Page 6 of The Baroness of Sin
“Yes, friends you can talk to and tell them why you are sad. Friends want to help their friends be happy,” Martha said, thinking about the people she left inside. She didn’t think her advice was bad, but it felt a tad hypocritical. She didn’t have any friends that she felt she could confide in. How could she expect this child to understand?
There was another brief silence between them. This time Martha realized something particular about it. The silence between her and Amanda wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Martha felt a slight pang at that moment; the thought of the children she couldn’t have briefly flashed into her mind. She allowed the thought to wander, imagining this little girl in place of her own lost children. She did this for but a moment as she found the sadness that came with the fantasy too great and quickly dismissed it.
“Would you want to be my friend, Martha?” the girl’s voice seemed to be oddly loud despite the chaotic noise that came from the party behind them.
“That would be lovely,” Martha told her.
“And I can tell you when I am sad?” Amanda asked.
“Anytime you want,” the Baroness assured her.
“Okay,” Amanda said quietly before sliding over and leaning against the woman she just met. “I’m sad. I think I miss my mom.”
“That’s okay, dear,” Martha replied, tentatively putting her arm around the girl in a hug. “I miss my mom, too.”
While she was hugging Amanda, she noticed faint lines on her skin on the back of her neck that traced down past the collar of her nightclothes. Whatever they were, they were difficult to make out in the dim light of the garden. Before she could think to ask about them, a voice called out from the darkness.
“There you are! Amanda, dear one, you had me worried sick!”
The gentleman that followed the voice was one of the most handsome Martha had ever seen. His strong features were only marred by the worry they wore.
Martha stood up before the gentleman and noticed a tall woman with raven black hair mostly hidden behind him. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, sir. Is this your daughter?”
“I apologize, My Lady. I am Lord James Williams, Earl of Barristen, and yes, that is my dear daughter,” the Earl said, trying to be polite but finding himself struggling to be anything but brief. The relief he felt was mingling with exhaustion from the long night. “I apologize that my daughter wandered onto your property. I believe she was drawn to the lights and music of your affair here.”
“Children are often want to wander,” the lady said with a polite smile. “I am Lady Martha Worter, Baroness of Carrington. I take it that your daughter wandered from nearby then? I didn’t realize that this Amanda was Lady Amanda Williams, or I would have returned her home.”
James ushered his daughter over to him, hugging her tightly. She was crying again, but the tears were silent this time. He quietly assured her that she was not in trouble as he hugged her close. He made a mental note to explain to her why she shouldn’t leave without telling someone first but didn’t plan on punishing her. He thought he might be too soft on his daughter, even spoil her a little, but that he could never change about their relationship. He didn’t have the will.
Turning back to the conversation at hand, he had to think back about what Lady Carrington said to him. “No way you could have recognized her. I don’t believe you had the opportunity to do much socializing, given your status as a widow.” James tried to stop the annoyance that crept into his voice now. “Something you are trying to make up for, I take it?”
Martha seemed to be processing what he had just said to her as if the tone of his voice was unexpected. “I hardly think that one party constitutes any sort of catching up,” she said unsurely but followed it up with a smile. “Give me a little more time, though. Perhaps if I make the next one a bit more tempting, we will find you in attendance.” Her smile unconsciously widened at the thought of managing to attract this handsome lord.
“I find my patience with the matter tested quite enough already, thank you.” His tone had turned hard and cool. “I think it unlikely that our tastes could find a meeting point. The least I could ask for the next ball is to make the theme a bit less alluring to children.”
“My Lord,” Martha huffed, her good mood turned sour, “are you insinuating something?”
“Miss Blake, would you please see my daughter back to her bed. I believe I need to have a brief discussion with Lady Carrington. I’ll be but a moment,” he said while passing his daughter to the governess. The girl’s tears had put her to sleep again, but only Sarah noticed. James and Martha were staring at each other, bolts of anger flickering between them.
Martha spoke first after the child had been escorted away, “Am I to understand correctly, Lord Barristen, that you are offended that I located your missing daughter? Because that would seem to be what you are insinuating.”
“I’m insinuating nothing of the sort, My Lady.” James’ voice went from cool to downright cold. “I am rather off-put that your impromptu and improper ball has lured my daughter from her bed.”
“Improper?” Martha was genuinely surprised. “What have I done that you have found improper?”
“Do lords and ladies not hold to mourning customs now?” he asked tersely. His own mourning period only ended after five years and at the insistence at several members of his club that enough time had passed. Still, a year to him seemed short.
“Does custom not dictate I wait for one year? Have I not mourned long enough for my husband for your liking?” she shot back, practically speaking between her teeth.
“If my memory is correct, you did seem to wait almost precisely one year,” James observed airily. He might have been less bothered if Lady Carrington wasn’t so strikingly beautiful. Now, in the rainbow light of her ballroom, she seemed almost ephemeral. He didn’t like the rush of emotions that came with staring at her. They felt unnatural and outside his control, so he responded to them with something he could control, his anger.
Martha smiled with false sweetness. “Pray tell, My Lord, exactly how long must a Lady wait after the proper amount of time for it to be the proper amount of time? Should have I read your published book on etiquette? I must have missed the printing.”
It was James’ turn to be caught off guard. He had not had anyone talk to him in such a way in a very long time. Others were inclined to be kinder to a widower, but Lady Carrington felt no inclination.
“I am curious where you did learn your manners, My Lady? Do you normally talk to a gentleman with that tone, or am I personally blessed with that good fortune?” James tone could not be described as anything short of acidic.
“It must be my good fortune, My Lord.” Her smile never wavered, and she felt her heart thudding in her chest. “As you know I have been having a run of luck as of late.”
