152Chapter Two
Chapter Two
In which both the hero and the heroine attempt to save the same damsel in distress.
Vincent scowled as he strode through the crowd after Miss Christina Gordon. He had been passing by the curtained alcove just in time to hear Miss Gordon's hurt outburst. After she had rushed off, he had spied none other than Miss Rosalind Fulton sitting with any artfully shocked expression on her exquisite face. It had not taken much thought at all to surmise what had occurred. Rosalind Fulton obviously did not reserve her maliciousness for unsuspecting suitors.
He followed Miss Gordon to the edge of the ballroom, catching up to her just before she reached the terrace doors. "Miss Gordon," he greeted, stepping in front of her to catch her attention. "I was wondering if you are engaged for this next dance."
She looked up at him, the exertion of being upset and her rush through the ballroom's crush having made her face rather red. Vincent refrained from blinking even as she did so, looking rather like a surprised calf. Pushing that uncharitable thought from his mind, Vincent schooled his features into polite expectation.
"Oh! Oh, Lord Farley," she whispered – gasped? "Oh, how – how do you do?"
"Very well, thank you. And yourself?"
"Oh, oh! Well… well. Thank you." She stood there, still looking quite stunned.
Vincent cleared his throat. "And your next dance?"
"Dance? Oh, yes. Of course." She lifted her wrist and looked at her dance card, which was rather sadly empty, and blushed scarlet. "Uh… uh… I believer I am not engaged for this dance."
Giving her his most charming smile, Vincent took her hand and bowed over it. "Wonderful. Shall we?"
Rosalind watched as Vincent led Christina Gordon onto the dance floor, the former smiling kindly and the latter looking quite stunned. She had foregone pleading a headache in favour of assuring herself that Miss Gordon was indeed well. Now, she did not know whether to be upset or charmed by Vincent. Oh, why did have to be so utterly wonderful, so fantastically dashing, so completely a gentleman? It was as if she were fifteen again, and he was unwittingly stealing her heart once more. Oh, it simply was not fair!
"Miss Rosalind should not have been so unkind to you," Vincent said to Miss Gordon as he led her through the dance. He forced himself not to wince when she trod on his toe, going on as if nothing of the sort had occurred.
"You heard? Oh… oh, dear…" Miss Gordon looked extremely chagrined. "I – I do not believe she meant to be unkind. In fact, I think she was actually trying to comfort me."
"By insulting you?" Vincent asked sceptically, unable to keep his bitterness from his voice.
Miss Gordon coloured violently, looking miserable, and he cursed himself silently. "Forgive me. We need not speak of Miss Rosalind if the subject upsets you. I know she can be trying." Oh, how very well he knew!
They were silent for a long moment, and then he heard Miss Gordon mumble something, which sounded like, "She truly was not being unkind."
"Of course not," he agreed, because a gentleman should not contradict a lady.
"It – it is only that… well, after what Miss Lowell said in the powder room… well, Miss Rosalind was trying to take the sting out of it, I suppose, and I rather took my frustration out on her. Oh… oh, dear. I should apologize to her. Excuse me."
And right there in the middle of the dance floor, she turned to leave him, only to crash into another dancer. It all happened so quickly that Vincent could do nothing but blink in horror as the entire dance disintegrated like a house of cards, with no less than four people landing upon their bottoms.
Across from him, standing just off the parquet, Rosalind Fulton watched with similar dismay and… sympathy? And for a moment, the past three years melted away, as the softness of her expression touched the heart that had loved her so well once upon a time. For the short time it took to draw and release a single breath, they were as they had been three years ago, Rose and Vincent, as close in heart and soul as any two persons could ever be.
Then Vincent followed her gaze to see Miss Gordon on the verge of tears amidst the chaos she had caused. Quickly, he bent down. "Miss Gordon, please allow me to assist you."
Not waiting for a reply – he was not quite sure she could manage one at this point – he took her arm, helped her to her feet and quickly made for the alcove where she had previously been ensconced with Rosalind – er, Miss Rosalind Fulton, that is.
She began to sniffle just as they reached the hiding place, and was sobbing by the time he had her seated. Vincent stood beside her, torn between the gentlemanly instinct to stay and the panicked urge to run. He had grown up in a household of men, and the phenomenon of female tears were as foreign to him as Chinese script.
A scent of roses and vanilla drifted into the space, and then Rosalind – Miss Rosalind, damn it – was slipping past him to sit beside Miss Gordon. "There now," she whispered, passing a handkerchief to the other girl. "It was only an accident. Accidents happen all the time."
There was no response, not even the smallest change to the racking sobs. Rosalind turned to him, "You may go now, if you wish, my lord."
Vincent did not even consider the fact that he, a lord of the realm, had just been dismissed by a mere slip of a girl. He turned tail and ran.
Rosalind turned back to Miss Gordon, murmuring nonsense words of comfort until the other girl's weeping subsided into the occasional sniffle or hiccup.
"I – I'm truly sorry, Miss Rosalind," she said miserably. "It was ill of me to be angry with you earlier, and just now, that horrid display of self pity…"
"You have nothing for which to be sorry," Rosalind assured her. "It is all quite understandable."
Miss Gordon sniffed and hiccupped simultaneously, and then sent a somewhat wistful glance towards the curtained doorway. "He was splendidly kind, do you not agree?"
Rosalind blinked. "Vin – Viscount Farley, you mean? Oh, yes, indeed he was."
"He thought you had been unkind to me, but I told him it was quite the reverse. He is very handsome."
Rosalind's eyes widened and something rather horrid pricked her stomach. "Yes, he is."
Miss Gordon sighed wistfully, her tears quite done away with, and the prickle in Rosalind's stomach solidified into something akin to fear. Miss Gordon fancied Vincent! Her Vincent!
Only he was not truly hers, was he? He did not even like her. He, from all appearances and apparent evidence, quite despised her. Had not Miss Gordon just said that he had immediately assumed that it was her fault that Miss Gordon had been so upset? And so if she had no hope of winning Vincent Cadwaller, why should she be afraid of Miss Gordon's affections for him? One could not compete in a race one was not in – my, that was an awkward thought, but Rosalind felt sure the analogy held true.
And Vincent had been remarkably kind to Miss Gordon, who certainly did not deserve a man who would be unkind to her. So why should the two of them not be together? Miss Gordon was certainly of a good enough family background to suit Vincent's social standing, and, despite her somewhat unfortunate looks, had a good, humble, biddable character.
From a completely rational and unbiased standpoint, it was a perfect match.
Now she simply needed to ignore her silly little, girlish heart that said otherwise.
Well, while the Honan ball certainly could not be called the fete of the Season by any stretch of the imagination, it was still quite and interesting night. One Miss AL pleaded a headache at only ten in the evening. One source reports that the lovely girl was, in reality, quite distraught due to the rebuke she received for complimenting a rather unfortunately dressed Miss CG. 'Who could do such a horrid, un-genteel thing?' you ask. Why it was no other than Miss RF, the same who gave such grief to Dowager Lady D last week!
While there is no doubt that Miss RF is indeed the most beautiful debutante to grace our Society this Season, such a wicked manner denotes a character lacking in that modesty and gentility one rightly expects from all well-bred young ladies! This author would venture to suggest that her beauty has gone to her head! If the girl wishes to marry at all, she truly must learn some manners. I send my sympathies to Missus F for having to take up the task.
As to the aforementioned Miss CG, despite the unfortunate pairing of pink dress with even pinker skin, she certainly did pull off quite a coupe last night, not very long after the incident between the Misses AL and RF. It is well-known – and, dare I say, well celebrated – that a certain Lord F has just recently come out of mourning for his father and is now once again out and about in Society. At last night's ball, he took part in two (and only two) dances. The first was with the mildly attractive Miss HS. The second was with the aforementioned Miss CG. One can only imagine how she managed to catch his attention!
Unfortunately, she rather spoilt her good fortune when she caused half of those dancing to fall rather gracelessly to the floor.
A.N. Yes, I do realize that it is a very short chapter, but there is simply nothing more to say that would feel right to say in this chapter.