What else could she do?
“Have you been rummaging about the bushes?” her sister asked over her cup of tea.
“No, certainly not.” What to say? What to say? She cleared her throat and blurted, “I simply dropped something in them this morning and had to fish it out.”
Louise’s brows quirked together, and she glanced to the windows. “You’ve been out in the garden already this morning? Isn’t it quite early?”
“I was up with daybreak,” Jacqueline replied honestly, trying not to grumble about it as she made her way into the breakfast room.
And it was true.
She had been up for hours. Ever since the call of the lark had come through her window. How could she not? Her entire body had been completely alive the entire time the sun had been on the other side of the earth. Alive with desire and frustration.
And now she felt as if she was but a speck spinning about on a small bowl, going wildly through space, dashing by stars, and feeling completely at a loss.
How had he done that to her? To them?
All she knew was that she had enjoyed his kiss, his touch, more than she had enjoyed anything in her entire life. It had been the wildest, most remarkable, most delicious time of her life. And then he’d had the temerity to pull away and declare that it was impossible that they should continue.
Much to her frustration, he’d made those ridiculous comments about his power and her inferiority. Ha.
It didn’t matter that he was technically correct by society’s standards. She had thought they were different.
Jack plunked herself down at the table, put the small twig by her linen napkin, and reached for a slice of toast.
She buttered it fiercely, then bit into it and chewed as if she could get her frustration out through the action of eating her beautifully golden bread.
Louise cocked her head to the side as she observed her. “You look different, Jack.”
“Do I?” she asked.
Louise took another sip of tea, then leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Indeed you do. There’s something about you that looks as if… Well, I don’t know. As if you’ve come to some new conclusion about life or something.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Jack said. “You are merely seeing things. It is you who has come to some new conclusion about life.” She poured out her own cup of tea, eschewing sugar or milk. Instead, she tossed a slice of lemon into it, feeling quite tart as she added with some jealousy, “You and your love.”
Louise beamed, as Louise was wont to do whenever herlovewas mentioned. “You know, Jack, I haven’t told you yet, but I am immensely grateful to you. You have made it possible for me to be happy. And I knew that it wasn’t at all what you wished. To be put upon the marriage mart, and to be required to find a wealthy husband. I’m so grateful to you for understanding that Deptford and I are…”
“As one,” Jack offered, lifting her teacup. “Meant to be. A shimmering, glowing, beautiful example of the power of affection.”
“Stop that,” Louise cut in, laughing. “Don’t make a mockery of me.”
“I’m not,” Jack said. “I’ve seen the two of you together. You are ‘blissful content’ walking, and I cannot imagine anything better for my sister. Even if it means that I have to throw myself at theton.”
“You’re doing an admirable job,” Louise said, as she took a bite of her rasher of bacon. “In fact, I did not know you would be so good at it. You’d always seemed in Vienna as if you had no wish for company. You far preferred the notes of your piano and the company of musicians, but now, after that dance with Stone, it seems as if you’re ready to take your place in thetonas well as any diamond.”
“I’m not a diamond,” Jack cut in. “Please don’t make such intimations. I find that eminently frustrating.”
And she thought of the way that James had suggested that she might be such a thing if she but allowed herself. She was not a diamond. She was more like his title name: a stone, a rock. Strong, but not shining.
Besides, who really wanted to be a diamond? Diamonds had always seemed rather cold and colorless to her. Granted, sometimes they could have a rainbow within, but what were they really? Just clear, sparkling, over-pressured coal.
No, no. She’d far rather be an emerald, or a sapphire, or a ruby, or a topaz, even. A diamond? Never.
Louise narrowed her gaze. “There you go again. You have a most intriguing look upon your face. Whatever are you thinking about?”
“The lack of importance of being a diamond,” she replied before taking a long sip of the perfect beverage. “Still, thank you for the vote of confidence. Husband hunting is a challenge, but I dearly love a challenge. And speaking of challenges, I shall have to avoid Drexel. Can you assist me with that?”
Louise nodded vehemently. “I wonder why he’s so particularly obsessed with you.”