Miss Smith seemed to be a sweet young lady, and she was pretty, but she was also timid, and Jack didn’t have any thought of courting her. But he couldn’t see why Miss Porter was so horrified by the possibility that he might pay her some attention. “And why is that?”
“Just because you are handsome, my lord, you needn’t think that every woman finds you irresistible. Miss Smith is far too intelligent to wish to tie herself to a man with a veneer of charm concealing a reality of more hair than wit.”
He repressed a chuckle. Had she really just suggested that he was an idiot? This was definitely the most diverting ballroom chat he’d had in ages, perhaps in all his years of attending balls, which was a number he preferred not to consider. He might have asked her why she thought he had more hair than wit, but he suspected it would be more entertaining to go on as they were.
“I am quite aware, actually, that every woman does not find me irresistible.” He smiled. “Starting with you, clearly.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated, and he gave a bark of laughter. “Ha, you didn’t expect humility, did you?”
She rolled her eyes. “An act cannot be said to be done out of humility if you draw attention to it. No doubt you are practiced in all manner of ways of disarming women, including ostensible humility.”
“Ostensible humility,” he said slowly, savoring the phrase. “I’m certain that’s the deftest insult I’ve ever received, and my brother is no slouch at such things. My compliments.”
He caught her look of surprise that his wit was perhaps not so deficient after all, and he counted this a small victory. He suspected she was accustomed to being smarter than other people.
“A disarming ploy, complimenting the freshness of a criticism,” she said dismissively. “But then, you must have an entire arsenal of disarming ploys. Rogues always do.”
“We rogues must do our best. The competition is quite intense at the height of the Season, you know.”
The edge of her mouth quivered for moment, and he almost thought he had scored a point. But if she was tempted to laugh, she didn’t succumb.
“As you are by all accounts a thorough rogue, my lord, let us establish that you will not pursue a connection with my cousin.”
“A thorough rogue.” He whistled softly. “It would seem I am quite the dog.”
“So it would.”
Her bluntness amused him. “So, you’ve been paying particular attention to reports of me?”
She waved a hand. “Your activities are common knowledge.”
He snorted. “Activities?”
Sadly, she declined to elaborate. “All you need to know is that my cousin looks to me for guidance, and I won’t allow her to dance with you.”
He didn’t actually have an intention to dance with Miss Smith, who seemed so timid that he wondered about her readiness for the wilds of a London Season. But if he conveyed this information to Miss Porter, she would doubtless march off somewhere and deprive him of the only entertainment he’d had at a ball so far that Season.
“I’m afraid I’ve never been good at being told what to do, Miss Porter.”
At that moment, as she was shooting Jack a look so loaded it might as well have held shot, her cousin and Alice reappeared, Miss Smith now wearing a cream-and-pink-striped gown that suited her fair coloring very well.
“Isn’t this the most gorgeous gown?” Miss Smith said to Miss Porter.
Miss Porter smiled, taking Jack by surprise because the smile so changed her face that she looked instantly younger and softer. That she seemed formidable was surely due at least in part to that hawk’s nose of hers, which lent her an air of strength and, paired with the intelligent glint in her eyes, a whisper of command.
He hid a smile as he imagined her subjecting would-be suitors to the glare she’d been leveling on him. She really didn’t want him to dance with Miss Smith... which made him want to dance with Miss Smith.
He turned to the young lady with a smile. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for the next dance?”
Miss Smith looked at him and blinked. And blinked again. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged, though her eyes regarded him with an expression of abject apology. It occurred to Jack that she had not actually said anything to him since he’d made her acquaintance, though clearly she could speak, since she’d had no trouble talking with his sister and Miss Porter. He’d encountered shy debutantes before, but this seemed extreme.
He was on the verge of simply extending an arm to her when Miss Porter said, “Thank you, my lord, I would be delighted to dance with you.”
Miss Smith looked appropriately startled by the fact that her cousin had just claimed the dance that had been meant for her, but before Jack could reply, he saw Miss Porter give Miss Smith’s hand a quick squeeze. Apparently, Miss Porter was protecting her cousin from him. Alice looked like she wanted to laugh, but for once she chose decorum.
Nothing for it but to offer his arm to Miss Porter. She placed her hand on it precisely, as though wishing to touch as little of him as possible.
“Was that really a good idea?” he said as they made their way into position among the other couples. “Now you have to dance with me.”
“Annabelle is an innocent girl, and I take my responsibility as her elder very seriously.”
The dance started, its patterns leading them together and apart. “I’d hate to shake your foundations,” he said as the steps brought them together again, “but I’m not really considered the worst sort of rake.”
“You don’t have to be the worst rake to be a bad proposition.”
Holding hands, they circled around, and though she moved gracefully, she held herself stiffly. The dance led them to different partners, then back again.
“I believe you’ll find most people think me a quite decent fellow,” he said.
“Most people are not very discerning.”
He chuckled. “I’ll grant you that’s true, but still, I hate to see you go about with this misconception.”
“Whether it’s that you’re a rake, or simply a terrible person from a moral standpoint, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to allow Annabelle to dance with you.”
Miss Porter might be quite sharp, but her words were a tactical mistake, because she’d just as good as issued him a challenge. Several dances later, he outmaneuvered her by approaching the two ladies accompanied by his mother. He presented the young ladies to her. And then he asked if Miss Smith might like to dance.
She made no reply. He knew she’d heard him, because she was looking at him, or at least, at the top button of his coat, and she was blinking more rapidly. But she didn’t say a word. He thought he heard Miss Porter sigh.
“I think my cousin is overtired, my lord,” she said, explaining that they’d only recently arrived in London. Then the ladies excused themselves, or rather, Miss Porter excused them while Miss Smith smiled and blinked, and they took their leave.
“That was odd,” Jack said. “Did you notice?”
“Yes,” his mother said. “The poor girl was afraid to talk to you.”
“Do you think that’s what it was?” Jack asked, entertaining thoughts of what Miss Porter might have said to her cousin about him.
“I wonder if she might be uncomfortable around gentlemen in general,” Alice said. “I didn’t see her dancing with a single man tonight, come to think of it, though I thought I saw Sir Robert Drew speaking to her earlier. Or trying to.”
“Oh dear,” said Fiona kindly. “It’s going to be very hard for her to find a husband if she’s so terribly shy around gentlemen.”
“And a tragedy,” Alice said. “Miss Smith is an absolute dear.”
“You just met her,” Jack pointed out. “How could you know that much about her?”
“Unlike some people, I’m a good judge of character,” Alice said smugly. As Jack knew this was a reference to some of his friends, who, it was true, did not always exhibit the best judgment even if they were at he
art decent fellows, he didn’t rise to the bait.
“Her cousin Miss Porter is an interesting lady,” his mother observed. “It’s too bad...” Her voice trailed off because she was too good-hearted to mention an unfortunate feature such as a substantial nose about which nothing could be done, but the others knew what she meant. He idly wondered whether Miss Porter might contribute something for a character in the play he was working on. Perhaps for his heroine.
“I like Miss Porter’s nose,” Alice said stoutly, ignoring their mother’s attempts to be tactful. “I think a strong nose is a sign of character.”
“It probably is,” agreed Fiona with a sigh. “But the sad fact is that most people don’t appreciate features that are described as being a sign of character.”
Chapter 4
Mrs. Carter: A lady’s appearance is her greatest asset.
Jane: That doesn’t seem fair.
Mrs. Carter: I don’t make the rules.
She Knew She Was Right, Act 2, Scene 4
Annabelle might not have secured the interest of any suitors at the Boxhaven ball, but she did make a friend. When she sent back the borrowed gown a few days later, sponged and pressed, an invitation came back in return for Annabelle and Sarah to join Lady Alice at the theater for a play called She Knew She Was Right.
When the invitation arrived, Annabelle and Sarah were in the sitting room in her aunt Louise’s town house, where they were staying. Aunt Louise was Mr. Smith’s sister, but even the lure of a family house to stay in could not induce Mr. Smith to relax while he was away from Marbleton, the Smiths’ home in Hertfordshire, and he had left that morning to return.
“I would only be underfoot here in London, my dear,” he’d said to Annabelle as he dropped a farewell kiss on her forehead, though she assured him that would never be the case. “Your aunt can ease your way among the ton far better than I can. And, of course, Sarah will be a great help.”
Sarah could tell that Mr. Smith couldn’t bear to watch Annabelle search for the man who would take her away from the life they shared, though she doubted Aunt Louise, who had the same nervous temperament as her brother, would be of much help in finding a husband for Annabelle.
When Mr. Smith was departing, Annabelle had looked as though she too wished to climb into the family coach and go home.
“I don’t know if coming to London was such a good idea,” she said rather pitiably as they watched his coach drive off.
“London is a means to an end,” Sarah said.
She was relieved when Lady Alice’s note arrived an hour later—a visit to the theater would be a welcome diversion.
It would be such fun to see you again, Lady Alice wrote. Please say you’ll join us.
“Oh,” Annabelle said, putting down the note, “how unutterably kind. I did so like Lady Alice. I’d love to see her again, but I’m not sure...”
“We must certainly go,” Sarah said firmly, though she could see at least one reason why a deeper acquaintance with Lady Alice and her family might not be desirable: It was possible that Lord Jack had encouraged his sister to invite Annabelle to the theater so that he could make inroads with her. He had, after all, invited Annabelle to dance almost as soon as Sarah had told him she would prevent him from dancing with her.
But even Sarah, naturally inclined to suspicion, had to admit that the incipient affection between the two young ladies was genuine.
Annabelle bit her bottom lip. “Do you think it’s really a good idea to accept? There are bound to be ever so many people at the theater, and...” Her glance shifted toward her lap. “You saw how much trouble I had speaking to gentlemen. I don’t think I managed even a syllable to Lord Jack. There are bound to be gentlemen among the party at the theater.”
Sarah put a fingertip under Annabelle’s chin and tipped her head upward. “Dearest, you’ve come to London to find a husband. You do want to get married, don’t you?”
“Oh yes,” she whispered. “More than anything.”
“Why are you whispering? Say it boldly!” Sarah urged.
“Yes!” Annabelle said with impressive fierceness. “I do want to marry. And I yearn to get to know a gentleman well enough that I might actually have a conversation with him.” Her shoulders slumped as some of her fire faded. “But every time a gentleman addresses me, I freeze.”
“I... have observed that,” Sarah said gently. As she had come to live with the Smiths only a few months before, she hadn’t had much occasion to see Annabelle in company with gentlemen. Now that she thought of it, the only men she’d observed Annabelle with had been the ancient dancing master and some friends of Mr. Smith.
“I’ve seen you laughing and talking with Mr. Woolcott and Mr. Seacrest,” Sarah pointed out, mentioning two of Mr. Smith’s friends.
“But they’re my father’s friends,” Annabelle said. “They don’t make me nervous.”
“Because they would never be suitors?”
“I think so,” Annabelle said.
“Tell me,” Sarah said gently, wishing she’d thought to explore this topic before they’d come to London, “have you ever had much conversation with young men?”
Annabelle blushed. “Not really. There haven’t been many chances, for one thing.”
“That I can believe,” Sarah said, thinking of how happy it always made Mr. Smith for the family to have a quiet evening at home. Leaving the house made him nervous, and good daughter that she was, Annabelle didn’t like to make him unhappy.
“On the few occasions when I did encounter a young gentleman, neither of us seemed to have anything to say to each other. I’d always assumed that was because we were boringly familiar to each other since we’d seen one another around the village from childhood and there wasn’t anything to say.”
“I see.”
Annabelle sighed. “I’d thought the London gentlemen would be different and that I would feel different with them because everything would be brand new. I see now that it was easy to have a fantasy about what being in London would be like and to believe that things would be—that I would be—different.” Her lip trembled a little before she pressed it into a grim line. “But I was never going to find it easy to talk to gentlemen, because I’m still me, and I’m still shy.”
“You weren’t shy with Lady Alice.”
“She’s not a man, and she’s also very good at keeping a conversation going. Talking to Lady Alice is easy.” Annabelle smoothed the skirts of her pale yellow gown several times, though they were already smooth. “Perhaps it would be best if we went back to Marbleton after all.”
“It certainly would not be best,” Sarah said. “Do you want to give up hope of finding a husband?”
“No,” Annabelle said with a fierceness that Sarah wanted to cheer. “But I don’t see how I ever shall find a husband in London if I can’t even speak to the gentlemen. I don’t know why I can’t. An eligible gentleman starts talking to me, and it’s as though every thought leaves my head.”
Sarah tapped her chin, thinking. “You’re not shy around ladies and people who are familiar to you, or older gentlemen.”
“But we’ve already established that those groups don’t contain anyone I wish to marry. I mean, I don’t have anything to say against gentlemen of my father’s age, but...”
“It’s perfectly sensible not to choose to marry a man your father’s age, unless you wish to do so. Or you need to, which, with your dowry, you don’t.” Sarah thought for a moment. “Familiarity obviously makes quite a difference in your comfort level, so that means you need to spend more time around young gentlemen, not less. We’re definitely going to the theater.”
All that remained was to beg the carriage from Aunt Louise, who felt it should only be used for going to church.
When Sarah asked if the two ladies might have the use of the carriage that evening, Aunt Louise gasped, “The theater!” as though Sarah had suggested a visit to the lair of a villain.
“Is there something wrong with Drury Lane?” Sara
h asked. Annabelle bit her lip nervously.
“Wouldn’t it better entertainment to read a book?” Aunt Louise asked. “The plays are apparently very silly, and the theater is full of all sorts of people. You never know who might be there.”
“We’ve been invited to join the family of the Marquess of Boxhaven,” Sarah pointed out, striving for patience. As the marquess and his family were much respected and admired in Society, Aunt Louise could only nod regretfully, as if puzzled that such nice people wished to do something so ill-advised as going to the theater. But she agreed they must have the carriage.
Later that evening, as Sarah and Annabelle stepped through the doors of the theater and joined the crowds milling about and moving toward their seats, Annabelle seemed to freeze.
“It’s very crowded,” she whispered as they stood in the foyer. “Like the ball.”
“It isn’t like the ball at all,” Sarah said, applying light, encouraging pressure to Annabelle’s elbow. “You don’t have to stand about waiting for someone to ask you to dance.”
Planting her feet surprisingly firmly for such a slim young lady, Annabelle said, “Do you think Lady Alice would mind very much if we didn’t come?”
“Yes, and as you are incapable of being intentionally rude, there’s no point in even having this conversation.”
Sarah linked her arm through Annabelle’s and tugged her forward. She briefly thought of mentioning the rapid blinking Annabelle did when in the presence of a gentleman, but decided that mentioning it would probably make Annabelle anxious. Best to trust that the blinking would go away as Annabelle grew more comfortable.
They found their way without incident to the Boxhaven box, a combination of words that made Annabelle giggle, which Sarah took for a good sign.
A Rogue Walks into a Ball Page 3