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“Good Lord, no,” she said decisively. “I want to stay here and dance the night away.”

He looked startled. “You seemed a little…peaky when we came into supper. I don’t mind leaving, if you’d rather.”

She tilted her chin at a jaunty angle and stuck a smile to her face. Peaky? She refused to be so pathetic. People might feel sorry for her now. They wouldn’t by the time the night ended, devil take them.

“We have a waltz coming up, and I’m promised to Silas for the contredanse after supper,” she said with a wholly manufactured brightness. “I want to drink that champagne you brought. I want us to be the last to leave. Tomorrow, I want to dance again, then every night until we have to leave London.”

*

Chapter Twenty-Nine

*

In the coach on the way back from the Oldhams’ ball, Hugh regarded Jane with a troubled frown. She sat beside him, hands lying limply in her lap and her attention focused on the street. He’d tried to take her hand when they left the ball, but she’d avoided him by making a great show of fiddling with her cloak.

Something was wrong. He’d wager every penny on it.

He thought back to those torrid, interrupted moments on the terrace. Until then, everything about the ball had been a grand success. She’d shone bright as a star in her daring red dress. He’d witnessed the ton’s astonishment when this radiant stranger entered their midst, then curiosity, and finally acceptance and approval.

Before they went outside, she’d glowed with the inner fire that illuminated everything she did when her heart and soul were engaged. After they’d come inside, she’d still sparkled like a jewel. But the brilliance had turned feverish.

Not that anyone else noticed. Jane had arrived at the Oldhams’ as a complete unknown. Hugh took her home as a wild success. Gossip, most of it cruel, about the new Lady Garson had clearly filled the capital’s drawing rooms for weeks. After tonight, people would continue to talk about Jane, but in tones of envy and admiration.

“Are you upset because you had a fight with Susan?”

“I’m not upset.” Her voice was cool, and she didn’t look away from the window.

Hell, he wished he believed her. “It was time she heard a few home truths.”

“She’ll get over it.”

He wasn’t so sure, but he’d felt like cheering when Jane stood up for herself. Especially when she’d described him as a wonderful husband.

If it wasn’t the clash with her sister that troubled her, it must be what the Frames said. He recalled that odd, rather awful moment when she’d turned her head to avoid his kiss. “I’m sorry you overheard that nonsense when we were outside, Jane. People love their tattle.”

She turned to look at him. Because the ride was short, the lamps inside the carriage remained unlit. Now with the dimness hiding the subtle shifts in her expression, he regretted that.

“Of course they do, Hugh.” She sounded calm and sensible, the way she’d sounded when he proposed. “It’s not like Lady Frame said anything we didn’t already know.”

“I’m sure if anyone felt sorry for you at the start of the night, nobody feels sorry for you now.”

To his surprise, she responded with a huff of derisive laughter. At the ball, she’d laughed frequently, dazzling her partners. When Hugh had whirled her around the floor in the promised waltz, she’d been incandescent with gaiety. He hadn’t believed it was real then. He still didn’t.

“Now I’m out in society, people will realize I’m not a complete fright. At least I hope I’m not. Or is that fishing for compliments?”

It was an attempt to stop him asking probing questions, that’s what it was, but he accepted her unspoken request to keep the conversation superficial. “What a pity you broke my favorite fishing pole so many years ago. I’d forgotten all about that, until you mentioned it at Caro and Silas’s. Did you enjoy your first ball?”

“Very much. Thank you for taking me.” She shifted on her seat to face him. “I’m sure I was so wide-eyed that it must have been a complete bore for you.”

“Quite the contrary. I had a superb time.” At least he had until supper. “Apart from having to put up with all those men eyeing my wife.”

She shrugged, and he saw she truly hadn’t registered the scale of the success she’d made. “I suspect novelty explains that. Novelty, and the fact that I polished up into something quite acceptable. After all their hard work, Madame Lisette and Helena would be disappointed if I didn’t.”

“Madame Lisette and Helena be damned.” Annoyance edged his tone. “You were the loveliest woman in that ballroom, Jane, because you’re so vital and alive and, yes, beautiful. Your new clothes only bring out what was there all the time, even in Dorset.”

She made a fluttery gesture. “You’re being kind again.”

He was getting bloody sick of hearing that. Particularly when something in her relentlessly cheery tone hinted that for once she didn’t see his kindness as an altogether positive trait. He leaned forward and kissed her, not just because he wanted to—although he always did—but to confirm his suspicion that something was amiss.


Tags: Anna Campbell Dashing Widows Romance