People could be surprising when desperate, though.
He cleared his throat, deciding he had to say something lest his sudden interest in Jack raise Blackbrook’s suspicions. “Your sister… She’s in need of a husband,” he drawled, doing his best to seem rather bored by it all.
He’d never outlive it if Blackbrook deduced he’d been alone in his rooms with Jack. Even if nothing had happened.
As a matter of fact, Blackbrook might call him out to a duel. And then where would they be? In a terrible position, that’s where.
Because he was not going to marry. Not for anything.
He’d rather be dead than trapped in that coil. He’d happily do the Tyburn jig before he danced a marriage reel.
He’d even face his friend at dawn should the need arise, though it would give him no pleasure.
“No one notices Jacqueline,” Blackbrook suddenly lamented. “She’s just not interested in society life. And thus, society is not interested in her. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know how to find her a husband that won’t make her life a misery. There are a few who have voiced interest in her hand, but none of them are suitable.”
“Indeed?” he queried, an emotion he couldn’t quite identify twisting his insides. He idly placed his flute down and shoved it away. He was going to need his wits about him.
“Indeed,” Blackbrook affirmed. “She’s terribly clever, has the best sense of humor, and I adore her. But the London season? She simply fades into the wallpaper. I don’t understand it. It’s the very devil.”
Fades into the wallpaper.
Jack?
Were they discussing the same woman?
He could not imagine Jack fading into any wallpaper.
When he’d caught sight of her—my God—his heart had hammered like a blacksmith’s anvil. But he’d supposed, if he struggled and looked through the lens of someone with little imagination, something common amongst the English gentry, he understood what Blackbrook meant.
Jack was not a beauty, certainly not by the standards of London. When she was in a room, he’d bet she did not sparkle. Jack would never do anything so ludicrous.
No, she was more like coal, the original piece of compressed earth before it became pressured into a jewel. And like coal, shesparked. She did not sparkle.
And he found that he liked her for it.
As James contemplated his friend and the rather dire summation of his family’s state, he felt a growing enthusiasm for the night ahead.
Yes. His plan was the best plan. It might be mercenary and without love—but weren’t mosttonmarriages? Besides…love was the road to hell.
Jack would be exceptionally pleased with his solution. It was all going to work out swimmingly, and he couldn’t wait to inform her of it. To see her face light with pleasure.
Yes, it was going to be a very good night indeed.
Chapter Four
Jack had gotten quite used to no one noticing her at balls, but at this particular point in her life, it was becoming a terrible vexation. She stood on the edge of the ballroom floor, bouncing.
Yes, God help her, bouncing on her slippered toes, hoping that her out-of-date gown would not prove too much of a challenge.
Really, they should have pawned the family jewels and bought her a whole new wardrobe, but such a thing had seemed beyond the pale. In the end, it might prove inevitable. For if no one noticed her, there would be no marriage.
She only hoped that her brother had already pawned them to at least keep their horses and carriage. They needed to have transportation, after all. They couldn’t arrive at these events in a hackney. If they did, they’d really, truly be lost.
Still, her blue silk gown clung to her frame in a well-made fashion. But she prayed that no one would notice that it was made over from last year.
Surely, only the most fashionable might notice, and she hardly spent time in that set.
She’d worn it in Vienna quite happily, but she’d never had to wear it in London, and therefore it was as good as new. Or so she attempted to convince herself.