Nine
Jasper downed two tumblers of brandy in preparation to approach a woman. Yet, the moment he took a step toward the ballroom, he questioned the wisdom of indulging in spirits. He wasn’t foxed, but his eyesight blurred a bit, which wouldn’t help him separate out the married from widowed ladies.
Although plenty of married women engaged in trysts, the idea of an affair with another man’s wife soured his stomach. Aside from the risks of getting oneself shot, Jasper didn’t believe in being a party to cuckolding a fellow gent. Just because he had no desire to become leg-shackled yet didn’t mean he disrespected the sanctity of marriage.
Circling the great hall, he nodded to those he thought were acquaintances. It was too blasted hard to tell with all those masks and billowy capes. Speaking of billowy articles of clothing, the fur-lined robe he wore was going to kill him if he didn’t catch a breeze soon.
Again, he cursed himself for listening to Fiona. Henry VIII? No wonder the ladies kept their distance. Having a reputation for liberating others’ heads from their necks tended to breed mistrust.
Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and he dabbed at them with the sleeve of his robe.
Jasper sighed. He needed a reprieve from the heat. Spotting a door opening onto a balcony, he hurried toward it and slipped outside. He closed the door behind him and welcomed the cool breeze on his damp skin. Still, the night was too warm for a fur-trimmed anything. He swirled the velvet cloak through the air as he removed it, tempted to toss it to the ground below. Instead, he draped it over the railing.
As if the robe wasn’t bad enough, the revolting codpiece under his jerkin squeezed his shaft. Jasper lifted his skirts and jiggled to readjust himself.
“Ah, much better.”
A chuckle startled him, and he spun around to locate the source.
“I thought to scold you for blocking my view, but then you are so very entertaining.” The smoky female voice sent a jolt through his limbs. “What are you, the court jester?”
“Damned Fiona,” he mumbled under his breath. “I’m King Henry the Eighth.” He held his head high as if he were truly royalty, which was absurd given the lady had caught him with his breeches down. Or would that be skirts up? Blast! Either scenario was humiliating.
“You’re not here to find wife number seven, are you?”
Jasper drew back. “Egads! No.”
“Then you mustn’t run off.” The lady stepped from the shadows, her mask held in her hand.
He’d always been the luckiest bugger. Jasper Hainsworth, Earl of Norwick, shared a balcony with the most notoriously libidinous widow in all of London. His gaze shot around the balcony. Where was her ubiquitous companion, Lady Audley?
“Lady Kennell, what brings you outside with all the activity in the ballroom tonight?”
“Likely the same as you, Lord Norwick. It’s hotter than Hades inside. It was either step outside or shuck my dress.”
Her lack of decorum delighted him. He’d heard rumors. “I suppose it was a difficult choice to make. Do you believe you followed the correct path?”
“Now, Lord Norwick, it is no secret I rarely follow the straight and narrow path.”
Her melodious laughter made him tingle in the most wonderful places, naughty places that hadn’t been entertained for several days.
“In fact,” she said, “I haven’t ruled out the complete removal of my attire.”
Jasper’s hand slapped over his hammering heart. “Indeed? Yet, you have no lady’s maid to assist you.”
A slight breeze carried a whiff of vanilla to his nose. Bianca Kennell smelled delicious. A ray of light shone through the glass doors, illuminating her midnight black curls and reflecting off the gold necklace around her neck.
“Hmm,” she purred. “Yes, that is a dilemma.”
A tremor of pleasure raced through him. Lady Kennell responded to him. She didn’t run from the balcony or push him over the edge. What was the world coming to?
He attempted to clear his constricted throat. “M-might I offer my assistance?”
“I never would have mistaken you for a lady’s attendant, my lord.”
“I’m always willing to help a lady in distress.”
Lady Kennell laughed again. “Chivalry is a wonderful thing, Lord Norwick. Perhaps I will require assistance later, but now, I desire refreshment. Will you escort me inside?”
Jasper sprang forward to open the double door for her, allowing her to precede him into the brighter ballroom. Without darkness blurring her features, her appearance struck him dumb.
He had never realized how delicate Lady Kennell was. And he was a large man, towering above her by a foot at least. She reminded him of a fragile porcelain doll. He shuddered at the thought of breaking her.
She pointed an elegant finger in the direction of the refreshment room. “I will join you in a moment, but first I must see to my dear friend. We became separated earlier, and I’ve been unable to locate her.”
He nodded, trying his best to veil his disappointment. “Very well.”
She was deserting him now that she had gotten a good look at him, and Jasper couldn’t blame her. “It was nice conversing with you, Lady Kennell.”
Her arched brows shot upward. “I’ll see you in but a few short moments. Wait for me by the refreshment table.”
“Of course.” Jasper moved toward the adjacent room to seek out refreshments, the smile never leaving his lips. He joined the long queue waiting for the lemonade and hummed a happy tune under his breath. But after waiting an eternity without making any progress toward the punch bowl, his good mood began to fade. He stepped out of place.
Lady Kennell hadn’t joined him yet either. He glanced toward the refreshment room entrance, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. The lady had probably run as soon as he turned his back. She was a clever one to use implied promises to send him away.
Grumbling, he returned to the ballroom to see if she came his way but couldn’t locate her there either.
Jasper’s shoulders drooped on a sigh. He might be lucky at the gaming tables, but he never won the lady of his choice. How could he have forgotten?
There was no point in staying. He would search for Fiona then leave, whether she cared to join him or not.
***
Jake darted through the crowd, searching for Amelia and his brother. One minute they had been dancing and the next they had disappeared. Knowing Daniel, Jake had checked the veranda first. Relief washed over him upon the fortuitous discovery they were not there.
Thank goodness Jake hadn’t found them outside. He generally frowned upon fratricide.
He considered searching the gardens but dismissed the idea. Amelia wouldn’t slip away with Daniel as she had done with him. She wasn’t that type of woman, unlike her friend, Lady Kennell. In addition, he and Amelia shared a closeness she didn’t have with Daniel.
Nevertheless, as Jake rounded the great hall and refreshment room for the fourth time without spotting Amelia or Daniel, doubts began to niggle at the back of his consciousness. He returned to the French doors opening onto the veranda. Standing in the doorway, half in, half out, he wrestled with whether to scour the gardens. His insides knotted.
Amelia wouldn’t slip away with Daniel. Jake’s weight shifted to his toes as if he prepared to plunge headlong into a canyon. His breaths came hard. But Daniel had no honor. He would slip away with Amelia.
Oh, blast and damn! Jake shot into the heavy night.
***
Amelia hadn’t located Jake in her search of the great hall or refreshment room. The foyer was the last place to look. She lifted to her toes and tried to peer over the guests’ heads. She didn’t see Jake anywhere, but Bibi’s golden asp jutted above the crowd, headed her way.
Amelia pushed through the bodies to reach her friend.
“Have you seen Mr. Hillary?” she asked as soon as she and Bibi met.
“No, but I have been looking for you for the better part of half an hour. Where wer
e you?”
Amelia shook her head. “It’s an involved accounting. I shall tell you later, but I must find Mr. Hillary now. I haven’t searched the foyer.”
“Allow me to assist.”
Together, they foraged forward, making slow progress. A group of ladies blocked their path from the great hall.
“Featherbrains,” Bibi muttered.
Amelia cleared her throat. Lady Banner lowered her mask and turned a cold eye on them before resuming the conversation with her companions.
Bibi stiffened in response to the obvious cut, and Amelia felt her pain. These petty women were no better than her friend was. In fact, Bibi outranked Lady Banner, but the baroness cowed her companions, Ladies Davenport and Clevedon.
Of course, Lord Banner was to blame for his wife’s animosity. Months past, he had boasted to the gentlemen at White’s that he and Bibi had become lovers. And like most gossip, the story had spread to the drawing rooms before the day ended. The baron was a liar, plain and simple. Bibi avoided him like the Black Death. His sojourn to Wales had been a welcome reprieve these past few weeks for it had afforded her friend a moment to relax her guard.
Amelia opened her mouth to confront the women when Lord Norwick appeared by his sister’s side.
Bibi clung to Amelia’s arm. The disdainful look on the earl’s face urged Amelia to take a step back, bringing Bibi with her. Would he too treat them with scorn?
“For goodness’ sake, Fi,” he snapped at his sister, “move aside. Can you not see these ladies wish to pass?”
Amelia suppressed a wild laugh. The expression on Lady Banner’s face when Norwick used her given name and called out her rude behavior was priceless.
The baroness pretended to gasp, her hand upon her chest. “Oh, dear. Please accept our apologies. We were unaware we were barring your path.”
All three women scooted aside to create an opening.
“Thank you, ladies,” Norwick said before following Bibi and Amelia to the foyer.
Bibi leaned close to speak in her ear. “Amelia, we should call for my coach. I feel a headache coming on.”
“Oh, dearest, I am sorry. We should get you home immediately, shouldn’t we?”
Norwick came up on Bibi’s side. “Is something the matter, Lady Kennell?”
“I need to call for my carriage. I fear I am unwell.”
Norwick nodded toward the open front doors. “It’s congested outside. It may be half an hour at least before your carriage can be summoned. I have already called for mine. Perhaps you will allow me to assist.”
Amelia thought it unwise to accept any more assistance from the gentleman. Although appreciated, his intervention in the ballroom would likely yield unpleasant consequences in the long term. Yet, when Bibi clutched her head and turned a disturbing shade of green, Amelia tossed aside her concerns. They would have to confront any possible repercussions later.
“Thank you, my lord. Your assistance is appreciated.” She eased Bibi toward the exit and into the cooler air outside. “Goodness! I forgot about Mr. Hillary.”
Bibi slumped against Amelia. “Try to find him. I can wait.”
“No, you can’t. I will send word to him later.”
Bibi looked to Lord Norwick. “My lord, could you send word to Jake Hillary, requesting he call at Verona House this evening?”
“Of course.” He dashed back inside as his carriage rolled up to the curb. In no time, he returned. “I didn’t see Mr. Hillary, but he will receive the message. Or else,” he added under his breath. “You look pale, my lady. Is your ailment worse?”
“I’m afraid so.” Bibi’s voice was little more than a whisper.
The footman opened the door to the Berlin.
“Are you certain we are not impose—ah!” Bibi pressed her fingers to her forehead.
The earl dashed forward to place an arm around her shoulders and guided her into the carriage. “It’s no imposition.”
Lord Norwick offered a hand up to Amelia next.
“You may take us to Verona House,” she said.
The gentleman relayed instructions to the groom before climbing the stairs, the carriage listing under his weight. Bibi opened one eye as he assumed the spot across from them.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“It’s my pleasure, although I wish the circumstances were different.”
Amelia regarded him with wariness. Despite his generosity this evening, she still worried it might be a mistake to accept his help.
Ten
A manly grunt brought Jake up short. His boots skidded on the gravel path and his ears perked up. Leaves rustled. With the moon higher in the sky, less light spilled over the garden foliage. He blinked into the darkness.
“Ahh…” The soft feminine moan sent his heart racing.
Dear Lord! What if he stumbled upon someone other than his brother and Amelia in the bushes? Interrupting a lovers’ tryst seemed exceptionally rude.
This was madness. Amelia wouldn’t steal away with Daniel. If the way she sought Jake’s protection this afternoon was any indication, she disliked his brother a great deal. How nice it had been to have Amelia snuggled against him. Perhaps he should even thank Daniel for the positive developments this evening.
Jake scratched his head. Now that he considered it, Daniel’s arrival at Verona House had been oddly timed. He knew Jake would be there.
What does it matter? He hadn’t figured his brother out after all these years, and he didn’t expect he would tonight either.
Jake turned toward the house, reassured by his earlier encounters with Amelia, and ready to give up his absurd hunt.
A high-pitched squeak pierced the air. “Oh, Cap’n.” The sultry female voice flowed on an outpouring of breath.
His brother’s laughter instigated a tidal wave of rage crashing down on Jake. With a deep growl, he barreled through the brush toward the noise. His brother had Amelia against a tree in a clearing, his breeches around his knees. The cape around Daniel’s neck blocked Jake’s view of much else, but they weren’t playing tiddlywinks under there.
“You blackguard!” Jake tore across the clearing, grabbed Daniel’s cloak, and jerked him off Amelia.
Her scream ripped through the night air, sending a chill tearing through him.
“What the devil?” Daniel’s eyes darted around the space, unrecognizing the danger posed by his own brother.
Jake’s fist slammed into his jaw and sent him crashing to the ground.
“Damnation!” Daniel rubbed his face and moved as if to stand up. “That hurt, you bloody bugger.”
“Stay down or I’ll knock you unconscious.” Jake snarled and shook his fist, hoping his warning went unheeded. Another burst of rage made him quiver, and he drew back his fist to land another facer.
A battle cry hollered from somewhere behind him made him hesitate. Something pounced on his back and almost knocked him to his knees. Jake staggered with the extra weight, tripped over Daniel’s legs, and slammed his shoulder into a tree.
“Hellfire and damnation!” He hugged the trunk to keep to his feet. A searing pain throbbed in his shoulder and shot down to his elbow.
A holy terror clamped steel thighs around his waist and tore at his hair, screeching like Morrigan.
“What the devil is on me?”
“Help! Thief!” Her howl blasted in his ears, and her claws dug into his forehead as if trying to draw blood.
“Stop that!” Jake spun in circles, trying to throw the tiny fury from his back.
She tightened her grip. Her high-pitched screeching pierced his eardrum. Disoriented, he careened into a prickly bush and scratched his bare calves.
“Get off me, you harpy!”
His robe’s sleeve caught on a thorn. He tugged to release himself. Flinging his arms around his back, he tried to dislodge her with the same success a hunchback would have tossing aside his hump.
Daniel’s hearty laughter rang out. “Ginny! Ginny! He’s not a thief.”
“Ginny?” Who the hell was Ginny? “Get her off me. She’s ripping out my hair.”
His brother bolted from the ground, pulled up his breeches, and snatched the hellion from Jake’s back. “Come, luv,” he said. “Jake is harmless.”
She didn’t release him. Instead, she yanked his hair again. He wouldn’t put it past her to sink her fangs into him next.
“Good God, Daniel. Why are you hesitating?”
“I swear it, Ginny. He won’t hurt us.” Daniel spoke in a soothing voice as he reached for her.
She slapped the back of Jake’s head once more before releasing her legs from around his middle. Jake whirled to face the tiniest, most vicious woman he had ever crossed.
“Where did you find this horrible little harpy?”
Ginny growled and would have launched herself at Jake again if Daniel hadn’t captured her upper arms. Her exposed chest rose and fell in rapid sequence as she breathed heavily through her mouth.
Daniel kissed the top of her head. “Promise you won’t attack him, and I’ll release you, luv.”
She nodded once, but her glare was filled with hatred.
“She’s lying. I see it in her eyes.” Not that Jake had cause for concern now that he had his bearings, but he refused to strike a woman.
Daniel drew her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Now, now. I would be displeased if you broke your promise, Gin.”
“I gave my word,” she snapped. When Daniel released her, she yanked her dress to cover her shoulder while he fastened the back of her gown.
“Ya bloody nabob,” she said. “Wha’ ya be thinkin’ striking a man mid-shag?”
She had a vulgar tongue to match her violent temper.
Daniel chuckled, drawing her against his chest once more. “Shh, enough of that talk. I suspect it was a case of mistaken identity. No harm done.”
Lady Amelia's Mess and a Half Page 9