Page 42 of The Gentlewoman Companion

“Some do not think I belong.” Miss Trelawney, for example. “They know that I ran away and disapprove. Or they see me as a lady’s companion who does not know her place.”

“You’ve escaped those who would direct your life without your consent. Don’t cage yourself again to others’ opinions.” Nellie moved off to look through Louisa’s trinkets and jewelry, straightening pieces and fingering others in consideration.

Louisa traced her mother’s brooch. Nellie was right: she was placing boundaries around herself based on what others expected. She always had. That night, she would celebrate her escape from marriage and the freedom Lady Halverton had given her by enjoying her dress and the ball without reservation. She would not think herself unworthy because she had fled her father’s maneuverings or worry that she was not equal to anyone else because she was an employed companion.

“Where is that little ring your Aunt Mary gave you?” Nellie asked.

“I sent it to Charles. He threatened to spread my story if I did not send him money.”

“The little brute. Do you think you did right?”

“I only know that if the world discovers the truth of my…” she paused, then whispered, “Great Misjudgment, I will not be able to claim a place in society. Not even Lady Halverton will see that as heroic.” Charles would probably write her again, demanding more and more until she could no longer deter him from revealing her secret. She took a long breath to push away her anxieties. Nothing would keep her from enjoying this evening—not even Lord Halverton’s low spirits. One glance in the mirror assured her that Nellie had indeed done her best work. She pinched her cheeks, smiled at herself, and bid farewell to her friend.

Mr. Alexander Lewis pressed his palm into Louisa’s raised hand as they turned together with the other dancing couples. He skipped around her, elevating his knees to an impressive height. Louisa giggled and was rewarded by a jovial flash of Mr. Alexander’s teeth followed by a little flourish of his hand.

“I must congratulate you,” he said. “Your accent is nearly imperceptible.”

“Thank you, me ’ansome. You canno’ tell tha’ I grew up with pirates?” They laughed and chaséed down the line.

Louisa’s gaze snagged on Lord Halverton, who stood at the edge of the ballroom watching her beneath storm-cloud brows. His foul mood poisoned the peace she’d begun to feel at Lundbrooke. Since that evening’s conversation with Nellie, Louisa had silently enumerated her triumphs. Chief among them was that as Lady Halverton’s companion, Louisa was doing, for the first time in her life, something of her own choosing. A great deal of elation accompanied that success, sending her into temporary flights of ecstasy that Lord Halverton spoiled with his long face and sad eyes.

He spent his time listless and idle in the library but was eager to ruin her walks and rides with his reserved and gloomy company. Louisa had noticed Lady Halverton watching him with drawn eyes, motivating Louisa to draw Halverton out. But when she invited him to play unconventional pall mall, he refused. In the evenings, she read aloud the most humorous excerpts of Chaucer—skipping the crude bits—but he barely smiled. She could not even engage him in a political topic.

Well, his glare would not interfere with the agreeable dance she was sharing with Mr. Lewis, who was spinning her with a little too much enthusiasm. She bumped into another gentleman and turned to apologize. Before she could utter a word, Mr. Lewis took her hands and pulled her down the line. At one time, she would have worried what that gentleman thought of her running into him without a “pardon me,” but tonight she did not care.

Nellie was right. How pleasant not to be encumbered with the pressure of finding a husband or wondering what every individual thought of her. Every man she met felt like a friend, and she was enjoying this ball more than any she’d attended. She laughed and smiled with anyone who engaged her attention, forgoing any motive to impress or morph into a particular sort of lady.

When they had arrived at the local assembly where the ball was held, Lady Halverton had introduced Louisa as her “dear young friend.” The frosty way Lady Halverton intercepted any slights directed at Louisa and pushed her forward in conversation sent a clear message. Everyone received Louisa affably. Even Mrs. Trelawney and Miss Trelawney greeted her with a friendly smile, though Miss Trelawney was surrounded by a circle of whispering young women and did not invite Louisa into the discussion. No matter. Thus far, Louisa had had a partner for every set and had even declined a few gentlemen.

The dance ended, and Mr. Alexander escorted her to Lady Halverton, who patted her arm but remained deep in conversation with a friend.

Lord Halverton appeared at her side. “I believe the next set is mine.” His voice was almost a growl.

“I will not hold it against you if you wish to abstain.”

His glower deepened. “I do not dance with you out of a sense of duty.”

“Then stop looking at me as though I caused eternal darkness. Perhaps I can fetch a sherry to cheer you?”

He sighed but softened his expression. “You are not the cause of my foul mood, Miss Thorpe. The truth is…” He looked as if he were going to say more to explain himself and then suddenly changed his mind. “The truth is, I am vexed because you have not had many suitable partners this evening. Mr. Lewis is a fop.”

An unsatisfying explanation, as it was obviously not the truth, or at least not the full truth, but she would play along. “My lord, are you jealous? Now I need a sherry.” She waved her fan with exaggeration and batted her lashes. “There. Now that your brows are not threatening rain, I will dance with you.”

When her arm rested on his, she was conscious that his nearness gave her pleasure. If he’d chosen to forego their dance, she would have been disappointed. However diverting Mr. Lewis was, she and Lord Halverton shared a comfortable camaraderie, even when he was irritable. There was no one in the room with whom she would rather spend time, Lady Halverton included. If she could but lighten his mood.

She performed a dramatic curtsy to begin the dance, hoping to put a smile on his face. His lips turned up then quivered into a frown. Perhaps he was trying. The orchestra’s bright notes enticed her forward, and she reached to clasp his hands. They turned, changing places in the line. He performed the dance like a music box ticking out its tune, precise but unfeeling, not unlike everything else he did, all duty and no amusement. But he could be diverting, and she wanted him to join her in the fun.

She sneered at his back when he turned. It was juvenile, but wasn’t he being childish as well? Pouting for no reason. Spoiling her night.

He caught her pulling the face. “Are you ever serious?”

She laughed. “Not at a ball. Do you ever enjoy yourself?”

They joined hands and came together in the center of the line. The heat of his gloved hands warmed more than just her fingers. An unwelcome sensation. She focused her attention on cheering him. After all, she did not want to think of him romantically—or any man. She stepped back and linked arms with another partner.

When she faced him again, he said, “Excuse me for spoiling your evening.”

“I would appreciate your abandonment of this peevish temper until our set ends.” She meant to tease, but the comment left her cold. They were friends, and she recognized that he was not merely grumpy or irritable. He was miserable. Whatever had happened to change him from a driven man, interested in the world, to this despondent, melancholy creature must be serious. No effort to ignore his gloom kept her stomach from knotting at his distress.