Captured Love (4 page)

The music slowed and she skipped the last steps. She
was breathless, hot and panting when she stopped. Hugh stepped forward and
gripped her arm. Meredith looked back across her shoulder, intending to look at
Lord Morton again, but before she could, she saw her father.

He lifted his hand, implying he wished to speak with
her.

 
“Would you care
to walk outside?” Hugh whispered, leaning toward Meredith’s ear.

She mentally sighed. No, Hugh did not cut her as Lord
Morton did; Hugh insulted her by expecting things from her she should not give.
He would not ask the same of Rowena. Rowena, he would wish to marry. Rowena, he
respected. No one in this room respected Meredith.

Had he not made that offer she might have tried to
avoid her father. But she was in no mood to let Hugh steal a kiss. No matter
how pointless her hopes were regarding the Earl of Morton, she was feeling rejected,
and now that Lord Morton was no longer chaperoning Rowena, Meredith would never
see him. This happy interlude in her life was at an end. One day soon she was
going to have to make a choice to marry someone, and it would be someone she did
not want.

“My father is beckoning me,
Mr.Holland
.
Would you take me to him?”

Hugh looked to confirm what she’d said, and when his
gaze came back to her, it had an edge of irritation.
“Oh,
very well then.
Perhaps later I could have the supper dance?”

“I... I am not sure...” She did not wish to dine with Hugh.
She was inclined to torture herself a little more. If she dined with Rowena,
then perhaps Lord Morton would sit with them.

“Meredith!” Her father’s voice boomed above all others.
It always did.

She
cringed
a little as
people about them stared.

Hugh swiftly bowed and disappeared.

Her father gripped her elbow tightly and turned her toward
the edge of the room. Once they’d passed through the crowd he found them an
empty sofa in an alcove, and bid her sit. She did, her fingers gripping the
seat cushion beside her thighs as she looked up at him.

He sat too, sweeping back his coattails before taking
the space beside her.

He’d never sat with her at a ball before.

 
“
Perrigrew
has a proposal for you,” he opened without
preamble.

“For me?”
Perrigrew
was her father’s
business partner. His wife had passed away six weeks ago. Since then he had
spent a lot time at her father’s house.

“Yes, it is the perfect idea. I like it quite well,
myself. It would develop a true partnership between us.”

She was not following what he said, though she watched
his lips. She looked up at his eyes. “I’m sorry, Papa. What proposal?”

“
A
proposal.”

“A proposal?”

“Oh child, do not act as though you cannot know. He
has eaten with us several times in the last couple of weeks.”

She did not understand and merely looked at her father.
Her fingers were still clutching the cushion. She released it, instead clasping
her hands in her lap, and straightened her back, trying to remember to look
elegant, as she’d been taught.

“He intends to offer for you tonight, child. He wishes
to speak with you alone. He is coming here to speak with you. He should arrive
soon. I came ahead to have chance to talk to you before. I have given my
consent. So you may say yes, immediately. But
Perrigrew
is an old-fashioned sort. He wishes to say the words to you himself, and then
we thought—”

She stood, looking down at him. “What words, Papa? Thought
what?”

He stood too and took her hand.
“That
the wedding could take place in a week or so, with a special license.
There
is no point in hanging about with such agreements. The marriage contract has
been signed.”

Meredith opened her mouth but no words came out.
No
.
 
Mr.Perrigrew
was
older than her father! She had
seen
 
Mr.Perrigrew
looking at her, often, but... She had never imagined this.
How could she have imagined this?

Emotion welled in Meredith’s chest. She felt like
crying and screaming all at once. She had never imagined such an end to her
life.

She would rather throw herself off a cliff than
accept
 
Mr.Perrigrew
.
She would rather be Hugh Holland’s lover
than
 
Mr.Perrigrew’s
wife. Her thoughts raced, spinning and twirling and tangling up.
Oh God. How could she...

Turning away, without any thought or apology, she fled
the room, her heart a pounding a drum in her chest and her ears. She felt sick
and faint as she ran out onto the terrace.
Oh
God, no, please. I cannot marry a man I care nothing for.
She did not stop.
She carried on, one hand gripping her skirt, while her small still-empty dance
card dangled from her little finger, and her reticule, which hung from her
wrist, bounced against her hip as she raced off along the moonlit garden path.

When she reached a summerhouse, she stopped, catching
her breath and recovering her wits as she looked back in the direction of the
house. The path was dark, screened off from the terrace by trees, blocking any
light from the ballroom.

She sat down on a bench in the whitewashed, wooden sanctuary—
covered her face with her hands, and cried, feeling a wave of utter despair
sweep over her. If this was what her father wished for her, she could do
nothing else. Her life was to be given
to
 
Mr.Perrigrew
.
She would not come to balls, or parties, or anything... He would not even allow
her to keep Rowena as a friend; she knew he would not.
 
Mr.Perrigrew
rarely socialized
with the
ton
. She had heard him call
them pretentious fools and accuse her father of social climbing. The last
charge had been thrown against her father for bringing her out into the
ton
.
 
Mr.Perrigrew
had
said her father would be seen as a parasite, and not a businessman, for doing
so.

Her father thought
Mr.Perrigrew
a friend. Meredith did not think him a friend.
Mr.Perrigrew
had always seemed divisive to her, and this step only proved she was the one
who was right.

Why had her father bothered sending her to school for
a year to prepare for her come out, and give her hopes by telling her,
frequently, how he wished her to win a title, if he then just gave her to
Mr.Perrigrew
? He must have realized, now, how stupid his
hope had been.

Her skin tingled as tears trickled down her cheeks.
Oh God.
Her heart felt as though it was
breaking.

“Miss Divine?”

Meredith stiffened, swiftly wiping away the tears from
her cheeks, but she did not stand as she looked up at Lord Morton. She hadn’t
heard him approach. But then she had been crying, and her hands had been
covering her face. She said nothing. What was there to say? He loathed her. He
would not be interested in her fate.

She felt angry with him suddenly, angry, bitter and
resentful. How was it possible to love someone so much, when he hated you?

Rupert met Miss Divine’s gaze. He stood at the door of
the summerhouse looking in at her. She was sitting alone.

The color of her eyes was nondescript in the dark,
though the moonlight reached into the summerhouse and turned her white dress
gray.

She’d been crying when he approached.

Rupert had seen her turn and run from her father, and
although her flight was done in full view of the room, with no attempt to mask
her haste, he doubted many people had noted her departure. She was of little
interest to people here.

Yet, he’d sensed something odd in her sudden flight,
and so he’d followed, with Edward’s words of earlier ringing in his head.

He was looking for the grays in between the black and
white. Her distress had appeared genuine when she’d fled, and, now, well... Her
eyes glistened with tears, making them shine like dark sapphires as the
moonlight caught her face when she stood.

An hour ago, he’d have thought this some ploy, but the
girl genuinely looked upset.

He had misjudged Ellen. What if Edward was
right,
and Rupert had misjudged Miss Divine, too? He’d been
treating her pretty poorly if that was true. He’d made no secret of his ill opinion.
But then he remembered all the weeks she had pressed close to Rowena, crowding
his sister, and trying to outshine her by speaking louder, and smiling more
brightly. Yet he should at least ask... It was only gentlemanly... “Is
something wrong?”

She sniffed and then withdrew a handkerchief from the reticule,
which hung from her wrist. He supposed he could have offered his handkerchief,
but his mind was caught up in trying to see any gray in the black and white he
had been viewing for weeks. He was still uncertain what this was about. But
whatever it was about, she was plainly upset.

She blew her nose,
then
stuffed
the handkerchief back into her reticule, before looking up again.

He was used to her smiling at him when she looked at
him. She always smiled. It was a broad, open expression she seemed to have
perfected just for him. He received it every time he looked at her. She did not
smile now, merely looked at him with eyes full of pain, and something else...
Anger?

Damn
, was this some ruse?

His gaze fell away from hers. Her white gown glowed in
the darkness, the inky color of night staining it light blue more than gray. It
was like her eyes, hard to decide exactly which. Yet there was still a contrast
between skin, and hair, and gown. The opening cleft of her cleavage drew his
eyes as it ran into the bodice of her dress, like an arrow drawing his
attention to where it should not be. He’d noticed that the girl had curves long
ago, but until last night he had not looked at her closely.
And
now?

His gaze lifted back up to her face. If he could see
the color of her skin, he would lay odds on the fact she was blushing, but the
fire of anger had gone from her eyes
;
 
there
seemed only sorrow in them now.

“My father has accepted a marriage offer, on my
behalf. I was unaware of it...” After she spoke, her gaze dropped to the level
of Rupert’s cravat and she sniffed again.
“With his business
partner,
Mr.Perrigrew
.”

Rupert frowned. He knew
Mr.Perrigrew
.
He was older than
Kendrick,
and cantankerous too. Rupert
would not wish such a match on her, no matter that he did not like her.

“What will you do?”

Instinctively, when she lifted her gaze and tears
sparkled in her eyes once more, he lifted his hand and touched her arm to
comfort her.

As soon as he did her head lowered and her forehead
fell to rest against his shoulder. His hand shifted to her back, and he could
feel her sobs as they jolted her body.

“Miss Divine,” he whispered, offering verbal concern,
as well as physical comfort, as behind him he heard her father call.

“Meredith! Meredith! Where are you, girl?”

There were other voices too, several.

Rupert instantly recognized the danger. He was alone
with her here.

“Meredith!”

Lord Morton drew away from her, his hand slipping down
her back and falling away.

Her anger had burned out within minutes of him
speaking to her. For the second night, he had noticed her, and touched her.
Hope and longing suddenly poured into her heart as a flash of inspiration
flared like a flame in her mind. She would... She could...
Oh.

She did something she knew she should not.

There was a band of lace tucked into the neckline of
her gown. It was designed to hide her cleavage, though she had always
repositioned it to show her bosom off as soon as she arrived at a ball.
But now...
Her hand lifted, and she pulled it loose, freeing
it a little on one side, so it hung from her gown, as though something, or
someone, had disturbed it, and as she did so, her other hand clasped Lord Morton’s
nape, and then pulled his head down.
I am
not letting him go. I am not.

He was obviously too surprised to react and pull away,
and as his head
lowered,
she lifted onto her toes, and
pressed her lips to his.

“Meredith Divine! What the hell is going on here?” Her
father’s voice boomed into the night air, echoing across the whole garden. “Morton!
Let go of my daughter! I will not have this! You are dallying with her!”

There seemed to be an outcry as Lord Morton pulled
away, and she let him go.