A London Season

by Patricia Bray

  Glendale surveyed her with his gaze. She had taken his breath away when he first saw her earlier this evening. Jane possessed a regal elegance that far surpassed the dainty beauties of the ton. His gaze lingered on the décolletage of her gown, which revealed the shape of her firm young breasts. No wonder Lord David had been fascinated. His gaze finally settled on her midnight black hair.

  Ribbons were woven through her hair, and he wondered what she would do if he removed the ribbons and let her hair cascade down her back. With an effort of will, he blinked away the image of Jane, covered in nothing but those long tresses, smiling up at him from his bed. What was wrong with him? This was his cousin, not some lady of dubious virtue. He couldn’t possibly be attracted to her. He assumed a mask of forced cheerfulness, hoping fervently that none of his lustful thoughts had shown on his face.

  “You are right,” he said, harkening back to her earlier comment. “You are far too striking to be one of the pale, watery misses the ton calls beautiful. Their looks will bloom and fade in a short season, but you will be handsome until the day you die.”

  “It is kind of you to say so,” Jane replied. Her face was suddenly grave, and her eyes searched his, looking for the meaning behind his words.

  Now he had really put his foot in it. He had meant to say something conventional, but for once his polished mannerisms had failed him. A less sensible girl than Jane might mistake his words for a declaration.

  “I am sure you will hear many more such compliments before the evening is over,” Glendale said, trying to lighten the mood. But he was unable to recapture their earlier closeness. It was a relief when the set was finished, and he could return Miss Sedgwick to her aunt.

  He made his compliments and then left the ballroom without a backward glance. Miss Sedgwick was disturbing his hard-earned peace of mind. After his faithless fiancée had jilted him, Glendale had sworn that never again would he let his heart rule his head. And yet here he was, letting Jane’s sparkling eyes tempt him into uttering words that he had never thought to say. Who knows what else he might do, if he fell under her spell? He had to get away from here, far away, until this fit of madness passed.

  Chapter Six

  Lord Glendale’s partiality did not go unnoticed. The gentlemen flocked to Jane’s side, eager to discover what it was that had caught the interest of such a notoriously elusive parti.

  Jane had her pick of partners for every dance. It was gratifying to be the center of attention, but also fatiguing. Her admirers wouldn’t hear of her sitting out a dance. Finally, one of them had the unintentional kindness to trod on the hem of her gown, tearing a flounce. Jane seized the opportunity to escape to the ladies’ cloakroom.

  “I’ll have this fixed in a trice, miss,” said the maid Anna, who had already helped two other ladies in similar circumstances.

  “Don’t hurry on my account,” said Jane, sinking gratefully into the chair. “It feels wonderful to be sitting down.”

  The door opened and Miss Blake entered.

  “Good evening, Miss Blake,” Jane greeted her. “I pray that you have not suffered a mishap with your gown, as well.”

  “What? Oh, no, I merely came in here to fix my hair. The pins have been coming loose, and I was afraid they were about to fall out.” So saying, Miss Blake crossed over to the dressing table and sat in front of the mirror. She then began to fiddle with her elaborately styled hair. There was nothing wrong with it as far as Jane could see, which just went to show how little she knew about such things.

  “I hope you are enjoying yourself,” Jane said, as the silence grew awkward.

  “Yes, it is quite marvelous. You must give my compliments to Lady Barton. This has been the event of the Season. Everyone who is anyone is here. And the Marquis of Hawksley was most particular in his attentions.”

  “Indeed,” Jane said, for lack of anything better to say.

  “Of course, you must be pleased as well. Everyone is talking about you and Lord Glendale. Is it true that he danced with you twice?”

  “Yes,” Jane said slowly.

  “And he left after the second dance. As if he was only interested in you. How thrilling!” Miss Blake exclaimed, her eyes shining at the prospect of romance.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Jane said. “Lord Glendale is my cousin, after all. He was merely being polite.” Even as she said the words, she wondered if they were true. The first dance had been duty, but the second? Had he finally noticed her as something more than a mere acquaintance?

  “Well, I have several cousins myself, but none of them has ever looked at me the way Glendale looked at you. Still, I suppose you know best.” On that note, Miss Blake rose and swept out of the room.

  Jane sat pondering Miss Blake’s remarks. Was Miss Blake being romantic, or were Glendale’s attentions something out of the ordinary? For her own part, Jane knew that she was happy when she was with him. But tonight had been much more than that. Tonight he had made her feel as if she were truly a beautiful woman, capable of attracting a man. But the moment had been all too brief, and when he left the magic went out of the evening. Had Glendale felt the same attraction for her that she felt for him? And if so, why had he left in such a hurry?

  “There now, that’s done it,” Anna said, breaking into her thoughts.

  “What? Oh, the gown.” Jane said, recollecting herself. A quick glance revealed no signs of the maid’s skillful repairs. “Thank you, Anna.”

  A thoughtful Jane returned to the ballroom, where she was once again besieged by her admirers. There was no time to think, and Lord Glendale’s unusual behavior was pushed to the back of her mind.

  The ball lasted until the small hours of the morning, and the sun was near to rising when Jane finally sought her bed. It was past ten o’clock when she awoke, and for the first time, Jane understood her aunt’s fondness for fashionable hours. No wonder the ton preferred to sleep late, if such long evenings were their habit.

  In the bright light of morning, last night seemed like an impossible dream. Had she really been the belle of the ball? Was it possible that she had danced every dance, turning away potential partners when her dance card was filled?

  It seemed too good to be true, yet the evidence was there for all too see. Flowers arrived all morning. Browning, the butler, brought her the cards on a silver tray. Lord This, Sir That, the Honorable John Something, Jane didn’t remember being introduced to half the gentlemen who sent tributes. How embarrassing if she should see one of them again, and not be able to thank him!

  The flowers were just the beginning. In the afternoon, guests from the previous evening called to pay their respects. Lady Barton had explained that it was the custom for gentlemen who had partnered a young lady to call on her the following day. But her admirers from last evening were not the only ones who came. The ladies of the ton arrived as well, with their daughters in tow. Their presence could be put down to excessive politeness, or an innate ability to sense the presence of their quarry, a large gathering of eligible men.

  The drawing room was brimming over, but ill luck placed an empty seat next to Jane just as Mrs. Dunne was announced.

  “Well, there must be more to you than meets the eye, that’s for sure,” Mrs. Dunne said, by way of greeting.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Jane replied.

  “Don’t play the fool with me, gel.” Mrs. Dunne poked Jane in the ribs with the ancient fan that she still carried, a relic of her youth. “Lord Glendale set the cat among the pigeons last night. Now everyone is wondering just what his intentions are.”

  Jane’s heart gave an odd skip. Mrs. Dunne had given voice to her own hidden hopes. Last night had been special, even magical. She felt something for Matthew that she had never felt for anyone before. Did he feel the same way? Or was it too much to hope for?

  But Jane had no intention of sharing her new, fragile feelings with anyone. Hoping to cut the conversation short, she replied, “I am sure you are mistaken. Lord Glendale has been very ob
liging, but only as a favor to our aunt.”

  “Humph. I’ve known your aunt for years. Glendale wouldn’t go out of his way for her or anyone else. No, if Glendale is doing the pretty, then he has his own reasons.”

  Mrs. Dunne continued on in the same vein, but Jane refused to be drawn into further conversation. When it became clear that she could not tempt Jane into any indiscretion, Mrs. Dunne switched her attention to another caller who was relating the latest on-dit.

  Mrs. Dunne wasn’t the only trial to bear. The gentlemen made Jane equally nervous. They all seemed alike, their polished manners hiding their boredom and lack of interest in Jane herself. They presented her with elaborate compliments that left her feeling tongue-tied and awkward.

  Jane looked towards the doorway, hoping that Lord Glendale would be among the new arrivals. He wasn’t, but she spied James Whitmore, her dinner companion from the last evening. Mr. Whitmore appeared taken aback by the large gathering, pausing for a moment on the threshold before making his way over to her.

  “May I offer my congratulations, Miss Sedgwick? It seems you are quite the sensation,” Mr. Whitmore said, as he seated himself on the chair that Mrs. Dunne had just vacated.

  Jane regarded him with warmth. Mr. Whitmore had seemed a kind, sensible gentleman, and his appearance today only confirmed her good opinion. Unlike the dandies, whose skintight jackets and elaborate cravats bespoke hours of preparation, Mr. Whitmore was dressed in what she could only consider a sensible style. Eschewing the extremes of fashion, Mr. Whitmore’s clothes were designed for comfort as well as appearance. In many ways, he reminded Jane of her late father.

  “How very kind of you to call today,” Jane replied. “I am sure you have more important errands you could be about.”

  “I was glad to come, although it appears that you wouldn’t have noticed my absence.” Whitmore gestured to the crowded room, and smiled deprecatingly.

  “Oh, these fribbles,” Jane said dismissively. “They have decided to declare me a sensation, and have come to pay their court. But such men are notoriously fickle, and no doubt they will soon find another lady who captures their fancy.” As flattering as the attention was, she was too honest to pretend that it would last.

  “That’s a very practical attitude,” he said consideringly.

  Practical. Jane stifled a pang of disappointment. Hadn’t she been telling herself how tired she was of empty compliments? She should welcome Mr. Whitmore’s plain-speaking.

  Mr. Whitmore continued on. “You said last evening that you haven’t had an opportunity to see much of London. I would be happy to escort you, with Lady Barton’s permission, of course.”

  “I would be delighted,” Jane said, with her first real enthusiasm of the morning. It would not be the same as seeing the town with Lord Glendale, but Matthew had yet to offer and she wouldn’t presume upon his kindness to beg for an invitation.

  They agreed that the excursion should take place two days hence. Mr. Whitmore kept up an easy flow of conversation for the remainder of his half hour. Before leaving, he remembered to secure Lady Barton’s approval for the excursion.

  It was kind of Mr. Whitmore to have called. Outside of Lord Glendale, he was the only one of her new acquaintances that she enjoyed speaking with. Which was strange, since her feelings for the two men were so dissimilar. Mr. Whitmore, with his plain ways and sensible conversation, was very much like the uncle she had always wished to have.

  Her feelings for Lord Glendale were entirely different. She had grown used to thinking of him as a friend, but there had been something warmer than mere friendship between them last night. She had felt it. She could have sworn that he felt the attraction, too. Yet where was he? Why was he the only one of her admirers who stayed away?

  Lord Glendale did not see Miss Sedgwick until a week had passed since the ball. It wasn’t for lack of trying on his part. Miss Sedgwick’s newfound popularity meant that he had been reduced to sending an invitation ahead of time, to ensure that she would be free.

  “Good afternoon, my lord,” Browning greeted Lord Glendale. “Miss Sedgwick will be down presently. Would you care to wait in the morning room?”

  Browning extended his hand, ready to receive Glendale’s hat and gloves. Glendale had been prepared to wait, but now he changed his mind. He had no intention of kicking his heels while Miss Sedgwick dallied over her toilette.

  “No,” he said curtly. “Tell Miss Sedgwick to hurry. There’s no sense in keeping the horses standing.”

  Browning nodded gravely, and motioned to one of the hovering footmen. The message was duly conveyed to Miss Sedgwick. The butler disappeared on some mysterious errand of his own, leaving Glendale alone in the hall.

  “Matthew, what a pleasure to see you,” Miss Jane Sedgwick said, as she descended the stairs a few moments later.

  “Miss Sedgwick. I am honored that you accepted my invitation. I wasn’t sure if you would be able to find time for me, with so many other admirers.” Even to his own ears, his words sounded churlish.

  No sooner had he spoke than he regretted his words. Jane’s welcoming smile dimmed, and she looked at him anxiously, as if wondering what wrong she had committed. There was no sense in taking out his ill temper on the girl. It was not Jane’s fault that her innocent happiness reproached him. He kept thinking about that damnable wager. If he were truly a gentleman, he would call the whole thing off. But then if he did, he would have no excuse to see her again.

  He couldn’t think of how to apologize without laying bare the whole tangled coil. Instead he contented himself with helping Jane don her cloak. Escorting her to the waiting carriage, he helped her up, and then took the reins from the waiting groom.

  Jane was the first to break the silence. “Lord Glendale, I must thank you for your kindness to me,” she said stiffly. “The ball was all that Lady Barton had hoped for. Whatever modest success I may have this Season, I will owe to you.”

  The sudden formality hurt. Glendale glanced sideways at his companion. Jane stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him. He was in her black books indeed.

  “Miss Sedgwick,” he began. “Jane. Forgive my earlier rudeness. I’ve been in a temper all day, but that doesn’t excuse my taking it out on you.”

  It was a poor excuse, but fortunately Jane seemed prepared to accept it. He could hardly tell her the truth. He didn’t even know what the truth was himself.

  The wager with Freddie was all but won. His own efforts had seen to that. He should have been pleased with Miss Sedgwick’s success. But instead all he felt was an overwhelming irritation. Why should he care if Miss Sedgwick no longer had time for him? It wasn’t as if he was really courting the girl.

  He had even thought of canceling the wager. After all, it was not the done thing, to make a wager involving an innocent young lady. Glendale knew that Freddie would have no objections. Freddie, despite his initial disdain, had grown to appreciate Miss Sedgwick.

  But if he canceled the wager, then he would have no excuse to see her again. And he wasn’t ready to do that. It was ironic. The more he wanted to be with Miss Sedgwick, the less time she seemed to have for him. He missed their former easy camaraderie.

  The day after the ball, he had walked over to Berkeley Square, intending to call on Jane. But the line of carriages outside his uncle’s town house had quickly changed his mind. Glendale had no intention of being just another face in the crowd.

  And yesterday, he and Freddie had stopped to pay their respects. Lady Barton had been pleased to see them, but Miss Sedgwick was nowhere to be seen. Out driving with one of her admirers, Lady Barton had said, with a hint of malice.

  “I was so sorry that I missed you yesterday when you called,” Jane said, unknowingly echoing his thoughts.

  “Don’t be,” he said, attempting to dismiss the incident as beneath his notice. “Lady Barton mentioned that you were out for a drive?”

  “Yes. It has been so busy, that I haven’t had any time to see anything. Outside of t
he modiste and the shops, that is. When Mr. Whitmore offered to show me around London, I jumped at his offer.”

  Mr. Whitmore again. That fellow seemed to turn up everywhere. He should have a talk with Lady Barton about the propriety of allowing such an ineligible prospect to monopolize Jane’s time. Mr. Whitmore might be wealthy, but he was not really a gentleman. Jane could do much better than a middle-aged Cit.

  “And did you enjoy yourself?” he couldn’t help asking.

  “It was marvelous!” Jane replied, her eyes shining in remembrance. “He wanted to take me to the Royal Museum and the Tower, but I persuaded him to take me to the Guild Hall and the ’Change instead.”

  “The Guild Hall?” he asked, in disbelief.

  “You know, the old wool merchants’ guild,” Jane said, a trifle impatiently. Enthusiasm gave her green eyes a sparkle, and imparted an enchanting liveliness to her countenance. If only he were the cause of her enthusiasm, he thought, and then wondered why it should matter to him.

  But his silence went unnoticed. “Years ago it used to be a real guild, of course, but now it is just the capital of the wool traders. Mr. Whitmore knows simply everyone. He took me in, and introduced me to the senior partners. And everyone was so helpful,” she concluded.

  Glendale glanced over at the blissfully happy Miss Sedgwick. Had he gone mad or had she? “He took you to the City?”

  His disapproval must have been plain. “Don’t be so stodgy,” Jane said, poking him playfully in the side. “It was perfectly proper. And it would be a shame if I had missed this opportunity. I even found someone who will act as my agent, and market the wool from our new crossbreeds, once we have the first shearing.”

  Miss Sedgwick’s enthusiasm was plain to see. But there was no sense in encouraging this latest mad start. “Mr. Whitmore did not do you any favors,” he countered. “If word of this expedition gets out, it could ruin your reputation.”

  Jane gave him a scornful look. “Fiddlesticks! There was nothing improper in what we did. He wouldn’t even take me into the ’Change. Said no ladies were allowed. But he did drive by and point it out to me, along with the coffeehouses where he says the real business is done.”