Chills (14 page)

Lord Wade’s sly smile revolted her and Constance wished Jack would return. “I don’t understand.”

“A bull, my dear. That is what he is. Every inch, a bull.”

Constance’s skin heated in horror. She stood to move away from Wade but his low laugh at her expense rumbled behind her back. She took a turn about the room, conscious of speculative gazes following her, but didn’t glance around. She feared Lord Wade or Lord Louth would be watching.

When Wade and his aunt took their leave, Constance sat with a sigh, hoping no more visitors would appear to take their place. But the door to the drawing room opened once more, and Constance braced herself for more empty pleasantries. However, her glance revealed Jack’s return. She breathed easy again.

CHAPTER TEN

CONSTANCE SLID HER legs over the side of the bed and sat with her feet dangling high above the floor. No matter how hard she tried, she could not seem to fall asleep tonight. With a sigh, she lowered her feet to the floor and stood still beside the high bed.

Perhaps a glass of water would help. She stumbled across to the bureau as the moonlight disappeared and poured a glass of water once the thin light returned. The water was cold and quenched her thirst. But thirst did not seem to be the reason she could not sleep.

Outside, the moonlight flickered between the clouds above, painting the veranda in patchy light. She pressed her head to the glass pane and twisted her head from side to side, restless but unsure of what to do.

In her own house, she would wander the halls and find a book or activity that needed her attention. But she had no work to do. Her letters were finished, her reading done. She could take a trip down to the library and fetch a book, but she was hesitant about roaming this house at night. Lord Hallam practically lived in the library and Constance had no desire to converse with him alone. He would probably produce a lecture about her choice of book.

Turning, she padded over to the balcony doors, placed her hand on the latch, and pushed it open with the slightest of groans. That needed fixing. She would have it seen to tomorrow. But then again, it was not her house.

The night air was cool on Constance’s face and, although she should go back for her wrapper and slippers, she left them behind. She crossed the cold, gritty tiles barefoot, breathing deeply of the night air, and sighed at this little bit of freedom. London was so very dirty, and the abrasion under her toes made her miss the country more.

She leaned against the balcony’s railing to look over the night-shrouded gardens. Even without the clarity of day, they were very pretty. She would love to go down, to walk on the paths and grass, to lie upon a blanket to gaze up at the stars. However, when she looked up at the sky, she saw no stars. The clouds had thickened until almost no moonlight shone through. The romantic in her whispered that it was a night to share with someone you loved.

“Having trouble sleeping?” a deep voice asked.

Constance spun to face the house. Jack sat in a low chair just outside his apartment door. “Oh, you startled me.” Her voice came out as a squeak and she scowled—mostly at her own panicked reaction.

“My apologies. I did not mean to frighten you,” he whispered.

“How long have you been out here?” Constance asked in a steadier tone, pitched not to carry far.

“A while,” he answered.

The deep, rumbled response only increased her tension. As he reached down, picked up a glass, and took a long sip from it, her heart thudded. Blast. She turned and faced the garden. “It’s pretty out here, Jack.”

“Yes, it is now, certainly.”

She struggled not to grin at the compliment.

“Why can’t you sleep?” he asked. “Were you dwelling on your flock of suitors today? It was an impressive turnout. I believe any young woman would be pleased.”

While the words themselves were commonplace, irritation laced Jack’s tone. Although unsure of what had upset him, Constance was a little pleased. She liked good conversation. Admittedly, Lord Wade was neither her version of good company nor conversation, but the other visitors were not all dull.

She turned to face him again, leaning back against the wall. “You make them sound like sheep,” she admonished. “Yes, I did enjoy the visitors today. Miss Ryall is a sweet girl, and I greatly enjoyed meeting her.”

“You handled Miss Scaling very well.”

The respect in his voice caused a rush of heat to sweep her cheeks, and she preened just a little. “Yes, well, when you have had to deal with my mama’s twisting tongue as long as I, you learn a trick or two.”

“Yes. Your mother is unique,” he agreed, then stood and crossed to her side. “What did Lord Wade say to you?”

His direct question surprised her. She had hoped to forget the vulgar incident altogether.

“It was nothing of any great importance,” she assured him. “I would rather not repeat it.”

Jack placed his hand on her shoulder and held her still. “Did he insult you?”

The cinnamon-sweet scent of Jack and brandy filled her senses. How much had he consumed to sound so aggrieved? “No, he said nothing about me, or Virginia, for that matter. He’s just a nasty man, best forgotten.”

“Pixie, allow me to decide if I need to box the man’s ears or not.” His grip on her shoulder tightened. “You’re a guest in my home. I will not have you insulted in it. I would prefer to know now what he said before I am forced to look at the pasty-faced weasel again.”

She glanced up in alarm, then laid her hand on his chest. His habit of beating someone for no good reason, as he had with Cullen, concerned her. “It was really nothing, Jack. Please don’t do anything rash.”

“Pixie, what did he say?”

Constance looked into the stubborn-set face above her and gave in. “He just told me a person’s nickname.”

There. That left a lot out of the conversation, but told him what he might most want to hear. Hopefully, he would be satisfied.

“Louth’s?”

Or perhaps not. “I believe that’s who he meant, yes.”

“No lady should have to listen to that. I apologize for allowing the man into the house. I had thought him harmless. Louth thought something unpleasant had occurred. He’s very used to seeing the signs, poor bastard.” Jack’s head twisted away, but his hand remained on her shoulder, a warm, comfortable weight against her skin.

“I take it it’s true?” she asked carefully, only mildly curious about Jack’s friend.

“Why? Are you interested in Louth?” Jack attempted to back away, but Constance curled her fingers into his dark waistcoat to keep him still.

“Good gracious, no. What a ridiculous idea.”

“It’s not so ridiculous. He is a good man,” he assured her.

Jack’s waistcoat slipped from her grip, but Constance caught it and held firm. “His name is not on the list. You said I shouldn’t waste time.”

Jack swayed forward. “So, you’re keeping strictly to the list?”

“What other choice do I have?”

“There is one you haven’t considered, Pixie,” Jack whispered.

She peered up at him. No one had voiced an alternative to marriage. If he had a suggestion, she wanted to hear it. “Tell me?”

Darkness hid Jack’s face, and he was silent so long she wondered if he would answer. “There is always life on the high seas.”

Constance used her free hand to thump his chest. He swayed forward as she rubbed her hand over him, aiming to soothe where she had struck.

Jack chuckled, rubbing his fingers into the muscles of her shoulder. “By the way, my appointment book is in my study, on the third bookshelf from the bottom, at the end closest to the fireplace. Just in case you need to find me someday, of course.”

Constance nodded but stifled a yawn, finally tired and ready to sleep. Unfortunately, she didn’t want to leave Jack yet. She thought they might be friends again, since he had used her nickname—and she even had permission to look at his appointment book. Take that, Miss Scaling.

She dropped her head against his upper arm and breathed deep, letting his cinnamon scent lull her. He must have little packets tucked into his pockets—he always smelled so good. Another yawn broke free and this time Jack noticed.

“Come on, off to bed with you now, Pixie.” He nudged her, but she kept her head burrowed against his arm. He chuckled. “Am I going to have to carry you there again, little one?”

“I am not little.” She hated when anyone called her that and glared at him in the dark.

“Yes, you are,” he said, tapping her nose with a long finger. “You are exactly the height a little Pixie should be. Now, run off to bed. If you wake up the household, I will not be held responsible.”

He was lying. If they woke up the house, there would be hell to pay. Jack had already spent a scandalous amount of time alone with her and she was standing here in only her nightgown, unwilling to leave. Constance tugged on his sleeve.

In the dark, she couldn’t make out his expression, even when he lowered his face to her level. Grateful for his support during such a difficult time, she pressed her lips to his cheek in thanks, and then darted to her room as if he would do the unthinkable and chase her.

~ * ~

Jack weaved through the crowded ballroom, keeping an eye on Pixie as he juggled two glasses of champagne. Even from this distance, strain had dimmed her smile. As her dance concluded with Mr. Abernathy, he followed her progress to Virginia and Lord Hallam anxiously.

He had not one reasonable word of objection against Abernathy, except he had the irrational urge to shove him away from Pixie. Abernathy was still wet behind the ears. Pixie needed more than a boy. She needed a man. Abernathy touched her arm as he spoke, and the flash of a charming smile irritated him.

Miss Scaling joined the pair and Jack cursed. How the devil did the scheming chit discover where they were going each evening? Considering tonight was a very late decision, he could only conclude she had an arrangement with a member of his household. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

When he reached the edge of their group, Miss Scaling turned toward him. “Ah, there you are, my lord, we were wondering what could have kept you.”

Thinking to ignore the girl, he attempted to step around her to deliver the champagne, but she stumbled, falling against his chest. Her unfettered hands made a swift examination of his person as she slowly pushed back. Around them, voices rose in shock at their intimate contact, but with his hands full, he was powerless to push her away.

Salvation came from an unlikely source. A quick hiss of metal sounded to his right, then a shriek, and all eyes turned in that direction.

“Oh, goodness gracious,” Constance stuttered. “I am so sorry, so terribly sorry. I had no idea Ettington’s cane contained a sword. I've managed to slice your pretty dress. Here take it, my lord.”

Pixie thrust the cane at him, blade still extended, and reached for one of his champagne glasses. Miss Scaling backed away in horror.

“What the hell are you doing with that,” Jack growled, glaring at Hallam who should have still held it.

“What was I doing? What about you? What kind of man runs around with a weapon at a ball?”

Pixie looked around at the sea of male faces, but each one of them grinned. Attending balls was a dangerous activity. Every gentleman needed to be prepared or face the consequences.

“I asked someone to hold it, not try to skewer society.”

Pixie’s hand shook, spilling champagne to the floor. “I didn’t know it contained a sword. I was admiring the silver work when the blade appeared. I should have known you wouldn’t believe me.”

Pixie pushed her glass toward Lord Hallam and rushed off through the crowd. Jack felt like the worst lout in history. He hadn’t meant to sound so aggravated that she would flee from him. Pushing the other glass into Hallam’s hand, Jack retracted the sword then turned his gaze to his sister. She would know what to do.

Virginia scowled, muttered, “You owe me again,” so only he could hear, and hurried after Pixie.

Lord Hallam and Mr. Abernathy remained.

“You really shouldn’t flash it about, Ettington.” Lord Hallam laughed.

Abernathy chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know. I thought that went very well.” The young lord looked around him. “At least Miss Grange got the lady’s hands off you. Very quick thinking on her part, I must say.”

“She did not do it on purpose,” Jack protested. But she must have read his mind. He had been wishing for the cane the moment Miss Scaling turned toward him.

“Either way, a very resourceful woman,” Abernathy enthused. Jack wanted to groan. Abernathy couldn’t be smitten after just one meeting. It took years to appreciate Pixie. And he was only now coming to realize that.

~ * ~

Constance sat down at the dressing table and pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. At least she felt more tired than she looked. Just now, she could contemplate curling up on that sofa by the wall and hiding from society.

Mr. Abernathy had stepped on her toes at least twice during their dance. Her feet ached from the encounter. She reached down and slipped off her shoes to rub her toes. Although her anxiety grew every day, she couldn’t stop dancing. She simply had to spend time with these men.