“And then we shall begin?” Lord Templeton asked, as Matthew nodded grimly, seeing how Miss Williams was walking towards him, her face a little pale.
“And then we begin,” he answered, offering his arm to Miss Williams and turning away from Lord Templeton in search of Lady Northgate.
Miss Williams was trembling, but her expression remained quite calm. “He is enjoying your brandy, Lord Watt,” she said, out of the corner of her mouth. “Do you think…?”
He gave her a quick smile. “Yes, I think so. Let us walk past your sister, and I shall greet her warmly. She will know what to do next.” They had agreed to wait until Lord Fitzherbert had become a little more jolly before moving things on, for he would be more relaxed then and less inclined to notice what was going on about him. Soon, Lord Fitzherbert would discover a room filled with people very much displeased with him and that, he knew, would bring everything crashing to the ground.
Some twenty minutes later and Lady Northgate had managed to dispatch everyone else to the library, where a band of musicians was waiting, ready to entertain them, as well as a poet and a singer. Seeing her slip back into the room, Matthew patted Miss Williams hand.
“It is time, Miss Williams,” he said softly, looking down into her eyes and seeing the fear there. “Are you prepared?”
She took in a long breath, setting her shoulders and seeming to gain strength from whatever it was she could see in his face. “Yes,” she said, letting go of his hand and stepping back. “I am quite prepared.” There was still a slight tremor to her voice, but her face was set, reassuring him that she knew precisely what she was to do and that she was thoroughly prepared to do it.
“I will be only a few steps away,” he murmured, wanting to reach out to take her hand, to press her fingers, but knowing he could not. “The room looks to you, Miss Williams.”
She nodded and made to turn away, only to spin back around and come a step or two closer. Her eyes searched his face, and he was again reminded of the past they had shared.
“Might you call me ‘Daisy’—as you once did?” she asked, sending a thrill up his spine. “I would so very much like it if you would.”
His hand found hers almost at once, glad that they were near the side of the room and drawing no great attention. “I have longed to do so, Daisy,” he said, her name almost spoken reverently. “And I am glad to do so again.”
She drew in a deep breath, letting it rattle out of her slowly as though this had been the only thing she needed to secure her confidence. With a small smile and a lingering look, she stepped back again, ready to bring this dark, twisted circumstance to its just end.
Daisy moved carefully towards Lord Fitzherbert, feeling as though she carried a great weight on her shoulders. The weight of responsibility that came with ensuring Lord Fitzherbert told her the truth and that, in doing so, he would admit to his guilt. Lord Watt had helped her in knowing what to say and how to say it, but she feared that her emotions would grow so quickly and would be so overwhelming that she might lose herself entirely.
Her eyes found Lord Fitzherbert. He was holding another empty glass of what she presumed had been port and was now in a very merry situation indeed. It was as though he sensed her nearness, for he turned his head and looked straight at her, his face splitting with a broad smile.
Her anger began to bubble furiously, sending a streak of heat through her. Daisy clenched her fists tight and set her jaw. She could not lose her composure now.
“Lord Fitzherbert,” she said, injecting as much warmth as she could into her words. “I am glad to see you this evening.” She smiled at him and saw how his gaze lingered on her, leering just a little. Her skin crawled, but she said nothing more, seeing how the gentlemen who had been talking to Lord Fitzherbert only moments ago were now melting away into another part of the room, although it was quite clear Lord Fitzherbert had not even noticed.
“I have something to ask you,” she said coyly, looking up at him. “Something I hope you will tell me.”
Lord Fitzherbert chuckled. “Is it about the matter we have left unfinished?” he asked, with a gleam in his eye. “You asked me some time ago about whether I might wish to pursue you in a more fervent manner, making it quite clear about your reasons for doing so, but we were unfortunately interrupted, I think.”
Daisy, who knew precisely what Lord Fitzherbert was speaking of, nodded. “That is it entirely,” she agreed, with what she hoped was a demure smile. “I do wish to know the answer to such a question. Although you are aware that, should you wish to begin a courtship, you will have to speak to my brother-in-law, Lord Northgate.” She saw Lord Fitzherbert’s eyes flick across the room, perhaps searching for Lord Northgate. “I am unsure whether you are aware of this or not, Lord Fitzherbert, but my father, Lord Harrogate, died some two years ago.”
Lord Fitzherbert jerked back but covered it with a look of horror which faded to sympathy. “Indeed, I was not aware,” he said, sounding quite sorrowful. “How very sad for you.”
“Indeed,” Daisy sighed, glad that Lord Fitzherbert had done precisely what she and Lord Watt had expected. “It was a very difficult time.” She began to tell Lord Fitzherbert about her year of mourning but did not go into any particular details about the death of her father. Instead, she spoke of her sorrow, her misery, and her grief, which he seemed to sympathize with for he gave the occasional nod and murmur.
“I am certain he would have been very glad to meet you, Lord Fitzherbert,” she finished, putting one hand on his arm even though she wanted nothing more than to strike the fellow, hard, for the falseness he wore at present. “He was a very good man, and we lost so much along with him when he died.”
Lord Fitzherbert cleared his throat. “Indeed,” he said, without any particular intonation. “That fire almost burned through the townhouse, did it not?”
Daisy froze. Whilst she knew and had expected Lord Fitzherbert to say something contradictory to his promise that he knew very little about Lord Harrogate or the circumstances surrounding his death, she had not expected it to be so soon. They had waited until Lord Fitzherbert had drunk a rather liberal amount in the hope that he would do precisely this but to have blurted out a remark like that after only a few minutes quite threw her.
She stared at him blankly.
“What is the matter, dear lady?” Lord Fitzherbert exclaimed, sweeping forward towards her, his expression befuddled. “You look as though you have turned to stone.”
Daisy let out her breath slowly, trying very hard to keep her composure calm. Her mind was screaming at her to say something, but all that she had practiced with Lord Watt had flown from her mind. The shock had been overwhelming.
“Oh.”
Lord Fitzherbert’s eyes widened, and he took a small step back. His hands raised, and he tried to smile. “I mean to say, I heard about the fire, of course.”
“You said you did not even know my father had passed away,” she answered, looking at him sharply and allowing all that she felt to pour into her heart. “But I know you lied, Lord Fitzherbert.” She took a step closer, pointing one finger at him. “I know more than you think.”