His strange compliment made her tingle with pleasure, but she tried to continue with the flippant tone as she didn’t want him to notice. ‘I’m very glad to hear it. I can’t stand people who don’t.’
‘You are very forthright. I like that.’
‘Do you? Not many men find that a desirable trait in a woman.’
‘Well they should. Can’t abide mealy-mouthed females; they are so dull. No, give me a spirited one any day.’
They were standing very close, their forearms touching where they rested on the balustrade, and Ianthe was suddenly very aware of him staring at her intently. She wondered if he felt it too, this strange connection between them, then told herself not to be so silly. He was a man of the world. Merely standing close to a young girl surely wouldn’t affect him one whit. Especially one who was not a diamond of the first water like her sister. She looked away, feeling her face suffuse with colour.
‘I … perhaps we ought to return indoors,’ she said. ‘The concert must be nearly over.’
‘Yes, and no doubt there will be a stampede as everyone tries to escape as quickly as possible, in case the young ladies are contemplating an encore.’
She laughed at the image his words conjured up. ‘Then hadn’t we better position ourselves so that we are first in the queue for supper?’
‘Good idea.’ He held out his arm once more, and brought her inside and over to the double doors leading into an adjoining room which had been set aside for eating. The two footmen flanking the entrance opened the doors just as they arrived, and at the same time people began to spill out of the other room. ‘Just in time,’ Lord Wyckeham said and was about to lead her over to a table when an elderly matron hailed him loudly.
‘Wyckeham, my boy, haven’t seen you for ages. Heard you were in town wife-hunting on your brother’s behalf. That true? Come and talk to me.’
He turned to look apologetically at Ianthe. ‘I’m sorry, but that is my great-aunt Augusta. Would you excuse me? Perhaps I shall see you later.’
‘Of course. Thank you for keeping me company.’
‘It was a pleasure I would not have missed for the world.’
She watched him walk away and gave herself a stern talking to. He is not for you, and he is not paying you any more attention than he would any other young lady. You heard the woman; he’s helping his brother select a suitable wife and he’s merely passing the time by flirting a little. Don’t read anything into it.
But she couldn’t help but wish it were otherwise.
Jason listened to his great-aunt’s monologue with only one ear, while surreptitiously keeping an eye on Ianthe across the room. He saw her glancing in his direction several times, and then averting her gaze when she caught him watching her. She looked positively glowing and if anyone had asked him, he would have stated unequivocally that she was by far the prettier of the twins.
He had left Almack’s the previous evening determined to ignore the attraction he’d felt for her. But somehow he found it impossible to stay away from the soirée once Robert informed him the sisters would be there. He wanted to see her again, talk to her some more, listen to her enchanting laughter, and he hadn’t been disappointed. Out on the terrace just now, she had sparkled, her ready wit and obvious intelligence pleasing him as much as her lovely countenance. He realised he simply enjoyed being with her.
‘Oh, this is ridiculous,’ he muttered.
‘What was that?’ Great-aunt Augusta frowned at him.
‘Nothing, dear aunt, nothing. I was just looking at that young fop’s waistcoat over there. Ridiculous.’ He nodded towards a young man sporting a particularly garish garment in a violent shade of lime green. ‘Sorry to have interrupted you. Do go on.’
His aunt rambled on and Jason’s thoughts returned to his previous preoccupation. What is the matter with me? A spurt of irritation shot through him and he frowned at no one in particular. Surely he hadn’t fallen for Miss Ianthe? She was too young, too inexperienced, too … altogether perfect. He hadn’t come to London to find a bride for himself and he didn’t want to fall in love, but did one have a choice in these matters? It simply happened.
He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, then interrupted his great-aunt in mid flow. ‘Excuse me, Aunt Augusta, but I see an acquaintance over there is trying to attract my attention. Fellow’s been after a word with me for ages, so I’d better oblige. Wonderful to see you looking so well. I’ll speak with you soon.’
And before she could protest, he’d left her side and headed across the room. Not to speak to anyone though, but to leave. He had to get out of here so he could be alone with his thoughts.
He had a decision to make.
The following morning further floral tributes arrived, but this time Ianthe only received one. It was enough, however, since it was a huge bouquet of yellow roses with a card signed simply ‘W’. Her heart began to beat a little faster.
Serena, who’d had no fewer than four posies this time, frowned across the table at her sister. ‘Who is it from? That silly fool who pretends he’s a poet? I saw him hanging on your every word last night.’
‘No, it’s not from Sir Roland. I believe it’s from Lord Wyckeham.’ Ianthe tried to say this in an offhand manner, as if she didn’t care one iota who had sent the flowers, but Serena shot out of her chair nonetheless and came to look at the card before fixing her sister with a suspicious glare.
‘He didn’t send me flowers today. What does he mean by it? He barely spoke to us last night.’
Ianthe shrugged. ‘I have no idea. Perhaps it’s his idea of a joke?’
‘Well, I don’t find it amusing in the slightest. I shall have words with him tonight at Lady Betterley’s ball.’
‘Serena!’ Lady Templeton looked scandalised. ‘You cannot possibly chastise a man you barely know for not sending you flowers. Honestly, have you no sense?’
‘I didn’t mean it quite like that, Mama. I only meant, I shall make sure I have a chance to speak to him, to make certain he knows I’m the one who is interested in marriage, not Ianthe.’
Ianthe frowned. ‘And why shouldn’t I be interested in marriage? You keep saying that, as if I’m some sort of nun. I’d rather not spend the rest of my life alone, thank you very much.’
‘Well, you’d better be nice to your poet then,’ Serena laughed. ‘If you can stomach a life of having bad verse quoted at you.’
‘Perhaps someone more suitable will offer for me.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Why would anyone be interested in you?’ Serena swept a disdainful glance over Ianthe’s ill-fitting gown. ‘Besides, you said you’d be happy with a country squire. You’d do better to go home and attend the local assembly balls.’ She headed for the door. ‘Come, Mama, we must go shopping. I need a new pair of gloves as I, for one, don’t want to look like a dowd.’
‘But I only just bought you some and your Papa said we’re not to spend any more money now.’
‘Mama! I need a pair to match my new ball gown. Surely you don’t expect me to look a fright? How will I catch a husband then?’
‘Oh, well, no, I suppose …’ As always, Lady Templeton gave in and Ianthe shook her head after them, wondering why Serena always had her way. It simply wasn’t fair.
Serena’s barb had struck home, and Ianthe decided to pay more attention to the way she dressed for the evening’s ball. She didn’t have any really fashionable gowns like her sister. Once it became clear that no one was interested in courting her, Lady Templeton had decreed their meagre funds had to be used exclusively for Serena’s wardrobe. Ianthe was forced to wear the dresses she’d worn in the country, which were now sadly outdated. She hadn’t minded until now.
Their father was short of money and partly for that reason he had stayed behind in the country with the twins’ two younger brothers. Ianthe knew he’d had to scrimp and save in order for them to have a season in London at all and she was grateful to him, so Serena’s spendthrift ways annoyed her. It wasn’t fair that
all the money should be spent on her.
Well, perhaps I can at least refurbish one of my old gowns, she thought, and went in search of her mother’s French maid who was quick with a needle. The woman also had a soft spot for Ianthe because of the latter’s proficiency in French.
‘Dupont, I’d be very grateful if you could take a look through my wardrobe and see if there is anything worth wearing in there. I’m tired of looking like a provincial nobody.’
‘Mais bien sûr, Mademoiselle, I will ’elp you. Allons-y.’
Together, they went through every gown Ianthe owned and managed to find one that was reasonably well cut and might look less provincial with a few alterations. ‘Regardez, this one will look elegante if I take off all the trimmings.’ Dupont held up a pale green silk gown that shimmered in the light, but which was at present covered with lace, bows and all sorts of other embellishments that had put Ianthe off wearing it.
‘Yes, you’re right. I should never have allowed Mama to tell the dressmaker to add all that rubbish. Please, go ahead and do whatever you want with it.’
When Dupont brought the gown back some time later and Ianthe tried it on, she was thrilled. ‘Oh, thank you, you’ve improved it no end. Merci beaucoup. What a treasure you are.’
‘De rien.’ Dupont beamed at her and winked. ‘I ’ope you steal some of the other Mademoiselle’s young men.’
Ianthe smiled back. Just one of them would do nicely.
Lady Betterley’s ballroom was so crowded Ianthe thought to herself that no one would be able to dance. Nonetheless, to her amazement her dance card soon filled up, although she kept a few dances free just in case she needed a breathing space; or so she told herself.
‘Ladies, have you saved us any dances?’
The voice, deep, melodious and strangely unsettling, startled Ianthe out of her contemplation of the throng. She turned to find Wyckeham and his brother bowing to Serena and Lady Templeton.
‘But of course, we’ve only just arrived so there are plenty left,’ Serena lied and was quick to thrust her card at the marquess before Ianthe had time to so much as greet him.
Wyckeham scrawled his name somewhere seemingly at random, which made Serena frown slightly, then handed the card to his brother before holding out his hand for Ianthe’s. His eyes seemed to rake over her as he took in the green dress and he nodded in approval. ‘Lovely,’ he murmured, so quietly that only she heard him. Ianthe felt her cheeks heat up and realised it was his opinion she had sought. No one else’s mattered. She was glad now that she had made the effort.
When he gave her card back, she glanced at it and noticed that he had claimed the supper dance. She blinked and looked up, opening her mouth to ask if he really wished for that particular one, but shut it again when he winked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘I shall see you later,’ he said before disappearing through the crowd.
Serena frowned after him and looked at her own card. ‘He’s only claimed one dance,’ she complained.
‘All the more for me,’ Lord Robert smiled, and Serena had to be content with that.
By the time the supper dance was announced, Ianthe was more than ready for a break. Her feet were throbbing from so much unaccustomed exercise and her stomach ached with hunger. As Wyckeham came to claim her, however, she forgot any discomfort and followed him on to the floor. It was another waltz, and just like at Almack’s, he twirled her round the room gracefully.
‘Are you enjoying the evening?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thanks to you,’ she replied, then felt herself blush as she realised the words had come out all wrong. ‘I mean, because you danced with me at Almack’s, everyone else has decided to follow suit, so I’m no longer a wallflower.’
He smiled a lazy smile that sent waves of heat through her body. ‘And there was I thinking you meant you were enjoying only this dance with me,’ he teased.
‘Of course I am, but …’
‘But you’re too well brought up to ever say such a thing. Unlike your sister, who I believe would use any means to further her ends.’
‘Oh dear, what did she say to you?’ Ianthe felt both shame and pleasure that the marquess seemed to see through her sister so easily. She ought to have been embarrassed, but she was happy to find at least one man who didn’t immediately fall for Serena’s wiles.
‘Nothing I couldn’t handle,’ he said enigmatically.
When the dance came to an end, he held out his arm and escorted her towards the supper room. They had only taken a few steps, however, when Serena’s voice hailed them from behind.
‘There you are. Lord Robert and I thought we should find a table for four. So much more fun than sitting alone, don’t you think?’
Wyckeham stopped to let them catch up, and Ianthe thought she saw a look of impatience dart across his countenance, but he said nothing. The others were behind them in a trice, and Ianthe turned to walk with the marquess into the supper room. Before she had moved more than a foot, however, she was yanked backwards and there was a loud tearing noise behind her. She threw a look over her shoulder and gasped.
‘Oh, no, my dress!’ Searching with her fingers behind her back, she found that the lovely green silk had been torn where the skirt joined the bodice. The jagged edges of material flapped open, revealing a hole so large she must be showing the world a goodly portion of her shift.
‘Oops, so sorry, I must have stepped on the hem,’ Serena said, her eyes sparkling with victory. ‘You’ll have to go and mend it as best you can.’ She turned to Wyckeham and placed her hand on his arm, where only a minute before Ianthe’s had rested. ‘We can wait for her at the table, else we’ll starve to death. Come, gentlemen, let us eat.’
The marquess scowled at Serena, but she had already turned to urge Lord Robert to join them and didn’t notice.
‘Would you like me to escort you to the ladies’ withdrawing room?’ Wyckeham asked Ianthe, but she shook her head, too angry and mortified to speak. She had known Serena was capable of great malice, but this was beyond anything she’d ever done before.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she managed to grit out at last. ‘Please, go ahead without me. I’ll catch up.’
But as she turned to make her way to the ladies’ room, she knew that the sort of repairs needed to her dress would take ages, by which time supper would be over. And Serena would have charmed the marquess completely, the way she did all other men. Despite the fact that he had seen through her earlier, he was probably just like everyone else and he would fall prey to Serena’s beauty in the end. It was inevitable.
Ianthe took a deep breath and straightened her spine. Well, if he was that fickle, he wasn’t worth having.
Jason watched Ianthe leave the room and wondered if he should have escorted her after all. He could tell that she was mortified, and no wonder – that sister of hers was a real little baggage and there was no doubt she’d stepped on the gown on purpose. It’s probably best to leave the poor girl alone for now so that she can compose herself. The last thing she’d want was an audience. But as for the sister, he could deal with her.
He pretended to go along to the supper room meekly, but as the trio reached the table Miss Templeton had picked out, right in the centre of the room where no one could miss them, Jason stopped abruptly and pulled his arm out of her grip. ‘By Jove, if it isn’t Allington! Excuse me, but I’ve spotted an old friend over there whom I haven’t seen in ages. I must go and exchange a few words with him.’ He smiled a smile he knew was utterly false and added, ‘I’m sure you two would rather converse alone in any case.’ Well, Robert would.
Miss Templeton looked shocked, as if she wasn’t used to anyone declining to have supper with her. ‘But my lord,’ she protested, ‘surely it can wait until you’ve eaten? You must be famished. And I was so looking forward to your company.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I can grab something along the way. Don’t worry about me. And Robert is far better company than I could ever be.’ Especially for you.
; And with a curt nod, he left Robert standing with what was definitely an outraged little termagant.
Oh, Robert, I hope you get over that particular infatuation very soon.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ianthe was the only person in the breakfast room the next day, as her mother and sister had gone out early in search of a new fan Serena was adamant she needed. This suited Ianthe just fine. She didn’t think she could find it in herself to be civil to her sister after what she had done the previous evening, and their mother was just as bad. She had insisted it was merely an unfortunate accident.
‘In such a crush, it could happen any time,’ Lady Templeton had said, as always anxious to avoid a confrontation. ‘You were just unlucky.’
‘Accident, hah,’ Ianthe muttered to herself now. ‘Not likely with Serena on the warpath.’ She tried to concentrate on the book of poetry lying open next to her plate, but somehow the words weren’t making any sense today and she closed it with an impatient snap. ‘Confound it.’
A knock on the door heralded Balfour, the butler, who held out a silver salver with a card on it. ‘There’s a gentleman in the hall who claims that you are going riding with him this morning. Had you forgotten, Miss?’
Ianthe knew Balfour would be well aware that she had made no such arrangements, else she would have told him, but he was too well trained to bat an eyelid. ‘I …’ She glanced at the card, which had ‘Wyckeham’ printed in large letters on it, and her heart flipped over unexpectedly. ‘Yes, oh dear, how silly of me. Would you be so kind as to ask him to wait? I’ll have to change, but I won’t keep him long.’
‘Of course, Miss.’
‘Thank you. And Balfour, have my horse saddled, please.’
‘No need, Miss. The gentleman has brought a mount for you. No doubt you had forgotten that as well.’ Ianthe thought she saw a small smile curve the butler’s mouth as he left the room, and she felt as if they were co-conspirators somehow.
Once Bitten, Twice Shy (Choc Lit) Page 3