Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Miriam stiffened beside me and I knew she too had found my arse of a brother. Although his stupidity helped me, it also infuriated me. I knew this was difficult for Miriam to see and I wanted to see her smile. I preferred to see her happy. A life with my brother would never make her happy. It was best she learned that now. Before it was much too late.
“She pales in comparison to you,” I whispered in her ear, before taking her arm and turning her toward me as the music began again.
Miriam was the one who was pale, however, and the pain in her face was so clear I realized she had truly come to care for my brother. She had been expecting more with their return to London than she had received. Yet, once again, he had turned his back on someone who thought he cared. I understood that more than she knew. Trusting the Earl of Ashington was a slippery slope and I feared I was too late to save Miriam from the fall. I would, however, be there to lighten the impact.
“I believe she is lovely,” Miriam whispered, looking stricken.
“Lydia is lovely but when compared to you, one fails to notice,” I clarified.
Miriam looked up at me then and forced the smallest of smiles. “You don’t have to make this better.”
“I know. However seeing the pain that is very clear on your face is something I do not wish to witness. If I could take that away, I would,” I told her honestly.
Her smile was less forced then, although the sadness in her eyes was still very evident. “Thank you, Nicholas. I will be fine. Just dance with me then take me to my aunt,” she said with a certainty that stemmed from someone who knew heartache.
“You are well-versed in overcoming, however, that does not mean you don’t deserve a shoulder to lean on. Everyone requires that eventually. Mine is here and very willing.”
Miriam sighed and then a small laugh came from her. Not something I was expecting to hear. “You perhaps, Mr. Compton, are the most complex individual I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
“I am going to believe you mean that as a compliment,” I replied.
“Oh, indeed. I do,” she said.
The hurt set deep in her eyes did not go away, but the way she relaxed as I held her in my arms was enough for now. Just when I thought all hope was lost, I was handed one last lifeline to turn this thing around.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Miriam Bathurst
Keeping my gaze locked on Aunt Harriet, I focused on my expression remaining unconcerned. I was aware of the whispers and the eyes on me as Nicholas walked me to my aunt after our dance. It would seem all of London knew of my visit to Chatwick Hall. Lord Ashington’s appearance tonight, with his attention on Lydia, only stirred the gossip in the room.
Fleeing would only make it worse. The one thing I was unable to control was the flush on my cheeks from the attention. I had never liked to draw attention to myself, yet tonight, simply by being alive, I was the object of everyone’s whispers. I held tightly, perhaps too tightly, to Nicholas’s arm, but he did not complain.
I was thankful for his assistance this evening. His appearance in the garden had been no accident and I knew now why he had sought me out. He had known what was inside waiting for me and he’d come to aid me. There was much that could be said about Nicholas Compton and I was aware he had faults that could not be ignored. However, when I had been in need of a friend, he had been there. That I would never forget.
Aunt Harriet’s expression was not as controlled as I hoped mine appeared. She looked utterly beside herself with worry and possibly a touch of anger. I had never truly seen her angry, so I wasn’t completely sure. Perhaps she was feeling ill with the situation at hand and it made her face appear pinched.
She stepped forward, taking my hand and holding it in both of hers much too dramatically for the audience that was watching my every move. “We can leave,” she said immediately.
I shook my head, knowing that would only make matters worse. There was one thing I knew about rejection and it was that showing any weakness only made you a target. My father had taught me that lesson the hard way, but thanks to him, I was very well-trained in handling situations as painful as this one. “I see no reason to leave just yet. The night is still early. I have several dances left on my card,” I explained. I was proud of my voice. Not once had it faltered or shook, although I could see the lady behind Aunt Harriet visibly lean closer to hear what I was saying. Was this truly that fascinating?