“And,” Lord Millerton continued, his voice a little lower as he looked into her eyes, as Lady Madeline greeted her companion. “I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you that I am truly sorry for how poorly I spoke this afternoon when we met.” He frowned, looking away and rubbed his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “I found myself overcome with surprise and the truth is, Lady Callander, I found the events of last Season to be very difficult indeed.”
She reached out and put one hand on his arm. “You were gravely injured,” she said, softly. “You lost a dear friend. I cannot imagine how difficult that must have been for you to endure.” Attempting to smile, she let go of his arm, aware of how he struggled to look into her eyes. “Mayhap I should not have stopped you with such haste this afternoon. Perhaps then we might have been able to converse without so much difficulty.”
Lord Millerton laughed and then offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation. They walked together out to the dance floor, setting themselves in their positions and ready to begin their dance.
“I think I would have always found our first meeting a little difficult,” he said, bowing as the music began. “But all the same, I am sorry for the awkwardness that was in my manner. Truly, I am….” He trailed off, took a deep breath and then smiled rather tightly. “I am glad to see you.”
“As I am you,” she said, with a quick smile, lifting from her curtsy and accepting his hand as they stepped together into the dance. Nothing was said for some time, as they both enjoyed each other’s company, moving through the dance with graceful steps. There was no anxiety in her steps, she did not fear that he would stand on her toes or trip and knock into her, as she would have done with Lord Cambleton! As the music came to a close, she curtsied deeply, feeling as though there was something of a healing taking place between them, even though she had not felt the wound occur in the first place.
“There was something that you were going to say earlier this afternoon, Lady Callander,” Lord Millerton said, as he offered his arm for the second time, in order to lead her from the floor. “I hope it was not my manner that prevented you from speaking of it?”
Bridgette looked up at him, surprised that he had taken such notice of her. The truth was, when she had seen and spoken to Lord Hazelton earlier that afternoon, as much as she had tried to put the questions about what he had meant from her mind, she had found herself unable to do so. When she had seen Lord Millerton again, the urge to ask him what he thought of it had come to her, but there had been that strange distance between them, rather than the beginnings of a close acquaintance that she had once enjoyed and so, she had decided not to so after all.
“It was my manner,” he said, heavily, shaking his head. “Lady Callander, I am very sorry indeed for that. I beg you, if there is something that you wish to say, then —"
“You are still in the League?” she asked, interrupting him. “I know that I am not meant to know of it but I must confess an interest still.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “I am,” he said, speaking of what was known as The King’s League — a group of gentlemen who sought out enemies to the Crown and put a swift end to their ways. “I was given some time away in order to recover from last Season’s events but have returned with the full expectation of being just as involved as before.”
“I see,” Bridgette murmured, her mind returning to all that had occurred last Season. “I confess that I find myself a little jealous, Lord Millerton.”
“Oh?” The music began to slow and Bridgette found herself regretful that the dance was coming to an end.
“Indeed,” she said, curtsying towards him. “I do not know what I shall do to occupy my mind, for last Season I had so much to consider, so much to think over, that it became almost a part of my character.” She blushed a little as he looked at her curiously, seeing the questions in his eyes. “That is not to say that I should like there to be any more danger or threat of death, of course, but rather that I should like the puzzle and the mystery again.”
“I quite understand,” Lord Millerton said, with a small smile as he offered her his arm in order to lead her from the floor. “Then, might I assure you, Lady Callander, that should anything such as you have described come to me, then I shall inform you of it at once.”
This gratified her more than she could express, her heart lifting as she looked up at him and saw the warmth in his eyes. Whatever had been between them before, the awkward tension and confusion, it was now quite gone. All it had taken was one dance.
“That is most considerate of you, Lord Millerton,” she told him as he smiled at her. “I thank you.”
“Not at all,” he replied, with a wry look in his eyes. “It would be to our benefit to have your thoughts and considerations, Lady Callander.”
It was yet another compliment and one that made her flush with pleasure. When they arrived back to find Lady Madeline talking animatedly with another young lady and a gentleman beside her, Bridgette found herself wishing that she could spend a little more time in the sole company of Lord Millerton.
“Whatever it was that you wished to say to me this afternoon, Lady Callander,” Lord Millerton said, a trifle abruptly, “I should like very much to know of it, when you feel able to speak of it.”
She held his gaze and nodded, her expression softening. “It may very well be nothing at all,” she told him, a small shrug lifting one shoulder. “But should it continue to wreak havoc with my thoughts, then I shall, of course, speak to you of it at once.”
He bowed low, his hand holding hers, his breath brushing over the back of her hand as his lips remained an inch above her skin. Bridgette caught her breath, her skin prickling as she looked into his face and wondering if he could tell just how much his nearness affected her. He was a handsome gentleman but it was the understanding and awareness between them that she now appreciated. The way he had come back to her, the way he had closed the gap between them, meant more to her than she could express.
“Until our next dance, Lady Callander,” he said, pressing her hand for another moment before releasing it. “I do hope you enjoy your next dance also.” His eyes flicked towards something — or someone — over her shoulder and she turned to see another gentleman approaching her, his eyes set and his stride purposeful. When she looked back, Lord Millerton had already gone and Bridgette was surprised at just how much her heart sank at his absence. It was nothing short of foolish, given that he would be returning to her later in the evening, but her strange sense of regret could not be quelled.
Fixing a smile to her face, she greeted Lord Thornberry graciously and tried to throw aside all thoughts of Lord Millerton. There was a good deal of time left at the ball and Bridgette wanted to ensure she enjoyed as much of it as she could — with or without Lord Millerton by her side.
Chapter Four
Sebastian could not help but smile to himself when he read the note that had been brought to him only moments ago. It was, of course, from none other than Lady Callander, expressing to him just how glad she was that last evening had been a chance to reacquaint themselves and seeking to call on him at his earliest convenience.
He was glad that last evening had gone so well. It had taken a good deal of inner torment for him to go to her, to speak to her and to force himself to dance with her, but as the moments had gone by, as he had spent more and more time in her company, he had found himself no longer filled with awkwardness. Rather than being continually reminded of all that had taken place before, he had found himself enjoying Lady Callander’s company without any particular difficulty, finding any sort of regret he might have over picking up the acquaintance again disappearing almost at once.
Being in her company did not throw memory after memory at him. Rather, he had found himself simply enjoying being with her, dancing with her and conversing with her
as though they were old friends — which, he supposed, he might now consider himself to be. They had been thrown together last Season, unable to do anything but be in each other’s company, whereas this Season, he had a choice as to whether or not he should continue the acquaintance. There was no doubt in his mind now, however. He wanted very much to continue in her company.
“My lord?” His butler, Merriweather, stood in the doorway, evidently having knocked but heard no response from Sebastian.
“Yes?”