Page 10 of A Question of Worth

Lord Keswick chuckled but nodded, gesturing with one hand for Nathaniel to take his leave. Before his determination failed him, Nathaniel made his way across the room. As he approached, he saw her glance up, her blue eyes catching his — and fear instantly widened them.

"Miss Fairleigh," he said, his voice low as he bowed. His eyes went then to Lady Newark, her expression unreadable, her lips thin but her eyes steady. "Lady Newark. Good evening."

There was a brief pause before she responded, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. For that, he could not blame her. "Good evening, Lord Ashcombe. How... pleasant to see you again." There was no warmth with that sentiment, spoken only out of propriety rather than truth.

He cleared his throat. "I come to apologise," he began, his hands clasped behind his back, his thumb pressing hard into his palm as he stood before her, the words of apology feeling sour on his tongue. "I came to you yesterday in a manner that was not atall gentlemanly and, when you spoke the truth to me, I refused to accept it as such. That was deeply wrong and must have caused you a great deal of distress, for which I am profoundly sorry." His voice faltered slightly, but he clung to his resolve. "I regret my words and my harshness, Miss Fairleigh. I pray now that you might forgive me, should you be so inclined."

The flickering in her eyes stopped as she blinked, holding his gaze with a steadiness that he had not expected from her. His heart quickened, and he curled his fingers into his palm, surprised at just how much he wanted her to offer him her forgiveness.

"That is very gracious of you, Lord Ashcombe." With another glance towards her aunt, Miss Fairleigh spoke quietly, her expression still guarded. "I thank you for your apology and, in turn, not only accept it but offer forgiveness in return."

Relief rushed through him. "I thank you, Miss Fairleigh." Licking his lips, he hesitated, then nodded gently as if he was encouraging himself to speak on. "You have no reason to trust me, I understand, but I should very much like to continue our conversation as regards my aunt and your inheritance." Seeing her eyes flare, he held out one hand, palm out towards her. "It is not so that I can question and demand, however. It is so that I might hear from you exactly what it is that has taken place. I wish to understand, Miss Fairleigh and, if I can, assist in resolving any confusion."

For a long moment, the request hung in the air between them. Miss Fairleigh did not look to her aunt, did not look away but tilted her head, surveying him as if he were a fine painting she was determined to pick apart. "You understand, then?" she asked quietly. He nodded, fervently. "If you only wish to listen, then I will not refuse such a request, Lord Ashcombe. Provided my aunt is willing to chaperone."

"Lady Newark?" Nathaniel put one hand to his heart, inclining his head just a little. "I wish to make amends. Truly."

She nodded but did not smile. "Very well, Lord Ashcombe."

"Then it is settled," he said quickly, before either of them could change their minds, aware of a strange, unbidden warmth spreading through his chest at being able to speak with her on the subject of his aunt. "Tomorrow, then. I shall now take my leave and — "

"Lord Ashcombe, good evening."

With a frown, Nathaniel turned to see his friend grinning broadly at him, as if it was the first time they had seen each other that evening. "Lord Keswick. Good evening," he said slowly, seeing his friend's eyes flickering towards Miss Fairleigh. "I thought — "

"I have not yet had an introduction to this fine young lady," Lord Keswick interrupted, looking towards Miss Fairleigh, bowing slightly. "Might you, Lord Ashcombe?"

"But of course." Knowing that his friend's desire for an introduction came from kindness, Nathaniel did so at once. "Miss Fairleigh, might I present the Earl of Keswick? Lord Keswick, this is Miss Fairleigh, her aunt, the Lady Newark."

Lord Keswick's smile remained as he bowed, first to Miss Fairleigh and then to her aunt. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I am always glad to make new connections here in London."

"You are very kind, Lord Keswick," Lady Newark said, offering him a warm smile that had never been directed towards Nathaniel. "How good of you to come and speak with my niece."

"Not at all," Lord Keswick replied. "And might I be so bold as to ask for your dance card, Miss Fairleigh? If you are permitted to dance, that is."

A brilliant smile spread across Miss Fairleigh's face, so bright and warm that Nathaniel was dazzled by it. His chest tightenedwith an unfamiliar flutter of nervous anticipation, a strange desire settling in him — a desire to do the very same as Lord Keswick, to have the promise of a dance with her.

But society will whisper,his heart told him.They will notice you stepping out with her.

"Miss Fairleigh?" He cleared his throat, his determination growing despite his inner concerns. "Might I have your dance card also thereafter?"

Her lips parted in obvious surprise, her eyes a little wider than before. Then, swallowing, she lowered her head, her gaze pulling away from him. "Yes, of course," she murmured, a softness to her tone that spoke of her shock at his request. "How very considerate of you, Lord Ashcombe."

He smiled, pushing aside his reluctance and concern entirely, telling himself that it would be a good thing for him to step out with her, just as Lord Keswick would do. Society's whispers had not yet fully taken hold, so for the moment, he assured himself he had nothing to be concerned about.

Strangely, however, as he thought about his dance with Miss Fairleigh, there came a sweeping rush of anticipation. Something that he had not experienced before and certainly did not expect.

"The cotillion?" he suggested, taking the dance card and writing his name there. "I look forward to it, Miss Fairleigh."

Her smile was not quickly returned, still speaking of hesitation and doubt. "Thank you, Lord Ashcombe. I am sure it will be a very fine dance indeed."

5

Eliza bit her lip as Lord Ashcombe walked away, her fingers smoothing the fabric of her skirt across her lap — once, then again. The hum of conversation did nothing to soothe her, her anxiety returning with a rush.

"I certainly did not expect that," her aunt murmured, coming to stand a little closer. "I did find myself a little relieved, I must say."

"As am I," Eliza replied, glancing to her aunt. "Do you think that he was genuine?"