Glitter Page 3

  Lord Ashington lifted one dark eyebrow and studied me a moment. “My mistake,” he said after a moment’s pause. Then turning to look back at Mr. Fletcher, he gave a slight nod.

  “I will, uh, that is Lord Ashington, I will give up my spot, uh, if you desire,” Mr. Fletcher stammered nervously. I wanted to roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of his words. Was Mr. Fletcher that weak? What could Lord Ashington do to make him so nervous? Had I not just declined Lord Ashington for him?

  “That won’t be necessary, Fletcher. I find my attention has shifted elsewhere,” he added and then walked away through the path the others had supplied for him.

  The insult wasn’t lost on me. I did not expect to converse with Lord Ashington again. A touch at my elbow wasn’t subtle, and when I turned to see who it was, my aunt’s anxious face was focused on the direction of Lord Ashington’s departure.

  “Oh dear, what did you say to Lord Ashington?” my aunt whispered close to my ear.

  “He claimed he was next on my dance card, but he was not. He’s not even on my card.”

  Aunt Harriet bit her bottom lip worrisomely. I waited for her to explain her sudden concern. I was slightly shocked she even knew who Lord Ashington was. She hadn’t recognized the Duchess earlier. Why would she recognize him?

  Mr. Fletcher stepped up and held out his hand in my direction. “Shall we?” he asked and as much as I wanted to hear Aunt Harriet’s explanation, I had an obligation to Mr. Fletcher.

  It took only a few moments into the dance for me to realize Mr. Fletcher wasn’t a conversationalist and that he remained very nervous. I couldn’t be the one making him feel so, which left only his encounter with Lord Ashington. That soured my mood somewhat, but I refused to let the emotion fester.

  Once our dance was finished, Mr. Fletcher excused himself, appearing rather relieved and an older man that I believed had introduced himself earlier as Lord Haddington replaced him. At least Lord Haddington enjoyed speaking of himself, so I was only required to smile and nod as if what he was saying interested me. I scanned the room to find Lord Ashington. My curiosity had gotten the better of me.

  He was rather dashing in a dark and foreboding sense. His raven hair was just long enough to keep tucked behind his ears and although it was well-kept, it made him seem dangerous, as if rules did not apply to him. The lady he was speaking to was lovely. A blonde with the palest of hair and creamy white skin. Her lashes were lowered over her cheekbones and a slight blush attractively highlighted her face.

  “Oh good heavens. This is unexpected indeed,” Lord Haddington said in a tone that caught my attention. I moved my gaze back to my dance partner to see him focused on the entrance. Looking toward it to see what could be of interest, I saw only a man with hair the color of the lightest of honey that was pulled back with a tie, but not as neatly kept as Lord Ashington’s. Although he was tall with broad shoulders and rebellious locks, he wasn’t at all intimidating. Something about the way his eyes twinkled with mischief and the curve of his mouth appeared to be a charming smirk made him seem slightly wicked.

  “This evening might have some life to it after all,” he said to me, or to himself, I wasn’t sure. The dance came to an end and Aunt Harriet was motioning for me to join her. I believed there was a Mr. Needs on my card next, but my mouth was parched and lemonade sounded refreshing. After thanking Lord Haddington for the dance, I excused myself and went to Aunt Harriet.

  Just as I reached her, she grabbed my left arm and said in a whisper, “Mr. Compton is here. I’ve just heard from Lady Hawthsmore that he and Lord Ashington rarely attend a ball, yet they are both here tonight. What are the odds? This may make for excellent entertainment.”

  My aunt did love a scandal as well as gossip and drama. I had mentioned several novels I thought she’d enjoy with all those things, but she never gave them a chance. She much preferred to stick her nose in one of those gossip society papers that cost far too much money for the foolishness it shared.

  “I am assuming Mr. Compton is the blond man at the entrance just so,” I replied, not looking back to see if he was still there.

  “Oh yes, and the whisper is that he and his brother, Lord Ashington, hate one another. Something to do with the mother or stepmother. I’m not sure. I need to read the cards Alfred gave me more seriously,” Harriet added. “What was it you said to Lord Ashington? He didn’t look charmed.” She seemed deeply concerned by this. I couldn’t care a farthing if he was charmed or not. He was most definitely not charming. The stern jut of his chin and the remote yet perfect features seemed a tad too harsh in my opinion. I was sure most ladies swooned at his attention. I was not most ladies and I was proud of my discernment. One needed such a gift when searching for a wealthy husband.

  I lifted my left shoulder in a small shrug. “He was arrogant. I don’t like arrogant men.”

  Aunt Harriet sighed. “I understand, however, the gentlemen with money and power tend to be just that.”

  I didn’t want to believe I would be stuck with not only a man I wasn’t in love with but also an arrogant one in order to save my family. The notion seemed intolerable. The more I learned of my future, the more foreboding it became. “I need some fresh air,” I told her, before heading toward the balcony to the left of the lemonade. If I stayed inside this place one more moment, I might fall apart from the rude awakening I was having about my decision to marry. Perhaps fresh air and a moment away from the people would remind me that all is not lost just because one evening has been so very disappointing.

  “Do you want me to join you?” My aunt asked.

  I most definitely did not. A moment of peace was what I was after. Listening to more dreadful gossip or facts, whatever it may be, about the ton would only cause me further duress. “No, that won’t be necessary. I will be just there if you need me,” I told her then walked past the lemonade for fear she would take my pause as a chance to catch up to me.

  The briskness in the evening air was refreshing, but not enough to make my future appear brighter. The warmth inside was just as stifling as the people surrounding me. So many people and so much talking. I didn’t know a time where I’d been required to talk so much about nothing at all of importance. I was not talented at appearing meek, gentle, or demure and it would seem that was the basic list for a gentleman’s search for a wife.

  “I’m not known to attend the gatherings of London society, but I’m within the circle enough to be certain, I have never had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. A new face, especially one as beautiful as yours, isn’t forgotten,” the voice was smooth, refined and masculine. I had come outside to escape talking and it seemed as if it would now follow me out here.

  I turned to see who had interrupted my solitude. A one Mr. Compton stood before me with his hands tucked into his front pockets and his jacket slightly askew. A lock of his blond hair had come loose from the hair tie that was at the nape of his neck. The evening breeze caught it and I watched as it danced beside his cheek. His features, although similar to his brother’s, weren’t as harsh or cold. There was a welcoming softness to him that didn’t lessen his beauty, only making him more approachable.

  “I didn’t come to interrupt your escape from the insanity inside. I just wanted to meet the lady who shut down my brother so effortlessly. Possibly shake your hand if I may be so presumptuous.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” I replied, feeling accused of something that was completely incorrect.

  “I’m sorry, I should have begun with an introduction. I am Nicholas Compton and Ashington is my brother, half-brother. We only share a father.”

  As intriguing as I was sure he meant for that small clarification to be, I was already aware of who he was and his relationship to the rude Earl of Ashington. However, pointing out my prior knowledge was of no consequence.

  “Mr. Compton, I did not shut down Lord Ashington. I merely corrected him. You see he is not on my dance card this evening and allowing him to take another’s spot was rude.
I am not rude nor do I condone rudeness.”

  Mr. Compton’s mouth turned up at one corner into a crooked grin of sorts. He seemed to find my response amusing and as attractive as he was, I didn’t see how his behavior was much better than his brother’s. They may both be devastatingly handsome, but I wouldn’t be drawn in by something as shallow as appearance. Beauty was truly only skin deep. As for Mr. Compton, he may not be arrogant like his brother, but the wicked gleam in his eyes did not commend him to me at all.

  Chapter Four

  Mr. Nicholas Compton

  This was not why I had come but then beauty had always been my unfortunate weakness. My intentions were inside the ballroom, currently being charmed by my older brother. If I were to accomplish humiliating him, I had to stay focused on the plan. However, I was a man who enjoyed beautiful women and the one before me was not only stunning but the challenge in her eyes called to my basic instincts. The only thing better than a beautiful woman was a challenge. She was both but she was also not why I was in London for the season. I couldn’t lose my focus because of beauty. Revenge was far greater an emotion than lust or desire.

  “I’m trying to decide if Fletcher is feeling empowered by the experience or terrified of any future dealings with Ashington,” I said, ignoring her protest that she had done nothing to Ashington. Her refusal on the subject meant nothing. She had, in fact, turned her nose up at his interest and that couldn’t be denied, no matter how lovely she might appear trying to do just that.

  “I am sure Mr. Fletcher is neither empowered or terrified. He was a smart man of few words and a competent dance partner,” she said in defense of Fletcher. There was no flutter of lashes or gentle manner in which she spoke. Instead, there was a fire behind her remarkable eyes and I was drawn to it. Reckless of me indeed, but it couldn’t be helped. She was a rare find.

  “In other words, he is boring. I quite agree. Fletcher loves nothing more than his hunting hounds. If you want him to talk then mention the beasts and he won’t shut up.” I spoke poorly of Fletcher just to get more of that spark behind her spectacular expressions. She would not fawn over me like most ladies here tonight while I spoke to her, and I found it was quite enjoyable.

  “And what of you? If you are such an excellent conversationalist, what would you talk about to a lady you have just made acquaintance?”

  I could not recall a time when a female had chosen not to flirt with me, especially while in London. This was an odd experience for me, but if I were being honest, it was … refreshing. I oft began a conversation with ladies prepared for them to use their feminine wiles to draw me in. This one not only had an opinion, but she was openly curious about mine. If she was in London to find a husband, she was not going about it the right way. I daresay even her beauty could not distract from her sharp tongue and mind. At least not in this setting.

  “I would show interest in her and find out what makes her smile. Listen to her words and not blabber about my own. If I am to spend a moment dancing with a lady then I want to remember her by the things that delight her not simply by who she is,” I replied honestly.

  Her sapphire eyes widened slightly; however, she didn’t smile coyly or soften, but then had I truly expected her to? If simple words had broken down the fortress she had built around her then she would be no true challenge at all.

  “I see,” was all she said then she glanced back at the ballroom. “I’ve been gone long enough. I must return.”

  She was running away and we both knew it. “It was a pleasure, Miss Bathurst,” I said with a genuine smile.

  Her eyes narrowed then as she studied me. “I do not recall giving you my name.”

  I gave a small nod. “I asked of you the moment I witnessed you refuse my brother.”

  She sighed then, as if reminding her of how she’d treated Ashington was cumbersome. “Again, I did nothing to your brother but correct him. A title means nothing if you wield arrogance and power because of it.”

  “Unfortunately, the rest of London doesn’t agree,” I replied. Nor would the eligible gentlemen of this season fancy hearing such. She was a treasure indeed.

  Miriam Bathurst flashed a small sad frown as if I’d snatched away her last hope that the ton wasn’t as shallow as they seemed. Watching her walk away from me, I felt an odd sense of guilt for being the one to inform her of such a truth.

  I watched her as she stopped to get a glass of lemonade and yet before she could leave the table, three men had surrounded her. I knew their faces and none of them were verbally ready to handle Miriam Bathurst. She would require much more than a young man who fancied himself in love with her beauty. Her mother must have allowed her into the library instead of forcing needlework upon her or other silly involvements. Miriam Bathurst was clever.

  Taking my eyes off her, I met the heated glare of my brother. He wasn’t happy to see me but then I couldn’t recall a time in our adult years that he was pleased by my presence. Once we had been rather close, but those years seemed a lifetime ago. Our childhood had changed that and I regretted it, but I would not let that regret carry any weight on my decision to follow through with my well-constructed plan.

  I gave him a nod and smirked. Yes, dear brother, I am here to make sure you are humiliated far worse than what Miss Bathurst presented you with tonight. You should be nervous.

  Shifting my focus to Lydia Ramsbury, I knew she’d be easy to lure away. There would be no true challenge with that one. My brother knew nothing of romance. He was too cold and indifferent to the desires of a woman. Lydia was a business transaction for him. Choosing his countess had nothing to do with true affection but then neither did it with his peers. They were all so mundanely boring.

  I, on the other hand, hadn’t stayed in London’s confining society. Paris had taught me much about the allure of romance. Ashington had the title, of course, but he had no idea how to seduce a lady. If only he’d chosen a more interesting woman. Lydia wasn’t exciting in the least. She represented no challenge at all. If, in fact, I was correct in my estimation that Lydia Ramsbury was who my brother intended to make his bride.

  When I looked back to the refreshment table, Miriam was gone. Scanning the ballroom, I found her easily enough, dancing yet again. I knew little of her, but that this was her first season. She was on the market for a husband. There would be no other reason for her being here. Yet, when one of the most eligible Earls in London approached her, she refused him. That made Miriam Bathurst so damn intriguing, I had a hard time thinking of anything else.

  “Compton,” a familiar voice interrupted my musings.

  I moved my gaze from Miriam Bathurst to the man beside me. “Radcliff,” I replied. “On the market for a wife, are you?”

  He grunted in reply. “Perhaps and you?”

  I chuckled at his question because it wasn’t meant to be serious. George Radcliff had known me far too long to believe I was here to find a wife. “I’m simply here to cause trouble,” I assured him.

  “Indeed. I expected that was to be the case. I just wasn’t rude enough to state such,” he said as the corners of his mouth curved into an amused grin. “What mischief are you about tonight?”

  Glancing once more in Miriam Bathurst’s direction, I found she was now dancing with another young dandy who wouldn’t suit her at all. Did the girl have no direction from a chaperone? For Christ’s sake, I could do a better job at choosing her partners.

  “Ah, you have noticed Alfred Baxter’s niece, I see. She is a beauty, but I’ve heard her tongue is quite sharp and she’s appeared bored this evening more than anything. Word is Baxter is trying to marry her off for her mother was left with nothing but gambling debt by her deceased father.”

  How did Radcliff know all of this already? He was as drawn to gossip as the old biddies huddled together. However, it did put some light on things. From what I had witnessed, it did not appear that Miss Bathurst was very keen on being her family’s saving grace.

  “Tell me, Compton, why are you here
tonight?” Radcliff asked.

  I turned my attention in the direction of my brother. “Family business, one might say,” I replied, not intending to tell Radcliff anything he could share with anyone else. The man was too damn chatty.

  “Be elusive then my friend. I have no time to draw it out of you, although my curiosity is peeked. My name is next on Miss Bathurst dance card and I don’t want to lose my place,” he said then beamed at me as if he had won an award. Radcliff would never be enough to interest one such as Miriam Bathurst but who was I to dampen his hopes.

  Chapter Five

  The Earl of Ashington

  There was a time that I had simply taken breakfast in my office. I had forgotten just what a silent morning was like. Now when I was to take my morning meal, it was in the dining room seated at the table with Emma. My decision to spend this meal with her was because I had never been given this opportunity as a child. I felt it would be good for her development, and if I was being completely honest with myself, I enjoyed her chatter.

  “Did you dance with a princess?” Emma asked before taking a sip of hot chocolate. Her eyes wide with curiosity stared up at me over the rim of her cup.

  “There were no princesses in attendance, I am afraid,” I informed her, already knowing she would have many more questions for me before I finished my ham and eggs.

  “Why can’t I have jam and a biscuit for breakfast? I love jam,” she said, frowning at the food placed in front of her. Then, instantly distracted, she looked back at me. “If there were no princesses then how was it a ball?”

  “A princess is not required to attend in order to hold a ball,” I explained.

  Emma scrunched her small nose in distaste as she looked back at her eggs and ham. “Don’t you like jam, Ashington?” she asked me then.

  “Why yes, I do enjoy jam. I’m sure you will have a jam and biscuit during afternoon tea,” I assured her.