Talk of the Ton

by Eloisa James

“Yes, you are right, of course. But, Jenny, I am desperate to have some word from him of his feelings. He compliments me and squires me around, yet he speaks no word of his heart. Sometimes I think he is merely being polite, and I couldn’t bear that, Jenny.”

  She began to sob again, then remembered about her swollen face on the morrow and quickly sobered. “I will die if he does not return my feeling. I swear, I cannot bear it if he chooses someone else. I will fling myself from London Bridge.”

  “Hush now,” Jenny hissed, truly angry. “Just talking of that sort of thing will give your mother apoplexy.”

  “I will. I cannot bear it.”

  “Do not worry now. It is only one ball. Silly girl, you are getting yourself all in a state over nothing. You will see, he will be here tomorrow, and you will be ashamed of yourself for carrying on so when it is probably nothing.”

  A combination of firmness and comfort worked best, Jenny had found, but she could not help feeling a cruel person indeed to talk with false encouragement of Miles when she had kissed him tonight.

  A harsh shiver rippled over her flesh, remembering the feel of his mouth, his long body rock hard up against hers.

  She would never in her life forget that kiss. It had done something to her, woken up some part of her, peeled back her skin to expose tender, pulsing feelings that she never suspected she’d possess.

  Why did this have to be the man Cassandra wanted—or thought she wanted?

  What had she done?

  All of her earlier happiness faded. She closed her eyes and drew in one long, shaking breath. She had been wrong to allow the earl’s attentions.

  It had to end, even if it broke her heart.

  Chapter Seven

  “Have you gotten your dance card?” Miles asked Jenny at the soiree they were both attending the following week. “I would like first choice.”

  “I am not dancing tonight.”

  “At all, or just with me?” he inquired sardonically.

  “I do not dance.” She tried unsuccessfully to make her voice cold. It only came out choked, sounding unnatural.

  “You do, and quite well. Now, what is this? Is it because I kissed you? It is, isn’t it?” He practically crowed.

  Jenny looked around nervously. Cassandra was not to be seen, for which she was relieved. She was thankful that her cousin had gone off with her friends, as she usually did, but she would come searching out Miles within a short time.

  She was determined to end this pointless flirtation now before it created any more problems.

  “No. It is not that you . . . that we . . . Oh!” Jenny sighed. “I cannot believe you would bring such a thing up while we are out in public.”

  Tonight’s occasion was a small affair in one of Mayfair’s large town houses. The crowd was smaller, and most of the people Jenny knew well. The drawing room had been cleared for dancing. Three musicians played softly, for the night was not yet under way in force, and it was only meant for background music until the festivities began.

  “But the only time you allow me to see you is in public. I called several times this past week, and you were gain-fully occupied otherwise. Or so I was told.”

  “You . . . we have to stop this.”

  “What?” he demanded, a mischievous grin on his face.

  “You are paying much too much attention to me. It is going to get noticed, and that would be a disaster.”

  The smile disappeared. His face pursed thoughtfully. “Why?”

  “It’s simply best if we . . . if this friendship is forgotten.”

  Nodding sagely, he asked, “Best for whom?”

  Jenny glanced down at her hands twisting on her lap. “You know who.”

  His look was cold. “Come with me.”

  Taking hold of her arm, he led her through the French doors, which had been left open to admit a cooling breeze.

  Outside, the chill in the air raised gooseflesh along Jenny’s arms. The flagstone terrace was deserted. The shapes of wrought iron and stone, dark shadows in the twilight, were their only companions.

  Miles pulled her gently so that she faced him. “My God, Jenny, when are you going to show some spine? You only think of your aunt and your cousin, what they want. What is it you want? To be sure, gratitude is a virtue, but would you really lay aside your entire life, all of your dreams, your own aspirations, for your cousin’s pleasure?”

  “You do not understand. I am not making some grand sacrifice for her infatuation.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “She is in love with you.”

  He sighed, and there was sympathy in his eyes. “She fancies herself in love with a new man each month, from Iris’s accounting.”

  “It is different.”

  “Because I have frustrated her. She loves me, does she? What does she know of me? She is a bright girl, and lovely. She is amusing, I admit, and imbued with a sense of fun that is hard to resist. That is why she attracts so many admirers. But she is also hot-tempered and demanding. I have seen her exhibit behavior that is shockingly self-centered. And, yes, I considered the convenience of taking her as bride when I arrived in London. But in the end, I realized she was too much like my first wife. She is young, merely a girl, and I do not want another girl for a wife, Jenny.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I want a woman, a companion, a partner in a pleasant life together, a slow life with simple pursuits and satisfaction as our reward rather than short-lived thrills. Do you think your cousin would enjoy such a life?”

  Jenny was confused. His words painted a picture that squeezed her heart. Cassandra would despise such an existence, it was true, but she . . . she thought it was the sweetest, loveliest life she could imagine.

  She shook her head, dispelling these thoughts. “You should speak with her.”

  He agreed. “She must understand I have no intentions toward her. I never did contemplate her as my choice, not seriously. We would never suit.”

  “Yes, do tell her right away.” Jenny was immensely relieved. Cassandra would be furious, and the strain in the next few days would be nearly unbearable, but it was the quickest way to clear Miles out of her blood and get her back to her old self.

  “Tell me what right away?” a voice asked, and Jenny whirled to see Cassandra standing in the doorway. She wore a smile, a tight, trembling smile that hinted more of hysteria than pleasantness.

  Jenny was acutely aware of the picture they presented. Miles had nearly been holding her, and they were outside, in the darkness, alone.

  “Excuse me,” Jenny said, and went swiftly into the house. She hoped Miles would take this opportunity to speak to Cassandra. They had to get this painful business behind them, and soon, before things got worse.

  Lord Darlington approached her, seeming wary and penitent. “May I offer my apology, Miss Alt, for my behavior at our last meeting. It was inexcusable, but I only can plead my emotions got the better of my sense.”

  “Thank you, Lord Darlington,” she replied coolly. “I accept your apology.”

  His expression altered, and she could see he was filled with relief. “Then you have made my night. You are most gracious.”

  Jenny peered impatiently to the open doors. Cassandra or Miles had not yet appeared.

  Darlington looked in the direction of her stare. “You are very lovely tonight, Miss Alt. That shade of blue is most becoming.”

  “Thank you. Would you excuse me?” She moved away from him, not registering the flash of frustration that hardened his boyish features.

  He rushed to say, “Miss Alt, if you are dancing this evening, I would be most honored if you would consider me as a partner for one.” He tried to smile. “Or two?”

  “Thank you,” Jenny said. She escaped the uncomfortable situation, giving him no more thought. Her mind was filled with what was happening outside.

  When her cousin and the earl appeared a short time later, and Jenny knew immediately that Miles had indeed taken the opportunity to speak frankly to Cassandra. She lo
oked devastated.

  It did not take long for Miles to find his way to her side. “I must speak with you,” he said.

  “Not here.”

  A country dance was announced, and several couples assembled themselves in the center of the room.

  “Dance with me.”

  “We cannot talk on the dance floor,” she protested, but she allowed herself to be pulled along with him.

  “I know that, of course.” He shot her a smile over his shoulder that knocked the breath from her. “I simply wish to dance with you.”

  She felt a surge of joy, followed by the sinking feeling of guilt. It would be wrong to flaunt dancing with Miles when her cousin was watching.

  “I cannot, Miles,” she whispered, planting her feet on the edge of the dance floor and refusing to take another step. What made it all the more difficult was Miles’s visible disappointment.

  He glanced about to make certain there was no one close to them who might overhear before leaning in to say in a low voice, “Cassandra understood completely. We parted on good terms, Jenny. Now, I wish to dance with you.”

  “No.” Jenny shook her head. She spoke barely above a whisper. “You do not understand. I saw her face. She was only pretending so as not to embarrass herself.”

  “You underestimate her. She even agreed to a dance later on. I think I am quite forgiven. And you have overestimated this entire affair.”

  Jenny wished she could believe him. She had no doubt her cousin had put a great face on her grief, but she resigned herself to another ride home rife with hysterics, and God knew what else.

  “Look, see, she is already talking and flirting, as good as new,” Miles prompted, nodding his head in the direction of her cousin, who was indeed bestowing one of her “looks” on a group of gentlemen.

  Jenny relaxed. It was tempting to think that perhaps she had made too much of the matter. She laughed softly. “I fear I am too used to taking her moods seriously because they always upset Aunt Iris so. Sometimes I forget how transient they are.”

  “Then, will you?” He cocked an arm, and she slipped her hand in his. Pausing, she glanced at Cassandra.

  She was conversing quite intently with a young man. Jenny could not see who it was because his back was to her, but she could see her cousin’s face quite clearly. It was animated.

  Relief flooded over her. Cassandra was already working her charms on other prospective suitors.

  “You are being silly,” Miles coaxed.

  She allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. She sighed heavily to rid herself of the built-up tension.

  “You know, it has recently occurred to me that I am neglecting my duties,” he mentioned, his eyes focused over her head, as if he were distracted. “I have made no progress whatsoever in finding a wife.”

  They began to move. She said, “Have you not seen anyone you like?”

  His mouth jerked as his eyes continued to scrutinize the people around them. “Oh, yes. Indeed I have.”

  Jenny ducked her head to hide her reaction. Dare she hope she might be the one whom he had singled out, or was he trying to tell her gently, much as he had just done with Cassandra, that it was not she?

  “And are your feelings returned?” she asked with feigned casualness.

  “I do not know.” He gave a little shrug. “She is a very difficult woman to read. I am at quite a loss, I must confess.”

  Her heart was beating. She was afraid to get her hopes up for fear of desperate disappointment. Was he or was he not referring to her?

  She couldn’t be difficult to read—surely he could see her growing feeling for him in her expression. She felt as if she’d been as transparent as glass.

  The dance took them apart. Jenny felt as if she were floating, her head swirling with doubts and hopes. She noticed when the gentleman to whom Cassandra was speaking turned around. It was Darlington, she saw, and for a moment the two of them stared at Jenny. She felt a chill, but it passed, and she was again proceeding through measured steps opposite Miles.

  “What do you think of my dilemma?” he inquired, chin up and facing forward as they proceeded at a stately pace through the double line of dancers.

  “You should attempt to find out as quickly as possible, I suppose.”

  “I intend to do just that.” He looked at her then, and a soft smile appeared on his face, just for an instant, but long enough for Jenny’s heart to leap. It is me, she thought suddenly. Then her breath caught as his expression froze, and a cold look replaced the smile.

  Before she could guess what had caused this change, Jenny felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Darlington in front of her.

  In his hand he held a glass of wine. His face was flushed, and his eyes blazed at her.

  So many things happened at once. Miles stepped forward, saying, “Sir, you are interrupting our dance,” in a cool, dangerous voice that drew a glittering glare from Darlington.

  Then Jenny saw Cassandra, her expression cruel and excited as she watched. Others turned, and the dancers, who could not very well perform their steps with Miles and Darlington facing off in the middle of the floor, all stopped, and eventually the music trailed off as well.

  “So sorry,” Darlington murmured, and threw back the remains of his wine. “And you were enjoying yourself so well. Well, Miss Alt seemed to be liking it, too. I suppose that goes to show she is not a man-hater after all.”

  He wobbled a bit, turning a grin toward Jenny. “You had us all fooled, I must admit. Why, no one could touch you. You were like ice.” He protracted a hiss on the last word, slurring it.

  “Excuse us,” Miles said, grabbing Jenny’s hand and starting away.

  “There’s something wrong with her, you know,” Darlington called loudly, drowning out the murmurs that had started up. “She doesn’t like men. She’s just toying with you because she’s jealous of Miss Benedict and she wants to get her back.”

  Jenny whirled, suddenly infused with rage. She saw Cassandra’s visible mortification as Darlington turned to her and lifted his empty glass toward her, as if in salute.

  “Aren’t you, darling?” Darlington purred as he turned back to Jenny.

  Taking a hard step forward, Jenny quite forgot herself until she felt the firm hold of Miles’s grip on her wrist. She realized only when Miles had stopped her that she was going to slap the supercilious face mocking her.

  Miles acted quickly. He shouldered her out of the way, pushing her behind him in a protective stance. “I have a good mind to call you out.”

  “Why? How have I insulted her honor?” He leveled a finger at Miles. With a lightning-quick movement, Miles knocked it away.

  There were gasps in the crowd. All were silent, everyone watching closely.

  Darlington was taken aback. “I don’t know why you are put out with me. Everyone knows about Miss Alt.” Holding up his hands, he turned to the gawking crowd. “We have all seen with our own eyes Miss Alt’s most perverted attitude toward the male sex. She is unnatural, one of those who demonstrates contempt for the institution of marriage and has forsworn a normal life.”

  Jenny heard someone say, “Oh, my goodness!” and recognized Aunt Iris’s voice.

  “You—leave us alone!” Jenny exclaimed, panicking for the first time. She felt exposed, and imagined a wave of revulsion in the eyes of those surrounding her.

  But Miles spoke then, and his voice was smooth, controlled, giving her a sense of his protection. “You have got it completely wrong, Darlington. You are drunk, and you are rude. Moreover, you are under the mistaken impression that merely because Miss Alt does not care for your attentions, she is unnatural. I can assure you there is nothing amiss with the young lady, and I quite applaud her taste in companions.”

  Miles took a step forward, his tone lowering to a dangerous pitch. “You are fortunate I do not call you out. So turn around this moment and be about your business before I rethink my generosity.”

  Darlington scoffed. “Who are you to d
emand satisfaction on her behalf?”

  “We are friends. And we have an understanding.” Miles turned to Jenny, and his look portrayed his hope that she would not contradict him.

  Jenny saw the situation spinning rapidly out of control but was helpless to stop it. She felt the scalding rush of humiliation.

  “What exactly is this understanding you claim to have, I ask!” crowed Darlington with a sneer.

  “Very simply,” Miles retorted smoothly, “marriage.”

  Chapter Eight

  That evening at the Benedict house, Cassandra barely waited until they were inside the door when she confronted Jenny. “How could you do this to me?”

  Still unable to believe the chain of events herself, Jenny said in a bemused voice, “I?”

  “How could he marry a mouse like you? You are a nobody!”

  “Cassandra!” Aunt Iris exclaimed, horrified. “How can you be so hateful?”

  Cassandra was already half-gone in hysterics. “She knew I wanted Miles, Mama. She deliberately stole him from me.” With her hands balled into fists, she swung back to Jenny. “You waited this whole season to find a way to make me pay for all the men wanting me and not you.”

  Jenny’s head cleared, and suddenly she was filled with rage. “No one wanted me because you told them I was a snob and set against marriage. A man-hater! And it was you who wound Darlington up like a clock and set him loose. I only suppose you hoped to cause so much embarrassment that Miles would avoid associating with me, or perhaps you weren’t even thinking that clearly. Perhaps it was just plain spite.”

  Cassandra’s mouth opened to protest, but Jenny cut her off.

  “I saw you commiserating with him, Cassandra, and I saw the look on your face when he accosted me. You orchestrated that entire scene tonight.”

  Aunt Iris covered her face. “Oh, Cassandra. What have you done?”

  For a moment, Cassandra’s expression showed her guilt, then covered it. “How like you to blame someone else. Miles is only marrying out of duty, you know. He doesn’t want you.” Her face collapsed. “He would eventually have seen I was the best choice. He’ll grow to despise you once he realizes what you’ve done. Just like Marianne. It will be just the same, and you two will be miserable forever!”