Page 16 of A Stormy Season

“Do be kind to him tonight, my dear,” Penelope said, a crease forming above the bridge of her nose.

“Am I not always kind?” Jane waved her hand. “Don’t worry. I will not abuse the gentleman with whom every other unmarried lady in London is in love.”

Penelope smiled indulgently while Henry frowned at her. She hurried past them. “I must get dressed for tonight.”

Whydidshe resent all the attention and pity Luke Watley was getting? Perhaps it was because it was his own fault he married unwisely. Or perhaps she wished Society would give as much sympathy and compassion to poor widows as they did to poor Mr. Watley. After all, men didn’t crowd around Penelope, vying for her attention, when her first husband died and left her penniless, his estate entailed upon a cousin. Nor did anyone express great sympathy and concern for Catherine when her husband died and left her in debt.

Perhaps she was also comparing herself to him, that her chances at a good marriage were much inferior to his. But this kind of thinking smacked of pettiness and envy, two horribly unkind traits. With a sinking feeling, she wondered if Henry was right about her when he said she wasn’t very charitable.

As Penelope and Henry were so eager for her to be kind to Mr. Watley, she was determined to be so, for their sake. But she would not allow anyone to accuse her of throwing herself at him, of pursuing the young widower. She would be as friendly to him as to the other marriageable gentlemen present.

Chapter Six

Luke rode through the nighttime streets toward the assembly rooms the Gilchrists had rented for the ball.

He was not looking forward to an evening of trying to make pleasant conversation with people he barely knew. But perhaps it would distract him, as Henry had said. After his rather trying day of paying off all his wife’s debts, getting looks of both pity and mild derision, he needed a distraction. Besides, Jeffrey was away in Hertfordshire and he had little else to occupy his time. But now that he was done with his business, he might just close up the town house tomorrow and return to Hertfordshire himself.

Let Lenoir and his men have whatever was inside. He hardly cared anymore. He’d take his servants back with him so they would be safe, and Henry might even be able to use the house as a trap to catch Lenoir.

The assembly rooms were all lit up when Luke finally arrived. Henry and his wife greeted him as soon as he walked in. And then he noticed Jane Gilchrist standing beside Mrs. Gilchrist.

She greeted him much less warmly than her brother and sister-in-law, but he hardly minded. He recalled how he had abruptly turned away from her earlier that day. But she had never seemed very eager to talk to him.

Perhaps she was one of those women who didn’t care to marry. Such a thing seemed likely, since she was content to work in a shop and actually professed to enjoy it.

But then he saw the giggling, overly eager Miss Milicent Trotworthy hurrying toward him and groaned inwardly. He wasn’t sure if he could stand to have her stroke his arm as she had done the last time he’d found himself at a party with her, while she crooned under her breath, “I am so sorry for what you have endured, Mr. Watley. You didn’t deserve such things, and to be a widower at such a young age.” Her eyes were as big as saucers, until she started blinking rapidly, as if she was about to cry.

He'd been hard-pressed to escape her, however, since several other ladies had quickly surrounded him and Miss Milicent, which brought on a pouty expression on that lady’s face well worthy of a spoiled only child.

He turned to Jane and said, “May I have the first dance, Miss Gilchrist?”

Before Jane could answer him, a young gentleman who had entered the room just behind him grabbed her hand.

“Miss Gilchrist, it is the greatest pleasure to see you again. Won’t you dance the first two dances with me?”

“Mr. Showalter.” Jane looked almost panicked as she extricated her hand from his. She cast her eyes toward Luke and said, “I believe I am engaged to dance with Mr. Watley for those dances.” She smiled apologetically at Mr. Showalter.

Just then, Miss Milicent Trotworthy’s eye grew big and her mouth fell open. She almost immediately narrowed her eyes as she stared at Jane, her jaw hardening.

“Miss Milicent, do you know Mr. Showalter?” Luke said quickly.

“I don’t believe so,” Milicent said, her attention all on Luke.

He introduced the two of them, even though he couldn’t remember Mr. Showalter’s Christian name. But Milicent barely gave Mr. Showalter a glance and acknowledged him with only a mumbled, “How do you do?”

“Mr. Watley, I was hoping . . .” Milicent started to sidle up to him.

“Would you excuse me?” Luke said quickly. “I see someone I need to speak to.” He hurried away from the girl who not only wore her feelings on her sleeve, but displayed them very obviously on her face. And just now she looked as if she might stomp her foot on the floor, as her bottom lip was already beginning to protrude.

Perhaps it wasn’t so gentlemanly of him to avoid the lady in such a manner. Certainly he hadn’t expected to be dancing one dance, much less the first two dances, with Jane Gilchrist, but she was using him to avoid Mr. Showalter as much as he was using her to avoid Milicent.

At least Jane Gilchrist didn’t seem any more interested in forming an attachment to him than he was in her.

He caught up with one of the other men on Henry’s committee that watched and reported on the secret societies that had been forming in England, secret groups bent on changing England’s government as France had changed theirs.

As Luke struck up a conversation with the Member of Parliament, he was glad to see that Mr. Showalter and Miss Trotworthy were getting acquainted. She soon handed him her dance card and he, no doubt, wrote his name on it, claiming a couple of dances for the evening.

Perfect.