“I cannot imagine what prompted Lady Newbury to say the things she said.” Oh God, she’d overheard it too! “You needn’t worry though. I think you’re absolutely dashing, my lord, and this new”—she waved one hand vaguely about as if searching for the right word—“bluster, is so becoming on you—so masculine and alluring. I can assure you I’m not the only one who has noticed either. See those ladies fanning their faces over there? They’re positively smitten by you.”
Glancing in the direction she indicated, James spotted a group of young ladies who were indeed fanning their faces quite rapidly while looking his way in between giggles. His chest swelled with pride even as his heart ached with the knowledge that a rift had formed between himself and Lady Newbury. Truth was, her words had hurt like the devil because it had proven to him that he liked her a hell of a lot more than he’d ever intended to and obviously more than she liked him. Christ, he’d fantasized about undressing her! And now . . . now he could think of no other woman in those terms. He wanted Lady Newbury and nobody else. “It’s almost time for the waltz,” he heard himself say.
“I shall miss your company,” Lady Dewfield told him.
Was she sincere? James wasn’t sure, even though she looked it, because as pleasant as she seemed, there was something about her that gave him pause and that made him wonder about her motive for keeping his company. Especially since the rumors he’d heard about her suggested that she was the sort of woman who enjoyed a life of luxury without the controlling grasp of a husband.
“And I shall miss yours,” he told her politely, because he would behave like a gentleman this evening, no matter what.
Leaving Lady Dewfield’s side, James made his way toward the dance floor where several couples were already pairing up in preparation for the waltz that was about to commence. The orchestra paused with violins at the ready and James scanned those present in search of his partner. A soft murmur of strings rose through the air and for a moment he thought she would not come—that she would choose to avoid dancing with him after what she’d said.
But in spite of her aversion to conflict and the fear that his anger likely instilled in her, Lady Newbury was not a coward. She appeared at that moment, just as he’d hoped she would—an elven lady in green—her beauty rivaling that of any other woman in the room as she approached him with graceful steps. “My lord,” she said, her head lowered in genteel submission as she curtseyed, provoking a strong desire within James to pull her into his arms and to kiss her with abandon.
Stilling his racing heart and quelling the ever-increasing lust he felt for her, he took her hand in his and bowed over it, kissing her gloved knuckles. Straightening, he offered her his arm and guided her onto the dance floor where his heart decided it would not be calmed and where his hunger knew no bounds the moment he placed his hand against her lower back. Steady now. You’re angry with her. Control your instincts.
Funny thing, those instincts. James had certainly read enough literature to know that animals would eventually do what they were born to do, and when all was said and done, humans were a sort of animal as well. Were they not? And what was the most basic instinct of all? Survival, not only of the individual, but of the species, which meant that food and procreation were both of very great importance. Therefore, from a scientific standpoint, James was horribly aware that no matter how angry he was with Lady Newbury or how much she’d hurt him, he could not so easily dispel his need for her. After all, it was a matter of survival. Just bloody perfect!
“About earlier,” she said as the dance started and James took the lead, guiding her forward, “I feel as though an explanation is in order.”
He kept silent, concentrating on the dance.
“In fact, I should probably start with an apology,” she continued.
James raised an eyebrow, acknowledging her comment. Still, he said nothing.
“You see,” she went on, her fingers tightening slightly against his arm, “my friends believe that in keeping your company, I have developed fond feelings for you while my sister’s romantic inclinations have prompted her to dream of a deeper attachment between us—one that will lead to marriage. Considering how ridiculous that would be—”
“So I gather,” he bit out as his foot came down over her toes. It hadn’t been intentional. “Forgive me. I lost my concentration. Shall we?”
She nodded dimly and they continued in a wide arc, spinning as they went. “I meant no disrespect toward you, my lord, but you must agree that we haven’t known each other for very long.”
“I agree that we . . .” Damn! He’d lost the rhythm now and had to resort to counting the beats in his head. One, two, three. One, two three.
“Perhaps you should follow my lead,” she suggested.
He glared at her and she tried to pull back—to add some distance between them. Unwilling to yield to her wishes, he pulled her closer instead. “I will do no such thing,” he murmured in her ear. His hand closed more firmly around hers.
“As to your comment earlier, I agree that I did not think we had anything in common two weeks ago when we first met, but now, after spending more time in your company and getting to know you, I feel as though we share enough interests upon which to build a solid friendship. Truth be told, I thought we were friends, Lady Newbury, but it seems I was mistaken.”
“I spoke in frustration,” she said. “It was badly done of me, and I am sorry for it.”
She sounded sincere, but considering how easily she’d been tempted to deny any deeper connection with him, he couldn’t help himself from lashing out. Tightening his hold, he said, “What makes you think that you deserve my forgiveness?”
Her lips parted and she sucked in a breath, those moss-green eyes of hers searching his face as if she hoped to find the correct answer to his question there.
“Be honest with me,” he whispered close to her ear as he pulled her closer still. Her scent was like wild honey and freshly picked citrus fruits on a hot summer’s day. It was intoxicating. “You’re just using me, aren’t you? All you want is to find the journal, and you will do so by any means necessary, won’t you? I’m just a means to an end for you, aren’t I? Come now, Lady Newbury, you can tell me—”
“No.” The word was but a breath of air hanging between them. But then, more forcefully, she said, “I could never do something so shallow or selfish, my lord. In fact, I quite admire you for the job that you do, for your incredible mind and for keeping a level head in spite of what you went through as a child. It is impressive.”
“Then why denounce what we have?” What the hell had come over him? He was behaving like a rogue. Perhaps he’d had too much champagne? Anything was possible at this point.
“Because . . .” Lady Newbury said. She sounded perplexed—like someone who’d just been asked to explain why they’d suddenly chosen to attend church when they’d never made a habit of going before.
James waited. When she said nothing further, he prompted, “Because what?”
“I . . . I cannot explain it other than to say that I feel increasingly confused when I am with you. This . . . what we share, is so different from anything I’ve ever experienced with any other man that I find myself feeling . . . misplaced somehow.”
“Misplaced?”
“Perhaps that was not the right word.” She sighed. “It’s as if I’m adrift in a turbulent sea.” Interesting analogy. “My husband wasn’t anything like you, and though I did love him in the beginning, that love faded when I became aware of the true nature of his character. Since then, I have found it impossible to form a close attachment to any gentleman.”
He couldn’t help but stare at her. “What about Scarsdale? I realize that you’ve fallen out, and for good reason, but you considered him your friend until a few days ago.” The music faded and James took some pride in his ability to bring them to a graceful stop after his ea
rlier blunders. He offered Lady Newbury his arm and guided her toward the terrace doors. Considering the interesting turn the conversation had just taken, he wanted to get her alone so he could press her for an answer to his question.
Of course, as fate would have it, Mrs. Green and Hainsworth stepped in front of them at that exact moment. “You danced beautifully just now,” Mrs. Green said as she leaned toward James and smiled.
James winced, for he knew that Lady Newbury must have looked like a fairy princess being jerked about by a clumsy oaf. At least in the beginning. “Thank you,” he said, regardless.
“Lady Duncaster just informed us that it’s almost time to go in to supper. We thought we might be able to sit together if we hurry along and find a table.” Releasing Hainsworth, Mrs. Green linked her arm with James’s and started forward, leaving him with no choice but to follow if he was to be polite.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Hainsworth was offering his arm to Lady Newbury who smiled as she took it. James looked away. He was not satisfied with where their conversation had left off and determined to get her alone later. For now, however, he had no choice but to accompany a woman who was making him very uncomfortable with her forwardness and the clear insinuation that she hoped to make a conquest of him.
Chloe feared she might have to claim a headache and excuse herself for the evening. Never in her life had she felt as rotten as she had the moment she’d realized that Lord Woodford had been standing right behind her as she’d proclaimed to have no interest in him, that she hardly considered him a friend and that they had nothing in common.
Oh dear God, what was she to do? Her apology had sounded pathetic to her own ears—not nearly enough to repair the damage she’d done to her growing relationship with the earl in the space of only a few seconds. But the remarks from Charlotte and Ophelia, and then from Laura, had propelled her to denounce any possibility for a blooming romance between them because . . . She knew the reason and had almost confessed it to him. Foolish woman.
For once, Mrs. Green’s arrival had come as a blessing, preventing Chloe from revealing the true contents of her heart—a heart that she’d sworn to guard with vigilance. Today, out of guilt, she’d almost offered a piece of it to the Earl of Woodford.
Seated next to him at a small round table with Lord Hainsworth at her left and Mrs. Green opposite, Chloe tried not to notice how charged the air seemed to be between her and the earl. He had not yet forgiven her, indeed it was possible that he never would, and this knowledge that all was not right between them set her on edge, preventing her from concentrating properly on the conversation happening around her. She decided therefore to focus on her food—a delicious cream of asparagus soup.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” Mrs. Green suddenly asked.
Raising her gaze, Chloe saw that everyone looked at her with expectancy, though she couldn’t determine Woodford’s expression since she refused to look directly at him. She felt so very ashamed. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, realizing that she was meant to respond to a question that she had not heard.
“Marriage,” Mrs. Green said. “I was just trying to dissuade these gentlemen from venturing into it.”
Setting down her spoon, Chloe forced a smile. Of all the topics in the world, why did it have to be this? “Marriages of convenience can certainly lead to some unhappiness,” Chloe said, “but love matches are not unheard of either, not even among our set. And while I’m sure many gentlemen in particular are reluctant to relinquish their freedom in favor of one woman, they recognize that their duty toward their lineage comes before their own wants and desires.”
“How eloquently put,” Mrs. Green said, taking a sip of her champagne while Chloe, with a polite nod, picked up her spoon and continued eating. “However, one needn’t marry in order to have children—”
Chloe choked. She was shocked that anyone would have the courage to say such a thing, and at a ball of all places!
“I believe Mrs. Green is trying to make a technical point as opposed to a socially acceptable one,” Lord Woodford said dryly.
“In a sense she’s quite correct,” Hainsworth said.
Grabbing her napkin, Chloe dabbed her mouth. “I cannot believe I’m having this conversation,” she muttered.
An odd sound escaped Lord Woodford. Eyeing him, she saw that the corner of his mouth twitched as if he was trying to hold back a smile. Mrs. Green on the other hand made no attempt to stop her response. “Would you mind repeating that, Lady Newbury? I fear I didn’t quite hear what you said.”
“Mrs. Green,” Chloe said as she drew upon every ounce of patience she possessed, “you know as well as the rest of us here that one must marry if one wishes to have children. Especially if one happens to be heir to a title.”
All eyes fell on Lord Woodford. A sly smile spread its way across Mrs. Green’s lips. Chloe decided she didn’t like it in the least. “Well,” Mrs. Green said, “fortunately there are ways to prevent any unnecessary embarrassments.”
Dear Lord!
Hainsworth coughed, no doubt to hide his discomfort with such a statement while Woodford himself appeared to have gone quite pale. “In my opinion,” Chloe said, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction, “marriage requires hard work and dedication from both parties. It is a partnership strengthened by trust. If only parents would teach their children proper values I do believe arranged marriages would have a greater chance of success. Instead, young couples often believe that their marriage is doomed from the very beginning—that it doesn’t stand a chance because it was entered into for material gain. But if they would at least try to understand each other, to make a valid attempt at getting to know each other, it is fair to say that a great deal of unhappiness might be avoided.” She was fairly trembling by the time she spoke the last word. So passionate was she in her belief, so affected by the exact thing she had just described, that she had, without thinking, spoken from somewhere deep within.
“I will certainly endeavor to make a friend out of the lady I eventually marry,” Woodford murmured. He didn’t look at Chloe, and yet she felt as though he spoke only to her. “To make an enemy of her would indeed be foolish.”
“You make a fine point,” Hainsworth said.
“You could always send her away to the country,” Mrs. Green pointed out.
Chloe stared at her. “Which is precisely what some men do. However, it doesn’t make it correct or admirable.”
“No,” Mrs. Green said, nodding her head, “I don’t suppose it does.” There was a moment’s silence before she burst into a bright smile. “Well then, Lord Woodford. Since that’s been settled, perhaps I can convince you to fetch me a slice of cake?”
There was a barely noticeable hesitation before Woodford agreed, rose, and went to fulfill Mrs. Green’s request. He was only just out of earshot when Mrs. Green leaned across the table, her eyes conspiratorial as she looked from Chloe to Hainsworth and back again before saying, “Oh, isn’t he simply delicious?”
Chloe clamped her mouth shut to stop herself from speaking the words that shot to the front of her mind. She looked to Hainsworth who was studying Mrs. Green very carefully. Taking a sip of his wine, he eventually said, “Woodford will marry, and once he does, he will be faithful to his wife, no matter who she might be.”
“You’re certain of this?” Chloe asked with interest as she tried to ignore Mrs. Green’s crestfallen expression.
Hainsworth nodded, his face a little softer than Woodford’s, but not much. “I’ve known him all his life, Lady Newbury, and have raised him since he was just a lad. I know the sort of man he is. Honorable to the core.”
“What are you doing?” James asked Hainsworth after supper. Mrs. Green had been asked to dance by a young bachelor who’d probably heard about her wealth while Lady Newbury danced with Chadwick.
“Care to be more specific?” Hai
nsworth asked.
“You deliberately introduced me to Mrs. Green, didn’t you?” James asked, his eyes on Lady Newbury as she smiled toward Chadwick. She looked so young and carefree right now while dancing.
Hainsworth took a sip of his champagne. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?” He was quiet a moment before adding, “I am aware that it has been a while for you, Woodford. Mrs. Green is an attractive widow. I don’t expect you to marry her, but I did think that you might be able to enjoy her company and that doing so would help you forget about Lady Newbury.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Woodford said, watching as Lady Newbury twirled about on the dance floor.
“Please don’t tell me that you’re in love with her. You need to focus, Woodford. Love just muddles the mind. It—”
“You needn’t worry, Hainsworth, I know what I’m doing.” But even as he spoke the words, James wondered how true they could possibly be when the lady filled his thoughts at every waking moment.
It was nearing two in the morning by the time Chloe decided that it was time to retire. Most of the guests had already done so—including her family, Woodford, and the majority of her friends—save some who still sat at the card tables. Chloe had chosen to stay behind a while longer and watch a high stakes game of vingt-et-un that was being played between the Duke of Pondsly and Lord Hainsworth. Her heart was still heavy with regret, for although Woodford had been polite and cordial toward her the rest of the evening, Chloe felt that there was a great deal of distance between them now. He had not forgiven her yet, but then again, neither had she.
Making her way up the wide staircase to the second floor, Chloe watched the light from the tall candelabras that were held by stretching female statues on either side of the stairs. It flickered and danced against the shadowy walls. All was quiet, including her footfalls.
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