Page 19 of The Truth about the Marquess
“Oh.” Mortification swirled through him as he began to question whether or not she had already told him, and he had not been listening to her as she had done so. “I am terribly sorry– both to hear that from you and also for my lack of awareness. Perhaps you already told me and–”
“No, I am sure that I did not.” Lady Harsham smiled and then took his hand, rendering Oliver silent as shock – or was it relief? – rushed through him. “Yes, I should be glad to dance, I thank you.”
It was not until Lord Dunstable cleared his throat that Oliver started and then responded, going cold and then hot again as he realized that he had been standing staring at the lady for the last few minutes.
“Forgive me, I was lost in confusion for a moment.”
He smiled and then, lifting her hand in his, turned and walked towards the center of the chalked floor, ready to dance the cotillion with the lady.
They did not say much to each other as they danced, though Oliver found that there was no awkwardness there, no pressure upon him to find the right words to speak. Instead, he enjoyed her smiles, the few words that they did share, and with it, the relief that came in knowing that she did not hold his harsh words about her against him.
When the dance came to an end, Oliver offered the lady his arm.
“Might I find you some refreshment, Lady Harsham?”
She tipped her head, just a little.
“I should like to accept, but I would not like to prevent you from seeking out any young ladies, Lord Edenbridge. Three, was not the advice?”
Astonishment ran through him as he stared back at her, only for the lady to drop her gaze, her face turning a slow shade of pink.
“How… how did you know that I had written that letter?”
Lady Harsham closed her eyes and then pressed her lips together, as though she were preparing to give him anexplanation, but struggling to find the words, only for a clear realization to strike itself across Oliver’s heart. With a groan, he shook his head, rubbing one hand over his eyes.
“Of course. You overheard my conversation with Lord Dunstable. Forgive me, I did not realize.”
“I – I should not have been eavesdropping,” the lady began, only for Oliver to shake his head.
“No, no. It was myself and Lord Dunstable who were speaking without any real consideration for who might be around us. I believe that I thought, in approaching a quieter part of the ballroom, that there would be no one to hear us, but that was a foolish thought, was it not?” He let out a wry chuckle, then shrugged. “I suppose there is no need for me to pretend any longer. Yes, Lady Harsham, I took your advice, and I wrote to The London Chronicle.” He offered his arm again and this time, much to his relief, she took it, and they began to walk together. “I am sure that you already suspected that I was the one who wrote that letter, after what you had witnessed between myself and Miss Dutton, and our conversation thereafter.”
A tinkling laugh came from Lady Harsham, though her cheeks were still hot.
“Yes, I confess that I was.”
“Then I confirmed it in what I said,” Oliver continued, with another rueful smile. “I do hope that you do not think me foolish, Lady Harsham. I do have specific...requirements,but I do not think that a bad thing.”
“No indeed! I think it an excellent notion,” came the reply, as Lady Harsham smiled warmly up at him. “It is always important to know the true nature of the person you might soon marry.” Her smile slipped, a flash of some emotion that Oliver could not make out coming into her eyes. “You are wise to be so considered.”
“I thank you.”
“And you can be assured that I will not speak of what I know to anyone,” she continued, as they stopped by a table, picking up a glass each, though Lady Harsham did take her other hand from his arm, separating them. She took a sip though her eyes did not leave his, as though she was considering something but not quite certain whether or not to say it.
Oliver waited, keeping a small smile fixed on his lips.
“I could…” Lady Harsham sighed and looked away. “I could assist you if you wish. I may not be any help since I have been out of society for so long, but I could certainly find out a little more about the characters of the young ladies you might consider a good deal more easily than you could.”
A surge of hope rushed through Oliver, making him beam back at her.
“That would be both welcome and wonderful, Lady Harsham!”
She looked surprised, perhaps having expected him to refuse her.
“Are you quite sure? As I have said, I might be of very little use.”
“But I trust you,” he said, realizing that he did, in fact, trust the lady’s word, even after such a short acquaintance. “You seem to understand what it is that I am searching for, and why I seek it so fervently and that, in turn, speaks to my heart. Yes, Lady Harsham, I would be grateful for any help that you can offer me.”
“Though I do think that you should still write to The London Chronicle if you wish for more advice,” she continued, speaking a little more quietly now, so as not to be overheard. “The advice you have been given seems to have been what you were hoping for and, though I can now help you as you search for the three young ladies to consider, I cannot offer much more than that.”
