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London 1811
John Tremont, Viscount Winsbarren, pulled at his cravat and looked over the ballroom. He saw nothing but a sea of glittering gowns punctuated with gentlemen attired in the requisite black. Plumes nodded and bobbed, tiaras winked like stars below the candles from the chandeliers, and the deafening drone of conversation pulsated in his ears.
Four hundred people filled the halls and rooms of the Duke and Duchess of Montlake’s house and he found not a soul with which to converse. Not that he wished to speak to anyone. His social graces had always left him foundering and looking foolish. He gazed at the happy couples swirling on the dance floor and sighed.
Near the potted ferns, his close friend, William, the lately appointed Duke of Caymore, stood with his wife, Lady Penelope. He hesitated to approach her, as their first, last, and only meeting several years earlier resulted in humiliation on both their parts. Not realizing she was the daughter of the Duke of Olmstead, he convinced her to stroll with him on Lady Berringbourne’s terrace. A chaste kiss landed her knee squarely in his ballocks. That little episode had her fleeing to her father’s country estate for the remainder of the Season, and him enduring another round of scandal.
However, surely, she would not fault him forever. John sucked in a deep breath, girded his loins, and strolled over.
“Westerly, Lady Penelope, how do you do?” John said.
“Winsbarren, old boy,” William said extending his hand. “Damned good to see you. How are you holding up?”
As John shook his hand, he remembered William’s’ other, loftier title.
“Forgive me, Lord Caymore. I forget you’re no longer a mere Earl.”
William laughed. “I forget I’m no longer an Earl myself.” He turned to Penny. “Of course, you remember my wife, Penelope.”
John took her extended hand in his, and as he bent over it, accidentally took a step forward and crushed her toes. “Lady Penelope, do forgive me. Please accept my deepest apologies.”
Lord Caymore laughed, and John felt himself blush.
“Winsbarren.” Penny nodded and took a step back.
“So what brings you here this night?” William asked. “Surely not the fun and frivolity.”
“No,” John said. “My father, actually. He could not make it and sent me in his stead. Thankfully, I only must do my duty to Lady Montlake and then I may disappear.”
“How is old Brumbley?”
“Fine as a fat goose before Christmastide, traveling to Essex to see about the Manor. I offered to go, as you know he enjoys the Season far more than I, but he insisted I remain in London.” John rolled his eyes skyward.
“You do not enjoy the Season, Lord Winsbarren?” Penny asked.
John summoned the courage, looked Lady Penelope in the eye, and said, “After our last meeting, I found it a much wiser course to forego the delights of the following Seasons.”
“Surely, you jest,” Penny said lightly. “That was over seven years ago.”
“No, your ladyship, I do not. After the humiliation I caused you, I thought it best not to return to the ballrooms.”
“Well, that is certainly a shame. I know several ladies who would enjoy a dance partner.” Penny glanced at the farthest wall lined with young girls dressed in white gowns.
William let out another bark of laughter. Penny gave her husband a sharp look.
“Forgive me, Winsbarren,” William said. “I believe my wife has not had the pleasure of seeing you dance.”
The Marquess of Haverlane took that moment to approach the group and spoke to his brother, William. They excused themselves and walked away.
Penny turned to John. “So you do not dance?”
“It seems I have two left feet, your ladyship. I cannot follow the steps to the beat of the music and the last unfortunate lady I escorted on the floor ended up on her backside because I tripped her. It is not an experience I choose to relive.”
Penny looked skeptical. “Have you lessons?”
“Yes, several times, at my father’s insistence. The last Master told me I would never be able to follow a tune. Tone deaf, I’m afraid.”
“Lord Winsbarren,” Penny huffed, “that is preposterous. Even the savages can dance.”
“Perhaps,” John said, glancing quickly at the dance floor. “But I do not think Lady Montlake would appreciate my flailing arms and legs to keep time to the music.”
He should excuse himself. Speaking with his friends had certainly seemed like a good idea. Now he wasn’t so sure. Although, if he did walk away, that would appear as a direct cut, so he must remain by her side. He sucked in a deep breath and waited nervously for her next comment. The Good Lord knew he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Is this why they refer to you as Winsbarren the Wobbler?” she asked.
John felt his cheeks flame. He had heard that Lady Penelope was quite outspoken, however, he’d never expected her to say that.
“Yes, among other reasons. As you have thus witnessed, I also lack in social skills. You are the first lady in a decade who has spoken with me for longer than two minutes.”
Penny looked aghast. “Surely not.”
“No, my ladyship, I assure you. The ladies find my wit acerbic, I have no voice for pretty compliments, and without being able to dance I have found it best to stay away from anywhere that would embarrass me, my father, or the ladies.”
“Come,” she said and held out her hand.
“I beg your pardon.” John looked at her hand, took a step back, and felt all the blood drain from his body.
“Will you not dance with me?”
To refuse would be another cut. To dance with her would only bring humiliation. John chose the lesser of the two evils for her sake. “Lady Penelope, you do me great honor, but I must beg you, no. ‘Twould only laud us both as laughingstocks.”
“I see.” She brought the fingers that had been open for him to her throat. “Well, then, why do not you compliment me.”
“What?” John choked. She could not be serious.
“Compliment me. Surely, you can find a few simple words to make me smile.”
“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean.”
“My lord, I am merely trying to gauge whether the view you have upon yourself is fair.” She batted her eyelashes. “Come now, ‘tis a fairly simple thing. Tell me how you like my gown.”
“I like your gown,” he repeated.
“No. You must think of your own compliment. Now quickly, from the top of your head, say something nice about it.” She gazed down at the ice blue silk.
“Your gown shows off your assets to perfection,” he said without thinking. Oh, Good God, had those words come from his mouth?
Penny stood stock still, her cheeks burning pink.
“Lady Penelope, do forgive me,” John rushed. “I had not intended to say such a thing, but the pressure to speak, to compliment you quickly….I am so sorry.” John was sure, without a doubt, his good friend William, would be calling upon him at dawn.
Lady Penelope regained her composure and asked, “Is this why you do not speak with the ladies? Are these the kinds of compliments you present?”
John looked at his feet. “Not always, but more often than not.”
“So what do you do?” Penny asked.
“I beg your pardon?” John didn’t comprehend the question.
“How do you go about meeting ladies? Surely, your father wishes you to marry. Do you not wish it as well?”
“Yes, above all things. However, my reputation precedes me when it comes to the ladies and once they hear who I am, they very conveniently find an excuse to depart my company. My father has tried for nearly two decades to introduce me to some very fine marriageable women, but for reasons I cannot explain, I find myself still unattached.” John knew the reasons. He just chose not to admit them to himself.
Penny stared at him as if trying to analyze an insect. “Yes, my lord, unfortunately I can see how you remain unmarried. However, you are wealthy, handsome, and your father has an unprecedented title that you shall one day inherit. Perhaps you are looking at the wrong ladies.”
John smiled. “Forgive me, your ladyship. I have looked at all kinds of ladies. Lowborn, highborn, and everything in between. I have heard they would rather marry my father, than me.” He paused. “Truthfully, that is why I came over to you this evening. I know you are friends with several young women whom I have not had to pleasure to be introduced and wondered if you might do the honors. Obviously, I cannot do this on my own. Owning another truth, I feel rather desperate. I do not wish to have children when I am an old man, as my father was. I should like to enjoy them while I am young enough to appreciate them.”
“You wish for children?”
“You sound surprised.”
“Yes, I must admit, a little. Most men of my acquaintance do not appreciate their children. They beget them only to carry on a title.”
“I have always liked children.” John smiled. “I think if I admitted another truth, I would rather have children than a wife. They are always happy, make no demands other than to play, and most of the time they are rather amusing to be around.”
Lady Penelope gave him a wide smile. “You are a most unusual man, my lord Winsbarren.”
“From you I shall take that as a compliment.” John gave a slight bow.
After a moment of somewhat serious thought, she said, “It would be my pleasure to introduce you to a few of my acquaintances. Perhaps you would like to call on me Thursday morning, around eleven, and we may discuss this matter further.”
“Thank you, Lady Penelope. You’ve no idea how much I appreciate this.”
“Think nothing of it. I must admit, this presents something of a challenge.”
John blushed again. He couldn’t fathom if that was a compliment or not.
Penny smiled. “Until Thursday then.”
John took up her hand and kissed it. Without crushing her toes. “I look forward to it.”
