited to hear the remainder of the conversation.

"She is stunning no doubt, but could you imagine bedding an icicle?" Several men roared with laughter.

My heart thumped against my ribs, mortified at being the center of someone's quip. Did I have the strength to go inside and confront the man directly?

"How could one even perform under such circumstances?"

Another round of laughter emerged.

My stomach sank. Who said such dreadful things? Though I couldn't ascertain clearly, I silently prayed it was not Hunter. I hadn't spoken with him enough to know for certain.

Jules grabbed my wrist to lead me away, but I froze in place and shook my head no .

"And what of your children?" Another voice chimed in. "Snowflakes?"

"That's quite enough!" A commanding voice rose up and over the laughter.

"We only jest, Lord Devon."

Jules and I shared a glance, and I held my breath. Hunter was not the one humiliating me—he defended me.

"Oh, come now, my good man, we are all rooting for sunny skies to thaw her by your wedding night."

Yet another round of laughter transpired.

"I said that's enough!" There was no mistaking the force of his protest.

I had yet to take a breath.

"It's all in good fun, Devon," a man said through a chuckle. "The chilly chit is a simple tar—"

Pop! The unmistakable sound of a fist connecting with something surfaced.

I covered my mouth with my gloved hand, but a gasp inadvertently slipped through. Noises erupted from within the room. The distinct sound of physical clashes emerged, accompanied by hollers and shouts. Julia forcefully grabbed my hand this time and dragged me in the opposite direction. Fleeing back into the ballroom through a side door, we slowed to an awkward walk once we entered.

My hands trembled as if I had been involved in the tussle myself. Normally, I had the ability to compose myself when facing unusual circumstances, but nothing about tonight seemed ordinary. Julia reached for my arm and threaded it through hers, guiding me to the refreshment table as if we hadn't just heard a fight break out between gentlemen over me. Me! What in the world was I to think?

I knew my eyes remained wide as she placed a cup of lemonade in my hands and encouraged me to drink. My heartbeat finally slowed, and I felt color reach my face again with every sip of the tart drink. Setting the empty cup aside, I retrieved my fan and wafted it slowly before my face.

"What just happened?" I whispered to Julia quietly behind it.

Jules smiled slyly. "I believe the man you are marrying just defended you to the ton ."

"Why would he do that?"

"Why shouldn't he?" she asked. "You are to be his wife."

"But he did not choose me. I'm the discarded leftovers of his brother and carry no personal value."

She offered a stern brow. "His brother was a cad, Gwen. Everyone knew it. But can't you see that Hunter Matthews just proved he is nothing like Josiah?"

Despite the continued pitter patter of my heart, I could not help but peruse the room, hoping that I might catch a glimpse of him re-entering the ballroom.

From a far corner, I noticed Sir Jameson emerge with a fresh bruise on his cheek. He appeared only long enough to retrieve his wife for a swift departure. So, Jameson was part of the brawl . I wondered who else. On the other side of the dancers, a footman retrieved Lady Hennison. After he spoke to her, she appeared distraught, making it easy to presume her son, Lord Patrick Hennison, was also involved. This did not surprise me. Both were ridiculous men.

I continued to watch for any sign of Hunter. Minutes turned into a quarter hour, then two, and three-quarters of an hour passed, but he did not appear. Could this raw, unfettered feeling within my breast be disappointment?

Then I shook my head as if to clear it. Even if I saw him and approached, what would I say? Would I admit to my eavesdropping? Profess that I had caught him being chivalrous and kind? That would be like acknowledging he was everything I had assumed him not to be. Was I too proud to declare my error?

One hour, and several distracted dances later, I managed to navigate my turn around the room with Jules near His and Her Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Chilton.

"Lady Gwendolyn," the duchess said with a nod. "How lovely to see you here."

I smiled and curtsied gracefully. "And you, Your Grace." What little interaction I had with the Matthews twins' mother proved she emanated kindness as much as beauty.

Her Grace peered around the ballroom. "I haven't seen my son recently, but I do hope you would save a dance for him. You have been in high demand for many of these events."

I offered a bashful grin, "We danced the first."

She appeared pleased. "Well, it would not be improper to dance another."

I lifted my card. "The supper dance remains open if you happen to see him." I surprised myself when I said this. Glancing in Julia's direction; from her slightly parted mouth, I realized I had shocked her nearly as much.

The duchess' eyes lit up. "I certainly will pass on the splendid news."

Curtsying again, I then threaded my arm with Julia's as we walked away.

"Good heavens, what came over me?" I pressed my gloved palm to my cheek as we skirted the ballroom. "I honestly don't know what possessed me to say that."

"His action has changed you," Julia whispered. "He's proving his goodness and honor."

"Oh, no." My mind whirled for a logical answer. "My conduct must be prompted by gratitude, that is all."

"Mm-hmm." Julia grinned.

Several dances later I still had not seen Hunter nor had he approached with a request for the supper dance. Had he remained in the card room, gambling? Drinking? Or was he possibly injured worse than the other two men? Had I refused him so often that he no longer cared to seek me out?

"Lady Gwendolyn?" I spun around so fast, I nearly toppled over. Then I fought the frown that wanted to break through when Viscount Chaucer bowed before me. "Dare I ask if you have any available dances left?"

Though I already knew, I peeked at my dance card. Indeed, only the one remained… the supper dance. I sighed inwardly a bit disappointed. Glancing toward Hunter's parents once more, I got a subtle shake of the Duchess' head with a simultaneous light shrug of her shoulders. She didn't seem to know Hunter's whereabouts either. I handed Lord Chaucer my card.

"Oh, supper. That's delightful." He smiled wide. I nodded back but could not return a smile. Could it have only been a mere two hours ago, when I began to feel the ice around my heart begin to thaw?