Whispers of the Heart by Rose Pearson
Chapter Two
“Are you looking forward to this evening’s ball?”
Sarah smiled a little ruefully as she looked back at her cousin, wondering when Miss Florence Addington would stop talking incessantly about the ball which they were to attend that evening. She did not even need to answer her cousin’s question, for the lady was already continuing to speak at length about what she herself would be wearing this evening, what color her gown was, and the various trimmings that had been sewn onto it. Sarah, who had heard all of this many times before, stifled a yawn and picked up her book. Attempting to read it proved difficult, however, for Florence was quite insistent that they discuss which gentlemen might be present, and whether or not Sarah had any intention of dancing the waltz – for even if she was permitted, it was still entirely her decision as to whether or not she stood up with anyone.
“I am not sure,” Sarah replied, still trying to read her book, but finding herself becoming so frustrated with Florence’s inane chatter that she simply could not concentrate on the words which were before her. Sighing heavily, she set her book down and let out a long breath of frustration, which she did not let Florence see. They had only just made their come out and, whilst Sarah had to admit that she was very eager indeed for this evening’s event, she was not quite as excited as her cousin! She was quite content to know that yes, there would be gentlemen present and yes, there would be dancing also, but felt no need to continually – and audibly – discuss whether or not certain people would be present and, if so, what they might be wearing.
“The Duke is to attend, is he not?”
Sarah looked back at Florence and shook her head.
“My cousin is not to attend, no,” she replied, aware of the small ball of tension that began to roll itself around her stomach. “He is not in London at present, I believe.”
The Duke of Abernyte was her cousin on her mother’s side, whilst Florence was her cousin on her father’s side – although this did not prevent Florence from taking a great deal of interest in the Duke! That was to be expected, however, for the Duke of Abernyte was unwed and unattached at present, and every mother in the ton silently prayed, no doubt, that their daughter would be the one to catch his eye. The gentleman needed an heir and thus, there were many expectant and eager hearts waiting for his return to London.
And it seemed that Florence was one of them.
“Oh.” Florence’s face fell immediately, clearly disappointed that the Duke was not going to be in attendance that evening. “I had hoped he might dance with me, given that he is practically my own relation!” She laughed and Sarah shook her head, knowing that there was no real connection between Florence and the Duke but finding herself quite unable to argue with her cousin. “Do you know if he is to come to London at all this Season?”
Sarah shook her head.
“I could not say.” Her fingers twisted together as she prayed silently that Florence would think of speaking of someone else instead, finding herself growing very weary of the conversation indeed. “Tell me, what will your mother be dressed in this evening?”
This, she realized with relief, was precisely what she ought to have said at the beginning of the conversation about the Duke, for it distracted Florence almost immediately. She quickly began to describe her mother’s gown and all the particular trimmings which were to go with it. Sarah let out a long, slow breath, although she nodded and smiled and agreed with all that was being said in the interim.
“Ah, there you are.” Her mother walked into the room and interrupted their conversation, forcing Sarah to set aside her book entirely for the present. “Lady Flenshaw will return soon, my dear,” she continued, speaking to Florence. “Your mother has decided that her gloves are in need of replacement and has taken the carriage to Bond Street so that she might purchase a new pair for this evening.”
A quick glance told Sarah exactly what her mother thought of Lady Flenshaw’s insistence that her gloves would not do. She hid a smile and saw the twinkle that sparkled in her mother’s eye in return. Lady Flenshaw – being Lady Blackwell’s sister – was very much like Florence in her manner. Whilst Sarah had to endure Florence’s conversation about the same things over and over again, she was fully aware that her mother had to endure the very same thing with Lady Flenshaw. As if to emphasize that fact, Florence had launched into a discussion of the merits of gloves, immediately.
“Sarah, do go and ring for tea,” her mother said, interrupting Florence’s flow of words for a moment. “I think we will require a little more refreshment before my sister returns to the house.”
Sarah smiled at her mother gratefully, rose, and said she would take a short turn about the house before she did so, stating that she was sure that Florence would keep her mother engaged. Lady Blackwell laughed and flapped one hand at Sarah as if to chase her out of the room, and Sarah went quickly, glad indeed of a few minute's respite.
She had been sitting with Florence for some time and it felt good to be able to walk for a short while. Stopping a maid, she requested a new tea tray to be sent to the drawing-room and then continued on her way. She climbed the stairs, walked into her bed-chamber, and sat down on the bed, letting out a sigh of relief as she did so.
Her eyes fell on the gown that she was to wear this evening, which had already been laid out for her. A small swirl of excitement ran through her as she thought about the dancing and the conversation which would take place. Despite Florence’s ongoing conversation about it, Sarah had to admit that she was a little excited. Rising to her feet, she brushed one hand down the fall of the gown, gently sighing with contentment. This was to be her first Season and, having already been presented, she would go into society with the express purpose of finding a suitable match.
Her father, the Viscount, was very wealthy indeed and had promised her an excellent dowry, but Sarah felt herself a little less than inclined to be sold off to whichever gentleman thought her dowry good enough! Instead, she considered, tilting her head just a little as she looked at the gown, she wanted nothing more than to be wed to a gentleman who cared for her and truly considered her. She did not think that to be in love was something that she ought to pursue, but neither would Sarah settle for a gentleman who only cared about the amount of coin he would receive upon their marrying!
“The tea tray has been delivered to the drawing-room, my Lady.”
Pulled from her thoughts, Sarah turned around and thanked the maid. Taking a deep breath, she made her way out of the bedroom and back down the stairs, steeling herself for another hour or so of enduring Florence’s inane chatter about this evening.
“He has gone to Bath on an urgent matter, I believe, but will return within a few days.”
Upon hearing her father’s voice echoing up from the hallway below, Sarah stopped immediately, only two steps down the stairs.
“What have you heard from him?”
There was a moment’s pause.
“Very little,” her father responded to whomever else was speaking. “The Duke does not inform me of a great deal, although, of course, I am glad to do what I can. I am too old and infirm to have any dealings with the war itself, save for taking a message here and there when I can, or contributing in a monetary way.”
“For which I am sure there is a good deal of gratitude,” the other voice said. “But I must find the Duke of Abernyte at once. There is something I must give to him.”
Sarah turned her head and looked behind her, wondering if she ought to return to her bed-chamber and wait until her father had finished his conversation, only for the sound of footsteps to rise towards her.
“If I find out where His Grace is, I shall tell you at once,” she heard her father say, his voice a little more commanding now. “You have my word.”
This did not seem to satisfy the other gentleman, for a heavy sigh followed her father’s words, and only after some moments did she hear both men walking towards the front door of the house, and the other man making an almost grudging final remark.
“I thank you. It seems I must away to Bath, and hope to find him.”
Sarah quickly made her way down the rest of the stairs hoping to return to the drawing-room before her father saw her but, unfortunately, as she proceeded to the last few steps, her father reappeared. He looked a little surprised upon seeing her, only for his brows to knot together. Sarah flushed at once. She had never been able to hide anything from anyone, for her expression always told the truth.
“Sarah.” Her father lifted one eyebrow. “I fear you have overheard some of my conversation with Baron Northwood.”
“I – I did, father,” Sarah admitted, unwilling to even consider lying to him. “I did not mean to! I–”
“I thought you were in the drawing-room with your mother and Florence,” her father interrupted, although his voice did not rise, and he did not appear to be angry with her. “Else I would not have finished my conversation with him out in the hall.” His lips twisted for a moment, and he shook his head, looking away from her as he frowned. “Lord Northwood was most insistent.”
“He needs to find the Duke?” Sarah asked, unable to help herself. “Why should he wish to do so with such urgency?”
Her eyes rounded in surprise as her father shook his head, grimacing as he did so.
“The Duke is involved with our efforts in the war against France,” he told her plainly. “He and I have discussed matters upon occasion, but I do not always know the particulars. However,” he continued, coming a small step closer to her and dropping his voice so that he spoke in low, quiet tones, “the Duke has gone away on business – although some of it will be to do with Napoleon’s forces, I am certain of it – but he begged me not to speak of it to anyone.”
Sarah blinked in surprise.
“But I heard you tell Lord Northwood that the Duke was gone to Bath!” she exclaimed, as her father quickly shook his head. “That was not the truth, then?”
“No, of course, it was not,” her father replied, chuckling quietly. “He is gone to the coast.” His brow furrowed and his smile slipped. “There is rumor of a French invasion, and the Duke is gone to make certain it does not occur, although he fears that there may be some within our own circle who are eager for such a thing to take place.”
This was not the first time that Lord Blackwell had spoken to Sarah about such things. He had, at one time, been in the militia and, since then, had always been involved in one way or the other when it came to defending the Crown. She had an interest in the war and wanted to know what was occurring at any one time, simply so that she did not become a simpleton who cared only about gowns and balls. Her father, after some reluctance, had been honest with her and, since then, had been more than willing to discuss what he knew or what he was involved in at present, where that was permissible. The Duke, when Sarah had last seen him, had also spoken to her about the war against the French forces, and Sarah had been glad to know of what was taking place. It gave her a good deal to both consider and pray about.
“I am only a little acquainted with Baron Northwood and I certainly have no willingness to speak to him about any particular matter as regards the Duke’s whereabouts,” her father continued, giving a small, abrupt shake of his head as though to make quite clear how little he thought of Baron Northwood’s request. “That does not mean that I believe that there is anything untoward in the Baron’s motivations, however. It is only that I am doing as my nephew asked and keeping the matter entirely to myself.” One finger waggled itself at Sarah. “You will not tell anyone anything of this, Sarah.”
“Of course I will not!”
Sarah was a little affronted, thinking that her father did not consider her trustworthy but, instead, the Viscount only chuckled, shattering that perception immediately.
“I know that you are always able to be trusted,” the Viscount said, reaching out to take Sarah’s hand for a moment. “I am only teasing you, my dear.” This was followed by a small frown, his smile fading. “Although you are aware of the seriousness of all that the Duke is involved in.”
Sarah nodded, pressing her father’s hand in return.
“I am, father,” she said, seriously. “I will not say a word. I do hope that the Duke is successful in whatever endeavors he is undertaking at present. An invasion to England’s shores would be a grave matter indeed.”
“I too pray that he finds success,” came the reply, which was followed by her father rubbing at his forehead, his lips pressing tightly together for a moment. “We must not forget the significance of what is happening far from our shores, my dear. There is so much that might yet take place.”
Swallowing hard, Sarah took a moment before she replied, feeling a fluttering of fear in her heart as she considered the war and all that could happen, should England’s forces be unsuccessful in their attempted defeat of the French.
“Let us pray that they will have nothing but triumph, father,” she said softly, seeing her father’s eyes catch hers for just a moment and then hurry away again, as though he did not want to look into her face and give her news that would bring her nothing but distress. “I am certain that they will defeat Napoleon and his forces.”
Her father smiled tightly but it did not reach his eyes. Instead, he merely patted her arm and stepped away, leaving Sarah standing alone in the hallway. Her brow furrowed for a moment as she watched him return to his study, feeling greatly unsettled. Drawing in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and let it out again slowly, calming herself as she did so. She had no need to worry, as yet.
“I am to have another new gown for….”
Florence’s excited exclamations floated into the hallway and Sarah allowed herself a small, rueful smile. Rather than thinking about the war, Napoleon, and the like, she had now to concentrate on an entirely different matter – the upcoming ball and all that came with it. Allowing a gentle peace to wrap around her heart, Sarah made her way back into the drawing-room and was instantly caught up in the conversation once more, leaving all thought of the Duke and the war far, far behind.
* * *
“And this must be your daughter.”
Sarah blushed as the gentleman eyed her openly, his gaze sweeping from the top of her head all the way down to her feet and back again. Heat seared her, but it was not the pleasant sort. Instead, she found herself a little disgusted by the fellow, and, much to her relief, her mother appeared to feel the same.
“Yes, this is my daughter,” Lady Blackwell replied, swiftly making the introductions. “Unfortunately, Lord Sumption, she is already engaged for a dance at present so you must excuse us.” She bobbed a quick curtsy and Sarah followed suit, relieved when they stepped away from him. “Lord Sumption is not at all the sort of gentleman I should like you to acquaint yourself with, my dear,” Lady Blackwell hissed as they walked away. “I did not like the way that he stared at you!”
“Nor did I,” Sarah admitted, feeling a trifle despondent. They had been at the ball for an hour now and, whilst she had many names on her dance card, none of the gentlemen had encouraged even the smallest flicker of interest in her. “I should not have liked to dance with him.”
Lady Blackwell tutted – not at Sarah’s admission but rather at the thought that Lord Sumption would wish to stand up with Sarah – and lifted her chin a little more.
“You have many acceptable gentlemen on your card,” she stated, patting Sarah’s hand in a reassuring manner. “This is only the first ball of many for this Season. I am sure that, in a sennight or so, you will have many more gentlemen eager for your company and your hand.”
Sarah smiled, looking over at her mother as they made their way as far from Lord Sumption as possible. She made to say something, only for Florence to appear, waving at her furiously from a short distance away. Sarah watched as her cousin said something to her mother and to the gentleman with her, and then hurried over to where Sarah and her mother stood. For whatever reason, the gentleman came with her.
“Oh, is this not just a magnificent evening!” Florence exclaimed, as Sarah nodded and smiled, whilst allowing her eyes to glance at the gentleman beside Florence now and again. “My dance card is quite full! I could not believe it! When Lord Tucker asked if I could stand up with him, I accepted wholeheartedly and handed him my card, only for him to say that it was quite full!”
She trilled a laugh and Sarah felt her smile freeze in place, feeling a little embarrassed for her cousin’s sake. On top of which, Florence had not introduced this gentleman to her or her mother, meaning that he stood, quite silently, next to Florence as she spoke.
“My dear child,” Lady Blackwell began, interrupting Florence and bringing the torrent of words to a close for a short respite. “Might you wish to introduce us?”
She looked pointedly at the gentleman and Florence stopped speaking suddenly, looking over at him as though she had forgotten about him entirely.
“Oh, yes of course!” she cried, waving a hand as though to say the fact that she had forgotten to do so was of little importance. “Do forgive me.” She laughed and patted the gentleman’s arm in a most improper fashion. “This is Viscount Harrogate.” She laughed again, this time slapping the Viscount’s arm. “I should say, he is the new Viscount Harrogate, for he has only just taken the title!”
“Good evening,” Sarah said hastily, wanting to interrupt so that her cousin could not say more to embarrass either herself or Viscount Harrogate. “I do hope that you are enjoying this evening, Lord Harrogate.”
She bobbed a curtsey and looked hard at her cousin, waiting for Florence to complete the introductions. It took Lord Harrogate clearing his throat before Florence realized what she had not done.
“Oh, and this is my aunt, Viscountess Blackwell, and her daughter – and my cousin – Miss Sarah Graham.”
“I am very glad to make your acquaintance.” The gentleman bowed and then turned to Sarah’s mother. “Lady Blackwell, I believe I have already been introduced to your husband earlier this evening, in the card room.”
Lady Blackwell chuckled, her eyes twinkling.
“Yes, that is most likely where you would find him,” she replied, making Sarah blush a little with her mother’s frankness. “He finds himself most disinclined to balls, but if there is to be a game of cards then he will make certain to attend with us!”
“I quite understand,” came the reply, although this was swiftly interrupted by Florence.
“Not that you are of such a mind, Lord Harrogate,” she said, teasingly, her eyes bright as she practically bounced on the spot as she spoke. “You are to dance with me soon, I believe!”
“Yes, indeed,” Lord Harrogate replied, although Sarah noticed that his smile appeared a little weary, for his eyes did not quite hold the same delight. She considered him carefully, taking in his stocky frame, his broad shoulders, and the square jaw. His blue eyes were bright but did not gleam with happiness and, whilst his dark hair was neat, it brushed across his forehead and hugged low to his brows. From her assessment, Sarah considered him to be a somewhat serious individual, who was, despite his willingness, perhaps a little less inclined to dancing than Florence considered him!
“Ah, Miss Graham!”
Sarah turned, just in time to see Lord Sumption approach them, his eyes gleaming.
“I thought you were to dance!” he exclaimed, gesturing to Lord Harrogate. “But it seems that the gentleman is already engaged.”
This was an easy assumption to make given the way that Florence’s hand now pressed on Lord Harrogate’s arm, leaving Sarah struggling to know how to respond. She wanted nothing more than to say that she was, in fact, engaged for the first dance but the truth was, she had no excuse. Glancing across at her mother with a somewhat desperate look in her eyes, Sarah forced a smile and looked back at Lord Sumption. He was, once more, studying her with that somewhat licentious eye and Sarah flushed with embarrassment.
“Lord Sumption,” she began, slowly, “you find me –”
“You find Miss Graham already engaged for this dance, I am afraid!”
Lord Harrogate interrupted their discussion with a small smile and a shrug, stepping away from Florence who appeared to be instantly upset at such news. Her brow furrowed, her mouth opened in protest – but Lady Blackwell came to stand by her, her hand reaching to grasp Florence’s, who, at such a reaction, remained quite silent.
“Yes,” Sarah stammered, throwing a quick glance towards Lord Harrogate who, whilst not smiling, had lifted his chin and given Lord Sumption a firm look which dared him to protest. “I am to dance with Lord Harrogate, Lord Sumption.”
Just as she spoke, the musicians began to play as if they had waited precisely for that particular moment to begin, and Sarah felt a swell of relief when Lord Sumption stepped back. His face had shifted into a most displeased expression, with his lips twisted and his eyes narrowed, but there was nothing that he could do. Lord Harrogate looked to Sarah, smiled, and offered her his arm, which she accepted at once.
“I am so very grateful, Lord Harrogate,” she murmured, as they quickly stepped away. “Lord Sumption is –”
“Lord Sumption is not a gentleman worthy of your consideration, nor your company, Miss Graham,” he interrupted, although she did not mind it. “I have been in London only a fortnight and even I am aware that he is not a gentleman suitable for any young lady’s company.”
Sarah smiled up at him, thinking that he had proven himself to be a very considerate gentleman already.
“I do not know Lord Sumption at all, I confess,” she replied, as they quickly joined the set. “However, I believe that I was able to make a good estimation of his character in only the first few minutes of our conversation this evening!”
“I do hope that your cousin will not be much put out,” Lord Harrogate murmured, bowing as the dance began. “I hope that she will understand.”
“I am quite certain she will,” Sarah replied, although without much confidence in the matter. Her mother, she prayed, would explain the situation to Florence, but Sarah was quite sure that her cousin would be deeply disappointed to have had the dance stolen from her. “Thank you again, Lord Harrogate, you have quite saved me.”
This time, his smile lit up his face and Sarah caught her breath at the brightness that came into his blue eyes.
“But of course,” he said as they took their places in the line. He offered her his hand and waited for a moment for her to take it before they began to move through the steps of the dance in perfect synchronization with the other couples.
It wasa good thing Lord Harrogate was there when Sarah needed him! Check out the rest of the story in the Kindle Store to find out what happens next! To Trust a Viscount
