This time, Timothy could not hide his shock. He stared at Lady Newfield, his mouth a little ajar as all manner of emotions slammed through him. How could he judge the lady for being too quiet and much too shy when it now appeared that she had only been aware of the arrangement since yesterday?
“She did not know of your...reputation,” Lady Newfield finished, a slight flickering frown telling him that she herself was not quite certain what or who she believed. “I had to inform her of that myself.”
Timothy blew out a breath and shook his head, wishing he could step away from Lady Newfield and allow this news to wash over him so that he could take a little time to consider what to do next. “I see,” he muttered, dropping his head, feeling unable to look at the lady. “Thank you for informing me, Lady Newfield.”
“I do so only for my goddaughter’s sake,” she informed him in clipped tones. “I know that you must consider her and decide whether or not you think her suitable for you, and I would urge you, therefore, not to take your first impression of Miss Mullins to be the one you most consider.”
Timothy did not immediately say what was on mind—which was that, had not Lady Newfield said something, he would have certainly had a very poor impression of Miss Mullins and would have questioned all that Lord Denholm had said. Now, at least, he could understand her shyness and what he hoped was surprise rather than fear. If she had only just been told of her engagement to him, had only just discovered the truth of his reputation, then it was more than understandable that she had behaved as she had done.
“I thank you, Lady Newfield,” he said gruffly. “I am grateful for your honesty.”
“Good,” she said briskly as the dance came to an end and Lord Fitzherbert began to lead Miss Mullins back towards them. “Should you ever have need to ask me anything, Lord Coventry, you will find me very honest indeed.”
Timothy did not respond but pushed that particular comment to the back of his mind, watching Miss Mullins intently as she came back towards them. To his surprise, she was looking up at Lord Fitzherbert intently, clearly listening to him speaking and, as they drew closer, he saw her smile. In that instant, his heart slammed into his chest as he saw her face transformed. Her eyes were bright, there was a touch of color in her cheeks, and her smile was quite wonderful. There came a sudden urge within him to make certain that he could make her smile like that also, but he pushed the feeling away almost at once. That was foolishness itself. He was there to meet his potential bride and to assess her suitability: that was all. He did not need to allow his emotions to become involved in any way, not when this was nothing more than a business arrangement that suited both himself and Lord Denholm.
“Miss Mullins,” he said as Lord Fitzherbert bowed towards her, taking his leave. “I must hope you have another dance free so that I might step out with you,” he said, only for Miss Mullins’ eyes to flare wide, looking at something—or someone—just behind him.
“Delilah!” The voice was hard and sharp. “Did I see you dancing? I did not think that—oh! Good...good evening, Lord Coventry.”
Timothy swung around and looked directly into the face of Lord Denholm. “I confess myself to be a little disappointed, Lord Denholm, if you do not intend to allow Miss Mullins to dance this evening,” he said, keeping his expression grave. “Is there some reason as to why she should not?”
Lord Denholm cleared his throat and harrumphed twice, waving a hand towards his niece.
“I did not know you were inclined to dance,” he said as though this was some explanation. “I would not have my niece dance if you did not.”
“On the contrary,” Timothy replied, shrugging. “I had only just asked your niece if she would do me the honor of dancing the next dance, whatever it may be.”
Nodding fervently, Lord Denholm appeared to acquiesce without making any further complaint. Had he truly wanted to ensure that his niece did not dance for fear that Timothy himself did not dance? What else could be his reason for stating she could not do so?
“I am able to dance the country dance, Lord Coventry.”
It was the first time he had heard her speak, and when he turned to look at her, he saw a fresh courage in her eyes and noted how Lady Newfield stood close to her goddaughter, her hand on the lady’s arm.
“Capital,” he said, and stepping forward, offered Miss Mullins his arm. She looked up into his face for a moment and he noticed that she had deep green eyes, which, he considered, were quite lovely. And then, she dropped her gaze and took his arm, and there was nothing else for him to do but lead her forward onto the dance floor, ready to dance his first dance with the lady who might one day be his wife.
Chapter Three
“You will not disobey me again!”
The words her uncle had shouted at her still rang in Delilah’s ears as she sat at the breakfast table. The sting to her cheek as he had slapped her, hard, had left a bruise, and Delilah had no knowledge of how to hide it. The established ladies back at the school had been cruel and much too strict, but they had never struck her across the face. There was a certain shame to being struck so and Delilah had spent most of the night crying, broken over all that had happened. Her godmother had been so very eager to have her find courage and strength but Delilah had lost the little she had the moment her uncle had struck her. She had cowered before him, tears burning in her eyes and shame weighing down her shoulders—and that feeling had not left her as yet.
Betty, of course, had been horrified to see her mistress’ red cheek and tear-filled eyes. She had done all she could to make Delilah comfortable, helping her into a warm bed and pressing a cold cloth to the mark on her cheek. Delilah had said very little, keeping her stomach swirling as weakness rushed through her, which had forced her to close her eyes. That sense of weakness had not left her yet, even though it was now the following day.
The door opened behind her and Delilah startled violently, suddenly terrified that her uncle would come into the room and demand further apologies or the like for what she had done last evening. Instead, Lady Newfield was shown in by a flustered footman who did not seem to know whether or not he ought to have let her in at such an early hour.
“The master is still abed, Lady Newfield,” he said as she came further into the room. “I cannot wake him.”
Lady Newfield laughed and waved a hand towards the footman. “I did not come to see Lord Denholm,” she said as the footman flushed with embarrassment. “Certainly, do not waken him!” Smiling at Delilah, she came to sit down beside her, only for the smile to drop from her face at once. Delilah felt heat climb into her face as she tried to look back steadily at her godmother, wishing she had found a way to cover her bruise.
“What happened?” Lady Newfield asked, her brow furrowed and her eyes beginning to burn with anger. “What did he do?”
Delilah lifted one shoulder, trying to behave as though it was not of great significance. “I should not have danced when he instructed me not to do so,” she said a little hoarsely. “My uncle believes that Lord Coventry felt obliged to ask me to dance when it is well known that he does not enjoy such a thing. Therefore, I should not have stepped out with Lord Fitzherbert.”