A Lesson in Forgiveness (3 page)

In between courses, she was drawn into conversation with the woman to her left, a Mrs. Bradbury. The woman explained that her husband was the local squire and was an expert about the entire area. By expert, she meant gossip, and before long Ginny knew just about everything there was to know about local scandals, births, marriages and so on. Of course, Ginny didn't know any of the people she spoke about, so it seemed safer to just smile and look amazed by the antics of country folk.

After the third course, Lord Clarendon began to engage her again in conversation. He was truly too beautiful for his own good, or for Ginny's own good. She could barely keep from staring at him or his smile. She was certain that he was taking it as encouragement.

“Two seasons and not betrothed? How scandalous,” he said with a quirk of his mouth.

“Indeed. I seem to be quite a disappointment to my parents. You need not worry, though. I'm not desperate enough to corner a notorious rake such as yourself.”

“Miss Hamilton, you shame me. What would you know of my reputation?”

“Not much. Just that you apparently have one. Oh, and my mother has been shooting you daggers throughout the entire meal.”

He chuckled lightly. “Yes, I have noticed a certain... despair over our being seated together. I am quite surprised. I am not just a Viscount. My father is a duke.” A sadness came across his eyes as he reached and sipped from his wine glass. “I thought that was all the mothers of the
ton
cared about.”

“Well, it matters not. I couldn't care less if you were the Prince Regent himself.”

“Indeed,” he sounded rather perplexed, but mostly as if he didn't believe her. Ginny had decided during dinner that showing a lack of interest in him would be more fun. Lead him a merry chase instead of simply throwing herself at him. He didn't seem the type interested in anyone who was so plainly interested in him. Besides, she knew this way would be more entertaining.

“Are we not supposed to speak about the weather? Or do we have any acquaintances in common? Those would be the safe topics between unmarried individuals,” she said, hoping he would chose an unsafe topic instead.

“Would you care to discuss the latest gossip in London?” he asked, but Ginny shook her head vehemently.

“I've enough of gossip.” Whispering so her other dinner partner couldn't hear, “Mrs. Bradbury has regaled me with quite enough.”

She watched him run his tongue along his teeth. His look was that of wanting to be naughty. “Very well, Miss Hamilton. What would you like to talk about?”

“Are you as notorious as reported?” her eyes twinkled, knowing he couldn't resist answering her question.

“Do you find that gossip is entirely accurate?”

“I would say only about ten percent of the time. However, it is almost always based on some reality.”

Smiling, he answered, “Indeed. So now you may be relieved that I am only ten percent as notorious as you have heard.”

Smiling back, Ginny responded, “How disappointing! You are far too handsome to be only ten percent of the rake I've heard tale of.”

Laughing heartily and sipping from his wine glass once more, he stated, “I have a feeling that you and I will become good friends.”

“I hope so, my lord,” was the last thing said before the host declared the meal had come to an end. Ginny's plate had largely gone untouched in the third course, as well as her wine glass. This last detail did not go unnoticed.

“Did you not care for the wine?” Clarendon inquired as he assisted her from her chair.

“I'm not much of a wine drinker, my lord. It causes me quite a headache the next day. I prefer other beverages.”

Accepting his arm, he began to escort her from the room. “For instance, tea, perhaps?”

“Tea is fine. Water is excellent. But when it comes to spirits, I have always found whiskey to be very palatable.”

“Shocking, Miss Hamilton. Simply shocking. You must not let anyone hear such scandalous words.”

Rolling her eyes at the ridiculous separation between the sexes, Ginny simply replied, “Then it will be our secret?”

They reached the drawing room and Lord Clarendon released her hand. Grabbing it again, bowing over it and kissing the fingers lightly, he looked into her eyes. “Of course. Our own little secret.” With a smile, he walked toward the study where the men had gathered and Ginny turned at her mother's throat clearing to enter the drawing room.

Taking a seat next to her mother on one of the settees, Ginny smiled to herself.
This is definitely going to be more fun than I realized
, she thought, waiting for her mother to set her down over her being so intimate with a notorious rake. It didn't take long before her mother was lecturing her. Ginny simply continued to imagine what the sex would be like with the Viscount Clarendon.

After an hour of listening to her mother, Ginny wondered how long they would have to sit in this hen house before she could go to bed. Suddenly, the men reappeared and the party begun anew. Sighing to herself, Ginny realized it would be awhile before she got her wish.

Standing up, stretching discreetly, Ginny wandered over to the window, hoping that Clarendon would join her for some more witty repartee. She was quite surprised when Lord Whitmore joined her instead.

“Did you enjoy the meal, Miss Hamilton?” he asked, not looking at her, but looking out the same window she had been.

“Yes, it was lovely,” she replied, facing him and smiling.

“I noticed that you did not eat very much.”

“It has been a long day, my lord. I'm just a little tired. I wouldn't want you to think it was the food.”

Whitmore turned his head and regarded her carefully. He had gotten the impression that the reason she ate so little was because she was busy paying too much attention to her dinner guest. Not that he would think she would admit to that. Keeping his face schooled into an impression of peace, he said, “I am glad to hear it. My cook takes a lot of pride in her creations.”

“As she should. The soup was excellent. I am not one for rich sauces, but it was quite tasty none the less.” Ginny was surprised to feel a certain calmness. Lord Whitmore didn't come off as snooty or arrogant as one would expect in a man of his title. Then again, neither did Lord Clarendon, which was probably why they were friends.

Turning his head back to the window, he said, “I noticed that you and Lord Clarendon were quite engaged during the meal.”

“Yes. He is a witty conversationalist. I enjoyed our discussion immensely.”

Turning to her, raising an eyebrow, he smiled. “Yes, he can be quite... witty. You should be careful, though. He does not always know how to school his discussions toward appropriate topics.”

“Good. I'm quite tired of 'appropriate topics'.”

“Indeed.” She felt him stiffen. Alarmed by the change in his demeanor, she watched him carefully. In Ginny's time, people would just say what they think or feel, sometimes without regard to the consequences. God knew she'd done that herself often enough. Now she was in a time when everything was spoken around, innuendo or reference. Certain topics were completely taboo, for anyone. Many more were only taboo to unmarried women.

Turning to face her dead on, his eyebrows knitted together, he meant to make himself very clear. Speaking more harshly than perhaps required, he said, “Miss Hamilton. I will not abide inappropriate behavior, especially from the daughter of one of my guests. I expect no scandals from my house parties. Do I make myself clear?”

Ginny was shocked to feel a blush creeping up her cheeks. All the rules kept battling her instincts inside her head. As demurely as possible, holding in the anger she felt, she simply replied, “I understand.”

“Thank you.”

He turned to leave when Ginny let slip, “Do you plan to talk to Lord Clarendon as well?” Ginny knew she should have just let it go, but she wouldn't be Ginny if she had.

“I beg your pardon?”

Turning toward him once again, trying to look serene despite being intensely pissed, she asked again, “Do you plan to inform Lord Clarendon of your 'no scandals' rule as well. Or would it only be my fault should a scandal arise due to our conversations on 'inappropriate topics'?”

Ginny watched him quirk his mouth to a smile and raise his eyebrow in response. “I suppose you are correct, Miss Hamilton. I shall discuss this with Lord Clarendon. I would not want any misunderstandings. Thank you for your suggestion.”

Damn, he's good
, she thought. Even though she knew she'd gotten under his skin, he was able to turn it around and make her feel like she'd been wrong. It fascinated Ginny when someone could hide his feelings so well. Recognizing the discipline he had and appreciating the effort it took, she smiled at him and said, “Thank you, Lord Whitmore.”

He bowed his head slightly and left her side. Not two seconds later, her mother came strolling over, grabbed her arm and announced that it was late and they should retire. Before leaving the room, Ginny glanced over at their host, who was speaking in hushed tones to Mr. and Mrs. Bradbury. Catching his eye, she smiled and tilted her head, hoping it looked like she was conceding this round, but to expect more. Ginny didn't like to lose.

Chapter 3

Ginny woke up the next morning feeling somewhat refreshed. She had no idea what time it was, but the sun had come up so it must have been after eight o'clock. Using the bell pull, she summoned her maid to help her get ready. It still goaded Ginny to require help with dressing, but there were too many buttons or ribbons or stays that needed attention for her to do alone.

Tabby knocked so lightly that Ginny barely heard it. Before Ginny could respond, Tabby stuck her head in and asked, “Are you alright, miss?”

“Yes, Tabby, please come in. I need help getting dressed.”

“Let me just run downstairs and fetch some hot water for you. I will return as quickly as possible.” Before Ginny could respond, the maid was gone. Meanwhile, Ginny could only sit on the edge of her bed and wait. She'd already used the “water closet,” a term she used in her own home, but that toilet at least flushed.

She had no idea what to wear, what type of dress she needed for “morning.” She knew that women of this era, at this rank, changed their clothes several times a day. At home, Ginny would put on a pair of scrubs for work and would often fall asleep in them on her couch. This time period would definitely take some getting used to.

Tabby reappeared with a large pitcher of steaming water. She filled the bowl on her wash basin and took out a washcloth and towel for her. Ginny went about washing up while Tabby got out all the various parts of her wardrobe.

“Would you like to wear the pink muslin or your yellow dress with the flowered embroidery?”

What, huh? s
he thought to herself. Ginny was never the height of fashion, often trumping style for comfort. She had no idea what Tabby just asked her. Drying off her face, she turned around and simply said, “You decide, Tabby. And from now on, just tell me what I'm wearing. Don't bother to ask.”

The look on the little maid's face was so precious that Ginny nearly laughed out loud. It was a look between choked, terrified and appalled.

“But you told me to never choose for you. You said I have not an eye for fashion.”

Staring at her maid in amazement, Ginny realized that Bethany might be shy, but she really could have a bite to her. And not a bite for those who deserved it, but taking it out on the only person she had absolute control over. Bowing her head in shame, even though it certainly wasn't Ginny who made the comment, she said, “I'm sorry, Tabby. I shouldn't have said that. I have absolute faith that you know what you're doing and can keep me looking... fabulous!”

Looking up at the maid with a big smile on her face, Tabby still had a look of horror. Sputtering, Tabby said, “But... but... but you said...”

Wrapping her robe around her, Ginny came over to the maid and pulled her hands into her own. Knowing that she was going against years of strict training, Ginny looked into her little maid's eyes and said, “Tabby, I don't say it enough, but I
really
appreciate all you do for me. I respect your opinion and value your help. You are more than just a servant. You're a person, with sense and kindness and... Well, I just want you to forget everything I've said before. Oh, and thank you.”

Tears popped into the maid's eyes. Grabbing her hands away, she wiped at the tears. “Thank you, miss.”

“Please call me Bethany. I may have been born into a home with more money, but that doesn't make me a better person. I pay you to help me, not put up with abuse. I might be in a bad mood sometimes, but that is no reason to take it out on you. And you don't have to thank me. I should be the one thanking you.”

Tabby looked paralyzed. Ginny began to worry that she had went too far. It looked as if her little maid could not handle being handed so much of her dignity back at once. Taking a deep breath, Ginny simply said, “So which dress do
you
think would make me look good as I parade in front of all those eligible bachelors?”

Tabby's eyes flitted back and forth for a moment. She then lifted her shoulders, looked Ginny straight in the eyes and said, “The pink would bring out your complexion, I think. I could do your hair more casually, to enhance your beautiful eyes.”

Smiling cheerfully, Ginny turned back to the wash basin. “Well, we better get to it. I have a lot of competition.” With that, Ginny went back to washing and Tabby went back to getting things ready.

When Ginny left the room, she noticed that the halls were quiet. Making her way down the impressive staircase, she saw that there was no sign of anyone. Walking up to a footman, she asked, “Can you direct me to breakfast, please.”

The footman looked at her as if she had two heads.
What the hell?
she wondered as he walked her to the breakfast room. When she entered, there was no one there, no food on the sidebar, not even any plates or silverware. Turning to the footman, she asked, “How early is it?”

“I believe it is just nine o'clock, miss.”