Utterly Devoted (16 page)

Cleo glared at him. “You are quite right that she deserved to hear it from a friend.”

“I should think the truth to be preferable to gossip, whatever the source,” he countered.

“And as you seem incapable of stating the truth, you can see why I thought I would be needed.”

Eloise wanted only to close the distance between her and Jareth. She held up her hand to forestall any further comments from her friend.

“What would you tell me, Mr. Darby?” she asked. “Are you innocent of this allegation of seduction?”

“Completely,” he said, moving around the table to sit on the other side of her from Cleo and keeping her gaze as he did so. “Believe me, the fact surprises me as much as it must you.”

“How can you lie so egregiously?” Cleo demanded. “You were caught in the act!”

Eloise’s heart, now freed, jerked painfully.

“I was found,” he countered with a flash of his eyes, “in a room alone with Portia Sinclair. I am guilty of nothing more than being stupid enough to listen to a woman’s story.”

“No more stupid than a woman to listen to a man’s,” Eloise murmured. He flinched but she took no pleasure in it. “So, you would have me believe she led you on? Played with your heart?”

“My heart was not involved,” Jareth began, but Cleo interrupted.

“Now
that
I believe. I am not certain you possess a heart.”

Jareth shook his head, but Eloise took a deep breath to steady herself and turned to her outraged friend. “Cleo, I understand what you are feeling. You know that to be true. But I believe this is a matter between Mr. Darby and me.”

“How can you say that?” Cleo protested. “I cannot sit by and watch you throw your life away. I did not help you before. I won’t leave you alone again.”

Eloise reached out to squeeze her hand. “You are not abandoning me, Cleo. There are simply some things I must do for myself.”

Cleo gazed at her a moment longer, dark eyes stormy, then nodded. With a last glare at Jareth, she rose and left them.

Eloise turned to him to find him frowning.

“She blames herself for that incident in the loft,” he said as if making a great discovery. “That’s why she hates me.”

“In her eyes, your actions were despicable,” Eloise replied. “You were quite the villain, at least in those days.”

He sighed. “I am getting heartily tired of confessing that I have changed. But it is the truth, Eloise. I am innocent.”

She smiled sadly. “You’ll never be completely innocent, Jareth. You have too much of a past.”

His mouth tightened. “Then you blame me for this as well?”

She shook her head, feeling her fingers clench in the damask. A determination was forming inside her. Having Jareth as her suitor had given her more cause to hope for her future ever before. She refused to give up that hope so easily.

“No, I do not place blame,” she told him. “Trust has to start somewhere. If you tell me you are innocent, then I must believe you.”

He eyed her for a moment, head cocked, then straightened and nodded as if he believed her as well. “Thank you for that. You cannot know what it means to me that you would offer your trust, particularly under these circumstances. I promise you, this time I will not betray you.”

“I shall hold you to that promise,” she threatened.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss against her bare knuckles that set her heart to pounding anew. “You must do more than hold me to a promise, Eloise. You must hold me to your heart.”

She gazed at his solemn face. “Is that truly what you want, Jareth?”

“It is. Is that not what you ask of me?”

Was it? Was that what she truly wanted, that Jareth would fall in love with her and want only to hold her close? Revenge had indeed paled, but she was still unsure as to what emotion had taken its place. “In truth, I do not know what to ask of you. And if it were love, could you give it?”

He kissed her hand again, lingering over the caress. It was only a short distance to raise his head and meet her lips. Though his kiss was gentle, she felt desire building inside her.

When he broke off, his gaze was dark with emotion. “For you, yes, I could give my love, and gladly. I barely slept last night thinking how you would react when the gossip reached you. I have never felt so afraid.”

“You, afraid? You have escaped censure too many times to dread it now.”

“It wasn’t censure that I feared,” he assured her. “I could not stand the thought of losing you.”

His words were exactly what her heart needed to hear. Why did her brain keep protesting that she should not believe him?

“I was a fool to walk away before,” he continued. “You will not rid yourself of me so easily this time.”

“I pray that is true, Jareth,” she managed. “Now you had better go. I must calm Cleo’s feathers.”

He kept her hand. “Not until you tell me when I may see you again.”

She shook her head at his tone. This was the spoiled Jareth she remembered. Still, if he was true in his devotion, she should not punish him by absenting herself. “Tonight. I have vouchers for Almack’s.”

He squeezed her hand. “Then I shall see you at Almack’s.” Rising, he bowed. She inclined her head and watched him stride from the room.

Given her emotional state that morning, she half expected her determination to leave with him. Yet it only seemed to grow as she went in search of Cleo. It took some effort to convince her friend that she did not intend to repeat the mistakes of her past. But the more Cleo protested, the firmer grew Eloise’s resolve. With it grew her conviction of Jareth’s innocence.

It was no different at Almack’s that evening. The gossip about the event spread from one knot of people to another as if blown by the wind of fluttering fans. She heard three versions of the story before she reached the dance floor with Lord Nathaniel, who had begged to be her first partner. In all of them, Jareth was the villain.

 “You seem quiet tonight, Miss Watkin,” the young viscount observed as they stood out in the dance. “I hope this pernicious gossip does not distress you.”

“It has nothing to do with me, my lord,” she replied calmly. Her gaze continued roaming the room, searching for a tall, platinum-haired gentleman. Until she knew he was here, she could not relax. She was a little surprised Lord Nathaniel saw her as calm.

“How very glad I am to hear that you are not concerned,” Nathaniel continued. “I had begun to fear Mr. Darby had ensnared you in his web as well.”

Jareth entered Almack’s, and the evening changed. The very air seemed to sparkle with a new clarity. He wore his deep blue velvet, but somehow she thought he stood taller, filled the double-breasted coat more fully. He quite eclipsed poor Lord Nathaniel in his durable brown coat and breeches. She took a deep breath. “Oh, no, my lord,” she assured the viscount as they took hands to return to the dance, “I would not allow myself to me ensnared so easily.”

“Not even by me?” he asked tentatively.

Eloise smiled. “Ah, but you have better sense than to offer for me, my lord. Haven’t you proved that time and again?”

He looked as if he would argue with her, but the dance ended and Jareth stepped to her side.

Lord Nathaniel frowned, but bowed. “Mr. Darby, I am surprised to see you here.”

Jareth returned his bow. “With every lovely lady in London under this roof, where else would I be?”

“Posting for the Continent?” Lord Nathaniel suggested, but when Jareth coldly raised a brow, he hastily amended. “I understand you are sorely missed there.”

“Alas, I sincerely doubt that,” Jareth replied. “My talents are rarely appreciated, unlike Miss Watkin’s. I vow you held every eye in the room, madam.”

Eloise felt herself dimple. “You are too kind, sir.”

“Ah, but Mr. Darby is correct, Miss Watkin,” Lord Nathaniel put in. “No lady can hold a candle to you.”

“You will turn my head with your compliments, my lord. Besides, if I possess any skills, they are a result of my partner.” She smiled kindly into his boyish face.

“Nonsense, Miss Watkin,” Jareth protested as Lord Nathaniel colored with obvious pleasure. “You make even his lordship here look gifted. May I request that you do the same for me?”

“I believe,” Lord Nathaniel said firmly, “that Miss Watkin had expressed a desire to sit out this next set. Is that not so, my dear?”

His hand was on her elbow. Lord Nathaniel, turning possessive? A shame he had waited so long to decide he wanted her. But then, she did not think he had ever stood a chance against her feelings for Jareth. She stepped away from him even as the music started. “You must have misunderstood me, my lord. I can certainly spare Mr. Darby a dance.”

Jareth’s smile was welcoming as he swept her into his arms and out onto the floor.

Of course it had to be a waltz. So close, she was all the more aware of the blue of his gaze, the sweet curve of his lips, and power in the arms that held her.

“He was right to try to keep you away from me, Eloise,” Jareth murmured after they had danced in silence for a time. “I am beginning to see that I have never been worthy of you.”

“Such humility, Mr. Darby,” she teased. “Be careful or I shall begin to believe you all too reformed.”

“I have yet to pass your final test,” he reminded her. “What more proof can I give you?”

“I have yet to decide.”

“What, madam, has that fertile mind of yours at last run out of ways to humble me? Perhaps I should speak to your father.”

She knew him too well to think him serious. “La, Mr. Darby,” she said with a laugh, “why would you do such a thing? What will people say?”

His gaze darkened. “I care nothing for what people say. The only opinion that matters is yours, Eloise.”

When she gazed up at him, surprised, he continued. “I was only half in jest just now. With your permission, I should like to call on your father

Chapter Seventeen

She actually halted, staring at him while the other couples maneuvered around them with frowns of annoyance or wide-eyed looks of curiosity. Jareth used the excuse to bring her closer, hand and hip encouraging her to continue waltzing with him. As always, the touch of her body against his was sweet. She must have felt it as well, for she pulled herself back to a reasonable distance.

“Have I truly stunned you?” he asked quietly as they moved together. “Surely you know my feelings for you.”

“I am certain I could not begin to fathom your feelings, Mr. Darby,” she replied. He could feel her resistance, the way she leaned back to keep herself as far from him as possible. Indeed, his arms were stretched to maintain a hand on her back and fingers.

“I have been rather pointed in my attentions,” he reminded her gently. “But if you like, I can say the pretty words. I am a little surprised you would want them said here, in front of all Almack’s.”

She shook her head. “Surely you know by now that words will not sway me.”

Now it was his turn to hesitate. Luckily, the dance was ending, and he was able to turn the gaff into a bow of sorts. “Then I have lost? You refuse forgiveness?”

“Forgiveness?” She stepped further away from him, but her face was a study of sadness. “Is that all you ask of me?”

“No, I want your love.”

Her eyes widened, but Jareth was all too aware of other eyes. They were the objects of every stare in the room. He bowed again. “We cannot talk here. May I see you home?”

“In a dark, enclosed space?” She shook her head. “No indeed. I learn some lessons well, my lord.”

He blew out his breath in frustration. “Help me, Eloise. I don’t know how to reach you.”

She glanced about as if realizing the gossip they were causing. “It is late, but the night is warm. Perhaps we should walk.”

Though that was an equal violation of the rules he had laid down at Comfort House, he knew better than to argue. He nodded and escorted her to get her things.

Lady Hastings neatly intercepted them. Her head was high, her carriage militant. Before she could even open her mouth, however, Eloise held up a hand.

“No more, Cleo,” she ordered. “Mr. Darby is going to see me home. I assure you I am the master of my emotions.”

Something in Eloise’s eyes must have assured her, for the little marchioness nodded. “Let me only walk you to the door for propriety’s sake.”

Eloise agreed. Jareth could not argue, but he felt the marchioness’ gaze on him all the way down the stairs to the street.

Outside, Eloise instructed her coachman to follow behind them, then took Jareth’s arm to start up the street. He smiled at the thin coachman, who merely stared at him stoically.

The night was indeed warm as they set out. But, like the gaze of the coachman on his back, the smells of a humid city in summer were hardly conducive to romance. The night seemed to be conducive to little else either, for the street was nearly deserted in all directions. Beside him, Eloise was no more welcoming than their surroundings. The only sound was the swish of her skirts, the creak of the carriage, and the steady plod of horses’ hooves.

“I somehow had another image of the moment in which I would offer for you,” Jareth said. “But I’m game if you are.”

“There is no need to offer for me,” Eloise replied. “I did not put that as a condition to prove your reformation.”

“Nor is it one,” Jareth assured her. “I wish to offer, Eloise. I love you.”

She sucked in a breath. “Really?”

He turned to look at her and met the longing in those green eyes. “Really, truly, madly. I am utterly devoted. But that should come as no surprise. You are intelligent, charming, beautiful, and caring. It is not surprising that I fell in love. Only that I did not fall sooner.”

She looked away as if she still could not bring herself to believe him. “Perhaps it is only your desire to settle down that motivates you,” she maintained, pace steady. “Knowing me years ago makes you think you could love me.”

He frowned. “Why do you seek to argue it away? I was under the impression you would welcome my suit.”

She stiffened. “Do I appear so desperate?”

“Must you be desperate to love me?” he countered.