“I myself have no particular feelings as yet,” Timothy continued, ignoring the strange surge of protectiveness that had come over him when Lord Denholm had spoken to his niece at the ball. “I only consider whether or not she is a suitable young lady and able to be the wife of an earl.”
“I—I am greatly astonished,” Lord Holland muttered, his eyes now searching Timothy’s face as though he expected him to be telling nothing more than falsehoods. “I did not think that you would be able to court a lady, never mind betroth yourself to her!”
A ripple of anger washed over Timothy, but he remained silent, knowing that his friend did not mean to speak so ill but that he was simply displaying his usual frankness.
“And her uncle has agreed, has he?” Lord Holland continued with wide eyes. “Have you had to pay him a great deal?”
Looking sharply at his friend, Timothy saw the gleam in his eye and knew that he could not hide the truth from him. “I have made a few arrangements, yes,” he said slowly as Lord Holland nodded sagely, as if he had quite expected this to be said. “But there is nothing of great consequence. I am not at all in financial hardship due to this marriage, if that is what you are implying.”
Shrugging, Lord Holland kept his eyes fixed to Timothy’s. “I should not expect you to be so, given the coffers that belong to you,” he said softly. “Just so long as you have not degraded yourself in any way to find a wife, Coventry. Surely a lady cannot be worth that!”
“She can if she is the only means by which I might be able to continue the family line!” Timothy retorted with a shake of his head. “You might very well be able to have such a lady within a moment or two’s consideration, but I, however, find myself in a very different situation altogether.” His voice was a little louder than he had intended and garnered him one or two dark looks from all about him.
Lord Holland held up both hands, looking at Timothy with a frown beginning to knit his brow.
“I did not mean to upset you,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I am sorry. I did not think.”
“No,” Timothy grated. “You did not.” Turning away, he let his breath out slowly, trying to regain his composure. Lord Holland was always ready to make light of this situation, to make what was difficult seem to be very easy indeed. He mocked and laughed when Timothy struggled and fought against the pain and the adversity that came with the false charge. For a moment, he considered if his friendship with Lord Holland was a suitable one, whether it brought him any benefits at all. Lord Holland was not an excellent friend, did not sympathize nor even attempt to understand. What use was a friend such as that?
“I think I shall fetch a little more champagne,” Lord Holland said, his voice a little cold. “Do excuse me, Coventry.”
Timothy closed his eyes in exasperation as Lord Holland stepped away, leaving him feeling irritated and upset. Lord Holland did not understand. How could he when he had never experienced the disgrace and the shame that came with this particular situation?
“Lord...Coventry?”
The quiet, hesitant voice told him at once who had come to greet him. Trying to push the frustration from his expression, he turned to his right and bowed. “Good evening, Miss Mullins. How very good to see you again.”
She did not blush nor even smile as she curtsied, looking up at him with that same tentative gaze that had been there the first time they had met.
“Good evening,” she murmured as Lady Newfield bobbed a quick curtsy. “Do you fare well this evening, Lord Coventry?”
He winced inwardly, wondering if she had witnessed any of the discussions between himself and Lord Holland. “I am a little downhearted, truth be told,” he found himself saying, even though he had never had any intention of speaking the truth to her. “But your presence has helped lift my spirits already, Miss Mullins.”
Again, he waited for her reaction, waited for her to smile at him, to blink and look away in embarrassment, or even to flush just a little. Instead, she remained stoic, watching him carefully but without any evident reaction.
“There will be some dancing later,” he said, feeling desperate as he struggled to know what to say next. “Perhaps you would like to step out with me?” To his embarrassment, Miss Mullins did not immediately respond. Instead, she pressed her lips together in a considered fashion, dropping her gaze. Evidently, the idea of dancing with him again was something that she felt to be embarrassing. Had there been whispers about her dancing with him at the ball?
“I think,” Lady Newfield said with a gentle hand on Miss Mullins’ shoulder, “that my goddaughter is a little concerned that her uncle might not approve, Lord Coventry.” She smiled in a kind manner and Timothy felt his embarrassment lift just a little. “Perhaps if you speak to him about your wish to dance with Miss Mullins, he will be able to inform you as to whether or not she has permission to do so.”
Timothy frowned, recalling how, at the ball, Miss Mullins had danced with Lord Fitzherbert, then with himself, and then with another gentleman a short time later. Had she been given a stern reproach from her uncle for doing so?
“I shall do so at once,” he said, bowing quickly and excusing himself from them both. “I shall return the moment I have discovered the answer.”
Making his way through the grand hall, Timothy kept a fair pace, moving quickly through the guests and seeking to discover where Lord Denholm might be. He could not understand why the gentleman did not want his niece to dance and feared that it might well be something to do with him. His brow furrowed as he feared the consequences that had been laid on Miss Mullins’ shoulders for doing so, wanting to make quite certain that she did not face such a thing again.
“Ah, Lord Coventry!” Lord Denholm appeared to be in a very jovial mood, and it did not take long for Timothy to notice the large amount of whisky in the gentleman’s glass, nor the way that Lord Denholm swayed from side to side.
“Lord Denholm,” he said stiffly. “I have come to speak to you about Miss Mullins.”
“Miss Mullins,” Lord Denholm repeated, his eyes a little hooded. “My dear Delilah...has she been troubling you?” His smile began to fade.
“No, indeed not,” Timothy protested quickly, holding up his hands, palms flat. “I came only to ask you if I might have your permission to dance with her this evening.”
Lord Denholm chuckled, his brow furrowing. “I told her not to dance. I told her specifically that you did not care for dancing and berated her in the sternest fashion.” He shook his head, sighed, and took another sip of his whisky. “But she would not listen to me, I fear. I am sorry that she forced you into taking her to the dance floor. She knows very well not to do so again.”
Timothy blinked rapidly, a little surprised and irritated at the same time. “Lord Denholm, I would be happy to dance with Miss Mullins, so long I have your permission.”
Lord Denholm swayed again, one side to the other. “I do not want her making a spectacle of herself, Lord Coventry. She is only to be seen with you, is she not? Therefore, to dance with any other is shameful, surely?”
“I should not have thought so,” Timothy replied, wondering at the stern manner of Lord Denholm. “I should be glad to dance with her, at the very least, whenever she should wish it.”