“Stop it,” he told himself dully. “That is not her. You know it is not.” Even though it was nothing more than a rumor that Miss Williams was now lain in her grave, Matthew found it hard to disbelieve it. There was so much regret, so much doubt and sorrow in his mind that he could not chase the idea from his thoughts. To be hearing her laugh now, to have his mind filled with that pleasant memory which only tortured him further, was nothing more than an agony.
“You are very kind.”
Her voice floated towards him, making Matthew stiffen. Whoever the young lady was that was speaking so, she sounded very much like Miss Williams, to the point that he had to turn away and move back through the crowd, removing himself from his spot in the shadows. He could not bear the torture of having the memory of her thrown back at him time and again.
“Lord Watt!”
Forced to come to yet another stop, Matthew plastered a smile on his face as he bowed. It was none other than Lord and Lady Westbrook, however, which meant that he did not have to feign his delight for long.
“I am very glad to see you again, Lady Westbrook,” he said, taking in her blossoming figure and seeing her blush just a little. “I hear you are soon to return to your husband’s estate to begin your confinement.”
Lady Westbrook rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. “I am,” she admitted, evidently irritated. “And just when the Season has begun. I wish I could remain for longer, but I will admit to you, I suppose, that I find myself getting rather tired of late.” She laughed and nudged her husband, who was looking at her adoringly. “Although I will not allow myself to be removed from this ball until I have decided it is time for me to retire.”
Lord Westbrook chuckled, and Matthew could not help but smile. The friendship and love between the two of them was more than apparent and, whilst he was glad to see it, it also made his heart ache for what he could have had.
“You do not appear to be enjoying yourself thus far, however,” Lady Westbrook said pointedly. “I can tell a feigned expression of happiness, Lord Watt, and you do not wear it very well.”
He winced, then shrugged. “I confess that I am not as contented as I am trying to appear,” he answered. “I am struggling to have any sort of enjoyment from this evening.”
Lord Westbrook frowned. “I am sorry to hear that,” he said, quietly. “I know it must be difficult indeed to be looking into such a difficult matter, especially when Lord Harrogate’s daughter is present this evening.”
For a moment, a sudden thrill of hope ran up Matthew’s spine and he stared at Lord Westbrook, breathless with anticipation – only to recall that Lord Harrogate had three daughters and that one was married to Lord Northgate, who was currently in London with her.
“You will manage to bring the perpetrators to justice, I am quite sure,” Lady Westbrook said gently, reaching out and pressing Matthew’s arm for a moment. “Do not let your heart become burdened, Lord Watt.”
He sighed and felt like telling her everything that was on his heart but knew that now was not the time to do so. Of course, the ton had known that he had formed an attachment with Miss Williams, but given all that had occurred, her mourning period and then her lack of interest in returning to society, it seemed as though everyone had merely assumed that things had come to a very natural end. The beau monde did not know that he still cared for her, did not know that he had once had every intention of proposing to her and of making her his wife. They could not tell that he still had that longing within his heart, as well as being overcome with regret, disappointment, and sorrow. Whilst he appreciated Lady Westbrook’s concern for him, he knew he could not do as she suggested. His heart was already burdened.
“Ah!” Lord Westbrook exclaimed suddenly, pulling Matthew out of his own, morose thoughts. “The cotillion.” He looked down at his wife, a slight look of hope in his eyes. “Is that much too difficult for you in your present state?”
Lady Westbrook laughed, as though her husband was being quite ridiculous. “I am not unwell,” she teased, looping her arm through his. “Just so long as I do not exert myself too much, I shall be quite all right.”
Matthew watched them go, his eyes rather dark with sorrow. He had so often stepped out with Miss Williams, had so often reveled in the brightness of her company. It would not be so again.
“Lord Watt?”
He jerked in surprise, turning around to see one of Lady Forester’s daughters looking at him enquiringly. “Yes?”
Her face was bright pink as she gestured to her dance card. “The cotillion,” she stammered, looking away. “I believe you agreed to dance it with me?”
“Oh, yes,” he answered, feeling suddenly awkward. “Yes, of course. Of course, Miss…Miss…” He winced, realizing he could not recall her name.
“Miss Stutton,” she replied, turning her face away just a little as she put one hand on his arm. Matthew, flushed with embarrassment, led the lady onto the floor, and joined the other couples standing there, hating every single moment.
Midway through the dance, Matthew happened to look across the room at the other couples dancing, having absolutely no interest in speaking to his own partner, and she, evidently, having no desire to talk to him either, which, given his own lack of manners in forgetting her name, he quite understood.
His heart stopped in his chest. His feet stumbled, and he knocked into his partner but not a single word of apology passed his lips. It could not be. It could not be her!
“Lord Watt!”
Jerking his eyes away from the vision that he was sure was none other than Miss Williams, he realized that he had come to a dead stop and was holding up the rest of the dancers. Miss Stutton’s face was scarlet with embarrassment, but Matthew did not care. All he wanted to do was cross the room and pull Miss Williams into his arms, to hold her there tightly until he finally began to believe that she was real.
“Lord Watt, if you please!” said one of the other gentleman, and Matthew had no other choice but to start dancing again
, twisting his head this way and that so that he might keep sight of Miss Williams.
It was no good. As much as he tried to keep his eyes on her, the way of the dance meant that he was forced to step this way and that and, in the end, had to focus entirely on Miss Stutton so that he would not step on her toes or knock into her again. A little embarrassed that he had not behaved particularly well, he forced himself to give every ounce of attention to the remainder of the dance, telling himself that he would find Miss Williams immediately after.
The minutes passed agonizingly slow, tearing into him and forcing Matthew to grit his teeth with frustration. Finally, the dance came to an end – but still, he was not free. He could not let Miss Stutton stand there alone on the dancefloor, could not let her make her way back to her mother whilst he disappeared after Miss Williams. The last thing he needed was for the ton to start speaking disparagingly about him – and thus, he forced himself to give Miss Stutton his arm and, walking in the very opposite direction from where he wished to go, led her back to the rather angry-looking Lady Forester.