May 1811
London
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 whom to speak. Always exceedingly shy, he did not venture into conversation, but rather waited for someone to speak with him first. Not that anyone would wish to chat with him. His shyness had always left him foundering for the right words and looking foolish. His father had tried to cure him of his timidity by hiring an actor to teach him how to overcome his introversion, but to no avail. John wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, 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, as his first, last, and only meeting with the lady several years earlier had 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, he could not ignore William. John sucked in a deep breath, girded his loins, and strolled over.
“Westerly, how do you do?” John asked. William had saved him at school once from a group of pranksters and their friendship had endured. John had always looked up to him.
“Winsbarren, old boy,” William said, extending his hand. “Damned good to see you. How are you holding up?”
John shook his hand, and then remembered William’s’ other, loftier title.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. I forget you are no longer a mere Earl.”
William laughed. “None of this Your Grace, Winsbarren. ’Tis a title in name only, just like Westerly.” Then he whispered, “Believe me, there is nothing I wish more than to go back to being plain old William Smith.” He turned to Penny. “Have you met my wife, Penelope?”
As John bent over her hand, someone in the massive crowd accidentally bumped him, and as he took a step forward to right himself, he stepped on her toes. Horrified at what he’d done, his fault or not, he said quickly, “Lady Penelope, do forgive me. Pray accept my deepest apologies.”
William laughed.
“My lord.” 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 attend and sent me in his stead. Thankfully, I must only do my duty to Lady Montlake and then I may disappear.”
“How is old Brumbley?” William asked.
“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 sighed.
“You do not enjoy the Season, Lord Winsbarren?” Penny asked.
John summoned the courage, looked Lady Penelope in the eye, and said, “I only attend if my father demands it. After our last meeting, I found it a much wiser course to forego the delights.”
“I declare that was nearly seven years ago,” Penny said. “Surely, you jest.”
“No, 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. “Forgive me, Winsbarren,” William said. “I believe my wife has not had the pleasure of seeing you dance.”
William’s brother, the Marquess of Haverlane took that moment to approach the group. They excused themselves and walked away.
Penny turned to John. “So you do not dance?”
John attempted a smile. “It seems I suffer from the tribulation of two left feet. 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.”
“Winsbarren,” Penny said. “That is preposterous. Everyone can dance.”
“Perhaps.” John glanced 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’s cheeks flamed. He’d heard William’s lovely wife was quite outspoken, however, he’d never expected Lady Penelope to say that.
“Yes, among other reasons. As you have thus witnessed, I also lack in the happy manners one needs in Society. You are the first lady in a decade who has spoken with me longer than two minutes.” Or the first one he cared to speak with. William would not have married a woman who was anything less than kind and John felt safe with her.
Penny looked aghast. “Surely not.”
“No, 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 and took a step back. His stomach erupted with spasms.
“Will you not dance with me?”
To refuse would be another cut, but 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.”
“Forgive me. I am not sure what you mean.”
“My lord, I am merely trying to gauge whether the view society, and 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’s eyes opened wide, her cheeks tinged 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 cocked her head. “Is this why you do not speak with the ladies? Are these the kinds of ill compliments you present?”
John looked at his feet. “More often than not. I do not own the talent of easy conversation.”
“So what do you do?” Penny asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“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. Once they realize I am socially inept, they conveniently find an excuse to depart my company.”
Penny stared at him as if trying to analyze an insect. “Yes, my lord, unfortunately I can see that. 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, Lady Penelope. 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, I am in a quandary as to what to do. I would like to marry soon. 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. “Honestly, I would rather have children than a wife. Children are always happy. They 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, Winsbarren.”
“From you I shall take that as a great compliment.” John gave a slight bow.
After a moment 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 are everything that is kind.”
Penny smiled. “Think nothing of it. Until Thursday then.”
John returned her smile. “I look forward to it.”