by Heather Boyd
When Jack put it that way, it sounded so calculated, so cold. Could she really do what he assumed? “Perhaps he will love me and not care a whit about the money.”
“Better make sure the one you snare has the funds to pay for you first, before the fool falls in love,” the marquess bit out, and then he cursed under his breath. “Give me the list.”
“Why?”
“I will have the final say on who you wed. We will put about that you remain my ward. The gentlemen must court you with my approval.” Jack’s scowl proved he had little liking for the task. “We cannot have you wasting your energies unnecessarily. Making love to someone without the blunt to settle the debts would be unwise.”
Constance’s face flamed at his words. “No, thank you. I don’t require your assistance.”
“Stop talking nonsense. I’ll get it myself.” He strode around her, entered her bedchamber, and crossed to the door. He pushed it closed, locked it, and then turned back in her direction. Seeing Jack in her bedchamber rooted her to the spot. What was he doing?
He showed her the next moment when he crossed to her desk, rummaged through the papers in the top draw, and removed the list Virginia had written. His hand lingered over her letters from Cullen, but he pushed them aside along with her belongings. He made a furious swipe at a quill, jerked the lid off her inkpot, and bent over the paper.
Jack’s serious face twisted into a series of scowls and downright ugly expressions that frightened her.
Constance edged closer to the doors. “What are you doing?”
“Be quiet,” he warned, glancing toward the locked door. “I am culling the unfortunates without sufficient funds for your purposes.” He spoke low. She moved to stand at his shoulder to hear him better, watching as he scratched off three names without a moment’s hesitation.
“Don’t do that.” She reached forward to grab his hand. “I told you I don’t need your help. I would appreciate it if you listened to me, for once.”
She braced herself against the back of his chair to pull his hand away from the paper, but he slipped from her grip and laced his fingers through hers, trapping her in an awkward position over his shoulder. She couldn’t move. Draped as she was, she could only stare at the large hand dwarfing hers.
Reluctantly, she turned her face toward his, supremely conscious that her chest pressed tightly to his broad shoulders. There was not a trace of padding inside the coat as far as she could tell. The heat of him branded her breast through the thin gown, and she blushed at the scandalous image they would present if anyone found them like this.
The marquess’ face flushed with color and his blue eyes widened. That couldn’t be a good thing. She squirmed to get away. Another outburst like yesterday could mean her doom.
Jack didn’t release her, but turned his head fractionally, nostrils flaring as he drew breath. “I will listen when you talk sense, Pixie.” His voice whispered across her cheek.
Constance blinked. The marquess hadn’t called her by her nickname in years.
He tortured her for a moment longer before practically throwing her from him. She staggered to find her balance, wrapped her arms across her aching chest, and stared at the floor.
“There has to be peace between us, for Virginia’s sake,” Jack forced out. “It appears her heart is set on finding you a husband. That has given her purpose again. I will not go against her wishes. But she is aware when we argue behind her back.”
The sight of the marquess so discomposed stilled the cutting retort she wanted to utter. It wasn’t all his fault that they argued. They both wanted Virginia to be happy again. But it was hard to keep up the charade of polite acquaintances when, the minute Virginia turned her back, they were at each others’ throats.
“Are you willing to help me find a husband?”
The marquess shifted on his feet, appearing uncomfortable again. “If that is what you desire, then yes, I can help.”
“Thank you,” Constance whispered.
The marquess slapped his hand over the list, fingers scrunching it into his palm, and hurried out.
~ * ~
“Ooh, that man is the most insufferable, arrogant, blind idiot,” Virginia fumed as she paced back and forth in her sitting room.
Constance had found her not ten minutes ago, and she was still waiting for the woman to calm down enough to answer a question rationally.
“Forever boasting his intelligence and belittling the poor students. Assuming women only know how to shop. Ooh.”
Apparently, a lot had happened since Virginia had left to get the tea.
Constance settled against Virginia’s bed. “What has Hallam done now?”
“I’ll tell you what he did. He said that he could not contemplate how I had time to drink tea when there were so many other pressing matters that required my attention. He thought I should run out and arrange for the replacement of his wardrobe. As if I care that the cuff of his left sleeve is beginning to fray, or that the fabric of his waistcoat has become so worn it’s begun to shine.”
Virginia threw her hands up in disgust and turned away, missing the astonishment Constance couldn’t hide. She had noticed neither defect in Lord Hallam’s appearance this morning. But clearly Virginia paid more attention to Hallam than Constance did.
“It is a pity Hallam is such an impossible man,” Constance observed. “The woman who marries him should expect sainthood as recompense for putting up with his outrageous outbursts. How could you imagine I would want to marry the man?”
Virginia’s steps came to an abrupt halt. She spun to stare at Constance. Her foot began to tap, a good indication that she contemplated an unpleasant thought. “You are correct. He is only passionate about his books and studies. I should have learned to ignore his words long ago. Forgive me for suggesting him. He would make you miserable.”
From what Constance could discern, Hallam was passionate about everything he did—including teasing Virginia. Constance was certain a purpose lay behind it. Why else would he go to such trouble to antagonize her friend?
She waited as Virginia pulled herself together, trying not to think of her own confrontation with the marquess. She was still shaking. If she did not know better, she would think she was falling ill.
“I am sorry. Your first week in London, I wanted everything to be perfect. My sorry self included.”
“Oh, Virginia, there is nothing for you to be sorry about. I came to have a look at your gowns.”
Actually, Constance had come to Virginia’s room to get away from the mountain of gifts in hers. She was so confused by the situation. An unmarried woman shouldn’t accept gifts from a man. Society would leap to the wrong conclusion and assume she was his mistress. Nothing could be further from the truth. The marquess had shown her nothing but polite, and occasionally angry, conversation. He’d never had that kind of interest in her.
But a part of her wanted to accept the gifts with no thought to the consequences. She really didn’t want to appear out of place by Virginia’s side.
Jack still hadn’t explained the size of her debts, but considering he had taken the list of prospective husbands, he would know who to weed out and who to keep. Still, the thought of letting Jack help her find a husband was almost as depressing as searching for one. Money was an ugly reason to prepare for matrimony. And, as Jack mentioned, she would have to make love to the man she married. That thought almost caused her to lose her breakfast.
Virginia turned to her gowns, admiring each one before the maid put them away. Like Constance, there was also a pile of parcels for Virginia to unwrap. She did so with enthusiasm. “I never know how he manages the feat, but he always purchases just the right item to make my gowns perfect.”
“The marquess exerts himself to choose these personally?”
“I think he and Madame du Clair have an arrangement.” Virginia’s eyes twinkled at the thought.
Constance’s stomach revolted again.
“Oh, now, do not take that the
wrong way. I know it sounded dreadful, but he isn’t having an affair. I simply meant that, at a later time, Jack will visit the modiste and together they add to my order. Look, do you see this gown? Do you remember it?”
“No,” Constance confessed.
“I didn’t choose this. Jack picks out at least three gowns each year without my advice or permission and Madame delivers them with the rest. No matter what I say, he won’t stop. I gave up arguing about it years ago because his taste is excellent. Let’s go see what is in your room.”
With great reluctance, Constance followed Virginia to her bedchamber. As a maid displayed them, Virginia commented on each, considering what trimmings would compliment them. “My, my, Jack has a very strong opinion of what you should wear.”
She blushed at the impropriety of having a man choose her gowns, but she couldn’t say she hated his choices. Unfortunately, he had doubled the size of her order. The parcels contained items to match: shoes, fans, reticules, and gloves. Items Constance had given no thought to.
“Oh, this is one you simply must open yourself.” Virginia sank down amid the rustling papers at Constance’s feet and placed a heavy square parcel in her hands.
Constance eyed the box suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Open and see.”
Trembling with a new burst of anxiety, Constance tore the brown wrapping paper to reveal a hinged leather box. She dug her fingertips into the join, lifting the lid slowly.
Nestled inside on blue velvet was a single, bright gem, strung on a fine gold chain.
She gulped. “This is paste, isn’t it?”
“Will you feel better if I say it is? I don’t really want to lie to you.”
Constance closed her eyes. The gem couldn’t be a diamond. But when she cracked her eyelids open again, she couldn’t truly believe the stone wasn’t authentic. Constance rested her fingertips on the cold stone. She let them slide away. She couldn’t accept this.
When she went to close the lid, Virginia’s fingers were there—slipping the chain from its hooks, undoing the clasp, and encircling her neck with the proof of her indebtedness. Jack would not let her forget how mercenary she’d become. But the necklace, a symbol of her obligation, would return to him as soon as she had a husband. She could countenance nothing else.
Virginia settled the stone into place over the fabric of her gown. Once she was wearing the new styles, the stone would lay between her breasts. Embarrassed by the thought of Jack’s gift hanging there, she moved to stare out the window.
“As usual, my brother has excellent taste. You aren’t going to argue with him again about the gifts are you?”
Constance turned around quickly, but slumped at the way Virginia grinned. Jack had warned that Virginia knew of their disagreements but she hadn’t believed him.
“No. I promised I wouldn’t.”
“Good, you wouldn’t believe what it feels like.”
“Like not being able to close a book,” Constance recited, remembering Jack’s earlier words.
“Ah, he has been honest with you. It’s about time. I was getting sick of interfering between you pair. When I think how well you once got along…” Virginia shook her head. “Do say you will keep the gowns and other things. It makes him happy to spoil us.”
Constance tried one last appeal. “Virginia, you know how it would look if anyone found out. I will look like a kept woman. I couldn’t bear the scandal.”
“And who would tell? My brother is nothing if not discreet. Look how well he has managed to hide this future wife of his. I have not heard a whisper of her name or even met the woman. The man knows how to keep a secret. He’s done so for years.”
“I thought you were already acquainted with her?”
Virginia scowled. “He is being a beast about it. Besides I am hoping that word of your elegant presence on his arm will bring her out into the open. If my intended was dancing about during the season with a very pretty woman constantly on his arm, I would hurry myself to London quick smart. Either the woman or her relatives shall come running to confront my brother. I just hope to be around to identify them.”
“You’re planning on using me as bait?”
“That is such a terrible way to describe it, but, yes, I suppose I am. Do you see how desperate I've become about the matter? If only he would speak of it to me, but he is annoyingly closed-mouthed. He even went so far as to deny the betrothal existed, but I know better. Our father confirmed the arrangement before he died. He just didn’t share the woman’s name. But there is a lovely benefit for me—I get the advantage of having your company while I await the opportunity to find out who she is. Can you imagine a greater happiness?”
Constance pressed her hands to her face, aghast at her predicament. She refused to become involved in any scheme that might irritate Jack further. Her presence was burden enough.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PREPARING FOR HER first London ball was a nerve-racking experience. Constance gripped the sides of her ball gown and then chastised herself. She did not want to wrinkle the deep blue silk, but still, she fidgeted with the neckline. No matter how she tugged and pushed, she could not hide her physical assets. Her breasts looked about to spill out of the gown. One inelegant stumble and society would know far too much about her.
“You look beautiful,” Virginia complimented from her spot by the door. “The gentlemen will have a hard time keeping their eyes from you. I told you my brother has excellent taste.”
Constance blanched. In the confusion of ordering, she hadn’t remembered one dress from the next. Had Jack chosen this gravity-defying ball gown? She quickly considered whether she would have enough time to change, but the marquess had already sent up a note asking them to hurry along. She couldn’t delay.
“You look lovely, too. Pink is a wonderful color for you. On me, it looks hideous.”
Grasping her courage along with her evening reticule, she moved away from the mirror’s startling reflection. Virginia watched her with a fond smile. Did she really not care that her brother’s choice of gown threatened to make a scandal all its own?
But Virginia merely adjusted the chain around her neck and then touched her cheek. “Come, my brother is impatient to be on his way. They are waiting for us in the library.”
Determined to keep the evening on a festive note, Constance refrained from uttering her fears aloud. Virginia appeared content for the first time since her arrival. She didn’t want to ruin her friend’s pleasure.
But Constance frowned. “They? Is Lord Hallam attending the ball with us? I thought he had little interest in London society.”
“Who can understand what Lord Hallam thinks? He has it in his head to join our party. I do hope he has done something constructive with his appearance. At least, I hope he possesses a decent set of evening clothes.”
“I am sure he will have done his best,” Constance assured her. But the comment about Lord Hallam intrigued her. Virginia’s reactions and contemplations were unconsciously done, but she had a much deeper interest in the gruff man than she cared to acknowledge.
“At least I can count on Hallam to frighten away the dull and dim-witted. Lady Huntley has a rather broad circle of acquaintances, I’m sorry to say. I cannot believe Jack agreed to attend this event as our first. He doesn’t often associate with the Huntley’s. Aside from pleasing your mama, which I think there is little chance of anyway, I wonder if there is a connection to his future bride. We must keep our ears and eyes open.”
Constance rubbed her wrist as she pondered Virginia’s suggestion. She’d rather not become involved in the siblings’ squabble. “Virginia, what if your brother learns of your plans to uncover her identity? You do remember I cannot keep a secret from him, don’t you? He will know the whole of your scheme within minutes.”
“It will serve him right for keeping his own counsel,” Virginia insisted. “Come, you look perfect. We have a husband to find for you. The gentlemen shall be struck blind by your beauty and wil
l be pounding on our door on the morrow.”
Was it possible to feign illness and stay safe within Ettington House instead?
Assaulted by doubts, Constance descended the stairs, her slippers making little noise on the treads. By half-way, she had managed to push her worries aside. Virginia might need her support tonight amongst the hundreds of guests sure to attend the Huntley Ball.
When the last few stairs came into view, Constance raised her gaze and found herself mesmerized. Jack and Lord Hallam were not waiting in the library at all, but were standing at the bottom step, watching their slow progress.
Jack was just too beautiful for words. The dark evening suit, white stockings, shirt and cravat off-set by a silver-headed cane he held loosely in his hands created a dazzling picture that stole her breath.
Hallam let out an oath that broke the mood and Jack spoke sharply to him.
“Forgive me, Miss Grange. Perhaps those were not the correct words to express how exquisite you both look this evening. I am quite overcome.”
Hallam bowed extravagantly, but Constance wasn’t fooled. He liked behaving badly. The few days she had spent in his company had opened her eyes. He behaved as he did to force Virginia to react.
Constance managed a weak smile and tried not to stare at the marquess. No man should be so handsome. Jack handed his cane to Parkes, exchanging it for her wrap. With a faint quirk to his lips, he moved to enclose her in it.
Gloved fingers slid beneath the fine material, ghosting over her skin as he extracted a loose curl trapped beneath. He ran his fingertips over the clasp of her necklace and settled it where it should be. As his hands left her skin, one finger swept along her jaw to her chin, forcing Constance’s gaze to lift. The blue of his eyes was so bright she had to blink or suffer blindness.
Uncertain of what to make of Jack’s caress, she hastily looked toward the others. Virginia and Hallam were turned away, conversing in whispered, furious tones. While she watched, Hallam drew closer to Virginia but she backed up a step, her eyes widening with what Constance thought might be fear.