by Tarah Scott
* * *
Valan entered his house and paused in the foyer. The bustle of party preparations filtered throughout the mansion. The indistinct murmur of voices, the distant rattle of pots, quick footsteps. Clearly, the majority of the work had been done. Things were quiet compared to the tension and harried air that had permeated the house until yesterday.
He strode down the hallway to his library and went inside, pulling the door closed behind him. The faint noise cut off, and quiet descended. He hadn’t been certain he would survive the preparations, but he had. He started for the sideboard located against the wall to the right of the hearth, then halted at sight of the game table sitting where his old game table had been.
He didn’t remember buying a new table. Valan crossed to the table and stared at it. He traced a finger across the exquisite inlaid marble. The table might very well be finer than the one he had owned—even if it hadn’t been in his family for three generations.
He slid open the drawer on the left-hand side and found inside the cards and game pieces that had filled the other table’s drawer. Baldwin must’ve taken the liberty of replacing the table, which surprised him. Baldwin knew Valan’s taste as well as he did himself, and the steward had not failed on this point, but Valan had never known him to take such initiative. Still, he couldn’t complain.
A knock sounded on the door and Baldwin entered. “Forgive the interruption, sir, but you have a visitor. Baron Rosemund.”
“Show him in,” Valan said. Baldwin started to turn, and Valan said, “Baldwin, I must thank you for the game table.”
The steward shook his head. “I did not procure the table for you, sir. I believe that was Miss Matheson’s doing.”
“Indeed?” Valan replied. “Wonders never cease.”
Baldwin left, and a moment later reappeared with Brendan. Baldwin bowed and closed the door as he left.
“I believe Baldwin grows more dour by the year,” the baron said. “How long have you employed him?”
“Fifteen years,” Valan said.
“Perhaps that explains his somber mood.”
Valan gave him a dry look, then headed for the sideboard. “Have you come here simply to abuse me?”
Brendan laughed. “Forgive me. But you must admit that I am right.”
Valan poured two glasses of sherry. “I must admit nothing of the sort. The party is tonight, my dear. You’re very early and not dressed for the evening. Don’t tell me you’re here to say you cannot attend. I have plans for you tonight.”
He crossed to his desk, handed Brendan one of the glasses, then motioned to the chairs that faced the low-burning fire in the hearth.
“The knowledge you have plans for me is enough to have me come down with a fever and cry off,” the baron said as he settled into one of the chairs. “What are these plans?”
“What would be the fun if I told you?” Valan replied.
“None for you, I imagine. I’m here to ask if you heard that Latham left Edinburgh.”
Valan sipped his sherry. “I believe I did hear that bit of gossip.”
“I fear it is more than gossip, Valan. He is nowhere to be found.”
“One need only know where to look,” Valan said.
Brandan’s eyes narrowed. “You know where he is.”
“I not only know where he is, I sent him there.”
Brendan released a breath. “Then we need not worry on account of our investment.”
“You need not,” Valan said. “Though Latham will no longer be handling our business.”
“What? But you said— What have you done?” Brendan asked.
“It is best you not ask,” Valan answered. “Just rest easy that our investments are now in the hands of someone who won’t try to steal them.”
Shock registered on Brendan’s face. “Embezzlement?”
“Attempted embezzlement,” Valan said.
“Who’s in charge now?” the baron asked.
Valan took another sip of sherry and smiled.
“Never say you are handling the shipments?” Brendan said. “Good God.”
“Should I take offense?” Valan asked.
“What?” Brendan gave a distracted shake of his head. “Nae, it’s just a shock. Embezzlement, and you running the company.”
“Just long enough for us to receive payment,” Valan said.
“Everyone will be glad to hear you took charge and saved us.”
“Let us not say anything just yet,” Valan said.
Brendan regarded him. “Johnston may not be too pleased.”
“Nor Anthony.”
Brendan nodded. “I will leave everything to you.”
“Very sensible. Now, do you—”
Voices sounded outside the door and a quick knock followed, then the door opened and Jeanine and Miss Stone entered.
Jeanine clutched a flat box. When her gaze met Valan’s, her face brightened. “I told you he was here.” She hurried toward him. Miss Stone followed at a sedate pace.
“My God,” Brendan murmured.
The ladies reached them and Valan and Brendan rose. Jeanine curtsied and looked up at Brendan. “Hello, sir.”
“Brendan, this is my ward, Miss Matheson,” Valan said. “Jeanine, may I present Baron Rosemund.”
Brendan bowed over her hand. “A pleasure, Miss Matheson.”
“How do you do, sir?” Jeanine replied, and before Valan could introduce Miss Stone, Jeanine said, “This is my friend, Miss Stone.”
Brendan bowed over her hand. “Ma’am. Please, have my seat,” he told Jeanine. I will fetch a chair for Miss Stone and myself.”
“How very kind of you,” Jeanine said. “Miss Stone, you sit. I have sat enough for today.” Miss Stone took the offered chair and Jeanine then turned to Valan. “Did you see the table? Is it not beautiful? We found it today when we were shopping for this.” She extended the box.
He took it. “What is this?”
She smiled. “Open it and find out, silly.”
Brendan didn’t successfully stifle his laughter. Valan removed the top and started at sight of two exquisite cravats lying side by side: one ivory, the other a dark blue.
He looked at Jeanine. “What are these for?”
“They’re cravats. They’re to wear,” she said.
More low laughter from Brendan, who had placed another chair beside Miss Stone’s chair.
“So, I see,” Valan said. “To what do I owe the honor of this gift?”
“My mother says a man can never have too many cravats. I intended only to purchase the ivory, but Miss Stone said the blue would complement your eyes.” Jeanine lifted the blue cravat and held it against his temple. She smiled. “She was right—not that I doubted her.” Jeanine laid the cravat back in the box. “Do you not like them? Was my mother wrong, do you have too many cravats?”
“Never,” he said. “The blue is particularly nice, and I don’t believe I have one that color. Thank you.”
“Shall we sit?” He pointed to his chair.
She shook her head. “We only came to give you the cravats and to see if you like the table. Do you like the table? You didn’t say so. Oh dear, did we miscalculate? I was so sure you would like it.”
“If you will permit me to explain,” he said, “it is exquisite.”
She beamed. “I knew you would like it. Well, we must go. Lady Guilford was very specific in saying that we must begin preparation for the party no later than six.” Jeanine leaned close to him and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “She is a little frightening.”
He laughed. “Indeed, she is.”
“I plan to cheat just a little and go to the kitchen first and beg some chocolate and pastries from Mrs. McPhee,” Jeanine said. “But we must be certain there is no chocolate left on our mouths when Lady Guilford arrives.”
“Heaven forbid,” he agreed with all seriousness.
“If you are ready, Miss Stone,” Jeanine said.
Miss Stone stood. She nodded to Valan
and Brendan, and murmured, “My lords,” then started toward the door alongside Jeanine.
Jeanine halted and looked over her shoulder at Valan. “You will be at the ball?”
“Of course.”
She nodded, and they left.
Valan reclaimed his seat beside Brendan.
“I don’t believe it,” Brendan said.
“Believe what, my dear?”
“She is not at all what I expected.”
Valan looked at him. “What did you expect?”
“Well…a femme fatale, I suppose.”
“Goodness, why would you expect that?”
Branden lifted a brow and grinned. “Because, my friend, that is the only kind of woman I’ve ever seen you with.”
“Ah, I see your error.” Valan finished off his sherry. “I am not ‘with’ Miss Matheson.”
Brendan laughed. “Does she know that?”
Chapter Nine
Jeanine scanned the crowded ballroom. “I don’t see Grey anywhere. Do you, Miss Stone? Your superior height gives you an advantage.”
“I am afraid I don’t. It would seem everyone who received an invitation is here. I have never seen such a crowded ballroom.”
“Oh, I see him,” Jeanine said. “Is that him in the far left corner talking to that redheaded woman?”
“I believe you’re right,” Miss Stone said.
“We better hurry before we lose him,” Jeanine said, and started forward.
Miss Stone kept up with her, oftentimes parting the way when people didn’t see Jeanine.
“You’re so fortunate to be tall,” Jeanine said.
“If you say so, Miss Matheson.”
They skirted a large crowd of women and Jeanine spotted the marquess with the woman.
“She’s standing too close to him. Don’t you agree, Miss Stone?” Jeanine said in a whisper.
“The ladies today are too fast,” Miss Stone said in a prim voice.
The woman leaned even closer to him and laughed at something he said. Jeanine and Miss Stone neared him and he looked past the woman at Jeanine. She came to a stop in front of him with Miss Stone beside her.
His lordship smiled. “Good evening, Miss Matheson.”
“Good evening, sir,” she said.
Amusement tugged at his mouth. “Lady Claire, may I introduce my ward, Miss Matheson. Jeanine, this is Lady Claire.”
Jeanine curtsied. “My lady.”
Lady Claire gave a slight nod.
“And this is her companion, Miss Stone,” the marquess said. “Miss Stone, I present Lady Claire.”
Miss Stone curtsied. “My lady.”
Lady Claire angled her head in a graceful nod.
“Are you enjoying the party?” he asked Jeanine.
She nodded. “It’s very exciting. Miss Stone has already danced with two gentlemen.”
The marquess smiled politely. “How very fortunate for the gentlemen.”
“Lady Guilford made introductions,” Miss Stone said. “The gentlemen could do no less than ask me to dance.”
“That is not so.” Jeanine looked at the marquess. “I am correct, am I not?”
“Quite correct,” he agreed. “Rest assured, Miss Stone, my cousin simply knows how to pair up good dancers.”
Miss Stone angled her head in acquiescence. “As you say, my lord.”
Jeanine caught sight of a tall, wiry man standing just beyond the dance floor, scanning the large ballroom. “How grand. Look, Miss Stone, it is Mr. Craig.” She nodded in his direction.
“Mr. Craig?” the marquess asked.
“I must fetch him,” Jeanine said.
“Allow me,” Miss Stone said, and started away.
“May I ask, who is Mr. Craig?” his lordship asked.
“Of course. You will not be surprised,” Jeanine said.
“I pray not, but I am curious to know how you made the acquaintance of a gentleman I am unaware of.”
Jeanine laughed. “You’re not unaware of him—not really. He is the gentleman who owns the shop where I purchased the game table.”
“Game table?’ Lady Claire repeated.
“Aye,” Jeanine said. “I had to replace it because—”
“I think we can forego the telling of that tedious story,” Grey interrupted.
Jeanine’s heart fell. “Aye.”
Miss Stone arrived with Mr. Craig. She made introductions and Mr. Craig bowed stiffly. “My lord, I hope I am not intruding. Miss Matheson was quite adamant that I attend. If this is an intrusion, I understand.”
“Not in the least,” the marquess said. “Miss Matheson may invite anyone she likes. You are welcome at Finley Hall.”
Jeanine caught the look of surprise that Lady Claire couldn’t quite hide.
The marquess introduced Mr. Craig to Lady Claire. The man bowed low again and Jeanine wondered if he might break in half.
The orchestra struck up a waltz. “A waltz,” she cried. “How enlightened of you to have the orchestra play a waltz, sir. This is perfect. You promised me a dance.”
His lordship lifted a brow. “I don’t remember that promise.”
“Oh yes, you did—and you cannot say you have forgotten because you are old, because you are not.”
“But if I have forgotten, then it must be from age.”
She grinned. “Then you admit you promised.”
“Very clever, my dear, but I admit nothing of the kind.”
She shrugged. “I suppose if you cannot remember, I will have to settle for dancing with Lord Pomeroy.”
“Lord Pomeroy is not the sort of man you should dance with, particularly the waltz.”
“But I promised. I cannot break my promise.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, then he addressed Lady Claire. “You’ll have to excuse me, Lady Claire.”
She gave him a pretty pout, and Jeanine repressed a roll of her eyes when the pout leaked into her voice, “But you promised me a walk, my lord.” She looked at him through her lashes. “I feel certain you have not forgotten that promise.”
He caught her hand and brushed his lips across her fingers. “I have not forgotten. But that will have to wait.” He released her hand, and turned. “Sir,” he said to Mr. Craig, and then to Miss Stone, “Miss Stone.”
Jeanine glimpsed the startlement on Lady Claire’s face before the woman’s eyes narrowed. Then his lordship cupped Jeanine’s elbow and turned her toward the dance floor.
At the edge of the dance floor, he swung her into his arms, his right hand pressed lightly against her back, his left clasping her right hand. He stepped back to arm’s length, then pulled her into the music with flawless rhythm. He steered them around a couple who nearly collided with them, then turned her in a tight circle that took her breath. Jeanine laughed, and when she looked up at him, he was smiling down at her. She smiled back and slid right as the press of his hand on her back cued her.
“You are an excellent dancer,” she said. “Not at all too old.”
“I never said I couldn’t dance.” His express turned serious. “I would prefer you didn’t dance with Lord Pomeroy.”
“Is he a rake?” she asked.
“He is.”
“You are afraid my reputation will be tarnished.”
“Something like that,” he said.
She shrugged. “I don’t really like him.”
“But you would have danced with him, despite my request that you not.”
“I will not dance with him, if you prefer I don’t.”
“That’s very generous of you, considering you coerced me into dancing with you.”
She gave him a bright smile.
An answering smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he said in mock sternness, “Perhaps it isn’t you I need worry about, but the gentlemen you bewitch.”
She laughed again and said no more.
Three dances later, Mr. Westland escorted Jeanine from the dance floor and she had to admit she was fatigued.
“You look as though you could use some refreshment,” he said.
They approached a large alcove, but Jeanine stopped when it seemed he might continue inside. Lady Guilford had been very specific in her instructions that Jeanine was, under no condition, to enter an alcove alone with any gentleman.
She looked up at Mr. Westland. “I am thirsty.”
He smiled. “Let me fetch you some punch.”
She gave him a grateful smile before he left. Jeanine looked for a place to sit, but there was no place, save the alcove. She considered. After all, she wasn’t with a gentleman, so she wouldn’t be disobeying Lady Guilford. Jeanine sighed. Mr. Westland would return and then she would be alone with him in the alcove. The open balcony doors, thirty feet to her right, beckoned. She could cool off outside for a moment or two, then return before Mr. Westland made it back.
She wound her way through the crowd and out onto the balcony, which she was surprised to find deserted save for a couple who occupied a bench in the shadows of the far corner. At her appearance, they rose and hurried down the half dozen steps onto the lawn. She sat on the bench in the shadows to the left of the door, near the railing, and watched until the couple were silhouettes beyond the ballroom lights, and then disappeared amongst the darker shadows of trees and bushes.
Lady Claire had said that Grey promised her a walk in the gardens. Jeanine hadn’t seen him since their dance. Had he taken Lady Claire for that walk? Maybe they still lingered in the gardens. She breathed deep of the fresh air. The night was warm, but cooler than the stuffy ballroom. Maybe Grey would take her for a walk.
So far, she hadn’t met a single gentleman who suited her purposes. How long could she remain Grey’s ward if she didn’t find a proper husband soon? He said he would help her. That had to mean he would send her home until he found her a suitable husband, as he’d promised. Had he an elderly gentleman in mind? When she thought about it, it wasn’t surprising that an elderly gentleman wasn’t at the ball. How could a gentleman that old attend a ball? Well, perhaps he could, if he remained seated. But that would be no fun at all.
Tomorrow, she would ask Grey about his plans. Jeanine thought about Miss Stone. What would happen to her once she married? Jeanine would have to bring her to her new household. She couldn’t allow her to leave without a good position, because too many employers mistreated companions.