by Jenna Jaxon
Her friend was indeed beautifully turned out in a pink silk gown with a white lace overlay, trimmed in more lace and silver beading. Her bright blond hair had been styled toward the back of her head, a circlet of pearls and diamonds making her glitter in the candlelight.
“I daresay one or two may tear themselves away from me long enough to dance at least one with you.” Celinda adjusted her jeweled tiara nonchalantly. Then she giggled and Jenny joined in.
She was so nervous. Jenny wished the grand entrance to the ballroom was behind her at least. Crowds had always frightened her, even as a young child. Perhaps it was as well she would not be going into the crush of the Season in London. The company tonight would be nothing compared to the masses of people who thronged to those fashionable entertainments during the spring and summer. Her parents’ decree had saved her from that trial at least. Still, she might yet see London in the spring if she were betrothed to the dashing Lord Somersby. He would wish to show off his bride-to-be to all the ton, wouldn’t he?
A sharp pain in her shoulder brought her musings to an abrupt end.
“Owww. Why did you do that?” Jenny rubbed her shoulder where the sting of a sly pinch had gotten her attention.
“I asked you a question twice. When you didn’t answer the second time, I decided to try drastic measures. And it worked.” She beamed at Jenny. “So, have you promised the supper dance yet?”
“No, only the first set.” Jenny’s mouth dried. “To Lord Somersby.”
Celinda opened her mouth then pressed her lips together firmly. “Have you developed a tendre for him, then?”
“I…I’m not quite sure it could be called a tendre. But I do like him.” Jenny frowned, confused by the displeasure in her friend’s voice. “He’s very handsome and can be quite charming.” She turned back to her toilette table, playing idly with the tortoise shell comb and brush her aunt had bought for her in London. “Do you now disapprove of him?”
“You remember he teased you terribly during Blind Man’s Bluff?” Celinda poked a finger through one of the curls that framed her face. “This one simply won’t lay right.” She wound the golden lock around her gloved finger and slid it through, twitching it around and around.
“I remember. However, we had only just met at that point. I don’t think he meant to be cruel to me.” Still, she recalled her misgivings that he hoped to shame her before the other guests by requiring a kiss as a forfeit. A gentleman shouldn’t have put her in such an indelicate position. She also recalled the intense relief she’d felt when she’d caught Alec. Warmth rushed to her face as she remembered that impetuous embrace as well. She shook her head to dispel the image of Alec’s handsome face. “He seems very attentive to me now,” she continued, suddenly unsure of which man she spoke. “Lord Somersby, that is.”
Celinda cocked her head. “Of course. That’s who we’re talking about, goose.” She bit her lip, then asked, “Do you think he’s formed an attachment for you?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to think so.” What a thrilling end to her Christmas Season if he proposed and she could surprise her whole family—especially Great-Aunt Henrietta.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Celinda moved a chair beside her and sat down. She drew Jenny’s hands into hers and gazed earnestly into her eyes. “Because even though Lord Somersby may seem to hang upon your every word, which must be exciting, I admit, you simply don’t know everything about him, Jenny. Didn’t Mr. Isley speak to you about his abominable behavior at Oxford?”
Jenny shook her head and sighed. “No. He hinted at something about him that occurred while they were at university, but we quarreled and he never told me the particulars.” A sudden unease gripped her. Was the earl not the amiable gentleman he seemed? Alec had said as much but she hadn’t wanted to believe it. “Is it truly bad?”
“Bad enough.” Her friend patted her hand. “It certainly paints Somersby in a very poor light.” Celinda sniffed and looked down her nose. “A man who would do such things is nothing but a bully, Jenny.”
“A bully? I don’t believe it.” Jenny bounced up out of her chair. “It must just be boys’ antics. They get wild sometimes when they’re off at school. Why, Margaret told me some of Alec’s…Mr. Isley’s escapades while he was there. He must have been mistaken, Celinda.”
“I’m sure whatever Mr. Isley did, it did not hold a candle to getting a poor underclassman dismissed. All to win a bet with his father.” Celinda rose and led her over to the large four-poster bed and sat her down. “You need to know the true nature of Lord Somersby, my dear.”
As Celinda related the tale, Jenny’s spirit sank deeper and deeper. “And could nothing be done? Couldn’t Alec have spoken up for the poor man?”
“It sounded as though Mr. Isley only learned of it after the deed was done.” Celinda shook her head, her usually smiling face sober. “He did tell me that he was able to help Mr. Carroll return to his family in London, but he could do nothing about Somersby without evidence.”
“And you believe Alec?” Jenny had never before questioned her childhood friend’s honesty, and felt like a traitor to do so now. Still, there could be another explanation for Alec’s story. “You don’t think he’s saying these things because he dislikes Lord Somersby? Because he might be jealous of him?” She gulped, thinking of the look in Alec’s eyes when he thought the earl was about to kiss her.
“Now I don’t say jealousy doesn’t come into it.” Celinda’s eyes twinkled. “But I do believe his story. I’ve heard talk from my mother about Somersby’s constant wagering when she and my Aunt Meg were discussing eligible partis last year before my come out. He will apparently lay a wager on anything. Mamma said he once lost a hundred pounds when he bet another gentleman that a particular grouse would fly to the left rather than the right whilst they were out shooting.” Celinda shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.
“And why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Jenny clutched her friend’s hand. “If he loves a wager so much, he could end up without a feather to fly with.”
“Rather unlikely,” Celinda said, settling back on the bed. “His father, the marquess, is fairly flush in the pockets. Mama heard he even encourages his son to wager because he says it’s a show of character, if one loses, to lose gracefully.” She rolled her eyes. “I think I’d find a better use for my money. One can never have too many bonnets, you know.”
Jenny smiled. Celinda had told her of her fondness for bonnets and hats. She’d shown her the select collection she’d brought to the house party. It numbered almost twenty.
“Anyway,” Celinda continued, “I happened to mention the incident to Mr. Pace. Your cousin, Mr. Conroy, told me Mr. Pace had been at Oxford with Somersby. And the man confirmed Somersby’s actions and the wager for the horse.”
Dear Lord, what a tangle. Jenny’s head spun. Somersby’s golden sheen dimmed as though suddenly covered in mud. What he’d done to poor Mr. Carroll was unconscionable and she certainly wanted nothing further to do with him. He’d seemed such a delightful gentleman. Of course, the devil knew how to present a pleasant face when he wanted something. But what would Somersby want with her? She was no great heiress, just a daughter of the gentry. There was the promise of Great-Aunt Henrietta’s money, but he could hardly know of that. Or could he?
“Do you think Lord Somersby might want to court me because of my great-aunt’s money? Do you think he might know?” Jenny hesitated to ask such an indelicate question, but she had to find out. Celinda was so much more well-versed in the ways of the ton.
“Oh, I doubt that money enters into it much, if at all,” her friend replied. “As I said before, money’s not an issue for that family.” Her eyes shone in the flickering light. “I do, however, suspect a wager plays a part in his attentions to you.”
“A wager!” Jenny sat back, stunned by this new possibility. She’d never in her life thought of such a thing, but Celinda’s words made perfect sense. “What would he have bet on conc
erning me?”
“That he could kiss you under the mistletoe, of course.”
Jenny stared at her friend, her chest heaving as the truth of the matter sank in. The first kiss, on her hand during the game, had not been enough. Perhaps the other gentlemen in his circle had scoffed at his ability to do more. Then, she had thwarted him out in the woods, made him seem a fool. And like the bird wit she was, she’d told him she’d kiss him at a more private time. What a perfect wager to make, then, knowing the outcome was already decided.
“What am I going to do, Celinda?” Jenny trembled and wrapped her arms around her middle in an effort to stop shaking. “I have given him the first set. After what you’ve told me, I never want to lay eyes on the man again, much less dance with him.” She bit her lip until she tasted blood. “I simply won’t go down. I’ll plead a megrim and retire for the night. I can feign illness until he leaves and that way both avoid him and thwart any wager he might have made.”
“Oh, no, Miss Crowley.” Celinda grabbed her hands and pulled her off the bed. “This is your Christmas Season and you are going to make the most of it.” She gave Jenny a shake. “Lord Somersby is not going to ruin your evening, nor mine, nor Mr. Isley’s.”
“Mr. Isley’s? Why would my absence ruin his evening?”
Celinda turned a gimlet eye on her. “Really, Jenny, you cannot be such a goose. The man’s in love with you.”
Disconcerted, Jenny retreated a step. “Alec? In love with me?” Her stomach twisted and her heart gave a great thump in her chest.
“If he isn’t, I’ll eat my best bonnet.”
“Oh, Celinda.” Heat rose up Jenny’s neck and into her face until her cheeks burned hot as the candles. Was it possible Alec had come to care for her? He’d said he’d marry her to keep her from making a mistake, but was that the only reason?
His familiar face rose before her. The thick blond hair, kind blue eyes that could be serious and merry at the same time. And that lopsided grin that aggravated her so. The one he kept for her. Just for her.
She staggered back as all the images whirling around her head fell instantly into place. Alec gallantly championing her when her world fell apart on her birthday. Saving her during Blind Man’s Bluff. Warning her away from Somersby and threatening to marry her to keep her safe. He’d been watching over her, helping her to have fun during her “Season,” even if it hurt him to see her with the other gentlemen. That devastated look in his eyes out in the woods told the tale. How had she not seen it before?
“Oh, Celinda, I have been an absolute jingle-brain.” She buried her face in her hands.
“Well, not quite that, I think,” Celinda laughed softly and pried her hands loose. “You’ve merely been blind to the truth.” She took Jenny’s arm and steered her toward the door. “I suggest you get the unpleasantness over with as quickly as possible. Dance with Lord Somersby and make it clear that while you may find his manner charming, you hold no deeper affections toward him, nor will ever do so. Then, grant Mr. Isley the supper dance and afterward perhaps a stroll in the Great Hall and a stop under the mistletoe ball will do the trick.”
“Whatever would I do without you, Celinda?” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “If there is ever anything you need me to do for you, you must allow me to repay the favor.”
“I promise to take you up on that, my dear.” Celinda laughed as they left the room. “I am still searching for my true love and I fear I will require all the assistance I can get.”
* * * *
“You are the perfect dancer, Miss Crowley.” Lord Somersby smiled down into Jenny’s face as they twirled around the room in a waltz.
She returned the smile although her spirits drooped. If only this were Alec.
“So kind of you, my lord.” She tried to infuse her voice with enthusiasm, but feared she failed completely. Strange that the last time she had danced with him he had seemed perfect. Now she couldn’t help but look beyond the charming smile and found a glimmer of ruthlessness at the back of his beautiful deep blue eyes. Alec and Celinda had been right. This man might be capable of cruelty. She shuddered at her fortunate escape.
“Are you cold, Miss Crowley?”
“A goose walking over my grave, my lord.”
“Then I shall kill it and serve you roast goose with chestnut stuffing for Christmas dinner.” His tone was merry, but the words struck her as menacing.
“I believe my aunt has already prepared the feast, my lord. Please allow the poor goose to live.” She tried to lighten the dark images he called up, but her nerves were still on end.
“Your every wish is my command, Miss Crowley.” He deftly turned them at the end of the dance floor then gazed into her eyes. “I might beg to be allowed to grant your every wish—for the rest of our lives.”
Jenny gasped, her whole body tensing. Did he mean what she thought he meant? “I…I beg your pardon, my lord?”
He smiled and looked abashed. “I meant to ask you some other way, more glorious, more romantic,” he said, a smug smile touching his lips. “However, I find I simply cannot wait, Miss Crowley.” He broke off, glanced around the floor, then stopped and led her to an unoccupied corner. “Miss Crowley, I beg you to make me the happiest of men by consenting to be my wife.”
The blood must have drained from her face, for a sudden dizziness overcame her and she feared she would faint. Dear Lord, what must she say? Never in a hundred years would she have thought he’d propose and in such a public place. Was this then the wager?
An icy trickle of foreboding cleared her head. If she refused him outright, he might make a scene, compromise her in front of all these people, thus forcing her to marry him. The thought sent an icy chill down her spine. How, then, could she stall him? She dropped her gaze from his face and tried to steady her voice. “Lord Somersby, you quite take my breath away.”
That was good, but now how to get him to move out of this shadowy corner?
She raised her head a trifle, sending him a shy smile. “I am truly honored by your kind proposal, but I think I must insist on speaking with my aunt and uncle before giving my answer to you. Will you take me to them?”
“Of course, my dear.” He offered his arm. “I should speak to your uncle as well, since your father is not in residence.”
Jenny looped her hand in the crook of his elbow, a sigh of relief escaping as she did.
He must have heard it, for he chuckled and patted her hand.
Did he think she feared he would not propose? Such arrogance made her bite her lips and thank God for her escape.
Half-way around the room Celinda met them, a puckered frown on her face. “Miss Crowley, are you quite well? Lord Somersby, you have danced her almost to death, I’ll warrant.” Her gaze darted from Jenny’s face to Somersby’s. “You look rather pale, my dear.”
God bless Celinda.
“I believe I am feeling a bit faint, Lady Celinda. Would you mind taking me to the retiring room?” She turned to Somersby. “Perhaps I should sit quietly for a few moments. So much has happened, you understand, my lord?” She unhooked her hand and pressed the back of it to her forehead.
“Yes, of course, my dear.” Celinda grasped her around the shoulders. “Lord Somersby.”
He stepped closer to them, his face drawn with real concern at her sudden collapse, and inclined his head to Celinda. “Yes, my lady? How may I be of service to Miss Crowley?”
Earlier Jenny might have been flattered by the show of such distress. Now, however, she longed only to feel Alec’s strong arms around her.
“Can you please get some lemon water from the supper room? Something cool will most likely help her.”
“At once, my lady.” Somersby gave a brief bow and sprinted away.
Celinda continued toward the retiring room. She peeked over her shoulder and relaxed. “He’s gone.” She released Jenny and they walked quickly to the doorway into the rest of the house. The room set aside for the ladies’ convenience was empty thank goodness and
they hurried into it.
Jenny dropped onto a chaise before the banked fireplace and buried her face in her hands.
“What is going on, my dear?” Celinda settled herself next to her. “You looked white as a ghost walking with Somersby.”
“Oh, Celinda, he proposed to me.” Jenny raised her head and clutched her stomach, currently fluttering as though an army of butterflies were trying to escape.
“Lord, he’s not wasting any time, is he?” Celinda shook her head. “It would be extremely flattering if I believed for a second he held you in some esteem or affection. But I rather suspect he has an ulterior motive.”
“It must be the wager, don’t you think?” She mustn’t panic. She did not have to accept his proposal no matter what he said to her uncle.
“I don’t know if even Lord Somersby would go that far just for a wager.” Still, Celinda’s voice sounded doubtful.
“But no one can make me marry him any more than they could make me marry Alec.” There was some comfort in that thought. “And if it comes down to it, we can tell Somersby Alec and I are already betrothed.”
“That would certainly be an impediment to his marrying you.” Celinda smiled and Jenny breathed easier.
“Do you know where Alec is? I saw you dancing the first set with him. Is he still in the ballroom?” She stood and paced to the door. “I can’t believe it but I was actually jealous watching you dance together. I haven’t danced with Alec since his sister’s wedding.”
“You needn’t be jealous of me.” Celinda rose and came toward her. “Mr. Isley was simply marking time with me until he could get to you and ask for the supper dance.” She patted and smoothed the wrinkles on Jenny’s white and silver gown. “I suggested he do that, by the way.”
Jenny squealed and pulled her into an embrace.
“You may thank me by not naming your first daughter Celinda.” Her friend shuddered. “Wretched name, Celinda. Jenny, or Mary, or Jane would have been lovely. So unexceptional.”
