Page 17 of Holly & Folly

Mr. Fowell seemed concerned that her injury would make using her utensils difficult. As he picked up her fork for her, her gaze flicked to Archie.

He lifted a brow.

She smiled but broke her gaze away and demonstrated that she was quite capable of holding a fork.

“Do share the source of your amusement, Dalmeer,” Lord Stanhope said.

“You would not find it amusing even if I did.”

He found his gaze veering to Miss Prescott many times over the course of the meal and a strange, twisted hope growing within him that Mr. Fowell would annoy her enough to make her change her mind.

Six

NELL

After the humiliating attempts to hand-feed her at dinner, Nell avoided Mr. Fowell in the drawing room as well as she could. She was relieved when he played cards almost the entire time with one of the other gentlemen. His concern over her injury had been genuine if shallow, for he had not seemed inclined to discuss the details before eating.

The guests mingled and talked, and Wesley and Millie performed introductions. Mr. Stroud was polite to Nell, but his sister’s lips pinched together in a speaking way before she forced them into a smile—one that stretched large and genuine when she addressed Wesley afterward.

It was not the only cool introduction of the evening, but Nell tried to bear it with as much grace as she could, even when Mr. Kendrick’s response to learning her name was a stiff bow and an “Ah, yes. I have heard much about you.”

She tried not to sigh. It seemed her lot at Bellthorne to be treated to condemnatory looks and whispers—or even liberties being taken.

Plague take her reputation!

Once everyone dispersed to their bedchambers for the night, Nell paid a visit to Millie. Seeing her friend’s accommodations—a fine, large room papered in pink with mint trim—only reaffirmed that Lady Dalmeer had chosen Nell’s room for one of two reasons: to keep her as far as possible from the guests she truly wanted at Bellthorne or to make her experience there as uncomfortable as possible. Both, perhaps.

Nell did not recount her own experiences from the day to her friend, for Millie had far more exciting news to tell, and Nell’s thoughts were still too jumbled to know what to say.

Perhaps she was being too sensitive and should be flattered by Mr. Fowell’s attentions. She might call herself fortunate to be receiving such attention from anyone after the scandal last year. How many times she had wished she could turn back time and shake herself for her naivety and selfishness.

The fact that Lord Dalmeer seemed to like her was unaccountable—except when she remembered that he had no idea why he should not be associating with her. Though, he seemed intrigued rather than deterred by the references she had made to her indiscretion.

Perhaps, then, it was not that he liked her but rather wished to use her for his purposes. Or he thought the damage to her reputation came from something trivial like arriving late to Almack’s.

Should she have accepted his offer? She would not be opposed to spending more time with him, which was precisely why she had refused.

The last time she had allowed herself to spend time with a man whose company she had enjoyed, she had found her character in shreds and her heart bruised almost beyond bearing. The biggest difference in the situation, she supposed, was that at least Lord Dalmeer had been frank that he had no interest in marriage.

Now, her reputation was such that she was obliged to knock on Wesley’s door after her tête-à-tête with Millie and ask him to walk her to her bedchamber for propriety’s sake.

“How was your day?” Wesley asked as they made their way down the corridor.

“It was…interesting. And yours?”

He nodded. “Interesting is a good way to put it. Are you enjoying yourself?”

She kept her gaze ahead, but she could feel his keen eyes on her. Wesley felt responsible for her, and she had no wish to burden him with her cares when he should be enjoying himself. Finding himself a wife, even.

She smiled. “Yes, very much so.”

“Have people been…kind?”

She thought of the way Miss Stroud had spoken to her—as though she was trying her very hardest not to hold her nose. She fancied Wesley, though, which she seemed to accept would mean finding a way to endure Nell. There had been others, though, who had taken fewer pains to pretend they welcomed her at Bellthorne.

“Quite kind,” Nell reassured him as they reached the staircase. “Has anyone caught your eye?”

Wesley stopped, frowning and looking around. “Where are we going, Nell?”