by Jane Charles
“Stop!” Nate yelled. “Who did you see that has you so upset?”
Her eyes widened and she looked at them. “His Grace! The Duke of Danby.”
“I don’t understand why this is important.” He was a duke. Wasn’t he required to be here with Parliament in session, and what the blazes did his great-uncle being in London have to do with them? “You do realize I was at the wedding of my closest friend. I stood as a witness.”
His mother’s eyes grew wide. “But, it is the Duke of Danby.”
“I don’t care if it’s the Crown Prince,” Samuel yelled as he turned for the door. Of all the ridiculous nonsense. He needed a drink and only in a place where reasonable gentlemen were allowed.
“But, you don’t understand,” their mother cried.
“What the blazes is there to understand?” Nate demanded.
“He’s going to ruin everything.”
Sam turned just in time to see his mother’s eyes fill with tears.
“He’ll ruin my family.”
Ben stood and assisted Mary to her feet. “My wife and I are going for a drive in the park.”
“But, but, but….” their mother sputtered.
Ben didn’t look back and stopped before his brothers. “As I need to deal with this all of the time because neither one of you can be bothered to remain in England, you now have the pleasure of calming her while I enjoy the afternoon with my wife, which was ruined by her early return.”
“Forget him,” the Duke of Eldridge ordered his daughter.
Lady Jillian Simpson blinked at her father hoping her face conveyed innocence. “Who?”
“That gentleman you kept looking at in the church.” Her father frowned. “He’s beneath you.”
She knew better than to argue or question him further. Father had very specific ideas about who he believed was worthy of her, not that she’d managed to marry any of them. Save one, but as nobody knew of the marriage, they weren’t aware of the annulment either. It’s as if it never happened.
“It’s bad enough that those Valentines are marrying titles while you remain unwed, but I will not tolerate them marrying better than you.”
They’d just left the wedding of the Duke of Roxburg and Miss Bianca Valentine, which meant Jillian had better set her cap on a duke. She no longer gave a wit of what title a gentleman may or may not have, but even her father must realize that finding an eligible duke to marry might be rather difficult. It wasn’t as if they grew on trees, waiting to be picked.
“That man you were watching is Mr. Samuel Storm.” The mister was said with disgust. “His older brother is the Earl of Kenley and there is another brother between Mr. Storm and the title.”
Heaven forbid she marry a mister. Her father would have an apoplexy. As much as the idea of acting in such a rebellious manner would give her great pleasure, Jillian did not have the nerve to face the inevitable consequences and thus accepted her lot in life. As the daughter of a powerful duke, she would marry the highest title she could attain, and settle into her role as lady, wife, and eventual mother. All she could hope for was that she at least liked her husband, instead of any of the lesser emotions like love. Father hadn’t loved her mother, the daughter of an influential marquess, nor did he believe in its existence.
Jillian glanced out the window. Of course she thought she’d been in love once. She’d been a fool. Young and naïve. Never would she love again.
“You know who you are to charm, Jillian. You are two and twenty, and I will see you married to an acceptable title before this Season is done.”
Taking a deep breath, Jillian straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, shut down all emotions. The cloak of superiority she’d fought in her youth had since become her most comfortable persona and the strongest of armor. As long as she let no one in, she would be safe. And, she must put Mr. Samuel Storm from her mind, if that were possible. There had been something arresting in his clear emerald eyes when they met hers. Almost a recognition, then delight and something else she could not understand. Her breath had caught and her pulse sped. It wasn’t a reaction she was familiar with, and she wished she knew what it meant.
Chapter 2
“I’ll come out and ask,” Sam said as they were granted entrance to Roxburg’s mansion. It had taken them hours to calm mother, or so it seemed, but he and Nate finally insisted on leaving when it was time for the ball to begin. “Why is Mother so concerned with Danby being in London?”
“She’s afraid our dear, old, great uncle will find husbands for our sisters.”
“I gathered that, but isn’t that the point of having a Season?” Sam asked.
“Mother is afraid if they marry they’ll move too far away to visit. I believe she’d prefer they marry a tenant farmer and live close to home, or be put on a shelf, rather than risk them marrying a gentlemen and moving far away.”
Sam rolled his eyes as they stepped into the ballroom. “As I understand it, Danby only interferes during Christmas.”
“Yes. He’s been quite busy over the last few years.” Nate grinned. “Embracing the spirit of St. Stephen’s Day, but instead of boxes for servants and gifts to the poor, he delivers brides and grooms to those in need.”
“At least I will be safe.” As he had no intention of being in England this winter, Sam was certain Danby would not bother with him. It wasn’t as if he’d even seen his great uncle in over five years. Danby had probably forgotten Sam’s existence all together.
“I’m sure Danby has much more pressing matters than to worry about whether everyone is marrying as they should.”
As Danby had shown no interest in him as of yet, Sam wanted to keep it that way. “I fully intend to avoid the old bugger in the meantime. I’ve no intention of letting Danby settle anyone on me at Christmas or during the Season.”
They stepped into the grand ballroom already practically overflowing with guests. How was he to find anyone in this crush? Nathaniel disappeared almost immediately with an excuse that he needed to find someone, leaving Sam to find the lady he sought. He pushed his way through the throng, seeking out one face. She had to be here. If she attended the wedding, she would have been invited to the ball.
Sam had nearly walked the entire perimeter when he finally spotted her standing next to her father. Samuel lifted a glass of wine as a footman passed with a tray and remained where he was so that he could study her more. She could be the identical twin to the woman in the portrait.
She smiled and laughed, but there was no happiness in her eyes. She may charm those around her, but from where he stood, her actions appeared to be more calculated than warm. It didn’t set well with him.
Of course, as ridiculous as it may seem, he’d built in his mind who the lady in the portrait was. Sensitive, warm, lost, and in need of love. Many times he’d wondered if she were real, and if he ever was graced with the pleasure of finding her, he’d erase the pain from her eyes.
“What is your fascination with Lady Jillian Simpson?” Mr. David Thorn asked as he came to stand beside Sam.
“She reminds me of someone.” It was all he would say on the matter. Thorn, nor anyone, needed to know of his obsession with the lady in the painting and now Lady Jillian Simpson. He played the name over in his head, liking the sound.
“Are you still with us?” Thorn chuckled and Sam glanced to his friend.
Thorn nodded to her group. “Her father would never approve.”
“Why?” His father had been an earl and even though the title would never be his, he was still a gentlemen of means.
“You don’t have a title, and now that your older brother has married, no doubt an heir will be born, pushing you further away from the earldom.”
He didn’t give a bloody damn about the title and was rather grateful he didn’t have to deal with it at all, which included a hysterical mother who would live on the estate forever. “I just wish an introduction.”
“She is lovely,” Anna, Thorn’s wife said. “Beautiful bone struc
ture. It would be a privilege for any artist to paint her.”
Had that artist felt as privileged? Had he taken advantage of the young woman? Was that why she remained unwed? Not that such a circumstance would make a difference to Samuel.
Stop, he ordered himself. It was impossible that Lady Jillian and the model in the painting were the same, even if he wished it were so.
Lady Jillian slipped her hand into the crook of the arm of Marquess Broadridge, which Sam knew to be her older brother. He and Broadridge had been acquaintances at one time, but until now he’d forgotten Broadridge had a younger sister.
As the two began walking the room, there was a slight change in Lady Jillian’s composure. She relaxed and the smile upon her lips was finally genuine.
“I need an introduction,” Samuel announced as he watched her glide around the perimeter, nodding to apparent acquaintances until they stopped to speak with Lord and Lady Felding just a few steps away from where he stood.
Of all the people in the grand ballroom, Felding and Rosalind were probably the last people who would wish to speak with her, yet her brother insisted past disagreements were forgiven. It was easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one who tried to blackmail Felding into marriage.
However, this was much preferable to standing with her father as he introduced her to the various bachelors he deemed suitable to be her husband. Not that he came out and said so, of course. Many of them Jillian had met before, but his tone changed to respect for those he approved or to cold and dismissive for those he did not. It really didn’t matter if she found them suitable or not, so why should she even participate in his matchmaking schemes?
“Lord and Lady Felding,” Jillian greeted and waited for the cool reception. Instead, she saw kindness in Rosalind’s eyes, and warmth. Yes, it had been two and a half years since that horrible house party, but Jillian assumed they still hated her.
If only she could take back the threats and blackmail. If only she would have sought out friendship with her cousins instead of hating them. Jillian had learned much in the two years since that Christmas. Mostly that a person’s worth had nothing to do with titles, yet her father would never see people differently. Even if the Valentines forgave her, he’d never allow them to be friends.
If only she was as strong as her brother and had the nerve to talk to whoever she wished and whenever she wished.
Felding and her brother exchanged pleasantries on the upcoming racing season and issues in Parliament while Jillian struggled to find something to say. She was never good at small talk. She preferred to listen and not participate, but the longer she stood there, the more uncomfortable it became. “How are your sisters, Lady Felding?”
Rosalind smiled at her. “Bianca is over the moon.”
Of course she was. She’d married Roxburg but a few hours ago. As soon as Roxburg inherited the title, Jillian had been ordered to land him as her husband, if and when he returned from Barbados. That hadn’t worked out as planned. Not that Jillian minded. Roxburg belonged with Bianca. They loved one another, and Jillian would never again stand in the way of anyone’s happiness. Just because she was destined to be married to a gentleman she might not even like, didn’t mean she didn’t want others to find happiness.
Yes, much had changed in two years, and Jillian hoped she was no longer the cold, calculating heiress who had set out to blackmail Felding into marrying her because it was what her father wanted.
“Isabella has found a position with Kirkland Home, and enjoys her work there.”
“Kirkland Home?” Jillian hadn’t heard of the place.
“It’s a home for soldiers who were wounded in the Peninsula War. She spends most of her time assisting those who fought in Quatre Bras and Waterloo, who can no longer work and need a place to live.”
In that moment Jillian envied Isabella the most. Not only was she confident, but she was doing something worthwhile and probably fulfilling, unlike Jillian who had one thing that was expected of her – to marry the right lord and then turn out an heir and a spare. “I’ve heard she’d followed the drum and assisted your brother, Orlando, on the Continent. He is a doctor, correct?”
“Yes,” Lady Felding clarified. “She was glad to return home, but has missed helping the soldiers who need assistance.”
Jillian nodded. “And Perdita?” The youngest of the four sisters.
“She found a position with the Foundling Hospital. She’s always enjoyed being with children and has a particular soft spot for orphans.”
As all the Valentines were orphans, Jillian could understand where one would be drawn to help other orphans.
“Forgive me, but your interest in my family is rather surprising.”
Jillian’s face heated. She’d never apologized, but one was owed. “I was wrong to do what I did. And, I’m no longer the same person or think like my father would like. I sincerely hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” Tears stung her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. She’d been such a horrid person. Filled with hate and jealousy, as well as panic that she wasn’t going to achieve the one thing her father insisted upon. Land Felding as a husband.
Lady Felding’s smile softened. “Of course.” She reached out and took Jillian’s hand. “Perhaps one day we might even be friends.”
“I would like that.” Jillian meant it with her full heart, but knew it would never be. Her father would never allow such an association.
“Felding, Lady Felding.” She turned to find Mr. Thorn approaching with a beautiful blond on his arm. Jillian had heard rumors that Thorn had married but had not yet met his wife. She glanced behind them and her breath nearly left her chest. Mr. Samuel Storm was in their group. It was bad enough to be stuck in an awkward conversation with Lady Felding, but nerves practically closed her throat as he approached. One would think that after nearly four years in Society she wouldn’t be so uncomfortable in any social setting.
Mr. Thorn made the introductions, and their circle widened to accommodate them all. Mr. Storm was directly across from her, looking at her with interest.
Her face heated and she glanced down.
“Storm was telling me that you remind him of someone, Lady Jillian,” Thorn said.
She blinked up. Was that the reason he watched her?
“A painting actually,” Storm explained.
Her heart stopped and Lady Felding stiffened beside her.
“It graces my home. The model has a remarkable resemblance to you.”
She could feel the blood drain from her face. Her eyes shot to Felding. Had his family betrayed her after all?
But, they looked as stunned as she.
She pushed down her panic and smiled sweetly at Storm. “The only portrait that’s been done of me hangs in my father’s home.” It was a huge lie, but it was impossible that he’d have one of the earlier portraits, the scandalous ones that had been painted when she was so naïve and young. Not that sixteen was all that young.
“It is a shame, for I am quite taken with it, and was from the moment I saw it.”
“Where did you purchase it?” she asked out of curiosity.
“A gallery in New Orleans.”
Then it couldn’t possibly be one of hers. Why would the artist take it so far away when her father would have paid the blackmail money to get it back and destroyed? Of course, one of those paintings had also made it into the hands of Felding’s youngest sister, but she promised never to sell it.
But, what if she had and it somehow made it to New Orleans? It was possible Felding didn’t know everything his younger sister did, or they might have decided to get revenge on her after all.
The chords of a waltz struck. “Is this dance taken, Lady Jillian?” Mr. Storm asked.
She blinked at him. “No.”
“Might I have the honor?”
Blast! She should have said yes since she’d already lied to him once.
“She’d loved to,” her brother insisted.
Her fa
ther was going to kill her if she waltzed with Mr. Storm. He wasn’t one of the chosen as her brother very well knew.
Storm held out his elbow and she had little choice but to take his arm and be led to the dance floor.
He bowed and she curtseyed, and then he took her hand in his. Hopefully he didn’t notice how her hand trembled. Her entire body was shaking.
The portrait could not be of her. It just couldn’t be.
Mr. Storm settled his hand at the small of her back. The warmth seeped into her gown, heating her skin, though it did little to help the trembling.
Just as they stepped, Jillian glanced up and caught her father’s eye. He glowered at her, and she knew she was done for. Hopefully her brother would come to her defense, or it was going to be a very long carriage ride home.
She blinked back at Mr. Storm as defiance struck. Let her father be angry, she was going to enjoy herself with a mister. “Tell me of New Orleans, Mr. Storm.”
He smiled down at her, warmth in his green eyes. “A lively city, but I’ve only visited a few times.”
“I understand you live in Barbados.”
“Yes.”
“And will you be returning there after the Season?” She wasn’t sure she wished to know the answer. She didn’t know him, but she wanted to, for reasons she couldn’t explain to herself, other than it might give her father an apoplexy.
“I’ve vowed to be back on my plantation before the first snowflakes fall in England.”
This made her laugh. “I don’t know much about the Caribbean, but I do understand it’s warm and always pleasant.”
“It is the most beautiful place on Earth.” Then he looked into her eyes. His darkening. “Next to you.”
Her breath hitched, and all words left her. Gentlemen had told her she was beautiful before, but she hadn’t truly believed them. Gentlemen would say anything to win her over to gain the favor of her father. The same words were different coming from Mr. Storm, and the sincerity in those depths warmed her. Jillian wasn’t used to receiving genuine compliments, and it robbed her of speech all together.