Dark Angel / Lord Carew's Bride (7 page)

This was the supper dance. Where was Lionel? She had set her heart on dancing it with him. But he was nowhere in sight. How mortifying!

“Thank you, my lord,” she said, dropping a slight curtsy. “It would be my pleasure.” She wished there had been a way of refusing. There must have been a way—but she did not know it.

She did not enjoy the dance. He was very tall, far taller than Lionel, and somehow—threatening. No, not that, she told herself when the word leapt to mind.
Disturbing
was perhaps a better word. He watched her constantly, and his dark eyes somehow compelled her to look back so that for several measures of the dance, when they were face-to-face, she found herself gazing into his eyes and feeling somehow enveloped in something to which she could not put a name at all. He spoke occasionally.

“I was beginning to believe,” he said, “that I had imagined you.”

He was referring to that afternoon in the park, she supposed.

“Until tonight,” she said, “I have not been out and have been unable to attend parties.”

“I gather that after tonight,” he said, “you will be seen everywhere. I must make sure, then, that I am everywhere too.”

Perhaps she should tell him that she was betrothed, she thought uneasily, but she stopped herself from doing so. His words were the typical gallantry that she must expect in London. He would be amused if he thought she had misunderstood.

“That would be pleasant,” she said.

He smiled suddenly, and his severe, satanic features were transformed into an expression that was undoubtedly attractive. “I can almost hear you saying the same words to a tooth-drawer,” he said. “In just the same tone of voice.”

The idea was so ludicrous and unexpected that she laughed.

“I was wrong,” he said softly. “I thought that perhaps you had never been taught to smile. But better than that, you know how to laugh.”

She sobered instantly. He was flirting with her, she thought. And she found him a little frightening, though she had no idea why. Perhaps because at heart she was still just a gauche little schoolgirl and did not know how to handle gentlemen who had a great deal of town bronze.

Soon after they had started to dance, she caught sight of Lord Kersey, who had returned to the ballroom. Their eyes met briefly and she fancied that he looked annoyed. Indeed, that was perhaps an understatement. For one moment he looked furious. But he had no right to be either. He had not asked for this set and had come late to claim it. Surely he must know how she longed to be dancing it with him. Oh, surely he knew. She tried to tell him so with her eyes, but he had looked away.

A few moments later she saw that he was dancing with Samantha—again. She could have cried with frustration and disappointment. And quite unreasonably she hated the dark gentleman—the Earl of Thornhill—though he could not have known that she had been waiting hopefully for just this set with her betrothed.

He led her in to supper when the set came to an end. She had hoped against reason that somehow he would excuse himself and Lord Kersey would come to take his place. But Lionel, of course, was obliged to lead in
Samantha, having danced with her. She could stamp her foot in bad temper, Jennifer thought, but fortunately the foolishness of the mental image of herself doing just that restored her sense of humor and she had to struggle with herself not to laugh aloud.

The Earl of Thornhill found her a seat at a table in one corner that was so crowded with flowers that there was not really room for anyone but the two of them. Indeed, it seemed that the table had not been intended to be sat at at all. Aunt Agatha had intended that she sit at the central table with Lord Kersey and Samantha and her escort, Jennifer knew, but somehow the plan had gone awry. Her aunt was frowning at her now, but what was she to do? Aunt Agatha should have been attending to her duty before the last set and then this would not have happened. Samantha and Lord Kersey sat together at the central table.

“I gather,” the Earl of Thornhill said, “that a presentation to the queen is easily the worst ordeal of a young lady’s life. Is it true? Do tell me about your presentation.”

Jennifer sighed. “Oh, the ridiculous clothes,” she said. “I will never know why we are not allowed to wear the sort of clothes we would wear to—well, an occasion like this, for example. All those fittings and all that expense for a few minutes of one’s life. And the curtsy, practiced over and over again for months on end and all over and done with in a few seconds. Perhaps it was the worst ordeal of my life, my lord. It was also the most ridiculous.”

He looked amused. “You may find yourself in a closely guarded cell in the Tower awaiting execution at the
chopping block if you shout that opinion into the wrong ears,” he said.

She felt herself coloring. What on earth had possessed her to speak so candidly?

“Tell me about it,” he said. “I have always wanted to know what happens at those drawing rooms, and I believe I have always been rather thankful that I am male.”

She told him all about it and he told her that he had been traveling for the past year and more and described parts of France and Switzerland to her. There could be no part of the world lovelier than the Alps, he told her, and she believed him, listening to his descriptions.

She was unaware of what she ate or did not eat during supper. And she was unaware of how much time passed or did not pass before the people around them began to leave their tables and wander back in the direction of the ballroom.

It was not fair, she thought as the Earl of Thornhill conducted her back there and then bowed over her hand before removing himself both from her presence and from the ballroom, that that time and that splendid opportunity for conversation should have been wasted with him when she might have been with Lionel. She grudgingly admitted that she had enjoyed both talking and listening to him. But it was what she had dreamed of doing with Lionel. And now the opportunity was gone for the night. Lord Kersey would dance with her again, but there would be no chance to talk with each other, to laugh together, to get to know each other a little better.

The evening was spoiled. The Earl of Thornhill had
spoiled it for her, though that was an unfair condemnation. It was not his fault that Aunt Agatha had been delayed by the lady in purple and that Lord Kersey had been late returning to the ballroom. And he really had made an effort to make himself agreeable to her. Under any other circumstances she might have been gratified by his attention, for he was without a doubt as handsome in his own way as Lionel was in his.

Devil and angel. No, that was not fair.

Oh, but she had so longed for a conversation of just that nature with Lionel. He was approaching her now with Aunt Agatha. She smiled at him and felt her heart flutter.

H
OW COULD SHE POSSIBLY BE FEELING DEPRESSED? She was not, Jennifer told herself firmly late the following morning. It was just that she was still a little tired. The downstairs salon was almost laden with flowers, roughly half of them hers and half Samantha’s. But despite all the excitement of the day before and the very late night, Sam was bubbling with exuberance.

“So many gentlemen sending us flowers, Jenny,” she said, her arms spread wide eventually so that she looked as if she were dancing in a garden. “Some of the names I can scarce put faces to, I must confess. This is so very wonderful. I know it is the thing to send ladies flowers the morning after their come-out, but at least some of them must have come from genuine admiration, must they not?”

“Yes.” Jennifer touched her fingers lightly to a leaf on the largest bouquet of all. She felt a little like crying and could not at all understand herself—or forgive herself. She had every reason to be gloriously happy. The evening had been a wonderful success—for both of them. There had not been enough sets to enable them to dance with all the gentlemen who had asked them.

“That one, for example.” Samantha laughed. “Lord Kersey must have ordered the very largest bouquet the shop was able to provide. You must be ecstatic. You looked very splendid together, Jenny. Everyone was saying so. And everyone knows that you are betrothed. The announcement might as well have been put in the papers already.”

“He looked marvelously handsome, did he not?” Jennifer asked wistfully, thinking back to her disappointment of the evening before—though she would not openly admit anything had been disappointing. As she had expected, Lionel had danced with her again after supper, but there had been little opportunity to talk. Dancing was not conducive to conversation, except perhaps the waltz. But there had been no waltzes last night because she and Samantha and many of the other young ladies would not have been allowed to dance it. There had been no chance yet for them to be approved by any of the patronesses of Almack’s. A lady was not allowed to waltz until one of them gave the nod.

“And he even sent me a nosegay,” Samantha said, lifting one and smelling its fragrance. “Was that not kind of him? I am sorry I ever called him cold. I shall never do so again. A gentleman who sends me a nosegay cannot possibly be cold.” She laughed once more. “Do you suppose we will have callers this afternoon? Aunt Aggy said it is to be expected. I keep wanting to pinch myself to prove this is all real, but then I stop myself from doing so in case it is not.”

Jennifer touched one of her own nosegays but did not
pick it up. Roses. Red roses. It must not be easy to find roses at this time of year.

He had not returned to the ballroom. He must have gone home after supper or else spent the rest of the evening in the card room. She still resented the fact that the half hour or so she might have spent with Lionel during the supper break had been spent with him instead, that the conversation she might have been having with her betrothed had been had with the Earl of Thornhill instead. But then, if she had been with Lionel they would have been at the central table and would still have had no chance for private conversation. And Viscount Kersey had not been traveling in Europe for the past year and more and would not have been able to entertain her with all those stories and to fill her with longing to see it all for herself.

It had not been the earl’s fault. She knew that. But she resented him anyway. It was unfair, but it was sometimes impossible to be fair when the heart was involved. She touched the tip of one finger to the petal of a rose and bent her head to breathe in the scent.

Actually she did have positive reason for feeling resentment—against both him and Aunt Agatha. Aunt Agatha had told her at the end of the evening that she ought not to have danced with the Earl of Thornhill and that she certainly ought not to have allowed him to maneuver her to a table in the dining room where no one else could join them.

“I cannot understand my brother’s inviting him,” Lady Brill had said. “He is an earl, of course, and has a
vast fortune besides being the owner of one of the most prosperous estates in England. But even so he is not a suitable guest at a ball with young and innocent ladies. I would have discouraged him quite adamantly if he had asked you or Samantha to dance in my hearing.”

“I did not know, Aunt,” Jennifer had said. “And he did ask most politely. How could I have said no?”

“He has an unsavory reputation,” Lady Brill had said, “and should have had the grace to stay away from you. You must have nothing more to do with him, Jennifer. If you see him again, you must nod politely but in that way all ladies must acquire of indicating that you wish no further acquaintance. If he persists, you will be obliged to give him the cut direct.”

She would not say what had given the earl an unsavory reputation and appeared shocked that Jennifer had even thought to ask.

He should not have asked her to dance. He should not have steered her to that particular table. But it would not happen again. She would do what Aunt Agatha had directed if he should approach her again. In less than two weeks’ time her betrothal would be announced and then she would be quite safe from any other gentleman, however savory or unsavory his reputation.

“It is a fine day,” Samantha said, wandering to the window and staring upward, “even though the sun is not shining. Do you suppose we will have invitations to drive in the park, Jenny? If any gentlemen call on us this afternoon, that is. Oh, I do hope so. On both counts. Of course, you need feel no anxiety. Lord Kersey is bound to
call and he will take you driving. But I must live in suspense.”

Jennifer linked her arm with her cousin’s and they left the room together. “Before you complain further,” she said, “think back one month, Sam, and one year and two years. Then the most exciting thing we had to look forward to was a walk to the village to change the floral arrangements on the altar in church.”

“Oh, yes,” Samantha agreed. “Yes, that is true, is it not? If there are no visitors this afternoon and no drive, there is still tomorrow, of course, and the Chisleys’ ball.”

And Lionel would surely come, Jennifer thought.

H
E HAD SENT HER
a nosegay during the morning. Nothing too lavish, merely what any gentleman might be expected to send the morning after attending her come-out ball. But he did send roses, exorbitantly expensive at this time of year, and he did deliberately neglect to send flowers to the little blonde although normal courtesy would have prompted him to do so.

He did not pay a call at Berkeley Square during the afternoon, though he pondered the idea and was very tempted when he discovered that Sir Albert was going to do so. Attending a ball at the house among hundreds of other guests and attending a drawing room among perhaps only a dozen or so were vastly different matters. He might be made to feel actively unwelcome in the drawing room. At the very least he would be frozen out by the dragon who was the girl’s aunt and who had let down
her guard over her charges for only that one moment of which he had taken full advantage the night before.

No, he would not call at Berkeley Square. But he would ride in the park at the fashionable hour and hope to see her there. She was almost sure to be there the day after her come-out ball. It was, after all, the fashionable thing to do. Kersey would doubtless take her driving there. It would be perfect.