The Earl She Despised (London Season Matchmaker 3)

She looked at him then, one brow arched. “Is that so?”

“Indeed,” he replied, looking despondent. “I will not pretend that being denied by a lady is something I am used to, Miss Wells, which might be why I reacted in such an unfortunate manner.”

Unable to pretend that she was not curious as to what he meant, Merry allowed herself a question. “You mean to say that I am the first lady of your acquaintance to refuse your request for a dance, Lord Weston?”

He nodded, a rueful smile touching the corner of his lips. “Indeed, Miss Wells. Does that shock you?”

She hesitated, before lifting one shoulder in a small shrug. “It does not matter what I think, Lord Weston. I am grateful that you have reflected on your manner towards me. I do hope that next time a young lady refuses you, you will know better how to respond.”

“I shall,” he replied softly, his voice dropping low as Lady Greyson came to stand before the front of the assembled crowd. “I thank you for the opportunity to… ‘assuage my guilt’ in this manner, as you put it, Miss Wells.”

A flare of heat touched her cheeks, but she did not look at him again. “You are most welcome, Lord Weston.”

“You are one of the most interesting young ladies I believe I have ever met, Miss Wells,” he finished, as Lady Greyson called them all to attention. “What a shame we must now bring our acquaintance to an end. If you would give me another opportunity at any time, then I would be grateful for the chance to prove to you that I am not the rude, arrogant gentleman you believe me to be.”

Merry said nothing to this, focusing all her attention on the musicians as they picked up their bows and prepared to begin their first piece. A strange sensation began to come over her as she listened, growing far too aware of Lord Weston sitting next to her. He had appeared more than genuine as he had spoken to her, although she knew that he could be very eloquent should he wish to be. It was one of his many charms, and she was not about to give in to him.

I am not the rude, arrogant gentleman you believe me to be.

This had been said with such eagerness that a part of her wanted to believe him. She wanted to give him the opportunity to begin their acquaintance again, but something held her back. Was she not quite convinced that almost all gentlemen saw nothing but the outward appearance and cared nothing for the truth of a lady’s character? Why should she think any less of a gentleman who the entirety of London society knew to be a rogue? Had not Titania told her that he enjoyed the company of young ladies and rich widows? Why should she think that he was genuine in anything he said?

And yet, as she continued to sit by him, continued to feel his presence next to her and allowed his words to run around her mind, Merry felt herself softening. Perhaps he had simply made a mistake in speaking to her as he had done. If she had truly been the first lady of his acquaintance to refuse to step out with him, then was it not understandable that he had reacted with such vehemence? No doubt Dinah would tell her that she ought to forgive him, for he had apologized and she had accepted it. Therefore, she should not hold a grudge against him nor allow herself to remain aloof and distant.

A long sigh escaped her as the piece came to an end, and much to her surprise, Merry found herself swallowing a lump in her throat. She could not say what it was that had affected her in such a fashion, for whilst the music had been more than lovely, it had not grasped at her heart. Nor could it be that Lord Weston affected her, for she was doing all she could to ignore his presence despite the thoughts that ran through her mind.

Unless it was, mayhap, that for the first time since she had arrived in London, Merry had been truly enjoying herself. She had not sat quietly, lost amongst the crowd and fully aware of her plain face and how she had been passed over so many times. Nor had she been frustrated with herself, for her lack of willingness to leave the shadows and actually converse with those about her. Instea

d, she had felt as though she belonged here. She had enjoyed the music, enjoyed the atmosphere, and had not once felt herself sorrowful nor regretful. It had been the most illuminating experience, and with it came a flood of emotion.

“Are you quite all right, Miss Wells?”

She blinked rapidly before looking to Lord Weston, surprised to see the concern etched into his expression. “I am very well, I thank you,” she replied hastily, glad that she had been able to control her tears. “It is just that I feel myself a little overcome.”

Lord Weston smiled, as though he understood, although Merry privately thought that he would have no true understanding of what she meant. He did not appear to be the sort of gentleman who allowed his emotions to overwhelm him.

“Do excuse me.” She rose from her seat, giving a quick word of explanation to her mother before making her way out of the row of seats. The powder room would give her the quietness and the space she would need to regain her composure entirely, as well as help her to push aside all the strange thoughts that had flooded her mind as regarded Lord Weston.

“Do you need me to accompany you, Miss Wells?”

“No, I thank you.” Hesitating, Merry looked into Lord Weston’s face and wondered if she ought to give him the second chance that he so desperately craved. Her heart quailed at the thought, her mind screaming that she would be making the wrong decision but yet something within her wanted her to speak to him.

“Miss Wells?”

She swallowed and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Mayhap we shall have the opportunity to speak again, Lord Weston, at the next social occasion we both attend.”

Lord Weston blinked in evident surprise only for a slow smile to spread across his face. As much as she did not wish to, Merry felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of his handsome face with his attention solely on her.

“I should be very glad of the chance to speak to you whenever you may wish it, Miss Wells,” he told her, inclining his head. “I thank you. You have given me a sliver of hope, and for that, I am truly grateful.”

Chapter Seven

It was a very grand occasion, and thus far, Thomas was enjoying himself thoroughly. Of course, he had done the proper thing in seeking out Miss Wells and, having greeted her with a warm yet tentative smile, he had quietly asked if he might have a dance with her later on in the evening.

Miss Wells had hesitated, her eyes searching his face, and for a moment, Thomas had thought she had been about to deliver a resounding set down and was about to state that she would not dance with him this evening or any evening that was to follow, only for her to surprise him completely and offer him her dance card. Nothing further had been said, for he had quickly thanked her and stepped away, not wanting to overstay and cause any awkwardness or difficulty. But, thus far, Thomas was feeling rather pleased with himself. Miss Wells had not rejected him completely, which meant there was now a flicker of hope that he would succeed in winning the wager.

“Good evening, Lord Weston.”

Thomas turned his head to see none other than the beautiful and charming Lady Reid approaching him, her fan fluttering delicately. He could not help but smile at her, taking great pleasure in the sheer beauty of her. She was dressed in the most ravishing of gowns with the purple hues bringing attention to her dark blue eyes. Her fair hair was held up on the top of her head, with glimmers of pearls catching his attention. With delicate curves, alabaster skin, and full, rosy lips, Thomas could not help but admire her.