Her Saving Grace (7 page)

“You look… stunning,” Lilly said as Damaris examined herself in the mirror.

“I look like a courtesan,” Damaris argued, trying to pull the dress higher over her bust.

“Hush.”
Lilly slapped her hand away. “It is the fashion and it suits you well.”

“Can I not wear a
chemisette to fill in the neck?”

“Nonsense, you look lovely.”

“But I feel so… exposed.”

“You haven’t kept
up with fashion for a very long time, Damaris, in fact I can hardly remember the last time when you weren’t in mourning dress, or your husband’s clothing. Society will not hold with such things, my girl, no matter how practical gentlemens’ dress may be and you have to shape up your ideas if you want to be a part of it once again.”

“But I don’t want to be a part of it!” she complained. “As soon as this is settled, I intend to go home and keep to myself.”

“Well that’s as may be, but you have your reasons for joining Society again right now and you have to look the part.”

“Very well,” Damaris sighed. “Now, let me help you into your gown.”

As Lilly turned away, Damaris surreptitiously tried once again to haul her collar higher, but to little avail.

Nathaniel
hadn’t been looking forward to the May Ball this evening and in fact, had been intending to make his excuses, if he could but upon hearing his mother and sister gossiping that Lady Wellesley was to attend, he found the idea rather more appealing.

He had disco
vered relatively little in the way of suspects for her father’s death, but he believed that he had discovered a great deal about her character, although he still found her to be a puzzle.

Just two days ago she had been exceptionally rude and all but thrown him from her house and at the time, he had promised that he would have as little to do with her
throughout the rest of the investigation, as was possible.

Now, a
fter speaking with Charles Howard’s friends at the club, then to his mistress, he found himself quite fascinated with the woman. They had used a number of verbs to describe Damaris to him, including intelligent, generous, extraordinary, bright, gifted, and kind to a fault; nothing at all like the experience he had of her character.

He might have blamed her bereavements for the change in her character, since many people hadn’t had much contact with her in recent times, except for the fact that her father’s mistress still visited with her for two weeks out of every year, and spoke most highly of her.

The mistress, Marissa, also wasn’t at all what he might have expected. She was exceptionally pretty but very demure, almost chaste, but once she learned that he was a friend of Damaris (only a small white lie, he felt) she was very open with him.

She came from a well to do family but they were without wealth and
as such, when a wealthy young Lord, whom she refused to name, appeared interested in courting Marissa, her mother did her best to push them together. The result was Marissa’s disgrace as it soon became clear to everyone, after he had compromised her, that she was a mere dalliance to him and he had never truly been interested in her as a potential wife.

T
o save her sisters and the rest of her family disgrace, she had left before what happened became common knowledge. She had managed to save some of her pin money each week but once she got to London, it didn’t go anywhere near as far as she expected.

When Charles Howard came upon her one day, offering her his assistance since she was out alone, she had explained that she was an orphan and looking for a position. He had no position to give her but did offer to provide for her and feeling that she had little option, she accepted.

When he didn’t require her favours in return, she was shocked, having come to think the worst of all men. He found apartments for her and visited her frequently. She came to trust him and confided the truth of her situation, which he took very well and continued to visit. He began to confide in her also, telling her of his fine daughter, and his less than fine sons and wife.

They fell in love, she claimed, and
Nathaniel was inclined to believe her.

Although they did not meet
until after Charles died, the picture she painted of Damaris from Charles’ description was of a very lively young woman, who was exceptionally talented at any number of things.

Charles was unable to provide for Marissa in his will and even if he had, his estate hadn’t been settled yet since his
body was only recently discovered. He had however, left a letter for Damaris with his lawyer, which was to be given to her in the event of his death. After a month without hide nor hair of Charles, the lawyer took it upon himself to forward the letter to Damaris, with explanations. He knew some of its contents and he worried that Charles’ wishes were not being observed.

The letter asked her to take care of Marissa and since Damaris had so recently given bi
rth, Marissa was summoned to Wellesley Hall.

Marissa was very taken with the young woman and it seemed, Damaris was quite taken with her.
Since Marissa‘s London address might be known to people who had the wrong impression of her character, Damaris had arranged for her to have a small house and servant on the outskirts of town, and provided her with a large enough allowance that Marissa was now free to live without a gentleman.

She spent her days writing but had only sent her stories to Damaris as she felt she had little talent. Damaris had
asked on many occasions, to let her send the manuscripts to publishing houses and even offered to fund a book herself, but Marissa felt that she was not talented enough for that.

All in all, the impression he was given of Damaris was so wholly different from his own, as to be almost the exact opposite.
Now that he had a second chance to get to know her, he intended to do his best to discover who she really was; he hoped that she gave him the opportunity.

Alighting from the carriage first, he helped his mother and sister down, leaving his younger brother, Matthew, to exit on his own. By unspoken agreement, he escorted their mother while Matthew offered his arm to their sister, Annabelle.

Although he had spent far longer than usual with his valet, picking an outfit, he still fiddled with the front of his tailcoat as they walked. While dark trousers were coming into fashion for men, Nathanial still preferred to wear breeches for formal occasions, as did his brother. He wondered if Damaris would prefer trousers or breeches.

“Nate, stop fussing,” his brother teased, as they walked towards the a
ssembly hall. “You know any woman in this town would kill for your title and lands.”

“Not every woman,” Annabelle teased.

“You don’t count,” Matthew told her.

“I didn’t mean me,” she laughed easily. “I was thinking more of Miss Stephens actually. It’s clear for everyone to see that she has set her hat to you
, rather than Nate.”

“Then she is a fool,” Matthew answered easily. “Everyone knows that I have little to offer a wife.”

They also knew that he held her in very high regard too, but was wrestling with his conscience as to whether he could marry a young lady when he had no title, estate or profession.

“Hush now,”
their mother, Lady Isabelle Copley, chided gently. “We can discuss your money, or lack thereof, later. For now, I want to dance.”

She easily dismissed his qualms because she knew that although Matthew wasn’t rich, he wasn’t poor either, and Nathaniel had offered his
brother any additional funds he may need to begin a business. Now all Matthew had to do was decide on a trade, and come to terms with the fact that trade was distasteful to many of their class.

While the ladies were in the cl
oakroom, handing in their coats, collecting their dance cards and gossiping, the gentlemen waited for them in the lobby and Nathaniel took the opportunity to look around. They were a little late thanks to Annabelle’s indecisiveness, and he wondered if Damaris was already here. Many people were still arriving and the dancing hadn’t begun yet, so he knew that they weren’t too late. After almost ten minutes, Isabelle returned.

“Annabelle met your Miss Stephens,” she informed Matthew. “She is currently
telling her of your many failings, but I expect they will be out soon.”

Although she was teasing,
Matthew’s worried expression showed everyone the high regard with which he held Miss Stephens. Smiling at how smitten he clearly was, they left him there as they entered the ballroom.

“It seems that your brother might well marry before you; don’t you think it’s time you took a wife also?” Isabelle pestered

“I see no need as long as you are alive to keep house for me.” Unlike his brother, Nathaniel saw her teasing for what it was.

“I won’t be around forever,” she reminded him. “However shall you manage without a wife?”

Recently he had begun to feel as if her jibes weren’t perhaps as good natured as they used to be.

“I shall chain Annabelle to your desk so that she will deal with the household-”

Isabelle rolled her eyes, believing that he had finished his sentence but he hadn’t; he had seen Lady Wellesley and was quite too captivated to speak for a few moments.

It took her a while to no
tice but when she saw that her son was no longer listening to her but staring across the room, she followed his gaze.

“Well I must say, you’
re setting your sights very high.”

He didn’t appear to have heard her.

“Still, any woman who would refuse you is a fool, so I have little doubt that you will get what you want.”

“I’m sorry?” he shook his stupor off and looked at her.

“I was just saying that we should get ourselves a glass of punch before the dancing begins.”

“Indeed.”
He led her towards the refreshments table, although he was unable to stop his gaze from returning to Damaris.

Her dark hair was curled and piled attractively atop her head, with one long strand left loose
at the back and positioned over one shoulder. The beads on the robe of her gown sparkled in the candlelight, adding even more beauty to an image that he did not think could be improved.

Once watered, he left his mother in the care of Colonel Nanton and made his way closer to Damaris. He felt rather like a lion stalking his prey, only
he hoped for a much better outcome than the lion’s prey was used to.

The first dance was called but despite all the young ladies making eyes at him, he didn’t ask them to dance; he rarely danced the first set because the floor was usually so crowded. After a dance or two, some of the participants would need a rest, and moving about the floor would be far easier.

Damaris was in demand from the first set however and he watched her with interest. She glanced at him a few times but seemed so uncertain of herself, that she was too preoccupied to pay him much mind. He realised that she probably hadn’t danced in a long while but these dances were taught from infancy, therefore not something that was easy to forget.

Even after a few repetitions of the dances however, Damaris
wasn’t much improved, seeming as uncertain at the end as at the beginning. She performed the steps mostly correctly, or at least well enough to end up in the correct position, but she lacked the usual grace and elegance of a dancer and when the music finally finished and she curtseyed to her partner, he thought that he detected relief on her features.

For some unknown reason, he found her hesitancy and timidity appealing. Normally he liked women who danced very well, since it was
a pastime that he also enjoyed but in Damaris, the reverse seemed to be true.

Watching her seemed to stir a memory from when he returned home in his final year at university;
he recalled a young girl at the dances, with jet black hair and very little rhythm. She had been perhaps sixteen or seventeen and exceptionally pretty but of little interest to him. He always brought some of his university friends home with him, and they were far more interested in drinking and having fun, than in shy and virginal debutantes.

He regretted that now and wondered if it was an oversight that he could correct.

After three dances in relatively quick succession, there was a small break and her partner delivered Damaris back to her companion, Mrs Paddington. Immediately, her composed mask fell and as she whispered feverishly to the older woman, she looked irritated.

Having had enough of observing her, he made his way over.

“Lady Wellesley.” He bowed.

“Lord Copley,” she answered, bestowing upon him the smallest bob of a curtsey that he had ever received. “Might I introduce to you my companion, Mrs
Paddington?”

“Very pleased to meet you.” He bowed to the woman but quickly turned back to Damaris. “Might I have this next dance, if you are free, of course?”

“I… am not engaged for it at present.” She seemed indecisive as she answered, and still rather irritated.

“But you would rather dance with someone else,” he guessed.

“I would rather not dance at all,” she answered simply.

“Yes,” he smiled. “While I have heard an awful lot about your talents, no one has spoken of your talent as a dancer, and now I can see why.”

She looked to be on the verge of snapping at him but finally she settled for a long sigh and lowered her gaze.

“I’m afraid
dancing was never something that I had much affinity for.”

Her honesty surprised him and her dejected countenance made him feel awful for having insulted her. He much preferred it when she was insulting him and sought a way to cheer her again.

“I would like to speak to you about your father, so I wonder if I might persuade you to take a turn about the room with me, in lieu of dancing?”

She appeared indecisive once again but not as irritated this time.

“Very well.”

He offered her his arm and as the musicians struck up the first few bars of the next song, they began their walk around the ballroom.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as they walked.

“I’m very well, thank you.”

“Are you not upset at the discovery of your father?”