Felicity humored her aunt by lowering her voice. “What’s the point of whispering now when everyone already knows about it—and then some?” She thought again of Cordelia’s fanciful account of four and twenty brigands armed to the teeth with everything but cannon.
“This is hardly the proper place to discuss it now,” Cordelia chided, as if such a breach of etiquette should have been obvious to even a lackwit.
Felicity curled her fingers into something resembling claws, as she fought an urge to scratch out someone’s eyes—either Cordelia’s or Renton’s. “I’m not the one who brought it up.”
“Well, why won’t he dance with you?”
“Perhaps he doesn’t care to dance.”
“That should matter not. He’s your fiancé, so he should dance with you.” Cordelia tapped her on the shoulder again with that annoying fan. “Of course, it doesn’t help you’re on opposite sides of the ballroom. Why don’t you wander over to where he is? You needn’t walk right up to him, but at the very least you should hover close enough to him that he can’t help seeing you.” Cordelia gave her a firm nudge. “The longer you stand here on the opposite side of the room from him, the more likely everyone is going to believe the two of you have quarreled. You must behave as if nothing is amiss.”
“You mean as if nothing happened.” It was all Felicity could do not to grind her teeth.
“Exactly!” Cordelia said in a frantic whisper. “Everyone is staring at you and heaven only knows what they must be thinking or even saying to each other!”
Everyone but the dancers, musicians, Captain Jordan, and, of course, Renton. Felicity felt a vague, inexplicable frisson of satisfaction that Captain Jordan wasn’t dancing, either.
But that was only because there weren’t any available spinsters for him to ask, save for Felicity. As far as everyone else knew, she was still betrothed to Renton.
In the meantime, there were two ways of reaching the other side of the ballroom, unless she waited until this particular dance ended to make a direct cross. She could skirt along the end where the ensemble played, or she could sidle around the opposite end where Captain Jordan was standing and—gazing back at her?
Well! She could hardly go that way, or he might think she meant to approach him for some improper purpose—like hovering just close enough to him that he might consider asking her to dance. On the other hand, if she went by way of the ensemble, it might look as if she meant to avoid him, especially since it was physically the more perilous route—all those musicians’ feet and spindly-legged stands and instruments, particularly the cello, just waiting for her to come along and trip over every single one of them as pages of sheet music went flying everywhere.
Or she could just wait until this dance was over, and make a straight beeline across the middle of the ballroom.
Unfortunately, Cordelia didn’t want to wait another moment. Again she prodded Felicity toward the end of the ballroom where Captain Jordan stood. Gazing back at her. What if he assumed Cordelia was pushing Felicity not toward the doorway but into him?
“Let me go the other way, Auntie. Or at least let me wait until this dance ends and I can go straight across to him. Either way, by the time I reach him this dance will have ended anyway.”
“But I told you, Felicity—the longer you stand here—”
Oh, bother. Cordelia wasn’t going to stop until Felicity trampled over Renton himself—which might’ve given her great pleasure. She headed toward the doorway. So what if Captain Jordan was standing there? She wasn’t going that way to throw herself at him. She was only trying to make a show of joining Renton at his side. And just to make her aunt shut up.
Yet every time she went near Captain Jordan, some mishap occurred, usually initiated by her with him on the receiving end. Only what could possibly happen if all she did was innocently walk by him? There were no closed doors and she wasn’t holding a beverage. It was a simple matter of stepping around him to the other side of the ballroom. She didn’t have to say anything to him if she didn’t want to. She wouldn’t even have to smile or cast him a glance if she didn’t feel like it. After all, she wasn’t coming this way to give him the time of day. She was only making a show of crawling to Renton.
She swore she’d rather be held up by the highwayman again. He’d struck her as a gentleman, and he might very well be here this evening, even if he wasn’t Captain Jordan. Perhaps she just wanted the highwayman to be Captain Jordan—but why? As she carefully edged around the perimeter of the ballroom, she did a quick survey of all the gentlemen out on the dance floor. He could have been any one of them.
Or maybe the highwayman was already married. That might explain why, after taking her ring last night, he’d left without—without—only what did whatever he’d left without have to do with his being marri—she yelped as she bumped into someone and then sprang back.
She didn’t even have to look to know who it was, for it could only be one person.
“Miss Griffin,” drawled Captain Jordan, “you didn’t need to do that to draw my attention. I already saw you.”
* * * *
Not surprisingly she glared back at him, showing the same mettle that had won his admiration last night. And, for that matter, in the library a short while ago. There’d been one ghastly moment when he was certain she was about to accuse him outright of being the highwayman.
“Well, Captain, if you already saw me, then why didn’t you step out of my way?”
Because he’d hoped she might bump into him. He’d even stepped into her path to ensure it happened. “I think you knew I’ve been standing here all this time. Was it your intention to crash into me for some nefarious, ulterior purpose? Perhaps it wasn’t really an accident when you sprayed whisky all over me earlier.”
“What a beastly thing to say!” she exclaimed. “Do you sincerely believe I would intentionally do such a thing, sir? Quaff a mouthful of whisky only to—to—”
“Spray it all over me. I’ve known ladies who hover just within my line of vision in hopes I might notice them, and I’ve always found that rather annoying. Why don’t they just stand before me and say something? But you, Miss Griffin—you employ all manner of creative ways to draw a man’s attention, though I must say it’s very effective. Still, you needn’t bother. You could save yourself a great deal of trouble by simply standing before me and addressing me. And since we’ve already been properly introduced, why not?”
“Believe me, Captain Jordan, I give you my word I am not contriving to dangle myself in front of you. If you must know, I was only trying to reach the other side of the ballroom, and while I was aware the whole time that you were standing here, my goal was to skirt around you as if you weren’t even here.” As if to illustrate, she twitched her skirt to and fro, her heart-shaped face with round cheeks and a full, protruding lower lip a picture of mock disdain.
He affected mild umbrage. “Are you saying you meant to give me the cut direct?”
“Of course not. I only—”
“But you just said you meant to skirt around me as if I weren’t even here. In other words, you were going to walk by me without saying a word to me or even glancing my way. Do I have the right of it, Miss Griffin?”
She looked wonderfully flustered. “Well, yes, but—”
“Then you clearly meant to cut me. And it seems you have already. I am utterly wounded. What have I done to deserve such treatment from you?”
“Absolutely nothing, I assure you.”
Jack refused to be assured. “But if you went out of your way to cut me, it can only mean I’ve done something to offend you. Have I insulted you in some way? Attempted to take a liberty? Questioned your ladylike honor?” He contemplated asking if she thought he might’ve gone so far as to take something away from her, but decided against it. That would be too obvious. He’d already learned she was very bright. God only knew she’d forced him to do some quick thinking to explain Howland’s careless remark about bringing her back into the fold. He
didn’t doubt she’d figure out the truth soon enough.
Unless, of course, she had…and that was why she meant to cut him, despite her denials.
Indeed, she peered at him intently with a faint vertical crease between her dark brows. Was she looking at him that way because even now she wondered if he was her highwayman?
“Captain Jordan,” she finally said, her voice tinctured with accusation. Good God. Did she really mean to confront him with his dastardly deed right here in front of Howland’s entire house party? In light of all the rumors about her and him—or rather, the highwayman—racing about this enormous room, it was a bold tactic. She’d unmask him, in a manner of speaking, right here in front of everyone.
His uncle was going to be furious when he heard about this latest escapade. That in itself might be worth whatever consequences awaited Jack for last night’s folly.
To encourage her, or even dare her, as the case might be, he grinned broadly. “Yes, Miss Griffin?”
That vertical crease between her brows not only deepened, it doubled. “Are you mad?”
His grin faded. “Pray, where is the madness in asking what I’ve done to earn your enmity that you would blatantly cut me?”
“But I haven’t cut you, have I? I’m speaking to you, am I not? Believe me, sir, if I really meant to give you the cut direct, then after bumping into you I would’ve continued on my not-so-merry way without so much as a word or glance in your direction. And by word, I mean without so much as begging your pardon. You only think I’ve cut you, but if I really had, I daresay you would know in no uncertain terms.”
“Then I’ve done nothing to offend you? Nothing at all?”
“You seem quite certain you have. Maybe you did when you suggested that I doused you with whisky for the sole purpose of gaining your attention.”
“But that was after you bumped into me,” he countered.
“Captain Jordan.” This time there was no hint of a crease between her brows, though he caught the hint of a smile quivering at the corner of her delectable pink lips. “I was only trying to make my way to the other side of the ballroom without pausing at any point to chitchat with other guests.” She glanced away and mumbled something that sounded to him like, “Not that any of them want to chit or even chat with me now.”
“So had you bumped into anyone else here, you would’ve given them the same explanation you gave me?”
“Only if they responded the way you did. Just a hunch I have, but something tells me no one else would’ve done so by informing me that I don’t have to bump into them to draw their attention, or even douse them with whisky. No, I do believe I would’ve received nothing but cold, silent stares.” She quickly averted her gaze, as if she didn’t want him to see the pain he’d already glimpsed in her deep green eyes.
But she was right. Howland had already told him as much. She was practically a pariah now because of what happened last night.
Despite the fact that nothing really happened. What did all these other people think happened? That he’d ravished her in addition to stealing her ring?
“Felicity!” That buxom matron she’d been traveling with last night huffed up out of nowhere. “Why aren’t you seeking out Lord Renton? This dance has just ended and now you can take your proper place as you’ve been directed.”
So that’s why she’d come this way. She’d been trying to reach her fiancé at the behest of her officious aunt. One of the first things Jack had noticed upon entering the ballroom was that Renton and Miss Griffin stood on opposite sides of the dance floor, as if each was determined to keep a distance from the other.
And Jack knew this was all his doing. Only what had he done?
“I don’t see him now,” Miss Griffin told her aunt. “’Twould appear he’s left the ballroom.”
“And why would he not, when all you’ve done is—oh, bother. I’ll find him. You stay right here.” Lady Tyndall glanced at Jack. “I do beg your pardon, sir. I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced.”
Miss Griffin seemed utterly bored with the whole tiresome procedure as she sighed and said, “Aunt Cordelia, may I present Captain Jordan, who lately served on the Peninsula. Captain, my aunt, Lady Tyndall.”
“Now that we’ve put that nicety out of the way, I would be happy to watch your niece for you, my lady,” Jack said cheerfully.
“Just make sure she doesn’t wander off anywhere. You needn’t engage her in conversation or anything else.”
Miss Griffin waited till her aunt bustled off before fuming, “She treats me like a criminal, only I’m not the criminal!”
“Then pray, who is?” As if Jack didn’t know.
She fixed her gaze on the mingling guests. “Didn’t you hear what she said? You’re not to engage me in conversation.”
Her aunt had said the same in regards to the highwayman last night. Maybe Miss Griffin didn’t suspect anything, but he couldn’t help wondering if Lady Tyndall surmised he and the highwayman were one and the same. “She only said I needn’t. But perhaps I want to.”
She regarded him with eyes all but blazing with anger. “Why?”
“Would you rather I leave you alone?” He cast a meaningful gaze over the ballroom, in hopes of reminding her that almost everyone else here was leaving her alone.
Because of what he did—or was thought to have done.
“Captain Jordan!” Alas, that wasn’t Miss Griffin, but Rollo’s mother, the Marchioness of Saxby. Why wasn’t she badgering her son? “Why haven’t you asked any of the young ladies to dance this evening?”
“There’s only been one dance thus far, my lady.”
“And there’s about to be another, so why are you just standing here? Why are you not seeking a young lady you can partner?” To his annoyance, she pointedly ignored Miss Griffin, though it seemed to him one would have to be blind not to have noticed that he’d been talking to Miss Griffin for quite some time now.
“With all due respect, my lady, you are not my mother,” he said.
Lady Saxby bristled. “Might I remind you, sir, that Lady Lockwood is your aunt whose brother happens to be my husband. Therefore I feel obliged to make certain you’re sociable only with proper young ladies.” She still didn’t so much as slide her gaze in Miss Griffin’s direction.
“I’m over one and twenty, my lady. I do not need any matron to keep an eye on me. As you can see, I’m quite capable of being sociable with proper young ladies.” He stole a glance at Miss Griffin, who looked as if she were trying to decide which one of Lady Saxby’s springy blonde curls she should yank to elicit the loudest screech.
“No, I’m afraid I do not see,” said Lady Saxby. “I see a man who’s just returned from the wars standing all alone, looking as if he knows not what to do or where to turn.”
“Oh, I think I know where to turn.” And with that, Jack turned to Miss Griffin.
Lady Saxby gasped. “Surely you don’t mean to address yourself to—to—”
“To whom?” he prodded, or rather jabbed, and quite sharply.
“You mean to me?” Miss Griffin piped up. “Pray, why should he not speak to me, my lady?”
But Rollo’s mother kept her gaze fixed on Jack. Clearly she had no intention of acknowledging Miss Griffin’s existence.
Now that, Jack realized, was being cut.
Lady Saxby took him by the arm. “Do come with me, won’t you, Captain Jordan? I want to introduce you to my daughter. Surely Rollo has told you all about her?”
Now that Jack thought about it, Rollo treated his sister very much the same way his mother was treating Miss Griffin.
“As a matter of fact, my lady, he’s never said a word about his sister, but I’ll be happy to meet her later this evening. In the meantime I’ve been getting acquainted with Miss Griffin.”
Lady Saxby still didn’t give the slightest regard to Miss Griffin, who now appeared to be studying the older woman’s nose, as if contemplating the possibility of twisting it. Jack thought he might like
to try doing that himself.
“Miss Griffin?” The marchioness sounded as if she were repeating a foreign phrase. “But haven’t you heard about her and Lord Renton?”
“I’m well aware they’re betrothed.”
“They most certainly are not!” If Jack had been wondering earlier what he might have said to offend Miss Griffin, there was no question in his mind what he’d just said to offend Lady Saxby. “Haven’t you heard? She jilted him.”
What he did hear was a barely audible gasp from Miss Griffin. Obviously this news was the first she’d heard of it, too.
“Coldly and cruelly jilted him.” Each word Lady Saxby spoke was like the stab of a knife, or the blow of a club. Maybe Jack didn’t feel the pain behind those words, but he’d wager Miss Griffin did. He slid his gaze toward her. He wasn’t at all shocked to see she looked…shocked.
Yet she managed to speak. “Who says I jilted him, my lady?”
To Jack’s increasing fury, Lady Saxby continued to ignore Miss Griffin, keeping her disapproving glare pinned on him. “And do you know why, Captain Jordan?”
“Kindly answer Miss Griffin’s question, my lady.”
The marchioness lowered her voice to a whisper that sounded like the hiss of a snake. “She fell in love with one of those highwaymen!”
“What nonsense!” Miss Griffin exclaimed.
Jack might have felt a little miffed at that, except Lady Saxby subscribed to the version that boasted multiple highwaymen. Miss Griffin might well be referring to one of his imaginary cohorts.
“And now Lord Renton is a man with a broken heart,” Lady Saxby went on, as Miss Griffin made some sort of sputtering noise. “You can’t imagine how intolerable it is for him to have to be here while—while—”
“Who says I jilted him?” Miss Griffin demanded anew.
“All these years he’s waited for her!”
“Who says she jilted him?” inquired Jack, his patience stretched taut, ready to snap.
“Lord Renton says so, of course!”
“And I say it’s nonsense!” Miss Griffin insisted.
The Highwayman's Lady (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 7
