Chapter 9

“Oh liven up.” Teresa nudged Mendora, the impact caught by the make shift contraption concealed beneath her but that didn’t prevent Mendora from shooting her sister an aggrieved look under hooded eyes.

“Don’t give me that look, even papa is here tonight.” Teresa pressed closer to her sister, throwing Mendora’s steps off momentarily. “We should be happy; it’s been too long since he’d accompanied us at a ball.” Teresa giggled, her eyes already scanning the room, making note of all the eligible men in their wake. Mendora said nothing, they were walking closely behind their parents and she was certain any words spoken would be picked up by the elders, and she was right. Lavinia caught the words of her younger daughter, motioning to gaze up at the side profile of her husband as he guided them through the ballroom. Tonight, they graced the halls of a Lord Derbyshire. Lavinia, hadn’t met the man but his reputation was renowned in their circles. He’d been married at least three times and the word was he was looking for his fourth wife. For that purpose alone, he’d thrown a ball, inviting any and every one. Not that Lavinia thought much families would consider marrying their daughters off to him. To do so to a young woman would be torturous. If not for the age gap, for Lord Derbyshire was at least fifty years old with the unhealthy sexual appetite of a man more than half his age, the man was known for his mistreatment and degradation of women.

Lavinia had been the one requiring convincing to attend this ball and had it not been for Teresa’s involvement, her mind would not have been swayed by her husband. There had to have been some personal gain attached and while she had forgotten her thoughts and questions on the matter earlier, they were renewed at hearing her daughters’ conversations.

“I may sound ungrateful, but I do find it a shock that you were adamant about joining us tonight.” She breathed the words carefully, eying her husband for any hint of his true mind.

“I heard that the Marquess of Lansdowne may make a rare appearance, and I am eager to have my family introduced.” Aldrich responded lightly, nodding at a person Lavinia hadn’t time or sense to check as they waltz by.

“I don’t believe I ever saw the man.” She responded, wondering what Aldrich’s play was. Not that he’d ever confide in her. Her husband never made an acquaintance that didn’t serve him some purpose.

“If he shows up tonight you will.” Aldrich responded non-committedly as he stormed away from the group of women he arrived with, gazing back at Mendora with disapproving eyes as he sought to join in conversation with the men present. Mendora did her best to ignore her father’s apparent outrage. He’d done all in his power to restrict her from appearing, refusing to take the carriage to pick her up at the Rosalind’s manor. Mendora was happy not to attend but the Rosalinds nagged at her to unwind and she’d ridden with them in their carriage, coincidently meeting her family at the entrance. Teresa had latched onto her sister instantly, squealing and rejoicing without thought of her actions. The sight had deterred their father from sounding his discontentment at Mendora’s presence for he had half a mind to send her back home in the carriage.

***

Guard up, back stiffened as he drew the glass to his lips, the red wine, watered down and ineffectual for him to pass the time slid down his throat. He ignored the hungry gazes of the women around him, many walking by with a companion only to giggle after they’ve moved past him. Solaire felt much like a lion in a cage, an exhibition for the masses.

He did his best to seem unbothered but Russell had once again dragged him to a venue only to disappear to court his intended. Solaire shot daggers at the back of the man’s head as he noted him dancing with the woman he claimed to have fallen in love with. Shaking his head, he considered slipping away from the match making mamas circles around him like vultures. Word of his status and import was circling around the room faster than he’d expected, but wasn’t that what women do best? Gossip?

“I’d die of embarrassment before I ever left my house again,” a young woman too unremarkable for Solaire to note voiced the opinion with shame or hesitation to older woman at her side.

Solaire had formed the express intention to move. To occupy another space if his peace was sure to be interrupted by the gossiping breaths of the women close to him. But the next sentence had drawn his attention. The girl’s mother turned her nose up, scoffing unabashedly as she said, “For a girl of such unfortunate circumstance, that Mendora hadn’t any shame.”

Solaire turned his attention to the family gliding into the ballroom. Mr. Aldrich Garrick, a man he’d met recently arm in arm with who Solaire assumed to be his wife and following behind were two women. One easily recognisable as the girl he’d met through Nicholas Rosalind and his wife. Since that day last week, he’d quit their house, opposed to imposing on their hospitality. He’d thought to never lay eyes on Mendora again and yet this moment he failed to relinquish his gaze, catching the manner in which her father glanced at her before walking away.

“But mama, she must know that her presence is a discomfort. One hardly knows how to speak to her and above that the men steer clear if one was to take her company.” The girl whined as if the very presence of Mendora affected her individual opportunity to find a husband. Solaire mused that venture was lacking in success from the temperament of the girl herself.

“I admit she is a difficult girl with bad manners,” the older woman commented as their party extended. The conversation heavy with Mendora’s name and the sound of it an irritant to Solaire’s entire being.

From his view, Mendora’s companion had joined the dance, leaving her unattended with a nasty frown upon her delicate features, her eyes narrowed to uninviting slits. Quiet an intimidating appearance for a woman, he had to admit that interested him. The last time he saw her those round eyes held innocence and naivety in their depths and now they were akin to dangerous.

He knew what it was to have your name on the tip of people’s tongue owing to no fault of your own. A tragic experience when he was at school and his mother’s activities were the topic among the men in his class. Till date, a sly comment or two would tickle his eardrums but he’d learnt to give no importance to it and his title and place in life had given him all he needed to be unconcerned of the matter. He imagined there was little opportunity for feigned respect for a woman who had only to put her eggs in the basket of marriage. An option he heard Mendora hadn't the liberty of expecting.

Before he had time to consider the weight of his actions, of the eyes trailing him, he was on the move. Mendora had spotted Solaire from a distance. She’d not thought much about him since her conversation with Ginger. There was not much to think about since she’d never expected to lay eyes on him again.

“Aren’t women your age supposed to be fond of balls?” he said as he came to standing before Mendora, her eyes widening a bit, looking at him as if he were lost.

“My Lord,” she acknowledged him, gathering her wits in few seconds her curtsey provided.

“I was once.” She answered his question, a wistful smile elongated her lips into the most perfectly lopsided smile he’d ever seen as she stared at the couples turning about the room. Her gaze possessive as it fell over the girl who’d been hand in hand with her, now dancing with a man Solaire hadn’t been acquainted with.

“Acquaintance of yours?” he followed line of sight and Mendora nodded. “Sisters can be acquaintances can they not?” she posed, considering that Teresa was one of two friends she had. More than sisters indeed.

“Ahh,” he responded with an elevation of the brows and Mendora dug deep to expel the cold overcoming her. Her body had the nerve to shiver in this man’s presence. How traitorous!

“Your Lordship,” Lord Derbyshire happened upon them before Solaire could speak another word to Mendora, “A pleasure for you to grace us with your presence, I much like to have a discussion with you.” He said, turning his gaze upon the woman beside the Marquess. A strange person, but the thought quickly dissipated.

“Sorry my dear,” he said to Mendora as she acknowledged him, “I suspect conversations of politics may bore you, and steal your interest from the exchange.” It was a dismissal, as polite as she would ever hope to receive and Mendora had no qualms or concerns of departing from the pool of men gathering, in all honesty it was growing uncomfortable and too many eyes were directed her way.

“Women are not learned enough to understand politics and they disguise their ignorance as disinterest.” Sir Henry joined the group, ensuring his opinion was heard loud and far that Mendora noted some of the ladies smirking, no doubt considering his remark a jab at her intellect. How small minded, her eyes narrowed. Referring to one female as an empty brained vessel was as much a disrespect to every single one of them.

Mendora smirked, hesitating to leave as she met the eyes of Sir Henry, “When politics seek to serve the interest of women in equal to that of the man, then women shall be inclined to show interest.”

She felt the heat of three pairs of eyes upon her, her father joining as the men stood in silence, speech snatched from their tongues.