The Debutante Is Mine

by Vivienne Lorret

  For the first time, Jack was reluctant to offer his assistance. Which made no sense because that was the reason he was here. He was honoring his word to Vale. Yet already, Jack had contributed more than he’d promised. Granted, kissing her hadn’t solely been for her assistance. Nor a lesson in passion. It had been pure, raw desire.

  And now, he wasn’t certain he wanted to continue to help her woo Ellery.

  “Well, what are your thoughts?” she asked, taking a step closer and placing her hand in his.

  When he felt the coolness of her hand, even through her glove, and the gently imploring squeeze of her fingertips, he couldn’t deny her. Resigned, he exhaled. “You are neighbors in Surrey. Perhaps you could speak of that.”

  He’d discovered this fact upon his initial inquiries. Since Ellery’s property was in close proximity to her family’s, Jack imagined that was the reason Lilah had set her cap for him. He hoped that was the only reason.

  “Yes. That is correct,” she said, nodding. Her eyes brightened. She pressed his hand once more before releasing him and reaching up to pat her cheeks. “Am I still pale? A moment ago I was imagining myself standing at the edge of the ballroom, my skin and gown so white that I blended into one of the pilasters. Then, I imagined Lord Ellery stopping to search the faces of waiting debutantes, looking for mine. Yet because of my camouflage, I would have been invisible. And he would have asked Miss Leeds to dance instead.” She drew a breath and then looked sheepish. “I might as well confess to you that I worry . . . on occasion.”

  All the worries she possessed found a home inside him, twisting and turning. He had the urge to banish them all for her. If only he could.

  “I worry about you as well,” she said softly.

  Jack went still, her statement affecting him strangely. A knotted sensation—born of an unnamed longing—filled his stomach. He lifted their linked hands and pressed a kiss to the gloved fingers twined with his. “Why me?”

  “When we were standing with your father and sister, I knew it must have been uncomfortable.”

  He suddenly wanted to tell her about his life, about the bitterness he carried with him. Instead, he issued a hollow sound, resembling a laugh. “Do not worry about that. Dovermere is constantly intruding in my life. It was time I repaid him.” He glanced out into the hall to ensure the way was clear before he pulled her with him. “Come. You will be missed.”

  She followed without argument, which was refreshing for a change. But then, halfway down the hall, her steps slowed. He looked back over his shoulder and motioned her forward. Up ahead, the bright glow of the ballroom spilled onto the blue-and-gold runner. People stood facing the dance floor, their backs to the hall.

  “Do you never worry?” she whispered.

  He took two strides back to her and further away from being seen, should any of the guests turn around. “No. I take control. I take what I want.”

  A wry grin curled her lips. “That is fine for you, but I simply cannot walk up to Lord Ellery and tell him that he is going to marry me.”

  A new twist and pull in his stomach made him realize there was another unwelcome emotion in the knotted mess. Jealousy. He’d felt it plenty of times throughout his life. Especially whenever word reached him about his father’s happy family. This was the first time he’d ever been jealous over a woman. “You can if you have no doubts that it is he you want to marry.”

  “How can I have anything other than doubts?” she asked, not knowing how much of a balm her words were to Jack. “All I know of him is that the land of his country estate borders my father’s. I’m hoping that he would be willing to help our tenants, even though the land would never belong to him. I’m counting on a great deal from a man with whom I’ve never conversed.”

  “Then, with any luck, Ellery will be a complete simpleton . . . ” and you will despise him as much as I do.

  “That does not sound lucky to me.” She laughed softly, all trace of worry gone from her countenance as she lifted her gaze to his.

  His heart stuttered. The nervous, uncertain pulse was foreign to him. It was far too tremulous for a fearsome warrior. Jack swallowed. “You should go. It would not serve you well to be seen exiting the hall with me.”

  She hesitated, her soft eyes flitting over his face before she nodded. “Thank you, Jack.”

  He inclined his head. “My pleasure, Miss Appleton.”

  After finishing their dance, Viscount Ellery had kindly escorted Lilah to Juliet’s side. He lingered long enough to ask if she would like a cup of tea, but she declined. Then he inquired about her calling hours before bowing and walking away, leaving her with the first kindling of hope she’d had all Season.

  She didn’t know why she’d been worried. Ellery possessed an affable nature that would put anyone at ease. More than that, he was already aware of their families’ adjoining properties. He spoke fondly of his time in the country and even confessed a regret that he hadn’t met her there.

  She couldn’t wait to share the news with Jack.

  “What a fortunate turn of events,” Juliet whispered from behind her fan. “Those dreadful rumors were quickly forgotten when Marlowe arrived and created a buzz.”

  Surreptitiously, Lilah searched for him in the crowd. “I am certain it was not his intention. He cares little for what society thinks, let alone what amuses them.” And to encounter Dovermere at a public venue? Lilah knew it bothered him. She hadn’t believed his earlier assertion to the contrary. Not when that stark vulnerability had crossed his gaze.

  “Whatever his reasons, I am glad he chose to attend,” Juliet said.

  Lilah was too. And if she could find him, she would tell him so.

  Then, just as the first strains of the waltz began, she caught sight of him walking out of the ballroom. He was leaving?

  Juliet closed her fan. “Is there a name on your card for the waltz?” Lilah stared at the back of Jack’s head, willing him to turn around and see her. But he didn’t. “No.”

  She never had the chance to tell him that she’d saved this dance for him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “The gossip hounds are frothing at the mouth over the news, my friend,” Wolford said, striding up the steps of Jack’s townhouse behind him. “The ton is positively mad about the notion that you will be joining Dovermere for dinner tomorrow evening.”

  Wolford’s carriage had just pulled up as Jack returned from his solicitor’s office, and he was in no mood for a friendly chat.

  The news he’d just received had left him bitter and angry. According to the solicitor, there was nothing Jack could do to alter or argue against the stipulations of the late Baron Haggerty’s will. By all accounts, Lilah was listed as one of her father’s assets. Because of that she had no rights of her own and no legal ability to free herself of her circumstances. Her husband, however, could do so. Should she marry a titled nobleman, said gentleman would have the right to breach her father’s contract with the current Baron Haggerty. But an ordinary man, even one with an extraordinary amount of money, could do nothing. Well, next to nothing.

  Such a man could marry her and then get her with child in order for the courts to validate their union. Not that Jack had given the notion any thought. It had only been a supposition. Nothing more. Well, nothing more than his constant consideration.

  Regardless, Jack also knew that under such a circumstance, Lilah would lose ties to her mother, her aunt, and her cousin. A man who truly cared for her would never cause her such grief. A man who truly cared for her would be willing to enter her world, not force her to be part of his.

  “I’m not going to Dovermere’s dinner party,” Jack said to Wolford as he tossed his hat and gloves on the cluttered demilune table in the hall. Unlike Wolford’s, Jack’s townhouse was sparsely furnished. He didn’t believe in wasting money on objects. “Let those gossip hounds gnash their teeth instead.”

  Jack had made the decision shortly after having left the Corbett Ball three days ago. He had no desire to
pretend that all was well and forgotten. For years, he’d been avoiding all association with Dovermere. By leaving Jack’s mother and making a life for himself, Dovermere had made his choice. Obviously for Dovermere, the foolish rules governing the haute ton, the disgrace of marrying his mistress, and a desire to pad the family coffers had been far too important to cast aside.

  Besides, why would Jack want to see inside the house where Dovermere had made a life with a woman other than his mother?

  Though Jack hated to admit it, he’d driven past the Mayfair townhouse a time or two. Occasionally, he’d wondered what it might have been like to have lived there and never to worry about money or food. Never to feel rage at watching his own mother go without for his sake. Or use the fabric from her own clothing to sew him a new shirt or pants.

  “No,” he said again. “I will not be attending Dovermere’s dinner.”

  Wolford tsked at the news. Either that, or he was tsking at the state of Jack’s study, which was a mess of crumpled papers, broken quill pens, stray nibs, and ink spots. And that was just his desk. He really ought to think about hiring a housekeeper. His house in the country existed with a small staff, primarily serviced by the caretaker and his family. But it was far enough removed from his primary life in London that he didn’t have to think about how aristocratic it seemed to have live-in servants. He’d never wanted his life to resemble that of the nobility. Since he was gone for months at a time, however, his country estate had required more care than his townhouse.

  “Still have not hired Mrs. Swift, I see,” Wolford said, sitting on the arm of an overstuffed chair, which also overflowed with accounting books that he’d failed to return to the shelves.

  Jack paid Mrs. Swift to clean three times a week, but perhaps he should cross the Rubicon and hire her to live here. Permanently. At the thought, an instant headache assailed him. Thankfully, there appeared to be a bottle of brandy on the mantel. “This isn’t her day.”

  “Likely, you make her ever eager to return, never knowing what to expect,” Wolford said with a sardonic laugh as he waved off a silent offer for brandy. “What about a cook, or a man at the door, in the very least?”

  “I have hired men for the door in the past. All of them were pretentious and looked down their noses at the merchants and other business associates who came.” Jack swallowed the brandy, feeling the burn of it all the way to his stomach and fighting to loosen the knots there. “As for a cook, I’m hardly here to warrant one. And when I require hot water, I light a fire in the stove myself. Besides, I can take a meal anywhere in town. In addition, my larder is always full.” He never had to go hungry again.

  Wolford twisted his gold-handled walking stick beneath his palm. “If anywhere suits you, then why not sup at Dovermere’s?”

  “Because I have no desire to sup there,” Jack growled in warning.

  Wolford tsked once more. “Then you have lost me a goodly sum. The betting book at White’s is primarily in favor of your not attending. I, on the other hand, had thought you would have risen to the challenge Dovermere issued.”

  “It was another tactic of his, nothing more. He merely took advantage of a more public venue,” Jack said after one more drink. “Usually, he brings one or more of his daughters to see me, where they then unleash their pouts and pleading gazes. Trust me. If I can refuse that sight, I can refuse anything.”

  His friend’s green eyes widened. “You say that as if you are fond of your . . . sisters.”

  Jack rolled his shoulders. “Whatever I hold against Dovermere is not their fault. I am not so angry that I would be rude to them or ever turn my back on them if they were in need.” They were blood relations, and in being so, they shared a bond. If Dovermere were ever to abandon them, for whatever reason, Jack would ensure they did not suffer.

  “And what about Miss Appleton?”

  In the midst of returning the bottle to the mantel, Jack stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “From what I heard, she was one of the few people to whom you spoke for the duration of the ball. I thought there was a measure of significance in your association.”

  “Nothing more than a favor I’d promised Vale,” Jack said and went into the details of it in order to make his association with Lilah perfectly clear.

  Of course, it did not help that Jack was having a hard time staying away from Lilah or keeping her off his mind. He couldn’t trust himself when he was near her. His acquaintance with Lilah was enticing him to do things he would never dream of doing. Worse, he didn’t like this possessive need to keep her from other men. It made no sense because he knew that he would never be with her.

  Even so, he’d been tempted beyond imagining to see Lilah during calling hours this week. But it was for the best that he’d stayed away. Yesterday, he’d even refused Thayne’s invitation to dine at his mother’s house. He’d known Lilah would be there . . . and he’d wanted to see her so badly that it frightened him.

  “Hmm . . . then you are decided against attending?”

  “Quite.”

  “Well, since you have made me lose money, I demand recompense,” Wolford said with false vehemence. “What say you to a friendly wager and a race at Rotten Row tomorrow morning?”

  Lord Ellery came to call.

  In fact, this was his third visit in as many days since the Corbett Ball. On the first day, Lilah’s worries of catastrophes had prevented much conversation, but thankfully, the viscount’s amiable manner helped her to overcome many of them.

  Today, with Aunt Zinnia embroidering a handkerchief in the corner, Lilah and Ellery had fallen into easy conversation, which mainly consisted of their favorite things about Surrey.

  “As always, it has been a true delight to visit with you, Miss Appleton. Conversing about Surrey makes me eager to return. Perhaps one day we might take a tour of Leith Hill together.” Ellery stood and bowed at the waist. Ever punctual, he arrived at eleven each morning and left by a quarter after, as it was commonly determined that calls should last no more than fifteen minutes. It was rude to remain, unless asked.

  Lilah never asked.

  “There is nothing more enjoyable than conversation about the most beautiful countryside in all of England,” she said, offering a curtsy before walking with him to the foyer for his top hat, gloves, and walking stick.

  Little by little, gentlemen had seemed to be remembering Lilah’s name. At the Corbett Ball, they’d signed her dance card and even looked for her in the crowd when it had been their turn, seemingly eager. During the days, she received calls from Piper, Miss Creighton, Miss Stapleton, and even Lord Markham. Although Markham seemed more interested in the way her fichu was tucked into her bodice than he was in actual conversation.

  The past two evenings, she’d attended dinner parties, where she’d been seated in a place of honor near the hostess. Her gowns had all been altered to have a single pearl sewn into the bodice. And it had not escaped her notice that the wardrobes of the other young women were being adorned similarly.

  These should have been the best days of her life. At last, a future without falling prey to Winthrop seemed within her reach.

  So then why couldn’t she stop wishing to see Jack?

  She hadn’t seen him since the ball. Not by chance in the park. Not when she’d attended another dinner at Mrs. Harwick’s. Not during calling hours. Not even when she’d slipped out at night to cover the flowers in the garden.

  She tried not to think of him because thinking of him made her feel empty, like she was all alone in the world. Which made no sense because she had more attention than ever. Daily mentions in the Standard assured her that she was no longer forgettable.

  So why did Jack’s absence cut through her? She feared she knew the answer.

  “I hope it is not too presumptuous of me to ask, Miss Appleton,” Lord Ellery said, breaking into her thoughts, his pale brows furrowed. “But are you quite well? Your usual vibrancy seems to have dimmed. I hope I said nothing to offend.”

  D
rat. She’d forgotten her first lesson from Jack—to think about playing the harp when speaking to a gentleman. But since she was trying not to think about Jack, it made perfect sense that it had slipped her mind.

  Trying now, she visualized herself playing a beautiful melody. Though of late, playing the harp hadn’t given her the same pleasure because it only made her miss Jack. In fact, everything she did made her miss Jack. It was absurd. The man was making it abundantly clear that he did not feel the same way about her.

  “I am well, thank you. I fear the heavy rain today has dampened my spirits. My cousin and I did not have our walk this morning.”

  He nodded. “Ah. Then that explains your frequent glances to the window. You were hoping for a glimmer of sunlight. I must admit, however, that I feared you were hoping for another gentleman to call.”

  She felt her cheeks grow hot. Her surreptitious glances had been noticeable. “No, indeed. Your visit has been the brightest part of my day. Forgive me if I made you feel otherwise.”

  Ellery smiled broadly, his chest expanding on an inhale. “I am pleased to know it. And, if you will permit me to say—eleven o’clock has become my favorite time of all. Perhaps, if the day is bright tomorrow, we could drive through the park.”

  “I would like that,” she said, summoning a smile. After all, her dreams might very well be coming true. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.

  “Until tomorrow.”

  The following morning, Jack stopped on the path at the mouth of the Serpentine. Leaning forward, he stroked the neck of his flea-bitten Thoroughbred. “Good girl, Araneae.”

  Purely by chance and shortly after his challenge from Wolford yesterday, Jack had encountered a merchant who’d planned to ship this mare to France, hoping to fetch a higher price than he could here. Apparently, almost everyone at Tattersall’s had thought she was too large to race and too young to be in foal. Jack, however, had taken one glance at her and felt a sense of kismet. On the spot, he’d offered the man his asking price without any negotiation.