A Lesson in Forgiveness (5 page)

Ginny now wondered if Lord Whitmore had taken her advice and had a little discussion with Clarendon about his inappropriate topics. “It is a lovely day, is it not, my lord?” Aaahh, the small talk of the English aristocracy... so entertaining.

“It is, quite lovely. Did I say something to offend you last evening?”

It would seem, Ginny realized, that Lord Whitmore did have a talk with him. “Absolutely not. I enjoyed our conversation. I was in no way offended. Frankly, I don't see the reason to be so roundabout with what I want to say.”

“I got the impression from Whitmore that perhaps we should restrict our discussions to the weather.”

Ginny stopped and faced him. “He seems to be afraid of a scandal. Considering your reputation, he may have reason for that.”

Looking into her eyes, smiling his roguish smile, he spoke quietly, “I believe you may be my only source of consolation during this party, Miss Hamilton.”

“Now, what shall we talk about that is not on the safe list of topics?” Ginny wondered how far she could push it and not be deemed a troublemaker, not that Ginny was above being a troublemaker.

Clarendon considered this for a moment. He was very good at making small talk and making girls giggle. So far, Bethany seemed quite immune to his charms. She found him attractive, he knew, but she hadn't pursued him and continuously engage him in meaningless chat.

Finally, she asked, “What sort of things did you do as a youth, my lord? Were you the rapscallion I imagine or were you quite reserved?”

Interesting question, Clarendon thought to himself. “I was quite the hellion, Miss Hamilton. I went through governesses and tutors on a nearly daily basis.” As he spoke of his childhood, they continued their walk around the garden. He was in his element, speaking about himself. He also enjoyed an audience that he knew would not judge him.

“So you see, Miss Hamilton. I may be quite irredeemable.”

“Lord Clarendon, I know it is quite improper, but I would prefer if you called me Bethany,” Ginny said, knowing that she would really prefer he call her Ginny, but could not think of any logical reason why he should do that. “At least when we are alone.”

He smiled and said, “I would like that too, Bethany.”
When he said nothing else, she stopped him, bunched up her eyebrows and asked, “And may I call you by your first name?”

“Well, now, that would be even more improper. My mother never referred to my father by his Christian name, even when alone.”

“I'm not your mother, my lord.”

“No, you are definitely not. My Christian name is Miles. I would be honored if you called me Miles when we are alone. I would be very careful not to refer to me as such in company such as your mother or Lord Whitmore though.”

“I spoke to Lord Whitmore for most of the morning and never got the feeling that he would allow me the same courtesy.”

“I daresay not.” Continuing their walk, he asked, “You spent this morning with Lord Whitmore?” Miles was striving for nonchalance, but thought he may have sounded curiously desperate.

“Yes. I woke up very early, not even realizing that most people didn't get up until after ten. The only other person up was Lord Whitmore. We had breakfast together and then took a stroll through the gardens.”

“And what did you have to talk about. You could not have been expounding on the weather for all that time.” Miles hated to admit that he was extremely curious. Whitmore had on many an occasion expressed a desire not to marry anytime soon. He had traveling plans that he didn't want interrupted. For him to spend so much time with an unmarried woman would be strange for a man with his plans.

“Mostly we talked about politics. I stole his newspaper this morning and read it before he came to breakfast. We discussed the articles.” Ginny paused for a moment, wondering if she should ask him about Whitmore. In the end, she figured it didn't really matter. “Tell me, Miles. Have you known Lord Whitmore long?”

“We went to school together. I tried valiantly to get him into trouble and he tried just as valiantly to keep me out of it. So, you see, we were meant to be friends.”

“He has been very kind to me, taking time out of his day to entertain me. I was surprised though. My father made it very clear to my mother that Lord Whitmore didn't want to get married. At his age and considering his need for an heir, I was curious as to why. He didn't seem the type of man who...” Ginny stopped, waiting to see if Miles would pick up her unspoken question.

“The type of man who what, Bethany?” Well, he either didn't pick up the unspoken question or he was forcing her to ask him. Either way, she couldn't help but smile.

“Between you and me, my lord, I've heard that some men do not seek out female attention. Instead they prefer only... male attention.” Ginny couldn't have said it any better, judging by the look on Clarendon's face.

Miles motioned to a bench under a tree in the garden. After Ginny sat down, he sat next to her, and considered his words carefully. “Whitmore came into his title early. His father died only a month after we left the university. While I was gallivanting across the Continent, he was busy learning the estate and caring for his mother and sister. Now, with his mother living with her brother and his sister married, he now has time to travel as he has always wanted. I assure you, Bethany, Whitmore is only interested in female attention.”

Wondering at her reaction, he was quite surprised when she said, “Good for him. He should take some time to do what he wants for once. I'm sure he has to deal with a lot. This holiday would be just the thing. I only wish that travel were an option for me.”

“Perhaps your husband will take you on your honeymoon. I have always wanted to go back, myself.”

Did he mean what she thought he meant? Well, at least it solved the mystery of who she was here to fall in love with. Now she had to figure out what the big “problem” they would have to face was. Solve the problem, get married, have incredible sex, and now maybe get to travel through Europe.
The story is really shaping up
, she thought.

“Whitmore is planning a soirée this Friday. I am hoping to encourage some dancing. Would you be kind enough to reserve a dance for me?”

“Of course,” Ginny said tentatively. She was scouring her brain, trying to see if she could dance or not. Bethany must know all the steps and hopefully Ginny wouldn't muck it up by thinking too much.

Her face must have been furrowed, because Miles said, “I promise to behave myself.”

What
, she thought. “Oh, no, Miles. To be honest, I'm not the best dancer. I just don't want to embarrass myself. I would hate to see you humiliated by my bad showing.”

Looking into her eyes, lowering his voice although they were alone, he replied, “I cannot imagine ever being embarrassed by you, Miss... I mean, Bethany.”

His voice was like a caress. Ginny found herself staring at his eyes, those deep chocolate brown orbs. She couldn't help but lower her gaze to his mouth. She watched as the corners rose into a smile. Raising her eyes back up, she saw the gleam in his eyes. Apparently, Miles Clarendon, the Fifth Viscount Clarendon, now knew that Ginny was more than willing to kiss him, if given the proper chance.

Miles Clarendon was the type of man who used his position and his good looks to his advantage. When he told Miss Hamilton that his reputation was probably only ten percent of what people said, he hadn't been quite truthful. Although he was sure he wasn't nearly as bad as most of the gossip, he certainly wasn't an angel either. The truth was, he liked women. He liked them so much, he had endeavored to savor every type he could get his hands on.

Whitmore, on the other hand, had always been more subdued. When seeking out female attention, as Bethany had put it, he was extremely discreet. He knew of only a few of his paramours, one being a young widow of a former friend of theirs. He was honorable to an extreme, which is why Miles was so confused by his behavior towards the young Miss Hamilton.

Whitmore would not shower attention on a woman he did not intend to marry. Miles had little doubt he would consider it lacking in chivalry to get a girl's hopes up like that. As far as Miles could remember, Whitmore had never even danced with an unmarried girl, sticking strictly to married women or widows.

And so, it seemed to Miles that Whitmore might just be interested in Miss Hamilton after all. This was a conflict to their friendship since Bethany was the first girl he'd met that he felt he could marry. She was a pretty girl, not beautiful as some of the women of the
ton
were, but very pleasing to the eye. She was extremely intelligent, but also witty and unconventional. Bethany came off as much more mature and willing to test the limits of polite society.

After returning her to her mother, Miles went in search of Whitmore to ask him exactly what his intentions were toward the girl. Certainly not out of chivalry, but more out of respect for their lengthy friendship. His quarry was found in his study, looking over ledgers and making notes.

“Good afternoon, Whitmore. I see you have managed to find the least amusing thing to do at your party.”

“Clarendon,” was his only reply. Miles was used to being put off until Whitmore was ready. After a moment, he put the ledger to the side and sat back in his chair, giving his friend his full attention.

“What can I do for you, Clare. I had noticed you walking about the garden with Miss Hamilton earlier. Has your pursuit ended so quickly?”

Before answering, Miles went to the sidebar and helped himself to some wine. Turning, he gestured to ask if Whitmore wanted some. Shaking his head in reply, Miles poured himself a glass and sat down in the overstuffed armchair on the other side of Whitmore's desk.

Taking a sip and deciding to be rather blunt, he asked, “So, are
you
interested in the Hamilton chit?”

Whitmore regarded his long time friend carefully. Clarendon knew his intentions, as well as the fact that he did not wish to marry until his return, so why was he asking such a pointed question. It occurred to him that maybe Miss Hamilton had said something. Had he inadvertently given her the impression that he was seeking her hand. He certainly hoped not.

“She is a guest in my home, Clare. That is my only interest in her. Why do you ask?”

“She mentioned that you two spent some time together this morning, alone in your garden. That seems unusual for a man not interested in marrying.”
“Did she think that I had other intentions?” Whitmore was now worried. He would never intentionally demonstrate feelings he didn't have, certainly not at the expense of a young lady.

“No. She asked me about you. I told her your plans and she seemed quite... happy for you. Said you deserved the holiday and she hoped you enjoyed yourself.”

“Well, then.” He didn't know how to feel about that. Whitmore certainly admired the girl, appreciated her beauty and intelligence, and enjoyed their discussions. He also wanted to continue their “friendship” until the end of the party, but why was he feeling somewhat put off. Was he not as eligible as the rest of his guests, as Clarendon? Shaking his head over his own stupidity, he let it go. He'd been given a reprieve from a marital death sentence. He should be happy, not distressed.

Before he could stop himself, Whitmore asked his friend, “What about you, old friend? You seem to be spending a great deal of time with her and here it is only the second day.”

“I am considering courting her. She is more than ample to be a good wife. She is also unconventional enough to suit me.”

“What do you mean, unconventional?”

“Well, our conversation was not limited to the weather.” Noticing his friend's face, he hastened, “Now, Whitmore, nothing scandalous. She is simply honest and mature. Not a single giggle the entire time we walked together. I have to admit that most of the girls coming out are childish and off-putting.”

“I certainly agree with that assessment. So, you wanted to make sure that I was not interested as well?”

“Indeed. No woman is worth losing a friend over. Now that I have your assurance, I will consider her more closely. Thank you, good man.” Clarendon continued to drink his wine.

That funny feeling returned to Whitmore. An altogether strange feeling he didn't think he'd ever felt before. Rather than analyze it, he simply returned to his ledger.

Chapter 5

After returning to her room, Ginny found Tabby examining all her gowns for just the perfect one. Smiling, she asked, “Well, Tabby. What's it going to be?”

“I thought to bring out your hair this evening, miss. I thought the white gown, with burgundy accents would do well.”

“Sounds good.” Ginny went about removing the clothes she'd worn today. Then, using the leftover water in the basin, she began to wash herself, removing the sweat of the day.

“Some of the servants were talking today, miss.”

“Really. And what was their topic?” Ginny dragged out each word for dramatic effect.
“It seems that one of the young ladies had both the attention of Lord Whitmore and Lord Clarendon.”

“And this was gossip because...” Ginny asked, knowing that many of the young women in attendance were already talking about her behind her back. First of all, she didn't play silly games with them. They were all eighteen or nineteen years old, Ginny was thirty and had little tolerance for immaturity. Second, none of them could corner the two most eligible bachelors by themselves. The group moved together en masse, excluding Ginny of course. When Lord Clarendon escorted her privately through the garden today, it caused quite a stir.

“Well, the way I heard it, this lady did nothing to cause such attention. It seems both gentlemen asked for her company, without her needing to flirt at all.” As it was turning out, Tabby had a quick wit and a sarcastic sense of humor. Ginny was thrilled. She and Tabby were truly well matched.

“How scandalous! Now, the question is... which man should she choose? The stable, but perhaps somewhat dull, earl. Or the future duke who has a reputation for seeking out as much female company as possible. Mostly female company that already has husbands.”