An Escapade and an Engagement

by Annie Burrows

  ‘You need have no worries on that score. Lord Ledbury will not tell anyone.’ The last thing he’d want would be for anyone to know they’d spent the last half an hour locked in each other’s arms.

  Lady Penrose looked at her sharply. ‘You trust him that much?’

  ‘Yes. I do.’ She was being unfair to accuse him of wanting to hush everything up for his own sake. He had shielded her from scandal once already. And he’d had nothing to gain that time.

  He was innately chivalrous. She could never, not for one instant, imagine him trying to inveigle his way into an heiress’s affections, then urging her to elope with him. Not that he needed an heiress. He was wealthy enough in his own right.

  Nor was he the sort of man to humiliate a woman by telling her what vile nicknames people called her. Though he would probably know they called her Chilblain Jayne. Of course he would.

  Oh, God. Had he ever referred to her by that name? A shaft of pain seared through her.

  ‘Well, then, we must hope no real harm has been done. You have already paid dearly enough for learning about the true nature of men.’ Lady Penrose looked at her lip. ‘My advice to you is that you look upon this evening in the light of an educational experience. And we need say no more about it.’

  It had definitely been educational. Harry had taught her a lesson she was not about to forget in a hurry. A lesson she should have learned years ago. She was unlovable. Completely worthless.

  ‘May I go to bed?’ she asked in a small, chastened voice.

  ‘Of course,’ Lady Penrose replied kindly. ‘And do not repine too much. Just try to remember what you have learned so that you will not repeat the same mistake again.’

  ‘Yes, that is what I shall do,’ she said.

  She would certainly never let another man fool her into believing he was interested in anything but her fortune.

  She climbed the stairs slowly, trailing her hand along the banister. How could she have been so stupid? And she wasn’t just thinking about falling for Harry’s lies now, but her whole attitude since coming to London. She’d been so hurt and angry at the way her grandfather had treated her that she had rebuffed all the overtures of friendship made. Not that she liked any of this year’s crop of debutantes all that much anyway. They were all so keen to get husbands, and their conversation revolved so exclusively around that topic, that five minutes alone with any of them would have made her boiling mad. But if she only had a circle of friends…

  But there was no way back from the stance she’d taken. Not now. She would just have to carry on as though nothing had changed. When she got to her room she would be able to remove the mask and domino she’d worn tonight, but she could never let down her guard with the people among whom she moved in Town. Or they would start to wonder what had happened to wreak such a change. And ask questions she had no intention of ever answering.

  She paused on the landing, head bowed. She was trapped in a disguise she’d made for herself. And the only people who would persist in trying to break through it would be the truly desperate fortune-hunters. The ones who wanted access to her money badly enough to put up with the chilblains they’d get from the frost they said she exuded.

  And she had nobody to blame but herself.

  * * *

  Over the next few days she found that she was glad Harry had bruised her face. For each day Lady Penrose would take a long hard look at her and decide that it would be better to stay in her room and inform callers that she was indisposed. It gave her a legitimate excuse for staying out of circulation while she came to terms with what an idiot she’d been. Though it might be a long time before she felt ready to face anyone.

  The first posy of flowers from Lord Ledbury arrived the very morning after the masquerade. And every day he sent her another.

  Lady Penrose became so excited about the daily delivery from the florists that Jayne wondered whether she ought to explain that Lord Ledbury was just being kind. She didn’t want her to get her hopes up for nothing. For, though flowers usually signified romantic interest, she knew he couldn’t possibly have any romantic feelings towards her, having seen her at her worst. Though she would always treasure the memory of receiving flowers from Lord Ledbury, she was sure his concern was a transitory thing. It would wane just as surely as the flowers he sent withered and died.

  One afternoon, Lady Penrose came to her room, took a chair, and gave her a stern look.

  ‘Now, I know you have not come down to receive any callers, and I agree that that has been the best policy up till now. But today there is a visitor I think you would like to receive…’

  Her heart leaped. Had Lord Ledbury done more than just send flowers via his footman today? Had he come in person? He had already seen the bruise on her mouth, so Lady Penrose would not feel she had to hide it from him.

  ‘She has always acted like a tonic upon you,’ said Lady Penrose, quashing her hope even before it had fully formed, ‘and so I have said I will ask if you would receive her up here, in your room. Otherwise, you know, she might think you have fallen out with her over the masquerade. And, although you were both rather silly that night, I do not think what happened there was her fault, was it?’

  Lady Penrose’s gentle reproof struck her to the core. She had been so wrapped up in her own misery that she’d not spared a thought as to how Milly had got home. Lord Ledbury had said she could look after herself, and she’d been so jealous of the complete confidence he placed in her that she hadn’t questioned that assumption.

  ‘Of course I will see her,’ she said.

  Lady Penrose smiled approvingly, and went away to let Milly know she could come up.

  ‘Richard,’ said Milly, the moment she came through the door, ‘was that mad at me for going to the masquerade with you. Rang a peal over me as if whatever it was that happened to you there was all my fault!’ She sat down on the bed, untying the ribbons of a very fetching bonnet as she did so.

  ‘Oh, no. I am so sorry…’

  Milly shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s not your fault he’s got so stuffy since he come—I mean came into that title. And, anyway, he was there, too, wasn’t he? Looking much more like his old self. He used to be such a great one for dancing and kicking up larks. You should have seen him doing the fandango when he was just a captain. Not many of the British officers ever mastered the steps properly, but he kept on and on at it, practising with the Portuguese women until he was as good as any of the muleteers.’

  Somehow, Jayne could see it. Well, she could now she’d seen him in that corsair outfit, anyway. Putting on that costume had given him the liberty to be that dashing young officer Milly had just described once more. She’d got used to seeing the grim expression he wore in Society settings—but who wouldn’t look grim if he had to go about looking for a suitable wife when deep down he didn’t want any Society lady at all?

  ‘So, why have you come today? Has something happened? I know Lord Ledbury does not want us to meet again, so…’

  Milly made a rude noise, flapping her hands in a dismissive gesture. ‘You weren’t going to pay any attention to that silly notion of his, were you? That wasn’t the impression I got when we planned getting into the masquerade, anyhow.’

  Lady Jayne sat down on her dressing-table stool. When Lord Ledbury had first told her she was not to meet Milly again she had been incensed, and vowed he had no right to dictate with whom she might be friends. But in the aftermath of Harry’s defection she’d begun to question her
own judgement. Maybe she ought not to be so ready to flout authority. Or at least perhaps she ought to try and cultivate the habit of sitting down and thinking before reacting rebelliously to a stricture she found perfectly ridiculous.

  Tentatively, she suggested, ‘I expect he is only trying to protect you…’

  ‘Protect me?’ Milly gave her a searching look. Then, with a conspiratorial grin, she said, ‘You don’t really believe that, do you? It’s been my experience that the stupid notions men have about how they want their women to behave only end up making everybody miserable.’

  ‘Well, I can’t argue with you there,’ said Lady Jayne, thinking of how miserable all the men in her own life had made her.

  ‘They’re all self-serving bastards.’

  ‘Not Lord Ledbury! You don’t mean him, Milly.’

  Milly pouted. ‘Yes, I do. I know I can’t ever marry him. Not now he’s come into that title. But he’s got so starchy nowadays that he won’t even make me his mistress.’

  Lady Jayne was not used to such forthright speaking. Her cheeks a little warm, she said, ‘It is not the thing to want to be a man’s mistress. It isn’t at all proper.’

  But if she were in Milly’s shoes how would she feel? If she knew she could never marry him, she rather thought she might be prepared to take whatever small crumbs Lord Ledbury scattered her way. After having been held in those strong arms, she knew she wouldn’t feel the least bit revolted if he wanted to kiss her. If she’d been meeting him in the park, rather than Harry, she would definitely have wanted to kiss him back. And if he’d suggested eloping…

  She pulled herself up sharply. It was Milly’s relationship with Lord Ledbury they were discussing.

  It was funny, but when she’d put herself in the theoretical position of being Lord Ledbury’s forbidden love she’d seen herself getting swept away. But as soon as she tried to imagine Milly on the park bench kissing him she felt most uncomfortable. And her mind shied away from thinking about them going to bed altogether.

  ‘Oh, let us not get into a quarrel about that. I have been so wretched since the night of the masquerade. And I am really glad you’ve come to see me.’

  ‘In spite of what Richard might say if he found out?’

  ‘Even then.’

  Lord Ledbury clearly had his reasons for wanting this friendship to cease, but neither she nor Milly agreed with him. It was two to one.

  Milly grinned. ‘So come on, then, tell me all about it. I’ve been dying to find out what really happened between you and that handsome soldier of yours, and Richard just closes up like a clam whenever I ask him for details.’

  The hour flew past, and by the time Milly left Lady Jayne’s the mood had lifted considerably. Her bruise had almost disappeared, and her spirit, too, was reviving. It would not be much longer before Lady Penrose decreed she was fit to return to Society. And she would be ready.

  She was a Vickery, after all. And Vickerys were never crushed by adverse circumstances. She was not, most definitely not, going to appear as though there was the slightest thing troubling her.

  * * *

  She took extra care over her appearance on the night of her first ball after the break with Harry, choosing a gown that had never had an outing before. When she’d had her last fitting she had adored the spangles on the overdress, and thought the white embroidery on the satin underskirt raised the outfit above the ordinary. But as she stood in front of the mirror she was appalled to see a glittering ice maiden looking back at her.

  ‘Not the diamonds, Josie,’ she said with a shiver. ‘The sapphires tonight.’

  ‘Yes. They will bring out the colour of your eyes.’

  She didn’t care about that. But at least they did not add to the impression of coldness that made everyone mock her.

  Not that she cared. She lifted her chin as she walked into the ballroom later, telling herself she was ready to face them all down.

  But in the event she did not notice who else might have been there. Because she saw Lord Ledbury, and for a moment all she could think about was how good it had felt to fling herself into his arms and let him hold her while she wept. Nobody in her whole life had held her like that. Nobody.

  She tore her eyes away from him and made a great production of finding a chair, settling herself and Lady Penrose, arranging her skirts and flicking open her fan. She needed to cool her heated cheeks. How could she have considered running across the crowded room and flinging herself at him? He would be appalled. He had not minded coming to her assistance in a moment of need. When he was masked and nobody knew who he was. But he set such store by appearances that he wouldn’t even let anyone see him take Milly to a modiste. He would detest being made a spectacle of at a ton event.

  From across the room Lord Ledbury watched her surreptitiously as she pulled her dignity around her like a suit of armour. It set her apart from the frivolous gaiety of the rest of the guests. She might as well have been holding up a placard saying Keep Away.

  To her right, he observed Miss Beresford look at Lady Jayne and giggle at something her friend Lady Susan Pettiffer whispered behind her gloved hand. Rage roiled up inside him. Yes, tonight she might look as though she deserved the nickname that some wit had coined for her, but they had no idea how bravely she was dealing with Lieutenant Kendell’s perfidy. He would like to see Miss Beresford’s reaction to such a betrayal. She would not get up and go about as though nothing had occurred. She would, no doubt, make a grand drama out of it, involving maids and her mama, recourse to the vinaigrette, and probably a doctor or two, and then a retreat to some seaside town for a rest cure.

  He’d had no intention of drawing attention to how he felt about her by singling her out tonight. And he’d taken great care, while she had been absent from Society, to try and deal with it by searching even harder for a woman who would actually want to become his wife.

  The trouble was, he was beginning to wonder why he’d ever thought it so important to prove himself to what remained of his family by marrying a woman who would impress them. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt to hold her in his arms.

  And then the moment she’d walked in the door all the merits of the other girls he’d been…interviewing over the past week had faded away to nothing.

  She was the only woman he really wanted.

  Then almost at once his own needs were swept aside by the conviction that what she needed at this moment, more than anything else, was a friend.

  He strode across the room, and bowed over her hand.

  ‘I am pleased to see you have recovered from your indisposition,’ he said, conscious that others would be listening.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said politely. ‘I am completely recovered now.’ It was the only way she could think of to tell him that she had learned her lesson where Harry was concerned. That she would never be so stupid again.

  He glanced at her mouth, concern briefly flaring in those smoky grey eyes.

  ‘Would you care to take a walk with me, Lady Jayne? Outside on the terrace? The gardens of this house look particularly enchanting by moonlight, and the air is mild tonight.’

  Her heart stuttered in her chest. She had thought he would distance himself from her, since he no longer had to seek her out to inform her when the next meeting with Harry could take place. And, since he would also assume her association with Milly was at an end, they would have very little to discuss. She’d braced herself for the conjecture that would arise. She’d imagined p
eople whispering that he had not the stamina to thaw her. The only thing they might wonder at was that he had persisted for this long. Yet he’d marched right over, the moment she’d set foot in the ballroom, exactly as he’d always used to.

  She wondered what he wanted to talk about tonight. Not that she had any intention of refusing his request. She had never done so before, and to do so now would only create speculation about what might have changed between them.

  ‘May I, Lady Penrose?’

  ‘Of course, my dear.’

  Rising gracefully to her feet, she threaded her hand through his extended arm and strolled outside with him.

  ‘How are you, truly?’ he said, the moment they were out of earshot of anyone else.

  ‘Completely recovered, as I told you before. Well,’ she said with a brittle smile, ‘to you I will confess that occasionally I still feel a little sorry for myself. But now the bruise has healed I have no excuse not to go about in Society again. And let me tell you I have no intention of sitting at home and repining over a man who proved himself to be completely unworthy of my regard. I would rather die,’ she admitted, with some vehemence, ‘than let anyone know what a fool I have been.’

  Her voice was hard. Her face a mask of hauteur. He did not think he had ever seen a more tragic little figure in all his life.

  ‘Fortunately Harry will not dare to breathe a word of what he was up to, lest he gain a reputation that would hamper future enterprises of the same sort,’ she said, with a perspicacity that amazed him.

  He wished he knew the right thing to do, or say. He could not stand to see her in such pain, yet walling herself off from it with this show of not caring. But the very worst thing he could do would be to offer her sympathy. She would hate him if he were to cause that wall of ice to crack and make all her grief come pouring out in such a public place. But he was still compelled to let her know that, in him, she had a friend who would always remain tactfully silent, yet stolidly faithful.