Byron's Child (19 page)

Not to mention the soaking she had received on the back of his carriage.

On the spur of the moment she could think of no valid excuse to refuse. With a despairing moue at Giles, she took Lord Alfred’s arm. Another memory returned—bruised toes.

“I am quite out of breath after waltzing,” she invented rapidly. “Shall we walk about instead of dancing?”

“Just as well,” he confessed. “I’m none too sure of the steps of the country dances. Perhaps you will like to take a breath of air on the terrace?”

Jodie agreed, for despite its size the room was crowded and stuffy. However, when they reached the French doors they found them firmly closed, with rain streaming down the panes.

“Dash it,” said Lord Alfred. “Let us try the conservatory.”

As they turned away, Emily reached the end of the set nearest them. Jodie saw that she was dancing with the young duke, which must mean that Thorncrest had not yet managed to talk to her.

Lord Alfred followed her gaze. “That’s your cousin, ain’t it? Heard she’s caught Thorncrest. And he don’t mean to whistle her fortune down the wind, I can tell you, for all he’s no need of it. Saw him with my own eyes last night paying off his fancy piece, and heard her squeal, deuced if I didn’t.”

“He did?” asked Jodie as they entered the green dimness of the conservatory. Red and blue and yellow patches of light cast by a few Chinese lanterns left deep shadows between. Over the babble of voices and music from the ballroom came the sound of rain drumming on the glass roof.

“In the lobby at Drury Lane.” His lordship continued to stroll between the potted palms and towering ferns. Here and there, on discreetly placed benches, couples whispered and giggled. A whiff of orange blossom made Jodie intensely homesick for a moment. “She’s an actress,” Lord Alfred went on. “Pretty wench, won’t have any trouble finding a new protector, but she knows which side her bread’s buttered, I reckon.”

“She does?” asked Jodie, fascinated.

“Stands to reason. Thorncrest can afford to be generous to his ladybirds and he don’t stint ‘em, I’ll say that for him though he’s a nasty way with his tongue sometimes. He gave the jade a diamond bracelet, and I’ll go bail they were real. Course she knew what it meant and let out a shriek you could hear a mile. Ah, here we are.”

He pulled Jodie down on a vacant bench and pressed his lips to hers.

Taken by surprise, Jodie’s first thought was that Lord Alfred hadn’t had much experience kissing. Next she wondered whether to let out a shriek you could hear a mile or to toss him into the ornamental fountain she could see over his shoulder. And then she realized that either expedient would inevitably lead to an unnecessary fuss and a lot of awkward questions.

Lord Alfred’s free hand, the one that wasn’t clutching her arms to her sides, was beginning to wander. What the hell was she supposed to do?

Chapter Sixteen

Giles grinned as he watched Jodie walk off on Lord Alfred’s arm. Her memories of the youthful gentleman were evidently none too fond. She would probably read him a lecture on the inhumanity of cockfighting.

He made his way around the room towards Charlotte, intending to ask her if she would care for a glass of lemonade. Roland was with her, beaming with satisfaction as their host, the Duke of Devonshire, led Emily onto the floor. His Grace was an attractive young man with a look of gentleness much more suited to Emily than Charles Thorncrest’s acerbic nature. It was a pity, Giles mused, that history said the duke never married. To encourage a prominent historical figure as a suitor for his great-aunt would cause appalling paradoxes.

A hand on his arm made him look round. It was Thorncrest. “Your sister’s gone into the conservatory with young Barnes,” he said. “He can’t be trusted to hold the line. You’d best go after them.”

“You of all people should know that she can take care of herself.”

He flushed slightly. “Not here, not without creating a scandal. If you will not go, I shall. I don’t want my future wife’s cousin the talk of the tattlemongers.”

“I’ll go with you.” Giles sighed as he wondered how Jodie had managed to get into trouble at a thoroughly unexceptionable ball.

They strolled with outward casualness to the conservatory. After the brightness of a thousand candles in glittering  chandeliers, Giles’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the shadowy, multi-coloured dimness.

“The devil!“ murmured Thorncrest. “We’ll never find them in here.” He led the way into the humid, plant-smelling gloom.

It was less difficult than they feared. There was enough light to see that every female, whether locked in an embrace or merely whispering in her beau’s attentive ear, wore curls or ringlets. Thank heaven, Giles thought, for Jodie’s recalcitrant hair.

They found the pair near the fountain. Jodie was clasped in the young man’s arms, her one visible eye reflecting redly the light of the nearest lantern. It signalled wildly an appeal for help.

Giles and Thorncrest approached side by side. They each grasped one of Lord Alfred’s arms. Taken by surprise he loosed his hold on Jodie and squeaked as they bodily lifted him from the marble bench.

Lord Thorncrest’s hand promptly covered his mouth. “Keep your mouth shut,” he warned grimly. He turned to Giles. “I told you she would give this cawker the wrong impression, going off into the conservatory with him.”

“We were just talking,” said Jodie, her voice low despite her evident indignation, “and then he attacked me.”

“Just talking!” snorted Lord Alfred. “I was telling her how you gave your light-o’-love the brush-off, Thorncrest. She never tried to stop me. She was even asking questions. If that ain’t fast I’d like to know what is.”

“You told her about that scene last night?” The earl sounded shocked. He turned to Jodie and asked urgently, “Does Emily know that I had a mistress in keeping?”

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t have talked about it if she did.”

“You see?” said Lord Alfred, injured. “Respectable females don’t discuss the muslin company. Young unmarried ones, at any rate.” He stepped backwards in alarm as both gentlemen turned on him.

“Do shut up,” said Giles mildly.

“You stay out of this,” ordered the earl. “Jodie, are you going to tell Emily I gave the girl her marching orders?”

“Heavens no. She’s a respectable female. I might shock her.” Not unnaturally, Jodie sounded sarcastic.

“But I want her to know. Please tell her.”

“Coward. Tell her yourself.”

“Women!” said Lord Alfred in disgust. To Giles’s relief he took himself off.

Jodie said seriously, “I mean it, Thorncrest. If she’s going to be your wife ‘til death do you part, it’s about time you stopped being afraid to communicate with her.”

Even in the dimness of the conservatory Giles saw the earl’s anger at her insult begin to change to thoughtfulness. However, he merely said with asperity, “Giles, do try to persuade your sister to conduct herself with a little more concern for the proprieties.” He followed Lord Alfred back to the ballroom.

“That was a bit of sage twentieth-century advice you hit him with,” Giles observed, laughing.

“Men!” she said bitterly.

Giles took her hand and sat down, tugging her after him. She subsided unwillingly.

“You’re overwrought, Jodie. Sit still for a minute. Quiet now. Take a deep breath.”

She obeyed and her hand relaxed in his, her frazzled nerves calming. “When that toad started to paw me I didn’t know what to do,” she confessed. “The fountain made a tempting target but we’d never have been able to explain how he landed in it.”

“No, you were quite right. You have Charles to thank for your rescue. It never dawned on me that you might be in difficulties.”

“That’s because you’re a normal person.” She slid closer on the bench until her side was pressed against his, her thigh warm through the thin silk of her gown. “You’re the only man I can talk to without being afraid that something I say or do is going to be regarded as an invitation to assault. Oh Giles, I want to go home!”

After what she had just said, it was hardly the moment to take her in his arms and kiss her troubles away. He had to content himself with patting her knee and saying with brotherly sympathy, “I hope it won’t be long now.”

It was too much to expect him to go on sitting there with her warmth pervading him, her fragrance in his nostrils. He stood up and looked down at her.

“Let me see if you’re fit to appear in public. We can’t have Roland wondering what’s become of you.”

Docile, she rose and faced him, slender and lithe and altogether desirable in her shimmering silks. No wonder neither Thorncrest nor Barnes had been able to keep their hands off her! Giles tucked a stray strand of black hair under a braided coil and offered his arm. The words of a song learned in childhood returned to him. “Madam, will you walk?”

She put her hand lightly on his arm and they returned to the ballroom.

Though it seemed to Jodie that an age had passed, Emily was still dancing with the duke. Or rather, they stood waiting while another couple skipped down the set. The duke said something that made Emily laugh. Lord Thorncrest was glowering them from the side of the room, his arms folded, every inch the Byronic hero.

Jodie had long since reached the conclusion that Byronic heroes were much overrated, but a little bit of jealousy might be a good sign.

“Stop scowling,” she hissed, as she and Giles passed him. “You will scare her to death.”

His grin was rueful. “It seems I am never to speak to her. A ball is not the best place for private conversation.”

“Take her to the card room,” Jodie suggested, “or better yet, the conservatory.”

Since Emily did not return to Charlotte’s side before the next dance began, Jodie assumed the earl had taken her advice. Her own partners kept her occupied for the next hour, so she had no chance to talk to Emily before supper was announced. At that point, Roland decided that Charlotte was tired. He offered to take her home and return to fetch the others, but they were all ready to leave. Jodie had found it a singularly exhausting evening.

Nonetheless, she had no intention of going to sleep without finding out what, if anything, had happened between Emily and her betrothed. She waited impatiently for the household to settle.

Finally the last door closed, the last servant plodded up to the garrets. Jodie was bracing herself to leave the warmth of her bed when there came a light knock at her chamber door.

“Jodie? Are you awake?” A candle appeared round the door, followed by Emily in her nightgown and frilly nightcap.

“Yes. Come in and stick your feet under my covers before you get frostbitten toes. The Romans had central heating; I cannot imagine why you don’t.”

“Perhaps because they had cheap wood to burn and we have expensive sea-coal.”

“You are too logical, my dear. That was a complaint, not a question.”

“I believe some houses are heated by circulating hot water from a boiler. No doubt Roland will have it installed one of these days.”

“No doubt, but you did not come here to talk about central heating.”

“I do not know where to begin.”

“At the beginning. Why did you retreat to your shell when Thorncrest wanted to announce your betrothal?”

“Oh dear, you make me sound like a frightened snail.”

“You are not still frightened of him, are you? I thought you were reconciled to marrying him.”

“I was. I am. Oh Jodie, I feel like such a ninnyhammer,” Emily wailed. “it was all because he asked my permission to put a notice in the papers, instead of arranging it with Roland and then telling me.”

“What was?” Jodie asked patiently.

Emily fixed her gaze on her clenched hands. “I realized that I am in love with him.”

“But that’s splendid!”

“And I cannot bear it, because he is a rake, and he kissed you, and he has mistresses. I am shockingly jealous.”

“He kissed me before it really dawned on him what a treasure you are. And did he not tell you tonight about casting off his mistress? I told him to take you into the conservatory and confess all.”

“He did. He said all sorts of kind and flattering things, and promised he means to be a good husband. But I know even married men take mistresses. They say Lord Byron has an actress and Miss Clairmont now, even though he is shattered that his wife has left him.”

“People keep telling me respectable unmarried young ladies do not know about such things! There are many faithful husbands, Emily. Can you imagine Roland being unfaithful to Charlotte?”

“No, but Charles is more like Lord Byron than Roland, and besides, Roland loves Charlotte.”

“Just because Charles has not said that he loves you, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t. Lots of men have trouble saying it. Actions speak louder than words.”

Emily’s lips quivered. “I know. When he took me into the conservatory I was sure he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t.” She burst into team. “He kissed you,” she sobbed, “and all those loose women, but he didn’t kiss me. If he doesn’t like me that way, what does it matter if he respects me?”

Jodie reached over to grab a handkerchief from the bedside table, then took the weeping girl in her arms and rocked her. “He didn’t want to shock you,” she said. “You are a proper young lady.”

“B-but we are betrothed. It w-would not have been so very improper, and besides, there was no one to see. If he loved me, he would have kissed me.”

A number of answers flitted through Jodie’s mind. Lord Thorncrest might have a greater sense of propriety than they gave him credit for. He might have been afraid of his own desire, of displaying a passion that must frighten a gently-bred girl. But perhaps Emily was right—he simply did not care for her in that way.

While Jodie hesitated, unsure whether to suggest possibilities that might mislead her, Emily took the handkerchief and blew her nose.

“I know it is too much to expect that he should love me,” she said bravely. “I am sure he will be a kind and considerate husband and it is gooseish of me to hope for more. Thank you for listening to my megrims, Jodie.” Kissing Jodie’s cheek, she slipped out of bed, pattered across the floor and was gone.