Whispers of the Heart by Rose Pearson

Chapter Five

“You look tired.”

Geoffrey looked up to see none other than the Marquess of Stratham drawing near and felt himself chuckle despite his frustrations.

“I am weary, certainly, but it is not simply the physical kind,” he replied, gesturing to a chair which the Marquess quickly took. Seeing Lord Stratham’s questioning look, Geoffrey sighed and shook his head. “I have a house guest at present.”

“Oh?” Lord Stratham looked back at Geoffrey enquiringly, but Geoffrey only shook his head. “Then you must be fatigued from having to accompany her everywhere, I presume?”

Geoffrey spread his hands.

“My mother is finding great delight and solace in doing such a thing,” he replied, a wry smile on his lips. “No, it is only that I believe I have made such a great mess of my acquaintance with the lady that I find myself quite overcome with frustration.” Seeing how Lord Stratham lifted one eyebrow in question, Geoffrey could only laugh. “I have not behaved well, Stratham,” he confirmed as Lord Stratham continued to shoot him questioning glances. “Needless to say, my mother is most displeased with me and this evening, I must do all I can to make amends.”

“Which is why it must be very wise to sit down in Whites and have a few glasses of brandy before this evening’s ball,” Lord Stratham remarked, grinning broadly. “I am certain that Lady Ware will be delighted when you appear there half-cut.”

Geoffrey grimaced.

“This is only one brandy,” he replied, a trifle sorrowfully. “And I shall not have another until I am at Lord Richmond’s ball.”

Taking a small sip, he leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes for a moment. He could have taken a brandy at home whilst waiting for his mother and Miss Whyte to finish their preparations for the ball, but for various reasons, he had not wanted to linger there. The thought of being able to sit alone in Whites had seemed like a much more enjoyable prospect and Geoffrey had not hesitated in departing from the house. After the fool he had made of himself with Miss Whyte yesterday, Geoffrey had no urge to be very often in her company.

“What did you do?”

Geoffrey blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

Lord Stratham chuckled.

“One does not come to Whites to have a solitary drink before a ball without there being some reason for it,” he said, one eyebrow lifting. “What happened?”

Sighing, Geoffrey shook his head.

“I – I may have stated something that was not quite accurate,” he said, choosing his words carefully so as not to reveal the truth of what had happened. “I spoke to Miss Whyte, stated that there might be a particular interest from another gentleman, and begged to know what she thought of him.”

A frown cut across Lord Stratham’s forehead.

“And why would such a thing matter?”

“Because I was being ridiculous,” Geoffrey sighed, choosing now not to hold anything back. “She was only just acquainted with the gentleman and whilst I think that the gentleman is certainly interested in her company, there was no need for me to speak or behave so. I think she was greatly confused and, in fact, then went on to state that she believed that the reason for me asking her such a thing was solely to encourage her to consider him.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Lord Stratham asked, still a little confused. “If he is an acceptable gentleman –”

“She thinks that I want her gone from my house as soon as possible,” Geoffrey interrupted, making the truth plain. “And that by encouraging her towards the very first gentleman who has shown an interest in her, I am doing all I can to push her into matrimony for my own comfort.”

Silence lingered as Lord Stratham finally understood what had happened. Geoffrey sighed again and closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing one hand over his brow. He knew that he had behaved foolishly, and with that realization came the knowledge that the reason he had done so was solely because of the fierce jealousy which had suddenly rushed over him.

He would not express that to Lord Stratham, however, for that would be much too mortifying. There was absolutely no need for him to feel any sort of jealousy over the fact that Lord Silverton was clearly interested in Miss Whyte, and yet Geoffrey had been unable to prevent himself from speaking to her in that awkward and forthright manner. Even now, he could still see the moment that her expression had changed, and her anger had flared. How he wished he could explain to her that she was quite mistaken in her assumptions! Had he done so, however, he would have been forced to explain the truth behind his hurried questions and that would have brought him even more consternation.

“That explains the brandy, I suppose, as well as the disinclination to remain at home,” Lord Stratham said, eventually. “Well, if you wish to divert your mind onto other matters, I do have something I would wish to discuss with you,” Lord Stratham said, the smile dropping from his face as he looked Geoffrey directly in the eye. “It is regarding the war, of course.”

In an instant, all thought of Miss Whyte and the mortification which had flung itself at him dissipated.

“Yes?” Geoffrey replied, sitting forward in his chair. “What is it I can do?”

Lord Stratham glanced from his left to his right and then back again, keeping his voice low he spoke so that they would not be overheard.

“As you will be aware, the Duke of Abernyte was given five names. Gentlemen we believed were involved with the French.”

Geoffrey nodded.

“One – Lord Tofthill – is being investigated by the Duke,” he reminded Lord Stratham. “Another, Lord Broadford, is not at all involved in any matter as regards our enemy.” A small flicker of pride rose in his heart. “I am quite certain of it.”

“Which leaves us with three others,” Lord Stratham replied, slowly. “I was given some information before I returned to England. Information that I now believe must be shared.” Dropping his voice even lower, his brow furrowed hard. “There is news that the names we were given were not the true identify of each gentleman,” he said, softly. “I fear that the Duke will discover the same as you – that Lord Tofthill is quite innocent of all that is being set at him. The man who gave us these names has been shown to be naught but a liar, seeming to wish to assist in order to save his own life but still, it seems, unwilling to be honest.” His lips flattened. “The victory of the French was still his heart’s desire. They still held his loyalty.”

Blinking rapidly, Geoffrey felt the small flicker of pride evaporate.

“I see,” he answered, his own thoughts now heavily confused. “So there are no men involved in this supposed invasion. Their names were naught but a lie? A distraction?”

Lord Stratham shook his head.

“We believe that the French are still planning an invasion, via the Suffolk coast,” he said, firmly. “We also believe that there are specific gentlemen – and perhaps even ladies – who are involved in this plan and are doing what they can to both assist the French and perhaps even recruit others to their cause.” His expression twisted. “We just do not know their names.”

Clouds seemed to form over Geoffrey’s heart.

“Then how are we to identify them?” he asked, feeling almost hopeless. “If we have no knowledge whatsoever, then –”

“You will recall that an attempt was made on the Duke’s life,” Lord Stratham interrupted. “A gentleman of the ton was involved. Thankfully, he was prevented from doing any further damage and has been held at his estate since that time.”

Geoffrey, recollecting what had occurred, nodded.

“Yes, I remember.”

“He has not been particularly vocal about his involvement and all those who worked with him, unfortunately,” Lord Stratham continued, tilting his head to the right just a fraction. “Although some of what he has said, when he has been less guarded, has made us realize that there were those within society – within London at this present moment – who are eager for the French to succeed. He was not without his friends.”

“I see,” Geoffrey murmured, softly. “That leaves us very much in the dark still, does it not?”

Lord Stratham’s lips twisted.

“It does,” he agreed, quietly. “However, one thing was revealed – accidentally, I believe.” He held Geoffrey’s gaze steadily. “There is to be a meeting of those sympathetic to the French – and it is to take place very soon.” Geoffrey blinked in astonishment, staring at Lord Stratham intently, as though he could not be certain that the man told the truth. “We are uncertain as to where and when such a thing might take place, but we know that one gentleman, Viscount Hyndford, is involved. Therefore, we are to watch him carefully, see who he converses with and, in due course, interrupt the meeting and take appropriate steps to ensure that such a thing cannot take place again.” Clearing his throat, he sat back in his chair. “It is also a possibility that they may seek out one or two others to add to their numbers,” he finished, speaking a little more slowly. “That may also be a way for us to penetrate their ranks.”

He eyed Geoffrey carefully, as though making sure that the man understood him – and Geoffrey’s eyes flared wide.

“You want me to try to find them out?” he asked, astonished. “To find a way to join this supposed group?”

Lord Stratham shrugged.

“Why not?”

“Because…” Geoffrey did not manage to immediately add anything to his answer, frowning hard. “Some of the ton are aware that I am involved with matters pertaining to the Duke of Abernyte.”

“But they do not know anything specific,” he replied, quickly. “And the man responsible for the Duke’s attempted poisoning is under lock and key, meaning that he cannot inform anyone of importance that you were involved in his capture.” Again, his shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “I could put myself forward for such a task, but I fear that my involvement in the war is a little more apparent!” He gestured to his injured face, laughing a little wryly. “And the majority of the ton know that I have been absent from home for some time.”

Geoffrey nodded slowly, finding himself both intrigued and a little nervous given what was involved.

“How would I go about such a thing?” he asked, as Lord Stratham lifted one hand, gesturing for the footman to bring them both another brandy. “What would be involved?”

“Are you acquainted at all with Viscount Hyndford?”

Shaking his head, Geoffrey spread his hands.

“I confess I am not. But that can be easily rectified.”

“You must do so without being obvious,” Lord Stratham replied. “See which gentlemen he acquaints himself with and, if there is occasion to mention it, you might say something about how you are growing weary of the war and such like. It may open up a conversation.”

“That would take time.” Geoffrey nodded. “I understand,” he replied, quietly. “But yes, if you are asking whether or not I am willing, then of course, I am more than willing to do so.”

Lord Stratham grinned.

“Excellent.” He lifted his glass and held it out in Geoffrey’s direction. “We will not often be able to be converse, given that you must not appear to have a close acquaintance with me. But arrangements can be made for when we can meet and discuss matters.”

“Thank you,” Geoffrey replied, lifting his brandy glass also. “To our success.”

Nodding, Lord Stratham drew in a deep breath and then took a swig of his brandy.

“To our success.”

* * *

“Good evening,Lord Ware. I did not think that you would be in attendance this evening!”

Geoffrey smiled warmly at the young lady who spoke to him, whilst doing all he could to remember her name.

“Good evening,” he replied, bowing. “Might I ask why you feared I would be absent?”

She laughed, her eyes bright as she held his gaze, whilst her mother hovered nearby.

“Why, Lord Ware, it is known that you do not often step out to dance!” she exclaimed, as though this was something he ought to have known. “Why should you then appear at yet another ball? Besides which, it is rather late and you have missed a good deal!”

Keeping his smile fixed in place, Geoffrey felt her words sting him, even though he was certain they had not been meant to do so.

“I see,” he replied, seeing how the young lady’s smile faltered. “Then mayhap I ought to do something to change that particular expectation, Miss Holborn.” Relieved that he had recalled her name at the very last moment, he bowed low and then held out his hand. “Your dance card, if I might be so bold as to ask for it?”

Miss Holborn, who now appeared relieved that she had not insulted him as she had feared, blushed furiously and pulled out her dance card, handing it to him. Geoffrey was about to write his name at the very top, only to realize that it was now long past. “Might I enquire, Miss Holborn,” he began, “which dances have already been done? I realize that I have come a little later than I expected, as you have already pointed out.”

“Here.” Miss Holborn pointed to the sixth dance, and he noted that most of her dances were already filled.

“I am fortunate, then, given that you only have one dance remaining!” he exclaimed, quickly writing his name down in the only space she had left. “Thank you, Miss Holborn, I look forward to our quadrille.”

So saying, he bowed and quickly turned away, leaving a very satisfied Miss Holborn behind. A small smile crept across his face as he threaded his way through the ballroom and the many others present, for he was glad to have a task to fulfill once more. Yes, it seemed a very difficult one, given that he was to attempt to find a group of gentlemen keen to support the French without having any knowledge or awareness of who they might be but still, it was something to focus his mind and his intentions. Quietly, he wondered if Lord Hyndford would be present this very evening and whether or not he might be able to make some sort of introduction.

“Lord Ware.”

Geoffrey turned his head and looked behind him, seeing none other than Lord Silverton standing there, his head tilted in a bird-like fashion. Geoffrey was surprised at the feeling of animosity which came over him as he turned to greet his friend, reminding himself that he had no need to feel anything but cordiality towards him.

“Silverton,” he said, as warmly as he could. “Good evening.” Lord Silverton’s expression did not change, and Geoffrey’s smile began to disappear, being slowly replaced with a frown as his friend did not speak a word. “Silverton,” he said, eventually, “is something the matter?”

“My goodness,” Lord Silverton murmured, shaking his head. “I cannot quite believe it, Lord Ware.” His brow furrowed and a look of disappointment flooded his features. “I thought after what you had said only yesterday that you would have made every effort to do as you had stated.”

Geoffrey’s frown deepened.

“I do not know what you mean.”

Lord Silverton closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head yet again, as though he was deeply troubled. Geoffrey felt himself grow a little irritated, finding himself lost in confusion.

“This is beyond repair, I fear,” Lord Silverton said, softly, his eyes gleaming slightly as he looked back at Geoffrey. “I do not think she will forgive you a second time.”

Horror struck his heart as every part of his being seemed to grow cold and stiff all at once. He stared blankly at Lord Silverton who only returned his stare with a look of disapproval, clearly upset on behalf of Miss Whyte. Geoffrey could not speak, could not find a single word to say which would furnish him any manner of excuse. His heart began to pound furiously and he closed his eyes, feeling a hot flush of mortification wash over him.

“Where is she?”

Lord Silverton’s voice was quiet and yet Geoffrey felt sure he could hear a hint of disdain, as though he had fallen significantly in his friend’s estimations.

“She is dancing, I believe,” he replied, as Geoffrey opened his eyes. “Needless to say, I was nearby and was able to take her first dance again.”

Geoffrey narrowed his eyes, the urge to state that he believed Lord Silverton had been hovering nearby deliberately rising up within him. He quelled it with an effort, acknowledging to himself that he had no reason to state such a thing and was, no doubt, merely looking for something to take away some of his feelings of foolishness and upset.

“It is just as well that I said I would take the second, for it was easy enough to remain with the lady for the first two dances,” Lord Silverton murmured, his eyes still holding that gleam that Geoffrey did not like. It was as though the man was glad that Geoffrey had behaved as he had done, for Lord Silverton had been able to swoop in and capture yet more of Miss Whyte’s attention. And, indeed, the ton would have noticed, and be speculating about the pairing – for two balls in a row, with two dances at each, was surely a mark of intention…

“I am sure that she was very grateful,” he muttered, only for Lord Silverton to throw up his hands.

“The lady was distraught!” he exclaimed, as though he expected Geoffrey to have known such a thing without being told of it. “Utterly discomposed. Your mother did not wish for her to dance but rather begged of her to remain by her side until Miss Whyte had composed herself, but Miss Whyte would not have it.”

“She wanted to dance?”

“She did, and I must say that I admire her fortitude,” Lord Silverton replied. “It is only a pity that I cannot step out with her for what would be the third time. The ton has already taken notice at my dancing with her for the first two dances and I am certain would say much more, should they see me out with her again.” He eyed Geoffrey speculatively, but Geoffrey remained silent, choosing not to comment on that particular statement. It was quite true, of course, but he did not want to remark upon it for fear that Lord Silverton would give more of his intentions away, as regarded Miss Whyte. It was more than Geoffrey could bear at present, for he did not want Lord Silverton to be considering Miss Whyte but, at the same time, knew he could not consider her for himself. After all, he had just been given another task by Lord Stratham and would be heavily involved in that affair – he would have no time for courtship and the like! And yet, said a small voice within his heart, you are less inclined to allow any other gentleman near to her.

“What shall you do, Lord Ware?”

Lord Silverton’s question had Geoffrey sighing loudly, pushing one hand through his hair and trying to think of an answer. There was no immediate response required from him, for trying to apologize and make amends at the present moment would not be appropriate. The ball was not the place for such a thing and Miss Whyte would be much too distracted with all of the other gentlemen who would, no doubt, wish to dance with her.

“I – I wonder,” he stammered, knowing that this question would appear very strange indeed, given the circumstances, “if you are acquainted with Lord Hyndford?”

Lord Silverton’s eyes grew wide, but he then blinked, shrugged, and nodded.

“I know of him, yes.”

“Might you introduce me to him?” Geoffrey asked, aware of the man’s astonishment over his seeming lack of consideration as regarded Miss Whyte. “I….” He trailed off, suddenly cautious. “I have heard that he is acquainted with the Duke of Abernyte, and I should very much like to know how that particular connection came about.”

He did not know why he was being so cautious, given that Lord Silverton was a friend, but there was a dull warning ringing in the back of his mind.

“I have not heard of such a thing,” Lord Silverton replied, a frown darkening his features. “Lord Hyndford has never mentioned it, and I am surprised that he has not, given that such a connection would improve his standing significantly, but…” He shrugged and smiled. “I suppose I am not as well acquainted with the fellow as I thought. Certainly, I would be glad to introduce you.”

“Capital,” Geoffrey replied, smiling. “It may be that there is no truth in such a statement! But I should like to know for certain, regardless.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Might he be here this evening?”

Lord Silverton nodded.

“I believe so,” he answered, slowly, “but do you not wish to speak to Miss Whyte first?” There was a note of chastisement in his voice but Geoffrey ignored it, shaking his head.

“The lady will be much too busy with her other dances and the like,” he replied, firmly. “I know that there is a deal of reparation which must be made, and I can assure you that I have every intention of doing so. However, it would not be suitable for me to speak to her here, not when there is so much going on and when, no doubt, her attention will be caught by others.”

A few moments passed before Lord Silverton spoke again, leaving Geoffrey with the distinct feeling that his friend did not approve of his actions.

“Very well,” he replied, as a small wave of relief calmed Geoffrey’s heart. “I am certain that I saw him near the card room. I…”

The voice of Lord Silverton slowly began to fade away as Geoffrey became aware of someone looking at him. Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of none other than Miss Ann Whyte.

His stomach twisted and he swallowed hard, a little surprised at just how much shame poured over him. She was standing quietly, his mother next to her, with her gaze fixed to his. She appeared almost as angelic as ever with her greyish silver gown, her golden hair, and grey eyes, but there was something in her expression which spoke of her sorrow at his failure. There was no anger burning in her gaze as he had expected but instead, there lingered a gentle sadness that tore at Geoffrey’s heart. She did not speak nor move but waited beside Lady Ware as she continued to converse with a friend, her hands clasped gently in front of her as she remained still. Geoffrey could not look away, seeing just how much pain and embarrassment he had caused her for what was the second time and knowing that a simple apology would not suffice. It was not as though he could explain to her what had happened, nor why he had been late to the ball, for there would be no reasonable explanation he could give. His heart sank. Everything he had done thus far as regarded Miss Whyte had pushed her further from him. Yes, that was what he had wanted – he had wanted distance between them so that he would not allow his feelings to overwhelm him – but he had never sought to injure her so. There had to be something he could do, something he could say, to make her understand but, thus far, no idea came to him.

Lady Ware said something to Miss Whyte and she quickly turned her head and smiled, although it did not reach her eyes. Geoffrey dropped his head and turned away, feeling more heavy-hearted than ever before.