by Beers, Laura
After Oliver closed the door, Corbyn shifted in his seat to face Baldwin. “How did your talk with Jane go?”
“It went well,” Baldwin replied. “I’m hoping she will think twice before she does something foolish like that again.”
Corbyn gave his friend an amused look. “I see that being impulsive runs in the family.”
Baldwin chuckled. “That it does.”
He grew serious, then revealed, “My brother came by to see me last night.”
“How did that go?”
“He informed me that my father is rather sick and believes he is on his deathbed.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Baldwin said. “I have noticed the Duke of Weatherby’s absence from the House of Lords.”
“Simon wants me to return home and help run the duchy with him,” Corbyn shared.
Baldwin eyed him warily. “Is that what you want to do?”
“Heavens, no!” Corbyn exclaimed. “I have no intention of leaving my post, for any reason.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Baldwin said. “Do you intend to visit with your father?”
“I suppose I must.”
Baldwin nodded. “It would be for the best.”
“Would it?” Corbyn asked. “After all, my family has only ever considered me a grand disappointment.”
“That can’t possibly be true.”
“I’m afraid it is,” Corbyn replied. “The only decision my father ever supported me in was when I joined the army and was assigned to the Ninety-fifth Rifle Regiment. But he was horrified when I was discharged a few years later.”
“You were assigned to the Ninety-fifth Rifle Regiment as a cover while you worked secret missions for the Crown.”
“I am well aware, but my father doesn’t know that. Instead, he said I embarrassed the family by not making a career out of the army.”
“Your father was wrong to say that,” Baldwin said.
“Perhaps, but it doesn’t change the fact that my father thinks so poorly of me.”
“Regardless, you need to attempt to make amends before he passes,” Baldwin advised. “You don’t want to live with any more regrets than you have to.”
Corbyn sighed. “You are right, of course.” He rose from his seat. “I will meet with him when I am able.”
“Just don’t put it off for too long.”
Corbyn tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I’m afraid I have stayed long enough. I need to get back to work now.”
“I wish you luck.”
“Luck has nothing to do with my job,” Corbyn replied as he walked over to the door.
Jane sat inside the dark coach as it rolled towards Lady Greenan’s townhouse. She was listening to her mother and Madalene conversing politely back and forth, and she felt no need to speak up. She was dreading this ball. Her mother would expect her to dance every set, and she had no desire to do so.
There was only one man that she wanted to dance with, and she wasn’t even sure if he would be in attendance. She stifled her groan. Her attraction to Lord Evan was becoming quite irksome. It seemed to have only intensified since he had saved her from those two men in the rookeries. But it mattered not since Lord Evan had never showed her any favor. None. Why was that?
Gentlemen showered her with attention whenever she went to social gatherings because of her beauty, dowry, and lineage. Perhaps Lord Evan didn’t find her attractive.
Madalene’s voice broke through her musings. “Did you hear me, Jane?”
She gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”
“About what in particular?”
An image of Lord Evan came to her mind, but she quickly banished it. “Nothing in particular,” she lied.
Madalene gave her a look that implied she didn’t believe her. “I see,” she said. “I was just asking if you intend to return tomorrow to the orphanage.”
“I would like to.”
“Excellent,” Madalene replied. “Mrs. Foster said the girls really enjoyed having you as their teacher.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Her mother spoke up. “I hope you will be able to find a French teacher soon.”
“Mrs. Foster has narrowed it down to a few candidates,” Madalene revealed. “We just want to make sure we get someone who is a good fit for the school.”
“That is most important,” Jane’s mother said.
“But I hope you don’t hire someone too soon,” Jane remarked. “I find that I really enjoy teaching the girls.”
“You are always welcome to come back and read to the younger girls,” Madalene suggested.
“I would be happy to do that.”
“Wonderful,” Madalene responded.
Baldwin reached for his wife’s hand. “I am proud of you and all that you have accomplished with the orphanage,” he said in a loving tone.
Madalene offered him a private smile. “Thank you.”
Jane felt a twinge of jealousy at the blatant display of affection between them, and she lowered her gaze to her lap. Would she ever find someone who would love her as much as they loved each other? She hoped so, but she was not naïve enough to believe everyone was destined to have a love match.
The coach came to a jerky stop in front of a three-level townhouse, and the footman opened the door. Baldwin exited first and assisted them out of the coach. As they started to follow the line of people into Lady Greenan’s townhouse, Jane couldn’t help but groan at the amount of people attending the ball.
“Whatever is the matter?” her mother asked, glancing over at her.
“It’s a crush,” she replied.
She got a smile in response. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“I prefer more intimate gatherings,” Jane said as she eyed the myriad of people crowded around the gold-papered walls of the rectangular ballroom. The middle of the room was chalked with flowers and intentionally left open for dancing. A half-orchestra was playing in one of the far corners of the room.
“You prefer staying at home and reading a book,” her mother remarked knowingly.
“It is much more pleasant than mingling with people who only view me as a prize to be won,” Jane muttered under her breath.
They continued to follow Baldwin and Madalene until they found a spot where they could stand and wouldn’t be in the way of the other guests.
“It is a shame that Emmeline couldn’t attend,” Madalene commented, her voice raised so she could be heard over the noise in the room.
The elder Lady Hawthorne nodded. “I hope she feels better shortly.”
Jane couldn’t help but wonder if Emmeline didn’t wish to attend because Oliver hadn’t intended to accompany her.
A familiar man broke through from the crowd of people and approached Baldwin with a smile on his face. “It’s good to see you enjoying yourself, Hawthorne,” he greeted.
“Likewise, Brinton.”
Lord Brinton shifted his gaze towards Jane and performed a slight bow. “You are looking especially lovely this evening, Lady Jane.”
“Thank you,” she replied as she dropped into a curtsy.
“Would you care to dance the next set with me?”
A genuine smile came to her face. “I would be happy to.”
“It pleases me immensely to hear you say that,” Lord Brinton said before he turned his attention towards her mother and Madalene and greeted them politely.
Jane took a moment to admire Lord Brinton, acknowledging that he was indeed a handsome man with his narrow jaw and straight nose.
Lord Brinton brought his gaze back to meet hers and offered her a private smile. “I shall be back shortly to collect my dance.”
She watched as he disappeared into the crowd before she turned her attention back towards the group and noticed that her mother had a satisfied smile on her face.
“What is it?” Jane asked.
“I have often thought that you and Lord Brinton would suit quite nicely,” her mother replied.
“You are more than acquaintances,” her mother pressed.
“If you must know, we are friends,” Jane reluctantly admitted. “But I will not let you read anything more into it. Sometimes a dance is just that, a dance.”
Her eyes started roaming the ballroom, and she saw Mr. Booth and Mr. Haskett walking towards her. Oliver’s friends. How she detested them.
They came to a stop in front of her. “Good evening, Lady Jane,” Mr. Booth said in a smooth voice. “How are you faring this evening?”
“I am well,” she replied, hoping her disgust wasn’t evident on her face.
Mr. Haskett offered her a flirtatious smile. “I was hoping you would be available to dance with me for the next set,” he said, causing Mr. Booth to cast him an annoyed look.
“I’m afraid that dance has already been spoken for,” she responded.
“The one after that, then?” Mr. Haskett pressed.
The refusal was on the tip of her tongue, but she knew her mother would chastise her for her impertinence. To refuse a dance was simply not done in polite circles.
She tipped her head curtly. “I would be honored, Mr. Haskett.”
Mr. Booth opened his mouth to speak when Lord Brinton suddenly appeared by her side. “I have come to collect the dance that you promised,” he said, extending his hand towards her.
Jane quickly accepted it and let him lead her away from those horrid men. “Thank you for that.”
“I assumed you didn’t want to associate with those rakes,” he remarked, glancing at her.
“You assumed correctly.”
Lord Brinton led her to where she was to line up and took his place alongside the other gentlemen. As they danced the quadrille, Jane found herself relaxing in Lord Brinton’s presence, and she actually started enjoying herself. She was having so much fun that she felt disappointed when the music ended.
“Would you care to take a stroll in the gardens?” Lord Brinton asked.
“I would,” she replied as she accepted his arm.
He led her out of the ballroom and onto the veranda. Couples were walking along the footpaths in the well-manicured gardens.
As they started walking down one of the footpaths, Lord Brinton glanced over at her and asked, “How have you been doing since your brother returned home?”
“Which one?”
Lord Brinton wore a baffled look on his face. “Pardon?”
“My apologies,” she replied. “I assume you are speaking of Baldwin.”
“I am.”
“I have been doing well since his return,” she said. “Thank you for asking.”
He offered her a smile. “And what of Oliver?”
“What about him?”
“It must be nice for him to be home, happily married to his wife.”
“I suppose so.”
“I heard that he raced after Emmeline, saved her from a near certain death at her uncle’s hand, and vanquished a band of smugglers from Whitstable,” Lord Brinton said excitedly.
“That he did,” she muttered.
Lord Brinton lifted his brow. “Your brother is a hero.”
She huffed. “I think not.”
“What would you call him, then?”
“I can think of plenty of names to call him, but heroic is not one of them,” she admitted.
Placing a hand on her sleeve, he stopped on the gravel footpath and turned her to face him. “May I ask why you hold so much animosity towards Oliver?”
“I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand my reasons.”
He grinned. “I have been told that I am quite trustworthy.”
“I imagine that you are.”
“I know we are not children anymore, but I hope that we will always remain friends.”
Jane bobbed her head. “I would like that, as well.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, “and as your friend, I would like to counsel you to stay as far away from Oliver’s friends as possible.”
She laughed. “I intend to.”
As they resumed their walk along the footpath, Lord Brinton asked, “How is your mother faring?”
“She is well.”
“I am pleased to hear that.”
“May I ask how your mother is?”
He grew silent, then said, “Her coughing has increased, and I am fearful that it will persist this Season.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“It just reminds me that life is precious, and we never know how long we have on this earth,” Lord Brinton said. “We must seize every day and live life to the fullest.”
“Well said, my lord.”
He shook his head. “Since when did you start saying ‘my lord’ to me?”
She smiled. “We are not children anymore.”
“My name is still Percy,” he said. “I give you leave to call me that when we are alone.”
“I would like that, assuming you will continue calling me Jane.”
Percy gave her a smug look. “I would have done that, even if you hadn’t granted me permission.”
“I see that you haven’t changed since we were little.”
“No, I am still the same boy who played pirates with you when our fathers were hunting.”
“If I recall correctly, you would always force me to play the maiden in distress so you could save me from the bad pirates.”
Percy puffed out his chest. “I would have made an exceptional pirate.”
“Yes, you would have,” she teased. “I am sure the tree branches that you used in place of swords would have frightened the real pirates.”
The music started drifting out of the ballroom, causing Percy to stop on the gravel. “As much as I don’t want this moment to end, I’m afraid I must return you to your mother so Mr. Haskett can claim his dance with you.”
“I suppose that would be for the best.”
Percy hesitated for a moment, almost appearing nervous, before he asked, “Would it be permissible for me to call upon you tomorrow?”
She smiled. “I would be honored.”
He returned her smile. “I shall be looking forward to it.”
Chapter Six
Corbyn leaned his shoulder against a column as he held a drink in his hand. His eyes roamed the room, ignoring the women that were batting their eyelashes at him. He had no desire to dance this evening, but he knew he must dance at least one set for propriety’s sake.
He had already greeted his aunt, and she expressed how pleased she was that he had come this evening. Now, he just had to bide his time until he could leave and get back to work. He had a never-ending list of tasks that he must accomplish. He doubted that he could complete them all in two lifetimes, let alone one.
Corbyn watched as Jane danced with Mr. Haskett and found his hand tightening around his glass. She was too good for the likes of that rake, but he was well aware of the impropriety that came from turning down an offer to dance. Even though Jane’s face was expressionless as she danced the set, he could see that her movements were stiff. She clearly was not enjoying herself and, for some inexplicable reason, that pleased him immensely.
He shifted his gaze away from Jane so as not to appear as if he were favoring her. Which he wasn’t. It didn’t matter that Jane looked beautiful this evening, and her gown hugged her curves perfectly. Or that there was brilliance about her that made her shine while everyone around her seemed dull. No. That made little difference to him. At least, that is what he kept telling himself.
He watched as his tall, thin mother approached him with a bright smile on her face. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes; there was pain lurking within, and his heart lurched at the sight of it.
“Mother,” he greeted politely as he straightened from the column.
She came to a stop in front of him. “How are you, Evan?”
“I am well,” he replied. “And you?”
Her eyes left his and roamed the ro
om. “I am not doing well,” she admitted, her smile intact. He knew she was keeping up the pretense that all was well, at least to the other members of the ton.
“I am sorry about Father.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “When do you intend to visit him?”
“I am not sure.”
His mother brought her gaze back to meet his. “I wouldn’t wait too long,” she advised. “He doesn’t have much time left.”
“I am surprised that you are here, given Father’s condition.”
“He insisted that I come,” she replied. “He doesn’t want the ton to know about his failing health.”
“May I ask why?”
“You know your father and his prideful ways,” she said. “Andrew always did have his own way of doing things.”
Corbyn clenched his jaw. “I would agree with that.”
The smile on her lips dimmed. “He has changed since you last saw him.”
“I truly doubt that.”
“No, it’s true,” she asserted. “He has grown more sentimental.”
He lifted his brow. “Did Father even ask to see me?”
His mother pressed her lips together before shifting her gaze away from him. “He didn’t not ask to see you.”
“I take that as a ‘no’, then.”
She reached out and placed her hand on the sleeve of his black jacket. “You need to reconcile with your father before it is too late.”
“I think not.”
“But you must!” she insisted in a hushed voice.
“And why is that?”
His mother grew pensive. “Just promise me that you will come visit him tomorrow.”
“I have work, Mother,” he said. “People rely on me.”
She dropped her hand and asked, “Did you think on what your brother said?”
“I did.”
With a hopeful expression on her face, she pressed, “And?”
“I have no intention of quitting my job at the Home Office to help him run the duchy,” he replied.
“But will you at least come home?”
He shook his head. “I am happy where I am.”
“Simon said you live in a hovel.”