by Tarah Scott
A man and woman emerged from the ballroom. Jeanine’s gaze lingered on the lady’s dark blue satin dress. She planned to ask Mrs. Morgan if she could make a dress of that color for Miss Stone.
The couple slowed, and the woman said, “Did you see them on the dance floor—and after the way he was carrying on with Lady Claire?”
Jeanine’s mind snapped to attention.
“The Morning Star is a master of deceit,” she said. “That girl cannot be an innocent.”
Jeanine jumped to her feet. “How dare you say such a thing.”
The man and woman whirled.
Jeanine stalked to where they stood. “His lordship was perfectly proper with me.”
The woman’s eyes widened and she glanced at the man, who said, “You misunderstand, my dear.”
“I didn’t misunderstand anything. G-Grey has been very proper, he even held me at arm’s length on the dance floor—which you would have noticed if you weren’t so spiteful.”
The woman gasped. “How dare you?”
“How can you tell such horrid lies?” Jeanine demanded.
“They aren’t lies,” the woman spat. “Everyone knows the Morning Star is the worst sort of man.”
“D-don’t call him that, you mean woman.”
The woman’s eyes shifted past Jeanine and a male voice drawled, “How very pleasant it is to find you here on the balcony, Lord Fletcher.” The marquess halted beside Jeanine. “You’re looking lovely, Lady Fletcher. I have been hoping for the opportunity to thank you both for attending tonight’s little party.”
“It is an honor,” Lord Fletcher said. “Thank you for the invitation. However, I believe it is getting late. I must get Margaret home.”
The marquess gave a bland smile. “I quite agree.”
Lord Fletcher cupped his wife’s elbow. “Good night, my lord.” He bowed. “Miss Matheson.”
They started away. Jeanine turned and watched them reenter the ballroom. “She is a mean and s-spiteful woman,” Jeanine said.
“There is no need to excite yourself, my dear,” the marquess said.
“But she said awful things about you.”
“If I got upset every time someone said awful things about me, I would be upset all the time. “
“Sometimes I d-despise people,” she said.
“You are a better person than me,” he said. “I despise them all the time. Come, let us sit.” He urged her back to the bench where she’d been sitting and lowered himself onto the seat as she sat.
“Why are people so cruel?” she asked.
“The reasons are far too numerous to name and not worth our time,” he replied. “Lady Fletcher has a love of gossip and isn’t above creating a juicy story if no real tale exists.”
“I know,” Jeanine said. “She lied outright about you.”
“It isn’t the first time someone lied about me, and will not be the last. In fairness, Lady Fletcher is not wholly to blame. I invite gossip by living as I please without regard for Society.”
“That only means you are courageous,” she said.
His brows shot up. “How, may I ask, came you to this conclusion?”
She waved a dismissive hand toward the open doors. “They are sheep who follow what Society dictates because they do not have the courage—or intelligence—to think for themselves. They are jealous that you do as you please, so they lie to salve their egos.”
He stared at her, a strange light in his eyes. “Just the other day, I was told you aren’t a grown woman.”
“Who said that?” she demanded.
He laughed. “My dear, you are contrary.”
Lady Guilford emerged from the ballroom and glanced around the balcony. When her gaze landed on them, she hurried to the bench. “There you are, Jeanine. You are to dance with Mr. Ross soon.”
Jeanine shook her head. “I don’t want to dance anymore tonight.”
“You promised him a dance.”
His lordship stood. “If you promised Mr. Ross a dance, then you must dance with him.”
“I don’t feel like dancing.”
His gaze locked with hers. “A lady does not break her promise without good reason.”
“I have a good reason. I am angry.”
That is not a good reason.” His expression hardened. “Lady Guilford has worked hard to make this soiree a success. You will not disgrace her or me.”
Jeanine jumped to her feet. “I would never do that.”
“I’m relieved to hear you say so.”
“I will not give those scorpions a reason to say anything bad about you on my account.” Jeanine grasped his hand. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Startlement flickered through his eyes before he gave a gentle smile. “Aye, lass. I believe you. Now, go with my cousin and do as she asks. She knows best what to do at parties like this. An old bachelor like me, I am too out of practice.”
She released his hand and snorted. “You may say that all you like, but I am not fooled. You danced with me better than anyone else I danced with tonight.”
He laughed. “Go, before I decide that my ward deserves a beating.”
She grinned. “You would never do that. But I will go.”
Chapter Ten
Jeanine reentered the ballroom with Lady Guilford and realized the orchestra was playing a country dance. A good stroke of luck that. At least the dance she would share with Mr. Ross would not be a shorter dance. Lady Guilford slipped along the wall and halted at the corner of the ballroom near the hallway leading to the refreshments table, and scanned the still crowded room.
“We may not find him in time for the next dance,” she said more to herself than Jeanine.
Jeanine watched the dancers, suddenly irritated by the loud murmur of voices. She’d never attended a party this large back home. A party with more than a hundred people would have been considered a huge success.
The marquess reentered the ballroom and Jeanine wished that she could dance with him again. He really was a much better dancer than any other partner she’d danced with. She forgot to ask if he had found an elderly gentleman for her.
Lady Claire stepped up behind him and touched his arm. He turned and Jeanine glimpsed his smile when he saw the lady. She leaned close—too close for propriety—and said something. Jeanine couldn’t discern his expression, but he leaned a little closer.
“Does Grey know Lady Claire well?” she asked Lady Guilford.
Lady Guilford looked in the direction Jeanine stared. “Well enough,” she replied. “Lady Claire’s brother is in negotiations with Valan for her hand in marriage.”
Jeanine looked sharply at her. “They are to be married?”
Lady Guilford again scanned the ballroom. “Where is Mr. Ross?”
“I didn’t know that Grey was to marry,” Jeanine said.
“He wouldn’t say anything. He is an intensely private man.” She laughed. “Despite the fact that he constantly flaunts his improprieties to society. But there is a method to that madness.”
“What do you mean?” Jeanine said
Lady Guilford cast her a side glance. “Never mind.”
“When will they marry?” Jeanine asked.
“No contract has been signed, and if Valan doesn’t take care for his reputation, her brother will retract the offer.”
“But he is a marquess—and an earl—not to mention, he is very wealthy. Why would her brother do that?”
“Even a title and money does not save a man from closed doors, if he goes too far. Three years ago, Lord Ingers married a bastard girl barely out of the schoolroom. He found all doors closed to him. He moved to the country and, three years later, his young wife ran off with a navy captain. He never returned to Town.”
“That could never happen to Grey,” Jeanine said. “He is too… too intelligent to let that happen.”
“Lady Claire’s family does not need a title or money. An alliance must be without reproach,” Lady Guilford said. “In truth, I am surpri
sed the family is interested in the connection. Though, ours is a very old family.”
Janine started to ask if Grey wanted to marry her, but stopped when he smiled down at Lady Claire. He certainly acted like a man who might consider marriage. What would happen if they married before Jeanine found an elderly gentleman to marry? Would Grey send her away? If his new wife wanted it, yes.
Two dances later, Jeanine decided she really had danced enough for one evening. The gentlemen were polite enough, but they were too young—they would live at least twenty years, maybe thirty—and she’d heard more than enough about new jackets, new horses, and how pretty her eyes were to last a lifetime. She hadn’t seen Miss Stone in over an hour. Perhaps she had been smart enough to slip away. Jeanine scanned the ballroom as best as her diminished height would allow, but found no sign of Miss Stone. Perhaps she could slip away too. But she discarded the idea as quickly as it formed, for she knew that Grey would not be pleased, as the party was held in her honor.
She turned to the right to find Miss Stone two steps away. “Miss Stone,” she said when her companion reached her, “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life.”
“I am flattered, Miss Matheson. But, surely, you have spoken with many people far more interesting than me tonight.”
Jeanine shook her head. “You couldn’t be more wrong. Most of the people I spoke with are very dull.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Miss Stone whispered. “Tonight’s guests are among Society’s most elite. They are highly educated.”
“Educated about pretty clothes and horses.” Jeanine snorted. “Oh, and food. I have never met so many people obsessed with food.”
“One must know good food in order to entertain,” Miss Stone pointed out.
Jeanine sent her a deprecating look. “You’re being too kind. I think—” She broke off when two young ladies bypassed a nearby group of men, their eyes on Jeanine.
They stopped in front of her. She had met the girls earlier in the evening, but couldn’t recall their names. A frantic search of memory failed to provide any trace of their names.
“Miss Smith.” Miss Stone angled her head toward the girl on their left. “Lady Bethany.” Miss Stone looked at the other girl then curtsied, and Jeanine could have kissed her.
The two girls acknowledged Miss Stone with a bare nod, then looked at Jeanine as Miss Smith said, “Bethany is hosting a card party tomorrow afternoon. You simply must come.”
“Tomorrow afternoon?” Jeanine repeated, and Lady Bethany nodded.
“Do say you will come,” Bethany said.
Their eyes remained fixed on Jeanine, as if Miss Stone didn’t exist.
“I adore cards,” Jeanine adopted the same exaggerated, cultured tones the girls used. “We would be delighted to come.”
They blinked in surprise.
“We?” Lady Bethany repeated.
Jeanine nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Oh yes, Miss Stone is a wonderful Pharo player.”
“Pharo?” the girls said in unison, then exchanged a glance.
“Lord Northington will be pleased to hear that I’m getting out,” Jeanine went on as if not noticing their discomfort. “Just yesterday, he commented that Miss Stone and I must accept more invitations.”
“Of course,” Lady Bethany quickly agreed, and Jeanine had to force back a disgusted roll of her eyes. “I am so pleased you can come,” Lady Bethany went on with the same sickening fervor.
Jeanine curtsied. “We are pleased to accept, my lady.”
Irritation flicked in the girl’s eyes, but she smiled brightly. “Wonderful. I will send round my direction in the morning.”
Lady Bethany turned, and Miss Smith followed like an obedient lap dog. They halted as a group of elderly matrons strolled past and Miss Smith said to Lady Bethany in a loud whisper, “Of all the nerve, inviting her.”
“It was all I could do to remain civil,” replied Lady Bethany.
Jeanine looked sharply at Miss Stone, who seemed oblivious to the insults. That was impossible, however. Miss Stone was too intelligent not to know the malicious creatures were referring to her. Jeanine took a step toward them, then halted when Miss Stone grasped her arm.
“I cannot allow you to get into trouble on my account,” Miss Stone whispered.
“They deserve to be lashed,” Jeanine hissed back.
“Perhaps,” Miss Stone replied, “but you mustn’t allow them to goad you into doing something that will embarrass you.”
“You can’t expect culture from a country girl,” Lady Bethany said.
Miss Stone took two quick steps to where the girls stood, backs to them. Her slippered toe appeared from beneath her skirt and tamped down on the hem of Miss Smith’s satin dress.
“There you are, Miss Stone.”
Jeanine whirled to the left at the soft drawl of the marquess’s voice. He smiled at her, then turned his attention to Miss Stone, who now faced him, hands clasped before her.
The elderly ladies passed, and the two girls began walking, oblivious to the near ruin of Miss Smith’s dress.
“I must compliment you on your pink slippers, Miss Stone,” his lordship said.
Miss Stone smiled serenely. “Thank you, sir, but Mrs. Morgan sewed them. All credit must go to her.”
“I see. Perhaps I will ask Mrs. Morgan to sew another pair.”
“That is too kind of you, my lord, and unnecessary. These are sufficient.”
“Aye,” he replied. “But you need a pair that doesn’t have a mind of their own.”
Jeanine seriously pondered escape. Surely, in these wee hours of the morning, Grey could not fault her for going to bed. Thankfully, some guests had left, but two-thirds remained. One might think they vied for the right to boast that they were the last to leave the Marquess of Northington’s party.
“I was hoping to have a moment alone with you.”
Jeanine turned at the sound of Lord Gordon’s voice.
“You are looking well,” he said. “How clever of you to keep up such a brave face.”
If ever there was a reason to escape, Lord Gordon provided that reason.
He smiled down at her. “Soon, this will all be over, and I will have you safely out of his reach.”
She must be very tired. The man was speaking gibberish. “What will be over?”
He gave her a pitying look. “You are such a sweet innocent.” He cupped her elbow and urged her back toward the wall, away from a cluster of nearby ladies. “You may put your faith in me,” he whispered. “I have set a plan into motion that will cast him out of Society for good.”
Her mind snapped to attention. “I beg your pardon?”
“This is not the first time I have saved an innocent from his clutches,” he went on.
Her heart began to pound. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated, though she sensed his hesitation was intended to achieve dramatic effect. It took all her willpower not to seize his shoulders and shake the words from him.
“Of course, you wouldn’t have heard,” he said. “You were not yet born when The Morning Star cast his spell upon the first of his notable victims. Since then, he has made a career of ruining innocents like yourself.”
A righteous fervor lit his eyes, and Jeanine refrained from shrinking away.
“At least I was able to save that young woman from a life of ruin.” He gave a bitter laugh. “He actually told the poor girl that he wanted to marry her. Can you imagine? The Morning Star in love?”
“What did you do?” Jeanine whispered.
The light in his eyes vanished and he blinked as if startled by her presence. “I have frightened you.” He grasped her hand and squeezed. “Forgive me. Let us not speak of this again. Rest easy that he shall not have you.” He released her hand and started to turn away, then hesitated as if caught in some terrible inner battle. He looked at her. “I will save you. I only pray that when all is revealed, you will understand why I had to take such drastic measures.”
“What drastic measures?” she demanded, but he hurried past the group of ladies.
Jeanine froze for an instant, heart pounding, then started after him. She had to know what he intended. She skirted the ladies, then passed another, smaller group of younger ladies and slowed. He was nowhere in sight.
“Look, she’s even chasing after him,” a woman whispered behind her.
Jeanine slowed.
“I have it on good authority that she and the marquess were caught together in his library with her kneeling between his legs.”
Titters went up.
“That is scandalous, even for the marquess,” said another girl.
Jeanine started to face them, then caught herself. She could not make a scene in the ballroom. Grey had been very specific in saying she was not to disgrace him.
Her heart twisted. She could think of only one way to ensure she didn’t disgrace him.
Chapter Eleven
Valan entered the breakfast room the following morning to find Jeanine staring at her ham and eggs.
She looked up. “Good morning, sir.”
Valan lifted a brow as he took his place at the head of the table. “Sir? I have never known you to be so formal at home.” He picked up the pot of coffee and filled his cup. “Are you ill?”
Jeanine frowned. “What? Oh, nae. I just—” She hesitated. “I suppose I am still in the mindset of last night’s party, surrounded by so many strangers.”
Valan forked a slice of ham from the platter and spooned eggs onto his plate. “Did you enjoy the party?”
She nodded. “Of course. It was very gay, was it not?”
“I suppose it was,” he said. “But you don’t sound enthused.”
She smiled, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I am just a little tired. It was a great deal of excitement.”
“That it was,” he agreed. “What plans have you for today?” He took a sip of coffee, then nodded toward the tray of invitations sitting near the edge of the table between them. “It looks as though you and Miss Stone have become much sought after.”
Her eyes snapped onto the tray and her expression darkened. “We were invited to a card party. By Lady Bethany. Today.”
