Trials of Artemis (4 page)

Gideon
frowned. "Men in love are known to act quite strangely. Who's to say this
isn't due to love?"

"Simple,
my dear boy. The look on your face. Were that the look of love there would be more
duels twixt the bride and groom at weddings."

Gideon
continued frowning while giving a final inspection to his coat. "There
aren't more duels at wedding Quince because by the time you arrive at the
chapel you have quite given up on life."

"Oh
yes,” the duke said drily, “I see that you are already practicing your 'young
man in love' mien."

"Being
neither young nor in love I don't see the point in bothering. Are you coming to
the Wittiers?"

"Indeed
I see I must, if only to prod you to the proper behavior to save you and your
fiancée
from embarrassment."

Jack
looked out across the ballroom, absently fanning herself. She knew that the
earl was supposed to be here tonight but hadn't seen him yet. Both Mama and
Papa were ensconced in the card room and her sister Sam was dancing a reel with
a dashing young Captain. When the family had arrived there had been a stream of
well-wishers on her engagement and a few gentlemen had politely asked her to
dance. She had saved the first waltz for Harrington, since that seemed
appropriate, but its time had come and gone and there were no new dance
invitations. That meant Jack was lingering along the wall, wishing she could
just plead a headache and go home. Watching her sister, she realized she wished
she could be more like Sam. Silly, good-natured Sam who looked to be having the
time of her life, spinning on the arm of her partner. Sam, who found joy in all
that life had to offer. Jack was smiling indulgently at her sweet little sister
when motion at the entrance caught her attention. At last the earl had come,
resplendent in black and white. His too-long hair was tamed back into a queue
and his clothing was fitted to perfection. He was holding her gaze from across
the room. She suddenly realized she was staring and went back to watching her
sister dance, picking up the tempo of her fanning. Shortly before Sam's dance
ended Jack felt, rather than saw, the earl approach her.

"You're
looking lovely this evening, my dear," he murmured, as though it was a
compliment he didn't want anyone else to hear. He bowed over her free hand, and
then kept it in his grasp as he looked around them. "Where are your
admirers?"

Jack
stopped fanning her face to look at him blankly. "My admirers?"

"Yes,"
he said, still looking around the room and sounding peevish, "all those
men who have been singing your praises to me for the last three days."

"I'm
sure you're quite mistaken," Jack said tartly. "It was very clear
that I never quite 'took' in the
ton.
"

The
earl brought his gaze back to hers, his brow furrowing into a frown. "Oh,
I'm quite sure I'm not mistaken. If one were to listen to Hastings over there
it is apparent that you're some rarified combination of the Virgin Mary and the
Queen."

Now
Jack's brow furrowed and she looked around. "Hastings? Who the devil is
Hastings?"

That
caused the earl to smirk. "Poor chap. Smitten with you and you don't even
know who he is."

"Don't
be ridiculous, no one is smitten with me. It is ungracious of you to tease me
with such an idea."

The
earl's expression went from amused to irritated. "If you don't-"

"Hullo,
Giddy," the duke's voice cut in. "Miss Walters," he said, stealing
her hand from the earl and bowing over it. "How sublime you look this
evening. This shade of green brings out your eyes."

"Thank
you, your grace. You are all that is charming and fashionable."

The
earl, his hands now clasped behind him, rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
"Yes, you're both bloody amazing. I was having a conversation with my
fiancée, Quince, which any idiot could see."

His
Grace kept a jovial expression in place but said, "No, any idiot could see
that you were having an argument. If you aren't going to go about this properly
you might as well give up now."

The
earl's expression darkened into a scowl. Based on how freely he had spoken to
the duke, Jack had to assume the two were fast friends. It didn't seem right to
have such a friendship strained by this awkward engagement, and it was quite
magnanimous of the duke to bolster their relationship with his attention. Jack
knew that she was ill prepared to smooth the waters in such a case, since it
was unlikely that a recitation of Greek or Latin would have a positive effect.
Both of her friends would be better at navigating this. Heavens, even her
sister would be. In fact, what would Sam do? Playful Sam. Whom everyone adored.

She
tapped the duke's arm with her fan. "Oh la, your grace, it wasn't an
argument. Harrington was telling me how jealous he was of my admirers."
She gazed up at the earl from under her lashes. "I'm sure he was about to
ask me to dance."

Harrington
looked down at her as though she had taken leave of her senses, which honestly
was exactly how she felt. But she was willing to brave her way through this to
settle a discord between friends. She attempted to look winsome but assumed
that with all the lash batting she was doing she just looked like she had
something in her eye. At last Harrington held out his arm to lead her out to
the dance floor. Ironically they were just in time for the second waltz of the
night and something of the humor of the situation must have registered on her
face.

"What
is amusing to you now?" the earl prompted as they settled into the rhythm
of the dance. He held her at an appropriate distance but she could feel the
heat of his body from her head to her toes. Everywhere he touched her burned
like sitting too close to a fire on a chilly night.

Jack
looked up at him. Really looked, as she hadn't before, and considered him as a man.
His face bordered on craggy, all sharp cheekbone and aristocratic nose, and his
dark blue eyes were expressive. At the moment they expressed curiosity tinged
with a bit of bewilderment as she continued to smile up at him without
speaking. As tall as she was, he was one of the few dance partners she'd had
where she truly had to look up which was novel in and of itself.

 
"Why does the duke call you
Giddy?"

His
expression cooled as though he were disappointed that was what she was thinking
about. "It's his attempt at humor."

"Sarcasm
then?"

"I
suppose," he said with a small shrug, losing interest in this line of
conversation.

"In
truth that wasn’t what tickled me."

"Oh,
and what was that?"

Jack
lowered her gaze to Harrington's cravat. "I saved the first waltz for you
but you hadn't arrived yet when it was played. I found it amusing that here we
are dancing the waltz anyway."

"It
seems I shall always be in trouble with you for being late."

Jack
looked back up at him. Those deep blue eyes spoke not only of defensiveness but
some apprehension. "Of course not," she answered blandly, in order to
minimize the issue. "Where were you, anyway?" Jack nearly winced when
the question came out of her mouth. It was never good to ask a question when
you weren't prepared to hear the answer. Further, he might be insulted by her
intrusiveness about his activities. Honestly, she thought, it would probably be
better if she weren't sent out in public at all.

"Quince
was lecturing me about how important it is that we make a good showing of our
tendre
for each other."

Jack
stumbled a step, causing Harrington to pull her closer to steady her. "Our
what?" she gasped.

"Our
tendre.
The sudden romantic interest
that caused a confirmed bachelor and bookish maiden to announce an engagement
before anyone even realized they knew each other."

"Surely
no one is going to believe that."

"We
need to make sure they believe that." He leaned closer, until he was
whispering in her ear. "Especially if you have any hope for the rather
outside chance of breaking this engagement. You can be assured that I will not let
you go if your name is sullied by knowledge of how our attachment actually
occurred."

Jack
shivered with the memory of the last time he had whispered in her ear. As much
as she was against this engagement, her body still yearned to feel him pressed
against her, touching her as he had in the library. She might, she thought,
have a lifelong affection for Thucydides simple due to the scene his name
aroused in her memory.

Gideon
felt the shiver go through Miss Walters and drew back to look at her face again.
Her eyes were closed, her chin tilted back as though expecting his kiss. For a
moment he had a crazed notion to do just that, kiss her here on the Wittier's
dance floor in what would undoubtedly be the
on dit
of the season. But that would hardly be beneficial for her
reputation. Upon reflection it might even push her father to do something
reckless after all. The fact that they were now dancing scandalously close and
the imperious Miss Walters had melted into a pose of feminine submission was
probably enough for the biddies to start gossiping behind their fans. And
bloody hell, when had the music stopped? Gideon swept Miss Walters off the
dance floor under the speculative and smirking gazes of half the ton.

"I
should return you to your parents," Gideon said, feeling rushed and out of
sorts. "Where are they?"

"What?
Oh. They are in the card rooms I think. You need not worry about returning me
to a chaperone."

"Have
you not seen the look in the eyes of those around us? I very much need to worry
about it. Neither of us acted with much decorum on the dance floor once we
were... distracted by our conversation."

Miss
Walters looked around and blushed. "Oh. I see."

"I
wonder if you do."

Jack
indicated the south wall of the room. "That is my sister is over by that palm
tree, you can leave me with her."

"The
young blonde surrounded by swains?"

The
petite blonde practically beamed at them as they approached. Miss Walters made
introductions between Gideon and her sister's bevy of hopeful admirers, the
younger men acting with some satisfying deference towards him. Having regained
his composure he fetched the elder Miss Walters a lemonade, danced with her one
more time as was appropriate, asked to take her up in his curricle on the
morrow, which she accepted, and then took his leave for the evening. His
invitation had been spoken well within the hearing of at least two society
matrons who would most likely spread the story of the ongoing romance. He told
himself, as he boarded his carriage at the unfashionably early hour of eleven
o'clock, that he wasn't fleeing Miss Walters' company, he just had things he
needed to do. Although at the moment he couldn't remember what those might be.

Jack
woke up early and lay in her bed watching the room slowly lighten. She felt
unaccountably content, as though things were going well when she knew that the
exact opposite was true. Although perhaps this was the right thing to do, to
enjoy this short-lived engagement. To enjoy the attentions of an attractive
man, even if he was acting under pretense for the sake of honor. These days
could become treasured memories after she became the spinster she planned to
be. After all, this would be the first time she went on a ride with a man
younger than her father. All of her suitors had been older gentlemen who needed
a young second wife to give them heirs. This year she hadn't drawn any suitors
at all. Now she was being courted by an earl. What stories she would have for
her nieces and nephews some day. 'Why yes, I was engaged to the Earl of
Harrington at one time. We would dash through the streets in his racing
curricle, cutting quite the picture I assure you. Who did he marry?' A good
question. Who, indeed, would Gideon Wolfe, Earl of Harrington marry? He was by
all accounts very active in the House of Lords. He counted a duke amongst his
friends. A duke who liked him well enough to tease him with the nickname Giddy.
Jack snorted a laugh. Giddy was, in fact, a horrible nickname for the
overbearing and downright dour earl. Which was what made it perfect. Who would
be the perfect wife for Giddy? A sweet, charming butterfly like her sister
Samantha? Most likely not. She would make an excellent hostess, but his
mercurial moods and bad temper would be a strain on poor Sam and she would wilt
like a hot house flower. A bossy termagant like her friend Sabrina? Sabre
wouldn't give a hang about Giddy's disposition, but the two of them would fight
like cats and dogs. And the first time he tried to be autocratic with her he
might find himself skewered by her namesake sword. Perhaps the wily, artistic
George? She would certainly avoid the pitfalls of conflict with Giddy but his volatility
would probably make George withdraw altogether.

Honestly
it was no wonder he wasn't married yet. He needed a woman strong enough to
withstand his temper, and to stand up to him when necessary. She needed to be a
good hostess in order to help further his political ambitions and, well, really
a countess should always be an incomparable hostess anyway. She needed to bear
and raise a future earl. And it would be best if she were a person of
character, with interest in doing good works. Thinking through the young women
on the marriage mart Jack couldn't think of one who even came close to meeting
the criteria she had listed off the top of her head this morning, and surely
there would be more requirements of a countess.