Delilah shook her head, unable to speak such was the heavy weight on her chest. Her uncle never gave even a moment of consideration to what Delilah herself thought, so why should her husband-to-be behave any differently?
“Have some more tea,” Lady Newfield said gently, rising from her chair and pouring tea into both of their cups. “And let us try not to dwell on such fears. All you need to concentrate on at present is tomorrow evening.”
“The ball,” Delilah reminded herself aloud. “The ball where I am to meet my future husband.”
Lady Newfield smiled, although her eyes were filled with sympathy. “The ball where you shall meet your betrothed,” she agreed softly. “But where you will certainly not be alone.”
Chapter Two
Timothy did not particularly want to be there this evening and, from the looks on the faces of those who surrounded him, his presence was not desired either. Steeling himself, he kept his head high and looked all around him, not shrinking away nor back. He would not allow them to think poorly of him, not when he knew for certain that he had done nothing to Lord Chesterton, no matter what the gentleman himself said.
“You look as though a thundercloud is sitting directly above your head.”
Timothy grimaced and shot his friend a dark look, which Lord Holland accepted without so much as a flicker of a frown. Instead, he grinned, his countenance bright as he glanced about the room.
“They do not seem very friendly this evening, do they?” he commented as Timothy rolled his eyes at his friend’s remark. “Are they pushing you away? Is that what troubles you so?”
“It does not matter to me what they think of me,” Timothy growled, knowing that such words from his mouth were nothing more than lies. “They are fools, all of them.”
Lord Holland scowled, the smile vanishing. “They are not all fools, Coventry,” he said, a warning note in his voice. “They are entitled to believe Lord Chesterton if that is what they so wish.”
Timothy growled, but his friend did not remove himself from his side nor retract his comment.
“You know very well that I am certain you did not attack Lord Chesterton,” he continued with a wave of his hand. “I trust you when you say you did not, simply because of the friendship that we share with one another. But others do not know you as I, and thus, they believe the word of Lord Chesterton.”
“The man lied,” Timothy growled, his jaw working furiously as he recalled how Lord Chesterton had revealed his injuries to all the guests at a ball that Timothy had thrown. Lord Chesterton had swaggered into the room, inciting gasps of shock and dismay from everyone. Timothy had stared in horror as Lord Chesterton had garnered everyone’s attention by declaring that Timothy had beaten him the night of his dinner party and that he alone was responsible for these injuries.
The reality had been that Timothy, whilst being the last to take his leave, had left Lord Chesterton uninjured and had even spoken to him briefly about his sister, the lovely Lady Margaret, whom Timothy had thought himself in love with. He had explained that whilst he understood the reasons for Lord Chesterton’s decision, he was deeply disappointed and could only pray that she would find someone worthy of her—and then he had taken his leave.
Why Lord Chesterton had done such a thing to him, why he had pretended that it had been Timothy who had been the one to injure him so, Timothy had never understood. He had been made the scapegoat and even now, one year later, his reputation was still badly tainted. The disgrace that surrounded him was more than a little upsetting, for it was a disgrace that he did not deserve. Lady Parrington—as she was now—had never spoken to him again, turning from him within society and making it quite plain that she would not so much as look at him again. Even their mutual acquaintance, Lady Rachelle, had sided with society, choosing to turn her back on him entirely.
And, unfortunately, for whatever reason, this was something Timothy had to endure, regardless of whether or not he claimed his innocence in the matter. Everyone knew that he had something against Lord Chesterton and thus, the beau monde, almost as a whole, believed that he had done this terrible thing. It was just as well he was an earl, for most likely, had he been anything lower, the ton would have given him the cut and he would not have been welcome anywhere at all.
“Have you asked anyone to dance this evening, then?” Lord Holland asked, changing the conversation entirely. “Do you dare to do so?”
“I have not done so as yet,” Timothy replied smartly. “But I am certain that I shall do so.” He had not told Lord Holland yet about his intentions to be introduced to, to dance with, and to assess Miss Delilah Mullins, his intended. If he found himself quite pleased with her, as her uncle was certain he would, then the marriage would begin to be planned almost immediately.
“And which of the pleasing young ladies has caught your eye this evening?” Lord Holland pressed, his questions beginning to irritate Timothy somewhat. “They all look quite marvelous, indeed, I must say.” His grin was a little salacious and Timothy rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Lord Holland had no intention of courting and thereafter marrying a lady of his choosing. Lord Holland merely enjoyed the company of as many beautiful young ladies as possible.
“I must confess, there is a young lady that has captured my attention, although I do not know who she is,” Lord Holland continued, having either ignored Timothy’s rolling of his eyes or not quite caught it. “Do you see her?” He gestured with his chin, pointing it straight ahead of him. With an inward sigh, Timothy forced himself to look at whoever this young lady was, seeing a slender young woman with nondescript brown hair pulled back into an elegant style. Her eyes were huge, seemingly a little large for her face, and she was twisting her hands in front of her in a nervous fashion. Her gown was of the highest quality, however, even if the light cream shade pulled the color from her cheeks.
“Then why do you not go and seek an introduction to her?” Timothy asked, not particularly interested in the lady. “There must be someone here who knows who she is.”
Lord Holland chuckled, one eyebrow lifting. “I do not want to make my interest too apparent,” he said with a grin. “But yes, should I see someone dancing with her that I am already acquainted with, then I shall do everything in my power to ensure that I am given an introduction.” Scanning the room, his eyes suddenly lit up. “But I see the lovely Lady Stephanie is without a dance partner at present and is speaking to Lady Arabella.” He inclined his head. “Do excuse me, Coventry.”
Timothy did not bid Lord Holland a farewell but simply watched his friend walk away, almost pitying the young ladies given that they would now have to endure Lord Holland’s company. Lord Holland would flirt and toy with them both, asking them to dance and ensuring that he picked the very best ones remaining. But it would mean naught to him other than a mere distraction.
“Lord Coventry.”
His attention was suddenly caught by the arrival of Lord Denholm, who inclined his head as Timothy looked back at him.
“Good evening, Lord Denholm,” he replied, aware of the supercilious look on the gentleman’s face and finding that he disliked this man immensely. Were it not for the fact that he had been given a marriage offer that he could not easily turn down, Timothy was certain that he would have had no eagerness to maintain an acquaintance with the fellow. “I presume that your niece is here this evening?”