Chapter 21

WILLIAM HAD NEVER FELT agony like he had over the last hour.

The moment he’d walked into the room, he’d seen her .

She was all he could see, and no matter how hard he tried to find interest in anyone, anything else, his gaze always wandered back to her.

Mab .

It was infuriating to be trapped in a room with the woman who had plagued his dreams for so long – the woman he’d stupidly built up in his mind to be his version of a perfect wife. Someone who was haughty, kind, brave, fun and all the other things ladies ought not to be. The image that had kept him company when no one else did. And now the real Mab was here, glaring at him. He could, of course, introduce himself formally, and have his heart torn from his chest when she ultimately rejected him when she found out that he was a penniless bastard. Or he could continue with his plan to hold on to that perfect image of his dream Mab and get to know one of the other ladies who might just take on a burden like him. At the very least, rejection from another lady would be nowhere near as cutting.

Benedict’s eyes kept flitting to Tilly. William had to repeatedly remind him that they weren’t supposed to even look at the ladies with lilies, but the boy just couldn’t seem to help himself. Tilly didn’t help matters either, for she kept her eyes on Benedict for almost the full hour. When she finally rose to leave, Mab stood up too, and William felt an odd mixture of relief and regret.

She had to leave. He prayed for it. Prayed that she’d relieve him of her presence so he could at least try to talk in earnest to any of the other women in the room.

But when she managed to trap him in her stare, he was done for. He’d take that scorn she wore any day over the smiling ladies surrounding him. He cursed himself for praying that she might stride over to him. He’d endure having his heart torn from his chest if he could just hear her siren-like voice one more time. Maybe, if he could continue his ruse for just a little longer, he might ask her for a dance? The thought of holding her delicate fingers in his and being close enough to get a breathful of her scent was enough for blood to start pooling in an area inappropriate while surrounded by other people.

William formed a quick plan in his head. It was simple. All he had to do was straighten himself up and walk over to her. He would, once again, thank her for staying by him and Benedict in the storm and ensuring that they got back to safety. He’d apologise, again, for almost killing her as well. And then he’d ask her to dance.

The moment Tilly left, he felt Benedict slouch beside him. William just managed to place a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder before he was overcome with nervousness so intense that even his toes tingled, for Mab, a look of determination on her face, was striding across the room towards him.

This was all too fast. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and he doubted that he could form a coherent sentence should the love of his life ask him a question. On second thought, he wasn’t quite ready to give up the image he’d created of Mab .. .

“Emily, would you care to dance?” William asked. Emily, who had been talking uninterrupted and at length about all the hobbies she’d taken up since arriving at Gaol Manor, stuttered to a halt. She eyed William up and down, and while her gaze was friendly, there was no attraction there whatsoever. But she seemingly caught a glimpse of Mab, and a knowing look crossed her face.

“I would be delighted,” she said, offering William her hand.

As William guided her to the dance floor, he caught a look of confusion cross Mab’s face. She stood, momentarily frozen to the spot, as she watched William bow to Emily before taking hold of her hand and clumsily beginning the dance.

He spun around, and in the brief second his eyes were off Mab, she disappeared from her spot. He couldn’t help but frantically search for her among the crowd. An intense stabbing sensation throbbed in his chest when he finally caught a glimpse of her talking animatedly to one of the men. William couldn’t remember his name, but he was perhaps a decade older than Mab, with a comely face and jovial demeanour.

William very much wanted to punch him in his perfect Roman nose.

“What is it you’re looking for in a wife?” Emily asked, pulling William from his increasingly murderous thoughts.

“I ... um ... someone kind,” he answered lamely.

“Someone like Mab?” she asked. William made to stumble some sort of retort, but Emily cut him off. “I’m not blind, William. You’ve barely been able to keep your eyes off her the entire night. So why, pray tell, are you currently dancing with me and not the woman you are obviously interested in?”

William looked down at Emily, her eyes studious and kind. Some day, she was going to make the right man very happy indeed.

“I ... I don’t think my circumstances match what Mab is looking for,” he said.

“The fact that you’re less wealthy than you make out to be?” Emily asked, though not unkindly. Before William had a chance to respond, Emily continued, “I can feel the calluses of your hands through my gloves, and your outfit is slightly on the tight side. I’m guessing it’s borrowed from your friend, Ben? May I give you some advice as someone who has been here longer than most?”

William, despite his cheeks flushing, nodded to the incredibly astute woman.

“You are in a unique position to match with someone for love, with no influence from either party’s family. While you need not lay yourself bare, you should present your true self. There is no shame in having financial limitations. In fact, many here do. However, you should not lie to yourself about how you feel. And you certainly shouldn’t hide it from someone who is equally interested.”

Emily flicked a glance at Mab, who was listening intensely to an animated story from one of the gentlemen. But while she nodded, her eyes were clearly glazed over in disinterest.

“Thank you for the dance,” Emily said before making her way towards a group of women.

Maybe he should ask Mab to dance? He could take Emily’s advice and show his interest before someone else caught Mab’s eye. Decisively, he took a step towards her. The moment he did, she pressed her hand to the arm of the man she was talking to and said something. A second later, the pair were making their way to the dance floor.

William’s heart dropped, and it was all he could do to make his way back to Benedict’s side, trying desperately not to look at Mab and her dance partner as he placed a hand on her waist, twirling her around the room.

What if William had missed his chance? What if her dance partner said just the right thing to Mab to make her fall in love with him? After all, it had only taken one simple sentence from Mab for William to fall hopelessly in love with her.

“Shall we sit down for a moment?” Benedict asked, looking over William’s shoulder to Mab and then back at him .

“Sure,” William answered. The pair grabbed a whisky off the nearest table, and found a cluster of chairs far, far away from the dance floor.

“Do you like her?” Benedict asked quietly.

“Mab? Of course not,” he said, the lie rolling easily off his tongue. What did Emily know? Mab clearly wasn’t interested in him, and he ought not give himself the heartbreak of having it officially confirmed.

Benedict didn’t answer, and instead cast an intensely irritating look over William.

“Honestly, I do not.”

“Why not?” Benedict asked innocently.

“Why not? Well,” William said, frantically thinking of a plausible reason. “She swears like a sailor. You were unconscious, but she certainly does not speak like a lady.” William refused to think back to when he lay awake in bed last night, thinking of what other filthy things would come out of Mab’s perfect lips in a different situation. “And would you look at how she presents herself? What kind of woman wears her hair as wild as that?” William instantly pushed away the image of him brushing her hair off her face, exposing her pale neck, which he would lay a trail of gentle kisses on. “And wearing emerald-green with such fiery-red hair, as if she wants to stick out like a sore thumb.” The dress was, in fact, magnificent on her, thought William. It brought out the intense green of her eyes and highlighted the natural blush of her cheeks. “And—”

“You have made your point,” Benedict said, and William thanked God that the young lad had interrupted him, for he had completely run out of things to pretend to hate. “The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks,” Benedict added under his breath, earning him a tight-lipped scowl from William.

For the entirety of the evening, William watched Mab flit between the groups of people. The women would giggle at something she said, the men would excitedly talk to her, occasionally throwing a lamented glance at the marigold on her wrist before being quickly enchanted by something else she said. She took the time to joke with the servants who poured the drinks, and the few times she accepted an invitation to dance, William almost cracked the glass he was holding.

Not once did she cast another glance in his direction.

“You know what?” Benedict asked.

William didn’t even bother to tear his gaze from Mab, who was now dancing with yet another man.

“What?” he grumbled.

“I rather think you lied to me earlier.”

“I did not lie to you,” William lied.

“William, you’re not even pretending to ignore her now. You haven’t looked at a single other woman for over an hour. Why have you not approached her?”

“I do not like her.”

“You are only lying to yourself, William. What harm is there in asking her for a dance? If nothing else, you can use that opportunity to pass on my thanks to her.”

William bit his lip, debating how much to tell the young lad. But if ever he needed advice, now was the time.

“Truth be told, Benedict, I don’t think I’m worthy of any of the ladies here. Let alone someone as beautiful as Mab. I don’t have anything to offer her. I have a worthless estate that’s haemorrhaging money. I have absolutely no skills in wooing a woman. Even being the son of a viscount is worthless to me.”

Benedict didn’t answer for a long moment. “Duke,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“I am the only son of a duke. I do not want to tell anyone else, because that title is only worth the legacy it will bring to a family. A family which I cannot have. But you can have a family. You should let your perspective partner decide if you are a suitable match for them, someone they can picture having a life and a family with, instead of taking yourself off the board before the game begins. I don’t pretend to know anything about the fairer sex; I haven’t exactly had much in the way of experience myself. But I have read many novels, and the best love stories are those where both find perfection in each other’s weaknesses.”

“‘Weaknesses’ seems too light a word to use for a pauper trying to woo a princess. I have literally nothing to my name, Benedict. I may be next in line for the title of viscount, but should my brother have a son, the one thing I have going in my favour will be gone. Not that it would matter. I can’t run a simple farm, let alone the estate of a viscount.” William sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The constant back and forth of his roiling emotions felt like he was being lashed with a whip, and his lingering headache was ebbing forwards. “I do not want to be the man that must snare an heiress to survive, without being able to offer her anything in exchange.”

“William, a woman who is already financially stable, if given the freedom to choose what she values most in a partner, do you really think it would be more money? For some, yes. But I think most women in that position would value a partner’s personality more than their purse strings.”

William scoffed. The young lad really was a hopeless romantic and had seemingly no idea how the real world worked.

Unperturbed, Benedict continued, “Besides, William, you’re acting as if this isn’t the way things are done. Even without this matchmaking service, what do you think happens in the real world? Marriages are wrought on the things families can do to make them stronger. A title in exchange for financial gain is commonplace. We have the rare chance to add the choice of love to that here. And if you get to know her and she can’t look past your misgivings, then I’m sure there will be another woman who can.”

“So, you suggest baiting her with a title – which isn’t worth anything, mind, unless my dear brother decides to drop dead and do me the disfavour of passing it on to me – and hope she overlooks my non-existent wealth, and pray that my equally non-existent personality is enough to make her want to ride off happily into the sunset together. Is that your plan?”

“That is a somewhat lewd way to put it, but, essentially, yes. Be truthful, is what I’m saying. You don’t have to blurt everything out at once, but you can casually drop hints that you don’t have a lot of finances. And you do have a wonderful personality, William. You’re kind, brave, loyal and considerate, to name a few. Allow Mab to see that. Allow her to make an informed choice as to whether she would like to pursue something further.”

It was the second time this evening he’d been advised to be truthful. Reluctantly, he had to agree. William had known what he would be bringing to the table for a potential wife when he’d decided to get into the carriage and come here. If he was going to make a real go at finding a wife, he might as well take his chances with the one woman he could picture spending the rest of his life with.

“Fine,” William said.

Benedict settled back into his seat with an infuriatingly satisfied grin on his face, which irritated William to no end. This was how it must feel to truly have a brother who cared. One that would pick you up when you were down, then mither you into seeing where you were going wrong. It was insufferable. And William loved it.

William downed the dregs of his whisky. He could no longer see Mab on the dance floor. His eyes flittered over the crowd, but her flaming locks were nowhere to be seen.

In the few moments William had taken his eyes off her, she must have retired to her room.

Deflated, William said, “I think I will take a breath of air.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” Benedict asked.

William shook his head. The instant he left his seat, Emily swooped in and began excitedly talking to Benedict. William grabbed another whisky on his way to the glass doors leading to the terrace. Wilfred opened them for him and said, “Don’t go wandering again!”

Before William could answer, another figure followed him out.

“Ah, William! Just who I wanted to speak to,” said the gruff, unfamiliar voice.

It took a moment for William’s eyes to adjust, but he recognised the menacing man. William scraped the barrel of his whisky-addled brain for a name. John? James? It was definitely something beginning with J , he thought.

“Charles,” the man offered, seeing William’s obvious struggle.

Strange, William thought, that this man, who had appeared so menacing a few nights before, seemed less so now that he’d actually cornered William.

“Charles. Of course. How can I help you?”

Charles glanced over his shoulder, checking if the coast was clear. Unconsciously, William did the same. And unless someone was hiding among the topiary, they seemed safe enough to talk about whatever it was that the stranger felt needed to be discussed alone.

“It is, perhaps, what I can do for you,” Charles said ominously.

William stared at Charles. He was bulky but lean. Handsome, though certainly not in a traditional sense. William could make out a series of fine scars on his knuckles, shimmering silver in the candlelight from the window. He was a fighter, then. Despite his appearance, or perhaps it was simply the many whiskies he had consumed, William couldn’t help but lean in, intrigued by what the stranger had to say.

“Apologies, sir. I know we’re supposed to remain anonymous here, but I recognised you and have been debating the past few days whether or not I should approach you.”

“You recognise me?” William said disbelievingly. No one ever recognised him. His father had hidden him from the world, and then, after a couple of failed outings into society, William had done the same by choice for the next decade. He certainly didn’t recognise the man in front of him.

“You are William Blackwater, are you not? The only brother of Viscount Lucius Blackwater?”

William let out an involuntary shudder and glanced over his shoulder. His fist clenched at his side at the mention of his brother’s name.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Listen, I won’t say too much here, but let’s just say that in my line of work, I’ve met a lot of nefarious people and done some things I’m not proud of. But when something falls into one’s lap that could be potentially lethal in nature, a leap of faith is sometimes required.”

“Stop being cryptic, man. I have not the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” William said, his brows knotting in confusion.

“I have some information on your brother that will bring him to his knees.”