Jane had learned enough of fashion, even in the short time she’d spent with the Dashing Widows as her guides, to recognize that while her sister’s rose sarsenet gown was becoming, it lacked the extra touch that lent Helena’s clothes such panache. The same touch Madame Lisette had given to the dresses Jane had ordered from her.
“Plans change,” Hugh said evenly. “I thought Jane might enjoy some society, after so long at Cavell Court doing her family duty.”
A puzzled frown crossed Susan’s face, as if she wasn’t sure whether he reprimanded her. Jane, who knew very well he did, kissed her sister’s cheek, getting a lungful of gardenia scent for her trouble. “Good evening, Susan. How are the children?”
Luckily that launched a good twenty minutes of monologue. Lucy apparently promised to be the belle of the season, even if a head cold kept her from tonight’s ball. A litany of her niece’s conquests kept sisterly advice at bay long enough for Jane to dig deep into her courage and find the poise her pride insisted upon.
Susan’s voice formed a background to her turbulent thoughts. She was in love with her husband. She’d been in love with him since their days in Salisbury. But she’d been too inexperienced to understand that in awakening her passions, Hugh had also captured her heart.
What a fool she was to assume she could resist him. How could he fail to win her love? He was everything she admired. Good. Considerate. Understanding. Ardent. Intelligent. Strong. It would be a miracle, if she hadn’t tumbled head over heels in love with him
.
Hugh was the perfect man for her. Except for one glaring flaw. He was in love with another woman. She could almost commend his steadfast loyalty to his beloved.
Almost.
But she wasn’t that much of a saint. Morwenna must be a paragon. The woman had to be special to earn the unswerving devotion of such an exceptional man as Hugh Rutherford. But right now, Jane would love to claw out Morwenna’s no doubt sparkling eyes and tell her to let Hugh go, so he could love again.
Stupid fantasies. No doubt even if Jane blinded her out of spite, Morwenna would retain her iron grip on Hugh’s heart.
“Janie, did you hear me?”
She’d drifted off and missed the end of Susan’s tale of a duke dancing with Lucy at Almack’s last night. “I beg your pardon. I wasn’t listening. The evening’s been overwhelming. You know how quiet my life was at Cavell Court.”
“I do indeed.” Susan cast a glance at the empty seats at the table. Hugh and Frederick had gone in search of more champagne, so the two sisters had a moment’s privacy. More was the pity. “You’re not eating very much. Are you expecting a happy event?”
Jane blinked at her sister and bit back the self-pitying retort that she never expected to be happy again. She refused to let that be true, by heaven. “We’re engaged to go to the opera tomorrow night with Charles and Sally Kinglake.”
Susan made an impatient sound. “Don’t be such a goose. Are you going to have a baby? I vow I couldn’t keep down even a morsel, when I was carrying dear Lucy.”
A baby? With everything else that had happened in the last hour, the idea was too momentous for her to consider.
“No, I don’t think so.” She swallowed a surge of nausea, as she looked down at the untouched delicacies on her plate. “We’ve been married little more than a fortnight. It’s too early to tell.”
Susan looked unimpressed. “You might have anticipated your vows.”
“Susan,” Jane protested, genuinely shocked.
Her sister shrugged and reached to transfer the lobster patties from Jane’s plate to hers. “I would have, just to make sure of him. Hugh’s one of those chivalrous types. He’d never abandon you, once he took your cherry.” Her tone sharpened. “Don’t look at me like that. You two haven’t sat around for the last two weeks, doing nothing but hold hands.”
Jane blushed, which she supposed was answer enough.
Susan went on. “I’m so glad we have the chance for a quiet word.”
Here it comes, thought Jane, her bruised heart sinking even lower.
Her sister didn’t disappoint her. “Where on earth did you get that dress? It’s not respectable, Janie. You’re new to London. You don’t want a reputation.”
Didn’t she? She’d been careful all her life, but tonight she’d glimpsed a more adventurous path. “Lady West took me to her modiste. She seemed to think this gown was in the current mode.”
“That explains it.” Susan glanced around. Jane guessed she was checking if Hugh was within earshot. “Lady West is spoken of as an original. Why, she’s considered quite the bluestocking, and corresponds with all sorts of men on mathematical subjects. Or at least that’s the story.”
Jane frowned. Susan implied Helena was conducting intrigues, where it had been immediately obvious to her that she was madly in love with her husband. “I like her. She and West are good friends of Hugh’s. I won’t hear anything against her.”
This animated defense startled Susan. Usually for the sake of peace, Jane pretended to heed her sister’s advice. “I’m only telling you this for your own good. You’ve started running with a fast crowd, who are likely to lead you astray. They already have. Papa would be appalled to see you dressed like a harlot, with your bosom on show for all the world to see. You put me to the blush, Janie, you really do.”
Jane cast a glance down at her chest. The gown was more dashing than she usually wore but nowhere near unacceptable. As Hugh so unflatteringly remarked, she’d dressed like a blasted nun before she married him. “Susan, why are you trying to spoil my pleasure in my first ball?”