An Escapade and an Engagement (11 page)

She reached into her reticule, got out a handkerchief and blew
her nose with some force.

Her mother had warned her never to let any man crush her
spirit. Days after her father’s funeral. She’d been too weak to rise from her
bed for several months, and though she’d never been robust enough to let a
boisterous child invade her rooms, she’d suddenly summoned Jayne to her
side.

‘I outlived him,’ she’d whispered hoarsely. ‘It was the only
victory I could gain, but I did it. Before I go, I want your promise that you
will never let a man crush you, either. Remember you are a Vickery. We always
rise above whatever adversities life thrusts upon us.’

Mama had certainly risen to the challenge of being married to
the odious Marquis of Tunstall. She had gone down fighting him to her last
breath. His only wish, for years, had been that his invalid wife would die, so
that he could remarry and get the heir she had failed to give him.

She shuddered. Did relations between men and women always have
to be a battle?

Lord Ledbury, feeling her convulsive movement, put his arms
round her again.

And brought her back to her senses.

What must he think of her? And, oh, Lord, how many times had he
made the driver go round in circles while she wept into what little there was of
his shirtfront?

It had been kind of him not to take her straight home, but
still… She sat up straight, making it clear she no longer needed his
support.

‘I beg your pardon,’ she said. ‘I have finished crying
now.’

For a moment he considered telling her that he would not care
how long she cried if it meant she would stay in his arms. Except that it tore
him up inside to see her so wretched.

Reluctantly, he released her and let her sit up.

Hating the physical distance she put between them as she inched
along the seat, he reached for her free hand and held it between both of his
own.

‘Lady Jayne, I shall not pry. But if it would help you to talk
about what happened I swear I would never betray your confidence. And if there
is any way I may be of further service, you have only to ask.’

She wiped her nose. She had no intention of admitting what an
idiot she’d been to fall for Harry’s glib lies. But on the other hand he was
being so kind…

And, in a way, she did owe him something of an explanation for
dragging him away from the ball where, by the looks of that costume, he’d gone
to have the kind of fun nobody ever got at the events where she usually met
him.

Strange… She’d never thought of him as anything but a creature
of duty. But seeing him in that outfit showed her there was more to him than met
the eye.

What a pity she’d not gone to the masquerade with him. He
looked as though he would have been a much more entertaining escort than Harry.
And he wouldn’t have crossed the line, either….

She shook herself and lowered her eyes to where he was holding
her hand between his own.

‘Harry had been trying to persuade me to elope with him for
some time. Tonight, when he saw that nothing he could say or do would ever
persuade me to take such a reprehensible step, he became very angry. He… Well,
let us say he left me in no doubt that he never cared for anything about me but
my fortune.’

‘I knew it!’ He’d known a man who was truly in love could never
have enticed a lady into a series of such scandalous escapades. It was
disrespectful. If Harry had really loved her, wouldn’t he have begged her to
wait for him, rather than urged her to elope? If
he’d
gained a place in her affections, when he’d been a mere
lieutenant living on his pay, he would have waited forever. Done whatever
necessary to prove his worth to her family by his conduct within his regiment,
if nothing else. Lady Jayne was the sort who would stand by her word, once
given. She would never have married anyone else.

But to find out that the man for whom she had taken such risks
had only been toying with her… He frowned down into her bleak little face. And
his heart turned over in his chest. She did not deserve to have her trust
shattered like this.

By God, if he ever got his hands on Kendell…

Lady Jayne flinched at the murderous expression that came over
him. Though how it was possible to hurt any more, after hearing him say he’d
always known no man could really be in love with her, she wasn’t sure. But there
was definitely a pain in her chest. It was so sharp it hurt to draw air in past
it. She had to get away from him before she broke down all over again.

‘You may set me down at Lady Penrose’s house now.’

He saw her face close up and bitterly regretted the fact that
she was turning back into the lifeless little puppet he’d first encountered at
Lucy Beresford’s come-out ball.

‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘Your eyes will still be red. And your
nose…’

‘Lady Penrose is hardly going to miss this, is she?’ She
indicated her torn lip. ‘I shall have to give her an explanation. And,’ she
said, drawing herself upright, ‘I am now ready to give it.’

He almost gasped with admiration. She must have an inner core
of steel.

‘Do you wish me to come in with you? Would it help at all?’

She shook her head. ‘I have taken up far too much of your time
as it is.’

The polite tone of her voice as she tugged her hand free of his
was worse than anything that had gone before.

Do not withdraw from me,
he wanted
to beg her.
Do not shut me out.

In the event, what he said was, ‘As you wish.’

She clearly wanted to be on her own. He could understand that.
Her pride made her reluctant to reveal her weaknesses. People who had not
glimpsed her real self looked at her frozen expression, the one she was wearing
now, and assumed she was cold all the way through. But it was as much a mask as
the little scrap of satin she’d donned to attend tonight’s masquerade. Only she
put it on to conceal the depth of her hurt, not merely her identity.

Nobody, apart from himself and Lady Penrose, would ever know
anything about this night’s work. And he would hazard a guess that she would
tell her duenna as little as she possibly could. He would be the only person to
know that tonight she’d had her heart broken.

And all he could do about it was take her home and hope that
Lady Penrose was kinder than she looked.

Chapter Seven

‘I
had not expected you back quite so
early,’ said Lady Penrose, looking up from the book she was reading. Her eyes
narrowed upon Lady Jayne’s lower lip, and her hand flew to her own mouth. ‘I
knew I should not have let you go to such an improper sort of party! They always
get too boisterous. And there is always some man who gets out of hand.’

She braced herself for a scold when Lady Penrose shut her book
with a snap.

‘My dear, I am so sorry. You have led such a sheltered life.
Nothing can have prepared you for the vile behaviour in which some men indulge
when in their cups. But how did it come about? I thought you would stick close
to Miss Brigstock all evening.’

‘Oh, I…er…slipped away from her for a moment or two…’

‘That is all it takes,’ said Lady Penrose acidly. ‘Men need no
encouragement at the best of times, and when they are masked, and think they can
get away with taking liberties without anyone knowing quite who they are… But
what of the gentleman who escorted you there? I trust he came to your
rescue?’

‘No, he…he turned out to be a very great disappointment. In
fact,’ she said bitterly, ‘he abandoned me not long after we got there.’ Which
was as much of the truth as she felt able to confess.

‘But then however did you get home? I heard a carriage. Is Miss
Brigstock with you?’

When Lady Jayne shook her head, Lady Penrose turned pale.

‘Never say you had to get
yourself
a cab?’

‘Oh, no. Fortunately Lord Ledbury…er…recognised me, saw that
I’d had to extricate myself from a…predicament, and…um…escorted me home.’

Lady Penrose sagged with relief. But after only a minute’s
reflection, she sat up straight again. ‘Lord Ledbury? He was there? And brought
you home? The two of you were quite alone in a hired hack? I am not sure that
this is not worse… Can we rely on his discretion, do you think?’

‘You need have no worries on that score. Lord Ledbury will not
tell anyone.’ The last thing he’d want would be for anyone to know they’d spent
the last half an hour locked in each other’s arms.

Lady Penrose looked at her sharply. ‘You trust him that
much?’

‘Yes. I do.’ She was being unfair to accuse him of wanting to
hush everything up for his own sake. He had shielded her from scandal once
already. And he’d had nothing to gain that time.

He was innately chivalrous. She could never, not for one
instant, imagine
him
trying to inveigle his way into
an heiress’s affections, then urging her to elope with him. Not that he needed
an heiress. He was wealthy enough in his own right.

Nor was he the sort of man to humiliate a woman by telling her
what vile nicknames people called her. Though he would probably know they called
her Chilblain Jayne. Of course he would.

Oh, God. Had
he
ever referred to
her by that name? A shaft of pain seared through her.

‘Well, then, we must hope no real harm has been done. You have
already paid dearly enough for learning about the true nature of men.’ Lady
Penrose looked at her lip. ‘My advice to you is that you look upon this evening
in the light of an educational experience. And we need say no more about
it.’

It had definitely been educational. Harry had taught her a
lesson she was not about to forget in a hurry. A lesson she should have learned
years ago. She was unlovable. Completely worthless.

‘May I go to bed?’ she asked in a small, chastened voice.

‘Of course,’ Lady Penrose replied kindly. ‘And do not repine
too much. Just try to remember what you have learned so that you will not repeat
the same mistake again.’

‘Yes, that is what I shall do,’ she said.

She would certainly never let another man fool her into
believing he was interested in anything but her fortune.

She climbed the stairs slowly, trailing her hand along the
banister. How could she have been so stupid? And she wasn’t just thinking about
falling for Harry’s lies now, but her whole attitude since coming to London.
She’d been so hurt and angry at the way her grandfather had treated her that she
had rebuffed all the overtures of friendship made. Not that she liked any of
this year’s crop of debutantes all that much anyway. They were all so keen to
get husbands, and their conversation revolved so exclusively around that topic,
that five minutes alone with any of them would have made her boiling mad. But if
she only had a circle of friends…

But there was no way back from the stance she’d taken. Not now.
She would just have to carry on as though nothing had changed. When she got to
her room she would be able to remove the mask and domino she’d worn tonight, but
she could never let down her guard with the people among whom she moved in Town.
Or they would start to wonder what had happened to wreak such a change. And ask
questions she had no intention of ever answering.

She paused on the landing, head bowed. She was trapped in a
disguise she’d made for herself. And the only people who would persist in trying
to break through it would be the truly desperate fortune-hunters. The ones who
wanted access to her money badly enough to put up with the chilblains they’d get
from the frost they said she exuded.

And she had nobody to blame but herself.

* * *

Over the next few days she found that she was glad Harry
had bruised her face. For each day Lady Penrose would take a long hard look at
her and decide that it would be better to stay in her room and inform callers
that she was indisposed. It gave her a legitimate excuse for staying out of
circulation while she came to terms with what an idiot she’d been. Though it
might be a long time before she felt ready to face anyone.

The first posy of flowers from Lord Ledbury arrived the very
morning after the masquerade. And every day he sent her another.

Lady Penrose became so excited about the daily delivery from
the florists that Jayne wondered whether she ought to explain that Lord Ledbury
was just being kind. She didn’t want her to get her hopes up for nothing. For,
though flowers usually signified romantic interest, she knew he couldn’t
possibly have any romantic feelings towards her, having seen her at her worst.
Though she would always treasure the memory of receiving flowers from Lord
Ledbury, she was sure his concern was a transitory thing. It would wane just as
surely as the flowers he sent withered and died.

One afternoon, Lady Penrose came to her room, took a chair, and
gave her a stern look.

‘Now, I know you have not come down to receive any callers, and
I agree that that has been the best policy up till now. But today there is a
visitor I think you would like to receive…’

Her heart leaped. Had Lord Ledbury done more than just send
flowers via his footman today? Had he come in person? He had already seen the
bruise on her mouth, so Lady Penrose would not feel she had to hide it from
him.

‘She has always acted like a tonic upon you,’ said Lady
Penrose, quashing her hope even before it had fully formed, ‘and so I have said
I will ask if you would receive her up here, in your room. Otherwise, you know,
she might think you have fallen out with her over the masquerade. And, although
you were both rather silly that night, I do not think what happened there was
her fault, was it?’

Lady Penrose’s gentle reproof struck her to the core. She had
been so wrapped up in her own misery that she’d not spared a thought as to how
Milly had got home. Lord Ledbury had said she could look after herself, and
she’d been so jealous of the complete confidence he placed in her that she
hadn’t questioned that assumption.

‘Of course I will see her,’ she said.

Lady Penrose smiled approvingly, and went away to let Milly
know she could come up.

‘Richard,’ said Milly, the moment she came through the door,
‘was that mad at me for going to the masquerade with you. Rang a peal over me as
if whatever it was that happened to you there was all my fault!’ She sat down on
the bed, untying the ribbons of a very fetching bonnet as she did so.

‘Oh, no. I am so sorry…’

Milly shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s not your fault he’s got so
stuffy since he come—I mean
came
into that title.
And, anyway, he was there, too, wasn’t he? Looking much more like his old self.
He used to be such a great one for dancing and kicking up larks. You should have
seen him doing the fandango when he was just a captain. Not many of the British
officers ever mastered the steps properly, but he kept on and on at it,
practising with the Portuguese women until he was as good as any of the
muleteers.’

Somehow, Jayne could see it. Well, she could now she’d seen him
in that corsair outfit, anyway. Putting on that costume had given him the
liberty to be that dashing young officer Milly had just described once more.
She’d got used to seeing the grim expression he wore in Society settings—but who
wouldn’t look grim if he had to go about looking for a suitable wife when deep
down he didn’t want any Society lady at all?

‘So, why have you come today? Has something happened? I know
Lord Ledbury does not want us to meet again, so…’

Milly made a rude noise, flapping her hands in a dismissive
gesture. ‘You weren’t going to pay any attention to that silly notion of his,
were you? That wasn’t the impression I got when we planned getting into the
masquerade, anyhow.’

Lady Jayne sat down on her dressing-table stool. When Lord
Ledbury had first told her she was not to meet Milly again she had been
incensed, and vowed he had no right to dictate with whom she might be friends.
But in the aftermath of Harry’s defection she’d begun to question her own
judgement. Maybe she ought not to be so ready to flout authority. Or at least
perhaps she ought to try and cultivate the habit of sitting down and thinking
before reacting rebelliously to a stricture she found perfectly ridiculous.

Tentatively, she suggested, ‘I expect he is only trying to
protect you…’

‘Protect me?’ Milly gave her a searching look. Then, with a
conspiratorial grin, she said, ‘You don’t really believe that, do you? It’s been
my experience that the stupid notions men have about how they want their women
to behave only end up making everybody miserable.’

‘Well, I can’t argue with you there,’ said Lady Jayne, thinking
of how miserable all the men in her own life had made her.

‘They’re all self-serving bastards.’

‘Not Lord Ledbury! You don’t mean him, Milly.’

Milly pouted. ‘Yes, I do. I know I can’t ever marry him. Not
now he’s come into that title. But he’s got so starchy nowadays that he won’t
even make me his mistress.’

Lady Jayne was not used to such forthright speaking. Her cheeks
a little warm, she said, ‘It is not the thing to
want
to be a man’s mistress. It isn’t at all proper.’

But if she were in Milly’s shoes how would she feel? If she
knew she could never marry him, she rather thought she might be prepared to take
whatever small crumbs Lord Ledbury scattered her way. After having been held in
those strong arms, she knew she wouldn’t feel the least bit revolted if
he
wanted to kiss her. If she’d been meeting him in
the park, rather than Harry, she would definitely have wanted to kiss him back.
And if
he’d
suggested eloping…

She pulled herself up sharply. It was
Milly’s
relationship with Lord Ledbury they were discussing.

It was funny, but when she’d put herself in the theoretical
position of being Lord Ledbury’s forbidden love she’d seen herself getting swept
away. But as soon as she tried to imagine Milly on the park bench kissing him
she felt most uncomfortable. And her mind shied away from thinking about them
going to bed altogether.

‘Oh, let us not get into a quarrel about that. I have been so
wretched since the night of the masquerade. And I am really glad you’ve come to
see me.’

‘In spite of what Richard might say if he found out?’

‘Even then.’

Lord Ledbury clearly had his reasons for wanting this
friendship to cease, but neither she nor Milly agreed with him. It was two to
one.

Milly grinned. ‘So come on, then, tell me all about it. I’ve
been dying to find out what really happened between you and that handsome
soldier of yours, and Richard just closes up like a clam whenever I ask him for
details.’

The hour flew past, and by the time Milly left Lady Jayne’s the
mood had lifted considerably. Her bruise had almost disappeared, and her spirit,
too, was reviving. It would not be much longer before Lady Penrose decreed she
was fit to return to Society. And she would be ready.

She was a Vickery, after all. And Vickerys were never crushed
by adverse circumstances. She was not, most definitely not, going to appear as
though there was the slightest thing troubling her.

* * *

She took extra care over her appearance on the night of
her first ball after the break with Harry, choosing a gown that had never had an
outing before. When she’d had her last fitting she had adored the spangles on
the overdress, and thought the white embroidery on the satin underskirt raised
the outfit above the ordinary. But as she stood in front of the mirror she was
appalled to see a glittering ice maiden looking back at her.

‘Not the diamonds, Josie,’ she said with a shiver. ‘The
sapphires tonight.’

‘Yes. They will bring out the colour of your eyes.’

She didn’t care about that. But at least they did not add to
the impression of coldness that made everyone mock her.

Not that she cared. She lifted her chin as she walked into the
ballroom later, telling herself she was ready to face them all down.

But in the event she did not notice who else might have been
there. Because she saw Lord Ledbury, and for a moment all she could think about
was how good it had felt to fling herself into his arms and let him hold her
while she wept. Nobody in her whole life had held her like that. Nobody.