The Debutante Is Mine

by Vivienne Lorret

  “Jack!”

  At the sound of his name and Piper’s familiar lilting voice, he lifted his head, expecting another encounter with Dovermere. Instead, he saw her sitting in a glossy black phaeton with the second eldest of his half-sisters, in addition to Viscount Ellery and . . . Lilah.

  His gaze fixed on her for an instant. He almost feared that if he blinked, she would disappear in the same way she had in his nightly dreams. Then again, his fantasies had never included her sitting snugly beside Ellery on the driver’s perch. The reason Jack had left the Corbett Ball was because he hadn’t wanted to see her with him. And now, he had no choice but to look at them together.

  “Ellery.” Jack inclined his head. “Piper. Lark”—Lady Dovermere had taken to naming each of her eight daughters after birds—“Miss Appleton.”

  Lilah feigned aloofness, her countenance somewhat disapproving, yet her blush gave her away. He wondered if she was happy to see him.

  “Good day, Marlowe,” Ellery said with a broad grin. “How fortunate that I should have your sisters, in addition to Miss Appleton, in my carriage when we happened upon you. You have met Miss Appleton, have you not? I believe Lady Piper made mention of it.”

  Jack felt his shoulders stiffen, his pulse escalating, ready for battle. He didn’t like the way Ellery intimated a degree of guardianship over the women in his carriage, as if they were rightfully his to look after. But they weren’t. Jack’s blood tie to Piper and Lark certainly proclaimed him their protector, if ever the need arose.

  As for Lilah, Jack’s regard for her was unrivaled. “We are acquainted.”

  “Jack, is that a new horse?” Lark asked, her ebony curls practically spilling out from beneath her pink bonnet as she leaned over the side to see more of the mare. “I certainly hope you have not gotten rid of Samson.”

  “Samson?” Jack’s brow furrowed.

  “Your Destrier. We never knew his name, so we gave him one ourselves,” Piper explained, tilting her chin down and gazing up at him in a way that always made him feel guilty. He was certain she knew exactly what she was doing too.

  “Bellum is his name.” He slanted another look at Ellery. Bellum was Latin for war. And right now, Jack felt eager for a skirmish. “Do not worry. He is being pampered and fed at the stables this very moment. However, I could not ride him in a race against Wolford’s stallion and expect to win.”

  “This one is very pretty,” Lark crooned. “What’s her name?”

  “Araneae. Which is Latin for—”

  “Spider,” Lilah finished for him, her voice barely above a whisper as her gaze collided with his. There was a measure of uncertainty in her soft brown depths, almost as if she was wondering if he remembered their first meeting and the spider in the garden.

  “From the first moment I saw her, I knew she possessed something special, a determination to win at all costs. I admire that trait. And the reason behind her name is because of her markings, here.” Jack pointed to the horse’s shoulder where the flea-bitten patches of red hair formed a cluster. “It rather resembles a garden spider. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Appleton?”

  Her mouth bloomed with color as she smiled. “She’s beautiful.”

  “I think so,” he said, without looking away. At least, until Ellery spoke again.

  The viscount shifted in his seat, turning his shoulders as if to block Jack’s unobstructed view of Lilah. “And did your horse outrace Wolford’s stallion?”

  “She did.” Jack hands fisted, every tendon tightening, readying. He didn’t like the way Ellery’s body language imitated that of a buyer who’d found an object he wanted. In fact, Ellery was behaving as if he had already set his sights on Lilah. And in such a short time too. The notion disturbed Jack more than it should have done. “Would you care to race? Test your finest against mine?”

  Ellery’s grin didn’t falter. “Not today, Marlowe. I must see these young women home safely and then prepare to meet them again this evening. I am most fortunate to have the privilege of escorting Lady Cosgrove, Lady Granworth, and Miss Appleton to your father’s house tonight.” The viscount’s gaze sharpened. “Though I’d heard rumors that you’ve decided not to attend.”

  “No. That cannot be true.” This time Piper displayed no pretense of manipulation. In fact, she looked stricken, her pale brows drawn together. Jack felt like a heel.

  “You must come. Father has decided that I am old enough to attend,” Lark said, pouting prettily and batting her long lashes. “I have a new dress with Belgium lace trim.”

  “I imagine you will be lovely,” he said, humoring them as he always did. Evasion was the only defense. Besides, Jack had already made up his mind. He wouldn’t be attending Dovermere’s party.

  “I have been practicing on the pianoforte all week,” Piper said, heaping on the guilt. “And when you mentioned wanting to hear the harp, Father had ours restrung. And not only that, just today, Miss Appleton has confessed her skill and agreed to offer a performance.”

  Ellery turned to Lilah, his arm brushing hers. “Indeed? I am most eager to hear it.”

  And that was all it took.

  Fire blazed through Jack’s veins at the thought of Ellery witnessing Lilah at the harp. “Of course, I will attend. Nothing could keep me away.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Mother, this is Miss Appleton,” Piper said to the Countess of Dovermere.

  They stood in the middle of the octagonal drawing room of the Earl of Dovermere’s townhouse on Mayfair. Decorated in the Oriental style, silk wall hangings, jade figurines, and bold shades of red and gold accented the room.

  “I cannot tell you how delighted I am to meet you. As my two youngest were ill, I was unable to attend the Corbett Ball. However, I am so very glad that John and Piper persuaded you to come to our little gathering.” The countess smiled warmly. She blended into the room’s exotic décor perfectly. Her ivory complexion was only marked by the hint of age in the subtle lines beside her eyes. Her coiffure of raven hair had yet to see a single silver strand. Piper’s delicate features were there as well, but for the most part, Lark was an exact copy of her mother.

  Currently, Lark was standing beside her father, a few steps away, while speaking to Aunt Zinnia, Mrs. Harwick, Juliet, and Lord Ellery, who’d been their escort this evening.

  “I could not imagine being anywhere else this evening.” Though with at least four dozen in attendance, this was hardly a little gathering. “I hope your children are feeling better.”

  The countess issued a small laugh. “Indeed they are, and lively enough to needle me about making an appearance at the party. They are too young, however, and are hosting their own private ball upstairs.”

  Piper grinned, shaking her head. “Neither Lark nor I were invited. And from what I have heard, the third eldest of us has borrowed Mother’s pearls for the event in an effort to emulate a certain Miss A she reads about in the Standard.”

  “All the girls are caught up in the excitement of the Season,” the countess added.

  Lilah felt a spear of nervousness at this announcement. At least, that was what she assumed when a tremor rushed through her.

  But then she glanced at the door in the same moment that Jack entered the drawing room.

  Conversations stopped midsentence, and the hushed swivel of every head turning at once was the only sound. More than the crowd’s reaction, however, she sensed his nearness inside—a deep vibration, as if her soul was made of strings that he’d strummed all at once.

  He stood centered in the double archway, feet planted, arms bent and ready, shoulders back, expression hard, gaze . . . on her. And within it, she saw his promise to battle if need be, but there was also a trace of that vulnerability she’d witnessed before.

  It had to be difficult, coming here after having spent years estranged from his father. This wasn’t the family he’d known as a child, after all. She knew from bits and pieces of conversation with him, and also through rumor, that Jack’s childhood had not be
en idyllic. Far from it. She could easily imagine there would have been bitterness on his part, and rightly so. Yet despite it all, he’d transformed himself into the man he was today. And she’d grown rather fond of that man.

  A fiercely tender sort of desperation stole over Lilah without warning. She wanted to cross the room to him and throw her arms around him like a shield. All the disappointment she’d had over the past few days evaporated. She was willing to forgive him for not calling on her and even for bruising her heart with his absence.

  Piper turned to her mother. “Do you think Jack would be willing to go upstairs to visit my sisters, if I asked?”

  “In time, perhaps. We do not want to overstep or rush him,” the countess said with compassion that Lilah appreciated for Jack’s sake.

  The earl appeared beside his wife, taking her arm without a word. Yet they exchanged a look of such joy that no words were needed. Clearly, they were glad Jack had come. Piper gave Lilah one more squeeze, while Lark bit into her bottom lip as she beamed, the two sisters following their parents.

  Lilah stayed where she was, though the pull to cross the room was almost impossible to resist. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Juliet leave Aunt Zinnia, Mrs. Harwick, and Ellery and come to stand beside her.

  “Cousin,” Juliet whispered, “is there an understanding between you and Mr. Marlowe?”

  The words were so out of the blue that Lilah started, her gaze disconnecting from Jack’s as she faced her cousin. “Of course not. Why would you say such a thing?”

  Yet even as she made the declaration, her pulse quickened, jumping with excited little leaps at the notion. She suddenly envisioned a different life than her own—a life free to marry any man of her choosing, and Jack’s was the only face she could see.

  “Because of the way he looks at you. There’s a primitive sort of possessiveness in his gaze, as if he thinks of you as his. I witnessed this at the Corbett Ball as well.”

  Nervous and giddy all at once, Lilah laughed. “Surely not. Mr. Marlowe looks at everyone in the same manner, like a man determined to take on the world. I am merely in his line of sight.”

  Her gaze slid back to the grouping near the doorway, watching as he greeted his father with a handshake and the countess with a bow. Then, one corner of his mouth twitched at something Lark said as she laughed. Piper laughed as well, squeezing Jack’s arm and taking her father’s hand, linking them.

  Lilah’s heart ached with gladness. Jack could have come here determined to be cross and ill mannered. Instead, he was cordial and displayed an evident fondness for his sisters.

  “Hmm . . . so you say, but I do not think I’m the only one who has noticed.” Juliet’s gaze surreptitiously alighted on Ellery. He was standing only a few steps away and wore a pointed frown as he watched the figure in the doorway. “Just be cautious. Right now, the whispers are in your favor. However, there is nothing more damaging to a reputation than the wrong sort of speculation. Not to mention, a member of the anonymous committee might be in attendance, prepared to change the course of your life.”

  The Season’s Original was usually named at the end of the first month. There were only a handful of days left in March to make a favorable impression.

  Lilah nodded. “I understand, but truly, there is no cause for worry.”

  The moment the words left her lips, Lilah wished to take them back. She knew better than anyone not to make worry prove itself. And in that same instant, Jack inclined his head and said something to his family, just before he left them and started to cross the room, his steps aimed in her direction.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ellery nod at her aunt and Mrs. Harwick, just before he too started in her direction.

  Lilah’s breath hitched.

  Juliet did not miss a thing. “The choice is yours, Cousin. Be sure it is the right one.”

  With Ellery only two steps away, he arrived in front of her first. He bowed. “Miss Appleton, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to dinner this evening?”

  Lilah’s gaze skimmed past the viscount’s shoulder to see Jack slow his step. Then, after looking from her to Ellery, he turned and headed in the Marquess of Thayne’s direction.

  Apparently, the decision was not hers after all. “Thank you, Ellery. Yes.”

  Jack had come here, determined not to give the haute ton’s gossip hounds any meat for their dinners.

  To ensure that outcome, he’d had a glass or two of brandy beforehand. Upon arriving, he’d greeted his father, met the countess, and conversed with his half-sisters for a suitable amount of time, by his own standards. When he could no longer take seeing Lilah across the room, instead of standing beside him, he’d politely excused himself from the welcoming party and made his way to her.

  Unfortunately, Ellery had arrived before him. Jack’s first impulse was to separate Ellery from Lilah. Yet when all eyes seemed to track his progress across the room, he could not. And seeing the conflict in Lilah’s expression compelled him to think about what his actions might cost her.

  Therefore, Jack had paused only long enough to find Thayne, who’d been accepting a fresh glass of sherry from a waiting footman. Jack had taken one as well, smiled to the wolves blatantly staring at him, and then tossed back the dark crimson in a satisfying swallow.

  He’d hoped that by the end of the evening, they might even have become bored of him.

  Dinner had been a torturous affair of polite conversations and glimpses of Lilah sitting next to Ellery for the duration. Did she have to smile so much at him? Surely the viscount couldn’t have been that amusing. Of course, Jack had no confirmation either way, as he’d been obliged to sit near the head of the table beside Dovermere, half the distance of the table away from Lilah.

  Dovermere had asked if the wines were to his tastes. The question held just enough of a warning note to cause a spark of rebellion to rise up, encouraging Jack to have another glass. And perhaps another after that.

  However, now that he was standing in the music room—or rather, leaning against the archway leading to the music room—he wasn’t certain how many glasses he’d had.

  Enough, he supposed. There was only the faintest of knots in his stomach. The rest of him was warm and pleasantly numb.

  One of the guest debutantes was singing before the assembly, elbows out and hands clasped in front of her bosom as if she were praying not to screech on all the high notes. Her prayers were not heard. Jack was tempted to clasp his own hands in prayer—or over his ears—but just then, Dovermere came up beside him.

  “Are you not fond of music?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

  “I’m quite fond of music, actually. I’m looking forward to hearing some,” Jack said, tasting the words on his tongue. They were a little slurred and slow to come out. He’d choose faster words next time.

  Dovermere lifted a cup and saucer into view. “Here. Drink this.”

  “I do not have to do what you say,” Jack said but took the cup and lifted it to his lips. After the first sip, he decided that the coffee was hot enough to mix well with whatever else he had inside his stomach. When Dovermere lifted his hand, and a servant poured more into his cup, Jack said, “Clever trick. Does he appear every time you do that?”

  “Only when I say the magic words first,” Dovermere quipped. The footman pressed his lips together to hide a grin before standing off to the side, pot and tray in hand.

  Jack blinked in surprise at his father. “You have a wry wit.”

  “I find that a sense of humor is an essential part of any gentleman’s character.” He slowly exhaled. “Especially during moments like this.”

  “I’ve embarrassed you.” Jack wasn’t so drunk that he could ignore the shock of remorse that hit him. Yet why should he feel remorse at all in the presence of Dovermere? He wasn’t the one who’d abandoned his father, after all. Dovermere was the one who’d left—

  Jack stopped before finishing that thought, knowing that he wasn’t drunk
enough to continue. Besides, the coffee was beginning to taste bitter and unsettling. He placed the cup onto the saucer and handed it back to the footman.

  “No. Actually I am thrilled that you are here in any capacity,” Dovermere continued, after the applause died down for the first debutante, and another one began to sing as well—or as poorly, depending on whether or not you enjoyed music. “Though I hope there is a time in the future when you will be able to tolerate being in my company without any . . . assistance.”

  Damn. Now Dovermere was just making Jack feel guilty. And he didn’t want to feel guilty. “What is it that you’re trying to sell?”

  “Sell?”

  “There are only two kinds of people in the world,” Jack began, ticking them off on his fingers. “Everyone is either trying to buy something or sell something. Since you’re not using coercive tactics to buy me, that must mean that you’re selling. You’re hoping to have something I want.”

  Dovermere nodded thoughtfully and clutched Jack’s shoulder in something of an embrace. “When you put it that way, son, I suppose you are correct. I want to be in your life. I would like it if you wanted the same thing.”

  Then, as usual, he walked away, taking the last word with him. However, as luck would have it, a few moments later, a passing footman came to the rescue. He was carrying a tray of cordial glasses to dispense to the seated guests. Jack took one for each hand and obliged him to return when he had another full tray.

  Dutifully, Jack remained in the music room through Piper’s performance on the pianoforte. And he was glad of it. She played marvelously. Even though he had nothing to do with her talent, a wealth of pride filled him.

  Then, at last, Lilah curtsied before the assembly and took her position at the harp. She’d removed her gloves, he noted. His gaze took in every creamy inch of her exposed flesh. She had elegant hands—something that he hadn’t noticed when she’d had them in his hair. And when she closed her eyes and placed her cheek against the frame, he was no longer in Dovermere’s music room but in a midnight garden instead.