Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed (6 page)

This lady possessed a chilly kind of beauty, being tall and slender with pale skin and even paler blond hair.

“The Sandiford heiress!” she said with a slight smile. “How pleased I am to meet you. We have all been so anxious to know what qualities could capture our elusive David.”

Jane stiffened. Mrs. Danvers was surely implying what all the world knew, that Jane had been chosen for her ancestry and money. Her rare temper began to stir as she decided she did not like this woman at all.

“I was not aware Lord Wraybourne had been the victim of a hunt, Mrs. Danvers,” said Jane with an air of innocence. “Who was in the pack?”

The lady seemed to catch her breath. Her eyes narrowed, but she said calmly, “Every unwed lady in town, Miss Sandiford, and quite a few of the married ones.”

Jane would have dearly liked to ask whether the lady included herself in the latter group. An instinct as old as time told her it was so. Nonetheless, she was alarmed by her own impulsively sharp comment. This was no way to impress her betrothed with her
sangfroid.
Jane was further bewildered by the notion that Lord Wraybourne might have an interest in married women. She had assumed that, even if he was marrying her for her money, a husband chosen by her mother would be upright and faithful. Was that yet another instance of naivety? Had her mother been grossly deceived?

Such considerations were for later on, however. For the moment Jane must content herself with adding that she was pleased Lord Wraybourne would no longer have the uncomfortable role of quarry. Even so, Mrs. Danvers had the last word.

“I have always contended the hunt may not be so bad. The capture is the unpleasant part. I am speaking of the fox, of course.”

Lord Wraybourne led Jane quickly away, his lips twitching with amusement. “Why on earth have you got your claws into Phoebe Danvers? She has a sharp tongue.”

Jane looked up at him, intending to reply, but found herself suddenly arrested by his face so close to hers. When he became her husband he would expect more than a kiss on the cheek. Those finely shaped lips would be pressed to hers. Just as at Carne, she was unnervingly aware of her body’s reaction to his proximity.

This would never do. She glanced aside to hide her consternation. The pause had been too long, however, and he asked, with concern, if she was unwell or overtired. At least, he had not guessed the direction of her thoughts. She reassured him hastily, hoping that, as usual, her creamy skin would hide rather than reveal her embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Lord Wraybourne misunderstood the cause of her discomfort and said with a smile, “You would be wise not to cross swords with such as Mrs. Danvers until you have developed your guard.”

“You are probably correct,” Jane replied, recovering her wits. “And thank you for raising my status from peevish kitten to swordswoman.”

He raised her hand and touched it lightly with a kiss. Her second kiss ever, she thought, fighting to control her reaction. She would
not
become a tongue-tied ninny again.

“I see you perhaps as a little of each,” he murmured.

“A kitten with a sword between its teeth?” she replied breathlessly.

“A tiger cub more like. You have tiger eyes.”

Jane could feel her heart thudding in a most alarming way, which must surely be visible.

“I am not sure I would wish to be such a ferocious beast. Especially when I have just been accused of hunting you down.”

His smile teased. She could hardly see his blue eyes beneath the heavy lids. “Ah, but you are only a baby tiger and what am I? I assure you I am no lamb.”

Feeling quite dizzy from this exchange of
repartée
Jane agreed. “Of that I am quite sure, Lord Wraybourne!”

What was she to do? He seemed to think it his duty to pay these intimate attentions to her. Perhaps it
was
proper behavior in this circumstance; but, in that case, what was the appropriate response? Her mother had given her no guidance in this.

Jane’s very acute mind was also making other observations and deductions. The company at The Middlehouse was completely different from anything she had known in her life. The color and laughter, the looks which flitted between ladies and gentlemen—all exuded an aura which Jane could only think of as licentious. She knew she was naive and supposed these people could not possibly be as wicked as they appeared to her. Some of them were quite old, after all. Yet, such behavior would definitely not have been permitted at Carne. Still, her betrothed seemed at his ease and undisturbed.

He had obviously not chosen his bride from Carne out of insistence on elevated principles. If Mrs. Danvers was to be believed—and, despite the fact that she could not take to the lady, Jane had no reason to doubt her veracity—there were dozens of well-bred, young debutantes desperate for the chance to wear his ring. So it could only be her money which had attracted him. She knew she was one of the greatest heiresses in the land. If Lord Wraybourne
needed
her money then it explained his desire to please her and lessened any chance that he would lightly break the engagement.

For the first time in her life Jane felt herself to be in a position of power. She still had no desire to be a figure of fun but she also no longer felt excessive fear of failure. In fact, from this new position of confidence, she regarded Lord Wraybourne’s attention with some skepticism. He was charming and skilled in social pleasantries, but she would be foolish to take him too seriously as yet. She did not intend to become doting-fond of a man who wanted only her fortune. In time, she hoped, a true regard would grow between them. Until then, she must keep a tight rein on her feelings.

Her worst fear put to rest, Jane began gradually to find her feet in this strange new world. As the dinner party was informal, the conversation proved general, and Jane needed only commonplace pleasantries to supply her part. She concentrated on listening to the others. The talk was mainly of people and events of which she was in ignorance; but being attentive and clever, she learned a great deal.

Mrs. Danvers, she decided,
did
have a particular manner when addressing Lord Wraybourne and she was a special friend of Lady Harroving. Did the woman have tender feelings for the earl? Were they returned? Would they have married if the lady had been free? And where was Mr. Danvers?

Jane also noticed that an intimate manner seemed
de rigueur
between ladies and gentlemen. Lady Harroving had a similar demeanor when she spoke to Sir Marius and Lord Randal but not when she spoke to her husband. She seemed to despise her husband, who did appear to be unpleasant, eating greedily and noisily and paying no attention to his wife or his guests. Jane wondered if the marriage had been arranged. Perhaps, like herself, Lady Harroving had been given no choice. If so, honesty forced Jane to admit, despite Lord Wraybourne’s pragmatic approach to matrimony, her own parents had made a much better arrangement in her case.

Uncomfortable with the manners of the older ladies, Jane turned to Sophie in search of a model. She and Lord Randal chattered away like precocious children, seeming to be of an age even though he must be ten years the elder. Jane decided that, though she would give a great deal to be able to exchange witticisms with the younger couple’s air and
joie de vivre,
their behavior was as yet beyond her range. What was she to do?

“A penny for your thoughts, Jane,” said Lord Wraybourne, “or perhaps, more tempting, an apricot tart?” He held the plate towards her, and she took one.

“The food is delicious,” she remarked. “And so many courses.”

“Oh, this is informal. Maria would not consider this anything special. Was that what you were thinking? About food? You did take a tart so you owe me your thoughts.”

With effort, she met his eyes directly. Lacking a model, she must be herself. “But they are not your tarts to bargain with, Lord Wraybourne.”

His eyes glinted appreciation of her wit. “Then perhaps I should offer you a penny, or a bracelet of tigereye quartz. Would that tempt you to reveal yourself?” His voice was soft and light. Yet there was a particularity in his manner which enveloped her in a disquieting way.

She laughed to break the mood. “Perhaps. If I could remember what I was thinking. Thoughts are like dreams. Soon forgotten.”

“Dreams can come true, Jane. Have you ever had a dream come true?”

She dropped her eyes. This party was a dream come true, but she must not tell him that. He would take the credit. She wished he would turn his attention elsewhere. She could not think when he had his eyes fixed upon her.

“I don’t remember dreams,” she said. “I just told you so.”

“Merely because you don’t talk about them soon enough,” he responded in a much more casual tone, turning to cut some grapes from the bunch hanging on a grape stand nearby. “That is what we decided, was it not?” he asked, placing purple grapes on her plate. “In a few weeks I will be in a position to inquire about your dreams when you awake. Then we shall see.”

His nonchalant tone was deceptive. Jane stared up at him with enormous eyes, forgetting her determination to be a sophisticate. She didn’t know what to say. The vision of intimacy he had so casually laid before her was shocking and yet beguiling. She was flattered that he spoke easily to her of such things, as if she were a woman of the world, and yet she was terrified that he might expect some appropriate response of which she was quite in ignorance. Perhaps her pretense of worldly wisdom was
too
convincing.

She had not been aware that her mouth was hanging open until he put out a finger and gently closed it.

Lady Harroving’s sharp voice broke in.

“David, I will not have you billing and cooing at my dinner table! Save that for when you are married. Besides, it is my job to keep your little bride safe till then, even from you.”

Sir Arthur gave a snort of laughter at this, which was ignored by his wife as she led the ladies from the room. As soon as they were settled in the drawing room she came to sit by Jane.

“You must be careful, Jane, how you behave with the gentlemen. Even with your affianced husband you can be deemed fast, and that will do you no good in Society.”

“Oh, Maria, don’t be so stuffy,” exclaimed Lady Sophie. “I don’t know what has come over you since you became a chaperone. If David and Jane wish to play love games let them be. They’ve had little enough chance so far and will be married in a matter of weeks.”

Lady Harroving turned sharply on her cousin. “You had better guard yourself too, Sophie.
Love games
indeed. Your fine status and your large dower won’t help you if you are seen as flighty.”

“Do you think not?” asked Sophie saucily. “Not even combined with my
beaux yeux
and my
belle taille
?”

“Heaven preserve me. I doubt I’ll survive this Season!” declared the older lady and flounced off to sit near her friend Mrs. Danvers.

“There, that removed her,” said Sophie with satisfaction as she sat down. “Why, Jane, you look quite upset.”

Jane was struggling with the desire to weep, convinced that in her ignorance she had shamed herself in some way.

“Why did she say such things? I cannot help it if Lord Wraybourne behaves so.”

“Oh, she’s in one of her pets. Of course you can’t. But if he bothers you, just tell him. He’s the kindest soul really. He is probably not accustomed to someone so gently reared as yourself. I’m sure he would not go beyond the line.”

Jane wished she could bring herself to tell Sophie that her beloved brother had been talking of
bed.
Then she would see what he was capable of. Instead, Jane turned the conversation to matters of fashion. Shortly afterwards, she used her journey as an excuse to retire before the gentlemen appeared and so avoided another encounter with her bothersome fiancé. He would not be banished from her thoughts, however, and she found it surprisingly difficult to sleep despite the fluffy cloud of the feather mattress after a lifetime of horsehair.

Lord Wraybourne obviously felt obliged to woo her at every opportunity. Perhaps it was
de rigueur
for a betrothed couple to behave so, but it made Jane most uncomfortable. She tried to tell herself she found his attentions embarrassing, but she knew that the real problem was their effectiveness. He would soon have her eating out of the palm of his hand. She could imagine how everyone would laugh to see the country miss making sheep’s eyes at the man who was marrying her money. It was an exciting game all the same, for one so new to it. If only she could believe she had a chance to attach his true interest. . . .

With these thoughts jostling in her head, she fell asleep at last to dream of a man’s voice calling, “Come to bed, Jane.” But, try as she might, she was unable to decide whose voice it might be.

 

Later that night, after the rest of the party had retired, Lord Randal and Sir Marius lounged in chairs in the billiard room, taking time between games to share some of their host’s excellent brandy and discuss their friend’s forthcoming marriage.

“I agree,” said Lord Randal, “that it’s a strange start for David to pick a bride from nowhere when all the beauties of a decade have been his for the asking, but the girl will do when she has a little bronze and the family wealth is fabulous. I wish I’d known she was hanging there like a plum in the wilds of Gloucestershire, waiting to be picked along with her thousands of pounds.”

“Is that why you were doing the pretty?” asked Sir Marius sardonically. “If you think anything will prevent the marriage, you’re about in the head. David can’t cry off and still call himself a gentleman, and the Sandifords would never permit anything so notorious.”

Lord Randal’s smile was angelic. “But if they felt the marriage was likely to be even more scandalous . . .”

Sir Marius used his toe to tip his friend’s chair so that he was in danger of falling on his back.