A Gentleman of Worth – Chapter 1

Hi all! I’m gearing up for a release! I don’t have a concrete day set (a lot has been going on here to keep me busy) but I thought I’d start sharing some chapters to let you know what’s in store. This is Book 2 of The Montford Cousins,  a sequel to An Endeavour to be Worthy, so while Darcy and Elizabeth are in the story, they are not the focus. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Late February 1812

The chandeliers glittered in the warm glow of candlelight while people milled about the grand ballroom awaiting the first dance. The Marquess of Ormonde’s annual fete was widely considered the first important ball of the Season, so such an occasion was not to be missed, which explained the mad crush of people all but pressed against her despite the generous size of the ballroom.

The ladies in their best silk gowns and gentleman all turned out in as fine a manner as Beau Brummel would soon line up for the first set, and the air of the room vibrated with what could only be anticipation. The musicians tuned their instruments while those assembled murmured and gradually crowded closer and closer to the centre of the ballroom in preparation for the anticipated announcement.

Amelia shifted to one side to allow a gentleman to pass but they still collided with one another.

“Pardon me,” she said with a start.

“I hope you have not given away my set,” said a familiar voice at her shoulder.

She smiled while she continued to watched the crowd in front of her. “No, I would not break my word, but two sets? You do realise tongues will wag, sir.” Sir Anthony had on occasion danced the first with her, but he also danced the first with other ladies as well, so no one would think twice about him standing up with her for that particular set alone, but the supper set? He had never requested two sets before.

“I am unconcerned. Since when do you care what the gossips say about you?” He was correct. She never bothered with the rumours and tittle tattle that abounded, but unlike other ladies, she had been careful not to cause too much speculation with any gentleman she had no interest in marrying, or who would have no interest in her for that matter.

When the dance was announced, he offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

As she allowed him to lead her to the line, she tilted her head. “You mistake my meaning, sir. Eventually, you must take a wife. If we are linked in any manner other than friendship, it may not be of aid when you meet the lady you wish to pursue.”

One side of his lips curved as he pivoted to stand facing her. The music began and they honoured their partner. They took the first steps of the pattern and turned, joining hands side by side. “I had hoped I had made myself clearer with my actions, but I suppose I must make myself doubly so with my words.”

She frowned. “I do not understand.”

“I have decided upon the lady I wish to court and have called upon her for a fortnight.”

Her head whipped to face him. He had? When had this occurred? They were friends. Why would he not tell her? “But you have said nothing. Who is this lady? Do I know her?” Was this lady worthy of such a kind and thoughtful gentleman as Sir Anthony?

“You know her quite well.” She could have screamed when the pattern of the dance forced her to step out and follow the other ladies to the back of the line. At least they would be reunited in a moment, and she could enquire further. Her pulse quickened when they took their places and joined hands once again. “Well? Are you to keep me in suspense? Who is she?”

He chuckled and leaned a bit closer to her. “It is you, you silly goose.”

She almost tripped over her own foot instead of sinking it as the dance required, and her heart plummeted into her stomach. Her? He wanted to court her? No, there must be some mistake! They had danced and talked and formed a friendship over the last four Seasons. If he had ever held some interest in her, he would have expressed it by now, would he not?

“Will you not say something?” he asked before turning out with the pattern again.

As she followed the ladies to the back of the line once more, she shook her head. This was absurd! How was she to dance and have this conversation? The starting and stopping and starting and stopping was maddening, and they had only been forced to do so twice. When she reached the back of the line, instead of taking Sir Anthony’s hand, she strode for the doors without delay. She would not have this conversation with all and sundry bearing witness. Why would he speak so—all but declare himself—at a ball?

Upon reaching the hall, she collided shoulders with a finely dressed lady before she entered a drawing room with access to the gardens and hastened through. Once out of doors, her hands crossed over her chest to ward off the chill of the late February evening. The iciness of the air prickling her skin was good. She closed her eyes and breathed as evenly as possible.

When Sir Anthony first requested a set of her after her coming out, she had become smitten with the man with little effort on his part. His handsome countenance and endearing dimples had inhabited her dreams for the entire Season along with his devilishly devastating low voice requesting to call, asking if he could court her—marry her. She had fallen hopelessly in love with him. When none of those long held wishes came to fruition, she had departed with her family to Richmond Castle for the summer and mended her broken heart. She had learnt to call him her friend, to cease that yearning and be content with their polite discourse. What other choice had she had?

“’Tis too cold to be out without a coat.” His warm hands rested her cloak over her shoulders. “I have given you a shock. Forgive me. I had hoped my intentions would be evident after joining you for church the past two Sundays and calling as well, but I suppose your grandparents and Hatton were the sole people to notice.”

“My grandparents know, Nicholas knows, and I do not?” Lord, but that catch in her throat! Why could she not appear stronger than she was in truth?

“Your grandfather, as well as all of London, was aware of the state of Dereham when my father died. Well, they were somewhat aware, I suppose. Before I made any attempt at making my intentions obvious, I wanted to assure Lord Richmond of my ability to provide for you should you see fit to accept my suit. The responsibility to safeguard your future is in his hands, and he has every right to those assurances of your well-being in my care. I said naught to your brother, so I must assume he spoke to your grandfather or read what I assume has been evident upon my countenance for some time.”

“What would you assume is evident?”

“My admiration of you.” He spoke in a straightforward manner as he had shifted more to her side, holding her gaze with an intensity she could not withstand.

She closed her eyes and held up her hand, stepping away from him then spinning on her heel to face him. He had been so close to her shoulder that some of his warmth permeated her cloak, making her require a modicum of distance. “’Tis too much. You have made it abundantly clear since my first season that we were no more than friends.”

“I have, but not because I held no feelings for you, but because I had no right to offer you more. You were also young when we first met—just seventeen. Do you remember? For me, the memory is as vivid as what is happening at this moment.

“When Hatton introduced us, I remember thinking you were very pretty, and as we danced, I was impressed you could manage a decent discourse on a topic other than the latest fashion. Meanwhile, you had just come out. You thought the Season was new and exciting, and you spoke often of the gentlemen who would come to call. Your eyes would brighten and sometimes you would giggle. I was enchanted and thought that by twenty, you would make an excellent prospect for a wife. I was correct, though I was still not at liberty to speak from my heart. Dereham was still in debt—not as great a sum to be sure, but enough.”

“You could have. You could have spoken of your feelings. What if I had been willing to wait for you?” She would have, particularly during that first Season.

He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his great coat. “How would that have been fair? You deserved a gentleman who was prepared to support a wife, and I was paying my father’s debts and correcting his neglects of the estate. Since our first meeting, you have grown more beautiful than I could have imagined. While I thought you pretty in the beginning, you are now stunning. Most of your giggles have been replaced with more mature smiles and witty banter and laughs. Even with my early admiration, I underestimated the beautiful woman you would become.”

Amelia squeezed her eyes closed at the burning of tears. She would not cry! She would not, even if he had just uttered every lovely thing her heart would have gobbled up when she was seventeen. “I need to be alone.”

“My conscience would not allow me to leave you here without protection. I could fetch your brother.”

“No! Good Lord, he will never stop tormenting me with his teasing if he learns of this.” She turned, stepped down into the grass, and walked over to a small hedge near the edge.

“You will ruin your slippers,” he called from the terrace.

“I do not care. I require a moment to think.” But how was she supposed to do so with him watching her as he was? He was right not to leave her without protection, though they should not be alone as they were either.

A twig snapped, and she started. What was that? She peered around the edge of the bushes and gasped at the couple shielded behind the hedge of Yew. “Lizzy? Fitzwilliam? What are you doing?” The words were hissed while she clutched her cloak around her as though it was a shield, a heaviness resting in the pit of her stomach.

“I am so sorry,” said her cousin, Lizzy, with wide eyes. “We escaped for no more than a moment to steal a kiss. We had not expected anyone to venture into the garden with the cold weather.”

“Did you hear…?” How was she to ask without explanation of what they would have heard?

Lizzy bit her lip as she had done so many times before. “I am afraid it was unavoidable, dearest.”

“For what it is worth, we shall not tell anyone, especially not Hatton,” said Fitzwilliam. “And if your grandfather were to ask, you were, for all intents and purposes, chaperoned.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “Only you would consider that.”

“Who are you speaking to?” Sir Anthony hastened from the terrace, his complexion paling when he saw Lizzy and Fitzwilliam. “I had thought we were alone.”

While she grabbed her husband’s hand, Lizzy waved the other before her. “Forget our presence. We shall stand over there and speak of some nonsense, so we do not overhear. You continue discussing whatever you were…well, discussing.” She dragged Fitzwilliam past them and up to the terrace where they stood talking and looking everywhere but at her and Sir Anthony. This was mortifying!

Amelia pressed her palm to her forehead. “This is horrifying.”

“I would imagine the Darcys are not without some embarrassment. They had not intended to be caught out as they were either.”

“They never do,” said Amelia with a shake of her head. “Miss Darcy has found them more than once since just before they were engaged. This is the first I have caught them thus, but I cannot find fault with them for it. They are in love and fortunate to have married for such great depth of feeling.”

“Could you not do the same? Am I without hope of you returning my affections?”

She met his gaze, and her heart tugged in his direction. Botheration! Had she not closed that door and sealed it shut three years ago? “I do not know. You shockeed me with your declaration. I confess we are good friends, and I care for you, but whether those feelings could become of a romantic nature, I cannot say. I had not even realised you were courting me.”

“A pathetic beginning, to be sure.” He stepped forward as though about to take her hands but paused. “Then allow me to call. Allow me to court you and win your heart.”

“You are quite certain of yourself.”

“I do not believe we could have such a friendship, such an intimacy between us, without some affection on both sides. You also have not wed these past four years, and not for a lack of suitors. A number of gentlemen called your first Season, and during the following Seasons, a gentleman or two called, but the associations led nowhere. You always found some fault: he was too short, he needed to reconsider his sideburns, you could never marry a man who wore a silver topcoat—”

For Heaven’s sakes! “Very well. You need not continue, though I maintain that Lord Montague is too much of a dandy. I could never wed someone who spends more time preparing for a ball than I do.”

He chuckled and took her hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “By your standard then, we should be well-suited.”

Where his thumb brushed, her traitorous flesh tingled and threatened to travel up her arm. How was that possible through their gloves? Perhaps she was cold. Yes, that was it! She was feeling the chill of the weather and that sensation had nothing to do with his touch. He lifted her hand, and his lips puckered, making her snatch her hand away. “I am suddenly fatigued. I believe I should like to go home.” She turned on her heel and started back to the terrace with him trailing behind.

“Amelia, wait.”

She made an abrupt turn. “I beg your pardon.”

He flinched and stepped back. “Forgive me, Miss Montford.”

Her hands clutched her cloak around her as she neared Lizzy and Fitzwilliam. “Do you know where Grandpapa is? I should like to go home.”

“Are you well?” asked Lizzy with her eyebrows drawn down a little.

“Yes, merely tired.”

Fitzwilliam glanced at Sir Anthony. “We shall be pleased to see you home. I shall speak to Lord Richmond then return.”

“I thank you.” She took in a shuddering breath. She would not cry!

“May I call upon you on the morrow to ensure you are well?” Sir Anthony’s voice was low.

“Yes, you may. I hope you will forgive me for abandoning you for the supper set.”

He shook his head with an almost smile. “Do not fret over that. Without you, I have no reason to stay. Once you have departed, I shall return home.”

“You would leave because of me?” As far as she was aware, he had never done so before.

His head turned in the direction of the ballroom for a second before his gaze returned to hers. “Why would I dance and converse with other ladies when I only wish to do so with you? It is hardly fair to the lady in my company. Do you not agree?”

“I had not considered it.” Her stare remained trained on the stone floor. She could not hold his steady and penetrating gaze.

“Amelia, are you well?”

Her shoulders sagged as her grandmother hurried across the terrace with Fitzwilliam behind her. “Yes, Grandmamma. I am well.”

Her grandmother glanced between her and Sir Anthony. “Fitzwilliam, are you certain you are not put out by taking Amelia to Richmond Place? I do not mind returning with her, which would allow you and Lizzybeth to remain.”

“I am not inconvenienced, Lady Richmond. You should know by now that I would prefer to spend the evening at home to a ball—and more so when the ball is a crush. I had almost sent my regrets for this one.”

“Yes, I did persuade you to make an appearance, though I do not believe I ever saw you in the ballroom.” Her grandmother’s head tilted ever so slightly.

Fitzwilliam coughed and Lizzy blushed crimson.

“Very well, do what you will, but I do hope the two of you will join us for at least one event in the next fortnight, without making a circuit of the gardens first.” Amelia pressed her lips together. Her grandmother knew all. They had never been able to get away with much as children, or even now, it seemed.

After a kiss to her grandmother’s cheek, she accepted Sir Anthony’s arm for the walk to the carriage. He handed her inside, then stood and watched until they drove away. A pain rent her chest, and she rubbed the ache.

“You cannot run from him forever,” said Lizzy. “I remember your letters from your first Season. You held a tendre for him then. Do not stare at me so. You may have said nothing of your true sentiments, but I guessed by the way you described him—how often his name was mentioned—that you had developed feelings for him. Moreover, I am certain he is why you have found fault with every gentleman who has approached you since. Do you remember the gentleman whose fingers were too thin?”

Fitzwilliam laughed. “His fingers were too thin? Do ladies truly consider a gentleman’s hands in such a way?”

“I never did.” Lizzy laced her fingers with her husband’s. They had only been wed for a matter of weeks and always seemed to be touching in some way, much like her grandparents were. Theirs was the sort of match she desired. It was what she once thought she could have with Sir Anthony.

“’Tis complicated, Lizzy. I would prefer we not discuss it tonight if you do not mind.”

Lizzy sighed and leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder until they arrived at Richmond House. Once Amelia waved to them from inside the doorway, their carriage pulled away from the kerb and proceeded down Park Lane.

“The ball was not to your liking, miss?” asked Mr. Gideon as he closed the door. Mr. Gideon had been employed in their household since soon after his arrival in England from Africa. She adored the stories he told of his home. Since she had known him since she was little, he was more a part of the family than a servant.

“No, the ballroom was too crowded to be enjoyable. I believe I shall retire. Do you know if Martin is in my dressing room?”

“I believe she is below stairs. Shall I send her up for you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Miss Montford, are you certain you are well?”

She paused and attempted a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Gideon, I am well, only tired.”

“I shall inform Martin. Good night, miss.”

Her legs were heavy as she climbed the stairs. By their weight, one could believe she had danced all night instead of a few turns of the minuet. Martin chattered away while she unbound Amelia’s hair and readied her for bed, so the moment her maid departed, the silence of the room preyed upon her, making her fall onto the coverlet and cover her face while she sobbed hot, heavy tears.

How was she to credit Sir Anthony’s declarations? What if she allowed him to court her and he changed his mind? He had already proven himself too capable of capturing her attention as well as earning her unfettered regard. Her tender heart could not take another beating and survive intact.

After some time in that attitude, she drew the coverlet over herself and cried some more until she finally fell asleep.

Alrighty, then! I sort of dove right in with this first chapter, so tell me what you think!