Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) (4 page)

“I will not,” said Hal.

“Hal,” said Lizzie.  “You’re being rather stubborn
and I say that as someone who has been accused of possessing the same trait. 
You have changed since your friendship with Francis and it has not been for the
better.  But I do not blame him for leading you astray.  I blame you for being
satisfied with your new life as a wastrel.  However, I do not believe the
solution is a marriage you are not ready for – a wife has enough disadvantages
without being wed to someone who marries only because his family believes it
will make an adult of him.  But I do not think it would hurt for you to spend
more time with your other friends.  Attend a
ton
event and spend more
than a quarter of an hour there.  We are all concerned about you Hal.  We love
you and do not wish to lose you.”

The room was silent, until Lynwood spoke.  “Well
said, Lizzie.”

“Yes, well, I think the babe is giving me wisdom,”
she said, placing a hand on her stomach.

Hal was both touched and unsettled by Lizzie’s
words.  He bristled at anyone criticizing his friend and needed no advice on
how to live his life.  But, while he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, he did
feel as if the nights were all blending into one.  Debauchery wasn’t nearly as
much fun when it became a way of life.  Perhaps it was time to vary his
routine, to explore what it might be like to wake up without feeling sick.  But
it was important for him to do it on his terms, without feeling like a child in
a family of overbearing adults.

“The Raleighs’ ball is tonight,” said Aunt Agatha. 
“You will attend, Henry.  I insist upon it.”

Hal looked at his Aunt.  “If you insist I be there,
Aunt Agatha, then I shall attend,” he said.  Then he rose, executed a half bow
and left the room.

CHAPTER THREE

Mel didn’t know if she would ever feel at home at a
ton
ball.  It wasn’t like she wasn’t a social person.  She liked people and back
home she’d had little difficulty making friends.  But London society was quite
different.  There seemed to be more emphasis on style over substance.  What a
person wore was more important than what a person said unless, of course, the
person had said something worthy of gossip.

And it seemed to Mel as if she was always saying
something worthy of gossip.

The evening started innocently enough.  She and Mary
had accompanied the earl and the countess to the Raleighs’ home, arriving
fashionably late.  Mel had even acquitted herself well in the receiving line,
thanking their hostess for inviting her and remarking on the beautiful flowers.

As Mel had walked arm-in-arm with Mary through the
ballroom, she smiled and nodded to acquaintances, stopping a few times as her
cousin greeted friends.  Mel contributed to the conversations by complimenting the
ladies on their dresses and agreeing with the gentlemen that the weather had
been unseasonably cool.  Of course, she was thoroughly bored within ten minutes
of their arrival and wanted nothing more than to find a seat near the wall and
simply listen to the music until her aunt and uncle were ready to leave.

But then it happened.  She made yet another social
faux
pas
.

Mary had led her to a small group of unmarried
ladies slightly older than they.  The conversation had turned from fashion to
gossip, which meant Mel was even less interested than usual, until the lady at
the center of the group started speaking.

“I find it interesting that the Marquess of Riverton
is not in attendance tonight,” said Lady Gwendolyn Bossert, the daughter of the
Earl of Halliwell.  “I can only imagine it is because he is embarrassed by his
wife’s political activities.”

“I cannot imagine he would have married her if he’d
been embarrassed,” said Mel.  “From what I recall, her treatise on the rights
of women was published before their betrothal.”

As silence descended upon their little group, Lady Gwendolyn
turned to Mel, running her gaze from Mel’s satin slippers to the pearls in her
hair and back down again.  All with a smug look on her face.  Lady Gwendolyn
was considered a leader of the young ladies of the
ton
and her
friendship was often a precursor to a debutante’s success.  But one cutting
word from Lady Gwendolyn – and it was a rare day, indeed, when she stopped at only
one – was enough to freeze a young woman out of the social whirl.  One raised
brow could send a debutante fleeing to the retiring room for a lonely cry.

Mel knew of Lady Gwendolyn’s importance, but she
cared little for the opinion of a mean-spirited gossip and not even a very
entertaining one, at that.  Mel had said her comments without thinking about
their effect.  She didn’t care about her own standing, but suddenly felt guilty
about how they might reflect on her cousin.

Fortunately, Mary stepped into the fray, with a
sweet smile for everyone.   “I believe I know the real reason Lord Riverton is
not in attendance.  I heard Lady Riverton may be in an interesting condition. 
She looked most unwell in Hatchard’s the other day.  Lord Riverton called for
their carriage immediately and kissed her on the street as they waited.”  Mary
paused as most of the young ladies either sighed or looked for the nearest
person to whom they could spread the delicious news.  “Are you all right Lady
Gwendolyn?  It seems your color is a bit off.”

“I am sure it is no such thing,” snapped Lady
Gwendolyn.  “And really, Lady Mary, you shouldn’t spread gossip like that.”

“Thank you, Lady Gwendolyn,” said Mary sweetly.  “I
am so thankful I can learn from your wisdom and experience of years.” 

Mel had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the
veiled insult, for while Lady Gwendolyn could not be considered a spinster at one
and twenty, many of the girls who’d had their come-out her same year were
already married, including the former Elizabeth Kellington, now Lady Riverton. 
And while Mel was sure her cousin had meant the comment as a barb, she was so
sweet-natured that no one else would know for certain.

It looked like Lady Gwendolyn had her suspicions,
but before she could act on them Mary excused herself then escorted her cousin
far from the fray.

“Mel,” said Mary kindly but firmly as soon as they
were out of earshot, “you would do well not to antagonize Lady Gwendolyn.  She
is a dreadful gossip, but she wields an enormous amount of power and I should
hate for her to make your time here more difficult.”

“You mean even more difficult than I make it
myself?” asked Mel with a wan smile.  “I do not especially care about the consequences
for me, but I should hate to think of hurting your chances, as well.  Although,
dear Mary, I believe you shall make a brilliant match soon enough.  You are
always surrounded by beaux wherever we go.”

Mel was genuinely happy for her good-natured cousin,
who was one of the most sought-after debutantes of the season.  Sometimes she
wished she could be more like Mary, wanting only a good match and a large home
in the city. 

Mary squeezed her cousin’s hand.  “You would have
more admirers than I if you made more of an effort, dearest.  You’re already
beautiful, which I daresay is most of what a gentleman looks for.  But,
sometimes, well….”

“Sometimes my bluestocking tendencies scare them
off?”  Now Mel couldn’t even pretend to stifle a laugh at her tactful cousin.

“In a word, yes,” said Mary, grinning.  “You
shouldn’t pretend to be what you aren’t.  But mayhap, you can show less of that
side until you get to know a gentleman better.  Oh, look!  I see Jessica and
Mabel are back from Paris.  We must speak to them about the newest fashions.  I
made them a most scandalous wager about undergarments.”

“I will let you go to them,” said Mel, pulling
away.  “And I hope you win the wager.  For my part, I would dearly love to find
a seat since these new slippers are pinching my feet.”

Mary gave her a rueful look that said she knew Mel
was crying off, but she didn’t press the matter.  As Mel turned to find an
unobtrusive seat she caught a glimpse of someone she’d been thinking about for
much of the day.  The man who’d intervened at Dill’s was in the ballroom. 

And he was coming her way.

*                    *                    *

Hal entered the ballroom definitely the worse for
wear.  He avoided such events as much as he could, but given the directive by his
family that very morning, he decided that if he had no choice in attending, he
would at least reserve the right to lubricate his evening as he saw fit. 

He and Charles Francis, currently standing next to
him and trying hard not to sway overly much, had begun drinking in Francis’s
rooms from his well-stocked sideboard, then stopped off at Dill’s for some
hazard and champagne.  Francis hadn’t wanted to attend the ball, but Hal had told
him misery loved company and there were likely any number of bored matrons who
wouldn’t object to a little companionship, as well. 

Of course, now that they were at the ball and the
subject of more than one dowager’s frosty looks, Hal wasn’t even sure if his
friend had been invited.  There were some who didn’t consider Charles Francis
good
ton
.  Hal suspected it wouldn’t be too much longer before some of
the high sticklers had problems with his behavior.

He thought he might as well make a start on that
tonight.

From the moment Hal entered the ballroom, he could
feel the eyes of the matchmaking mamas tracking his every move.  He felt rather
like a fox at a hunt.  He wondered how Lynwood tolerated it, for no matter how
much attention Hal attracted, it was so much worse for the duke.

Francis was also attracting his share of attention,
since he was only rarely seen at balls anymore.  He wasn’t titled, but he was
from a good family.  He was also handsome enough that he never lacked for
female companionship. 

“What say we get some refreshments,” said Francis,
even as he liberated two flutes of champagne from a passing footman, downing
both and walking toward a long table laden with food.

Hal followed, nodding lazily to acquaintances and
never stopping long enough to get embroiled in conversation.  But just as he
was about to reach the table, Lady Lawson stepped into his path.  Regina
Matthews, Lady Lawson, was ten years his senior and was the long-suffering wife
of a husband nearing sixty, whose great love in life was his hunting dogs.  Lady
Lawson did her best to fill her empty hours with diversions.  And it looked
like she’d selected Hal for her next one.

“Hallo, Hal,” purred Lady Lawson in a tone of voice
he recognized from two previous trysts with the woman.  She was a spirited bed
partner, even if she did like to be showered with unending compliments on her
looks.  She was quite attractive – a tall, slender brunette with curves in all
the right places – but he suspected she was feeling increasingly insecure with
age.  She couldn’t hold the interest of her much older husband, so Hal assumed
she longed for appreciation from younger men.  He was happy to oblige. 

“What could possibly bring you to the Raleighs’?” asked
Lady Lawson. “Never say you’re looking for a leg shackle.”

“I have no intentions of marrying, but I certainly
wouldn’t mind being shackled.  Especially if my jailer looked anything like
you, my lady.”  Hal slipped his hand into his pocket to ensure he had his
French letters.  He hadn’t planned on a trip to Madame Thurmond’s that evening,
but he liked to be prepared just in case.  “How’s Lawson?”

“In the card room talking about his favorite bitch,
which, I am ever so pleased to say, is not me.”

As Lady Lawson began the familiar litany of
complaints about her husband, Hal idly looked around the ballroom.  He knew the
responses she required and was able to supply the one-word replies without much
thought.  He wanted to put in an appearance with his family, so he could leave
again with haste.  It was easier to spend his evenings with drunks and whores. 
He felt, somehow, they were more honest than most members of the
ton
.

“Hal,” said Lady Lawson petulantly, “you’re not
listening.”

“Sorry, love,” said Hal, turning to her with half-closed
eyes and his lazy grin.  “Now what I can I do for you?”

Lady Lawson’s smile left little doubt as to how
exactly he could be of service.  A few words in his ear about time and place
and he was on his way to their assignation, where she would follow as soon as
it was safe to do so.

Hal decided there were some advantages to a
ton
ball, after all.

*                    *                    *

As the gentleman from Dill’s came her way, Mel
ducked behind a pillar.  She was curious about him, but it wouldn’t do to be
recognized.  If he said anything about her activities, it would surely get back
to her aunt and uncle.  She couldn’t afford to risk that, but she also wanted
to know more about the mysterious man. 

He was certainly handsome, not that she would be
swayed by anything so superficial as looks, especially since he’d appeared to
be inebriated the evening before at Dill’s and, if she had to guess, was in the
same state now.  She really shouldn’t want to make the acquaintance of someone
who’d been in his cups 100% of the time he’d been in her presence.  Not that he
knew he was in her presence.  He’d paid little enough attention to her the
night before, and had walked – or, rather, swayed – within a few feet of her
just now without noticing her.  Still, she was curious about him.  She decided
to follow him to learn who he was, so she’d know whom to avoid in the future.