Lord Mandeville reached his wife’s side and bowed. “Miss Rosemoor, Mrs. Tolland. A pleasure, as always.”
Jane curtseyed in reply. “Why do you suppose it is that whenever Mandeville enters a room, it suddenly appears smaller?” The ladies laughed easily. Jane had once teased Lucy that Lord Mandeville wasn’t so hard to look at, and it remained true. He cut a fine form indeed in his dark dress coat and perfectly knotted cravat. He was tall, dark, and imposing, and yet he gazed at his wife with such evident adoration in his indigo eyes that he set hearts aflutter wherever he went. Every woman wanted to be worshiped the way Lord Mandeville worshiped his wife.
“Where is Mr. Tolland tonight?” Lucy asked, her emerald eyes luminous in the candlelight.
“He went off to the refreshment room some time ago. I expect he’ll eventually find his way back,” Emily answered.
“If you ladies will excuse me one moment, there’s someone I wish to speak with.” Lord Mandeville raised his wife’s hand and placed a kiss on her palm before striding off, the crowd seeming to part for him as he made his way through.
Jane turned toward her friend with a smile. “So, Lucy, tell us the latest on-dits. Which debutante are they calling this year’s Incomparable?”
“Without a doubt it’s Miss Dorothea Upshaw. A very sweet-tempered girl. Have you made her acquaintance?”
“I don’t believe we have,” Jane answered.
“Who are her parents?” Emily asked.
“The Viscount and Viscountess Pemberton, from Surrey. I’m sure they’re here tonight.” Lucy rose on tiptoe and peered over Jane’s shoulder. “There, that’s Miss Dorothea dancing the Scotch reel with Sir John Astor. The lovely blonde in pale rose. I had the pleasure of speaking with her last week at Lady Stanley’s luncheon, and I confess I was surprised by her intelligence. Perhaps the tastes of the ton’s gentlemen are improving at last.”
“One can only hope,” Jane replied with a grimace.
At once the lively music quieted, and then struck up again with a waltz.
Cecil reappeared at his wife’s side to claim her for the dance, and Emily took his arm and followed him onto the floor with a delighted smile. Jane glanced over at Lucy, selfishly hoping that Lord Mandeville would remain engaged in his conversation a bit longer so that Lucy didn’t disappear as well, leaving her to stand there alone, without a partner.
“I wonder who was lucky enough to secure Miss Upshaw’s first waltz,” Lucy asked, rising up on tiptoe again. “There she is, but I don’t recognize the gentleman. He’s uncommonly tall. I can’t quite make out his face. You look, Jane. You’re a good head taller than I am.”
Jane couldn’t understand Lucy’s sudden fascination with the girl, but looked nonetheless. “Where? In rose, you said?”
“Yes, the pale rose crepe. There.” She cocked her head as a twirling pair glided by.
Jane lost sight of the girl in question, then craned her neck rather indecorously in an attempt to find her again. “Wait, there they are. If they’d just spin back around so I could see his face. The backs of dress coats all look the same. Oh, there...” Jane stilled, her breath caught in her throat.
Dear God. It was Lord Westfield. She could only stare, open-mouthed, as Miss Upshaw tilted her head to one side and gazed up at him, her dimpled cheeks stained pink, her bow of a mouth curving into the most charming of smiles. Jane suddenly felt as if she might be ill.
“Well,” Lucy asked, reaching for her wrist. “Do you recognize the man?”
“I...no,” Jane stuttered. “I’m afraid I don’t.” She looked around frantically as the waltz ended, seeking an escape as the dancers left the floor in pairs.
“Jane, whatever is wrong? You’re acting so strangely.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just...I could use a lemonade, perhaps.”
Lucy peered up at her curiously, her brows knitted. “Lucy,” Lord Mandeville called out, shouldering through the crowd. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He turned, and another man appeared at his side.
Jane’s stomach lurched yet again.
“Lucy, this is Hayden Moreland, the Earl of Westfield. Westfield, my wife, Lady Mandeville.”
Jane watched in horror as Lord Westfield took Lucy’s proffered hand, bowing and placing a kiss on her knuckles as she curtseyed. Hurriedly, Jane ducked behind Lucy, prepared to flee.
“A pleasure, Lady Mandeville,” she heard Lord Westfield say.
Wherever were Emily and Cecil? Jane scanned the cavernous space, hoping desperately to locate them amongst the faces crowding toward the refreshment room. Purposefully, she dropped her fan and bent to retrieve it, glancing about nervously as she did so.
“Westfield and I went to Oxford together,” Mandeville offered. “He’s my regular opponent at the fencing club, a fixture at White’s and an ally in Parliament, but until this year, I’ve not seen him actually enjoy the Season’s entertainments.”
Dear Lord, please don’t let him recognize my back, Jane thought as she reluctantly straightened, still directly behind Lucy. She could not face him–not yet, not in this state of discomposure.
“Your husband has spoken highly of your talents,” Lord Westfield said, deftly changing the subject. “Veterinary arts, he says, and I hear your stables are the finest in all of Essex.”
“I like to think so. It is my passion,” Lucy replied, her voice full of pride. “Are you acquainted with my dear friend Miss Rosemoor?” She felt Lucy turn, presumably looking at the empty space beside her. “Jane?” she called out.
“Miss Jane Rosemoor?” Westfield asked.
Jane had no choice but to turn around and step forward. “Lord Westfield. What an unexpected surprise.”
He reached for her hand, and she obligingly raised it. His eyes never left her face as his lips grazed her knuckles. Jane averted her gaze, her cheeks burning as she saw Lucy’s eyes widen with surprise.
“Then you’ve met Miss Rosemoor?” Mandeville asked.
“Indeed, I’ve had the pleasure.” Hayden held her hand far too long before releasing it.
“Yes,” Jane added, finding her voice at last. “We met this spring in Derbyshire. Lord Westfield is Mr. and Mrs. Tolland’s neighbor.”
“What an interesting coincidence,” Mandeville said.
“In fact, it is on account of Miss Rosemoor that I’m here tonight, forced to endure such nonsense, is it not?” Hayden asked.
“Is it?” Jane asked crisply. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?”
Lucy’s head swung back and forth, from Hayden to Jane and back again, her curiosity evident in her expression.
“How is your ankle?” he asked.
“Completely healed, thank you. And have you fully recovered from your unfortunate spill into the pool?”
She saw a vein throb in his temple. “Indeed I have. If you’re not otherwise engaged, Miss Rosemoor, might I request your next two dances?”
Jane resolutely shook her head. “I’m afraid–”
“She’s not been engaged,” Lucy cut in.
Jane shot her a mutinous glare. “Very well,” she murmured, reaching for his arm and allowing him to escort her toward the dance floor.
“How dare you speak in such innuendo before my friends?” Jane hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot.
“I only spoke the truth,” he said as he placed his hand at the small of her back.
“Yes, well.... Have you ever thought perhaps there’s a time to simply hold your tongue? Now I’ll never hear the end of her questions.”
“Lady Mandeville seems charming. I’m amazed at her accomplishments. Does her husband exaggerate her talents?”
“Not in the least, I’m sure. Lady Mandeville has a special gift with animals.”
“Fascinating.”
“I agreed to dance, not make pleasant conversation,” Jane snapped, feeling peevish. She fixed her gaze over his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. “And you’re holding
me much too closely,” she added.
She distinctly felt him pull her closer still.
Just to vex her. Just as before, his touch made her heart race, her skin tingle. Every time she looked at him, she remembered the sight of him standing in the pool, bathed in sunlight, his chest bared to her curious eyes. She couldn’t erase the image of his broad back, powerfully muscled, and the visible swell of pale buttocks peeking above the water. Her legs went wobbly at the memory, and it was all she could do to remain steady in his arms. Her weakness angered her, made her ill-tempered. She had no reason to be cross with him, after all. He was perfectly free to court whomever he wished, to dance with every debutante in the room if he so desired. Hadn’t he come to London to do just that, to find an appropriate bride?
She allowed her gaze to flit to his face, recognizing the risk. What she saw there took her breath away. His gray-green eyes bored into her very soul. She felt her heart skip a beat as she tore her gaze away. He looked at her now just as he had that day by the pool, just before he’d kissed her. She’d desperately wanted to return his kiss, to feel his arms around her, but she’d known she couldn’t. Even as the delicious taste of his mouth had tempted her almost beyond reason, she’d managed to come to her senses and do the only thing she could think of to prove that she was immune to his charms–shove him into the water.
Drawn back to the present, she took a deep breath and returned her gaze to his face. Never before had someone looked at her with such unconcealed desire, such longing. It was positively indecent. As the orchestra’s last strains faded away, Jane pulled away, barely able to catch her breath as her heart pounded erratically.
“I believe I’ve engaged you for two dances, Miss Rosemoor. I suppose your friends would be curious as to why you quitted my company after just one.”
“Oh, very well.” She reluctantly returned to his arms as another waltz struck up. “Haven’t you some debutante to trifle with?”
“I thought we were refraining from conversation,” he said, one corner of his mouth twitching. No doubt he was enjoying this exasperating game.
Hayden gazed down at Jane, fuming in his arms as they glided about the room. He studied her face as she did everything she could to avoid looking at him. He’d pressed each and every one of her lovely features to memory these past weeks, summoning her visage before him whenever he closed his eyes. She was every bit as beautiful as he’d remembered. Her glossy hair reflected the warm candlelight, and her skin almost appeared to glow. Her eyes appeared a richer blue than he’d remembered, the flicker of the flames above reflected in their depths. He inhaled her intoxicating scent, reminding him of honey mixed with exotic spices–a far cry from the usual rosewater or lavender that always seemed to emanate from the fairer sex. Her touch, her scent, her warmth–her very presence–heightened his every sense, prickled his skin, set his blood afire. While he held her in his arms, he came more fully alive. The very idea disturbed him greatly, and he refused to allow himself to ponder the implications.
He’d been going through the motions, meeting the debutantes and assessing their wifely potential. His efforts had been met with success. He’d been deemed ‘mysterious’ and ‘aloof,’ both desirable qualities to the silly girls of the ton. Yet only one had captured his reluctant attention.
Miss Dorothea Upshaw. She was brighter than most and attractive enough, suitably accomplished and impeccably bred. She’d made it perfectly clear that her attentions were driven by the desire to secure an advantageous match, and he admired her sensibility. Not a half hour ago, he’d thought her well suited.
And then Jane had to go and dispel the illusion. He’d felt nothing more than bland satisfaction as he’d held the child-like Miss Upshaw in his arms, nothing like the fierce fire that raced through his veins as he held Jane. He peered curiously at her face, her eyes downcast, her lashes casting shadows across her cheekbones. Her brow remained furrowed, her lips pursed. No doubt she was angry with him, and he hadn’t any idea why.
“Perhaps you’ll sate my curiosity and tell me why you’re so angry with me?”
“I’m not angry,” she said with a shrug. “I’m just surprised to find you here.”
“Indeed?” He’d been equally surprised to see her. He could only wonder why Tolland hadn’t seen fit to inform him of their arrival. “Might I remind you that I’m only here, forced to endure the dreaded ‘marriage mart’, because you refused my suit?”
“And how relieved you must be. You certainly looked as if you were enjoying yourself.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He hadn’t been enjoying himself, not in the least.
“With Miss Upshaw. The Season’s Incomparable, I’m told. What good fortune I did turn you down.”
He froze, his blood beginning to boil as he stepped back from her. She was confusing the hell out of him and he didn’t like it one bit. He’d given her a fair chance, after all, and she’d thoroughly rejected him. Yet here she was, acting like a spurned lover. She knew he sought a match, after all. He’d made that quite clear. “What is it you want from me, Jane?”
“Miss Rosemoor,” she ground out.
“Pardon me?”
“Please do not address me so informally, my lord. It’s ‘Miss Rosemoor.’ And people are staring.”
Indeed they were, but he didn’t give a damn. “Very well, Miss Rosemoor.” He reached for her arm and led her off while the orchestra played on. He bowed stiffly before turning on his heel and stalking away from her, leaving her standing alone on the edge of the dance floor.
Jane stood frozen in utter and complete shock as she watched Hayden disappear through the gaping crowd.
“Miss Rosemoor,” Lord Mandeville said, stepping in at once. He took her arm and led her back amidst the dancers where they picked up the waltz without missing a beat. “Dare I ask what just transpired?”
“I’m not quite certain myself,” she muttered.
“I’ll have a word with Westfield. There’s no excuse for treating a lady so grievously, and in such a public forum.”
Her gaze snapped up to meet his at once. “No. I’d prefer if you said nothing. In his defense, I spoke rather sharply to him, something I seem to do frequently in his company. Not that he doesn’t deserve it, insufferable man,” she added with a scowl.
“He’d best have a care; Lucy’s fit to be tied. I sincerely hope he doesn’t manage to cross her path again tonight. I don’t presume to know much about the ways of women, but I would suggest that perhaps you smile, as everyone is looking your way right now. No use in fueling the tabbies.”
He was right. Jane responded by smiling brightly, tipping her head back and laughing as if Mandeville had just told her something most amusing.
“Good girl,” he murmured as the music ended at last.
Jane continued smiling gaily as she laid her hand in the crook of his arm and followed him back to Lucy amidst a hum of whispered speculation. Hadn’t they anything better to do, the gossips?
Back at Lucy’s side, Jane’s confidence was instantly bolstered. “I’ll explain it all later,” she murmured to her friend in response to Lucy’s questioning gaze.
“I certainly hope so,” Lucy replied. “It’s all I can do not to throttle the man myself. Whatever was he thinking?”
Jane looked up as Emily hurried over to her side, a frown on her face. Was the news of her slight traveling so quickly?
“Jane, dearest, I heard what happened. I can barely believe he’d do something so abominable, and to my own cousin. Shall we take our leave?”
“No, there’s no need for that. In fact, I plan to thoroughly enjoy the rest of the evening.”
“Good for you, Jane,” Lucy said, nodding in agreement. “And what lovely timing, too. William Nickerson is headed your way.”
“Is he, now?” Jane couldn’t help but smile as the one man who’d almost tempted her into marriage strode to her side and bowed.
“Lady Mandeville, Miss Rosemoor. What a delightful surprise. I h
ad no idea you were in Town, Miss Rosemoor.”
“I only arrived a few days ago, with my cousin, Mrs. Tolland.” She gestured toward Emily. “Emily, I present Mr. William Nickerson, a very old and dear friend of mine. Mr. Nickerson, my cousin, Mrs. Cecil Tolland.”
“A pleasure, Mrs. Tolland,” he replied, bowing his fair head in her direction.
“It is, indeed,” Emily answered.
“Miss Rosemoor, will you favor me with a dance?”
“Of course,” she answered, taking his arm with a smile. There was nothing unsettling, nothing disturbing or frightening whatsoever about agreeing to dance with Mr. Nickerson. She felt safe in his arms, secure. She was only glad they had remained on friendly terms since her refusal of his marriage proposal. She briefly wondered how he’d managed to remain unattached all these years. He was handsome, charming, a gentleman in every respect.
Once on the dance floor, she reached for his hand with a smile–a smile that quickly vanished. Over Nickerson’s shoulder, she watched as Lord Westfield claimed his own partner.
Miss Upshaw, of course. Inwardly, she groaned.
Averting her gaze, Jane smiled up at her own partner as she followed his lead. She tried her best to avoid watching Lord Westfield from the corner of her eye, but it was no use. She could physically feel his presence each time he neared–a magnetic pull that made gooseflesh rise on her skin, made her cheeks burn. Even through the cacophony of music and voices, she could distinctly make out his deep voice and Miss Upshaw’s lilting laughter. Was he deliberately edging closer? She felt her temper rising.
Minutes later, Nickerson pulled her from her thoughts with an easy laugh. “Tell me, Miss Rosemoor, are you still committed to the notion of remaining unmarried?”
“I’m afraid so,” she answered. “If anyone could have swayed my firm resolve, it would have been you, Mr. Nickerson. Nothing has changed on that count.”
“Are you certain?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?” Lord Westfield was definitely moving closer, she was sure of it. Just to irritate her, no doubt.
“Well, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, it seems you can’t take your eyes off Lord Westfield.”
Unveiled (Undone by Love Book 3) Page 12
