Home?
ALL THE FASHIONABLE WORLDrode or drove or promenaded in Hyde Park late in the afternoon during the spring Season. Everyone came to see and be seen, to gossip and be gossiped about, to display and observe all the latest fashions, to flirt and be flirted with.
Jane was wearing a blue dress and pelisse and a plain straw bonnet tied beneath her chin with a wide blue ribbon. She carried a straw-colored parasol, which Lady Webb had lent her. She was perched on the high seat of Lord Ferdinand Dudley’s new curricle while he wielded the ribbons, conversed amiably with her, and introduced her to a number of people who approached for the specific purpose of meeting the notorious Lady Sara Illingsworth, whose story had drawing rooms and club lounges abuzz again.
She smiled and chattered. The sun was shining, after all, and she was in the company of a handsome young gentleman who was going out of his way to be charming to her. He bore a remarkable resemblance to his brother, which fact she would not hold against him.
It was the thought of his brother that kept her from truly enjoying herself. Despite all that had happened during the past forty-eight hours—the release from fear, the return to being herself, living in her own world—she almost wished she could will herself back one week. This time last week they had been together, he painting, she working at her embroidery. Growing comfortable together. Becoming friends. Falling in love.
All illusion.
This was reality.
And reality came riding up to Lord Ferdinand’s curricle in company with Viscount Kimble. The Duke of Tresham, that was—it was even difficult now to think of him as Jocelyn—looking dark and morose and unapproachable, quite his usual self, in fact. He touched his whip to the brim of his hat, inclined his head to her, and bade her a good afternoon, while the viscount smiled and reached for her hand to carry to his lips and proceeded to make conversation for a few minutes. The duke’s black, expressionless eyes rested on her the whole time.
Jane smiled and talked and twirled her parasol and agreed to come driving in the park again the very next day with Lord Kimble. Then they were gone and Jane, smiling gaily, fought the lump that had formed in her throat and the ache it sent up behind her nostrils and down into her bosom.
But there was no time to brood. There was Lord Ferdinand to listen to and other people with whom to converse. Only minutes after Jocelyn rode away, Lady Heyward drove up in an open barouche, introduced Jane to the Dowager Lady Heyward, and proceeded to talk.
“I am looking forward excessively to your come-out ball at Lady Webb’s,” she said. “Our invitation was delivered late this morning. I daresay Heyward will escort me, which is rare enough for him as he finds balls tedious. Can you imagine being bored bydancing, Lady Sara? And you may not roll your eyes in that odious way, Ferdie. I was not speaking to you. Besides, everyone knows that you prefer fighting to dancing. You will never know what palpitations I suffered on hearing that you and Tresham had fought three of the Forbes brothers the other day. Though as I told Tresham, the victory would have been sweeter had you fought all five. I do not know why the other two stood by to watch their brothers being slaughtered.”
“Angie,” Lord Ferdinand advised, “take a damper.”
But Jane had turned sharply to look at him. “You and his grace fought a few days ago?” she asked. “Withpistols? And youkilledthree opponents?”
“Fists actually, ma’am.” He looked decidedly embarrassed. “We rendered two of them unconscious, one apiece. The third was rolling on the ground nursing a broken nose. It would have been unsporting to hit him when he was down. You have no business speaking of such things in front of other ladies, Angie.”
Lady Heyward rolled her eyes skyward. “I suppose it is ungenteel too, Ferdie,” she said, “to be lying awake nights, my nerves positively shattered, because Tresham is to meet the other two Forbeses. I daresay it will be pistols. He will be killed for sure. Though I do think it rather grand of him to take on thetwoof them on two successive mornings. I have never heard the like before. One can only hope he lives to face the second meeting.”
Jane felt as if every drop of blood in her body had drained downward to reside in her toes and set them tingling while the rest of her felt cold and clammy and faint.
“Angie,” Lord Ferdinand said sharply, “that is gentlemen’s business. If you have nothing better to talk about, I suggest you take that bird home that is perched on the brim of your bonnet and feed it birdseed before it expires. And water all those flowers while you are about it. How your neck can hold up all that clutter is beyond me. Good day, ma’am.” He touched his hat to the dowager and gave his horses the signal to move on.
Jane was still not quite sure she would not pitch forward into insensibility. There was an annoying buzz in her ears. The pins and needles had found their way up to her hands.
“His grace is to fight another duel?” she asked. “Two more?”
“Nothing to bother your head over, Lady Sara,” Lord Ferdinand said cheerfully. “I wish he would let me fight one of them, though, since it was me they tried to kill. But he won’t, and when Tresham has his mind set on something, or against something as the case may be, there is no arguing with him.”
“Oh, the foolish, foolish man!” Jane cried, anger saving her and sending the blood surging through her body again. “All for the sake of honor.”
“Yes, precisely, ma’am,” Lord Ferdinand agreed before very charmingly but very determinedly changing the subject.
Not one but two duels, Jane thought. On two successive mornings. He was almost certain to be killed. The odds against his surviving were double what they would normally be.
And it would serve him right too, she thought furiously.
But how would she be able to live on?
How could she live in a world that did not contain Jocelyn?
HE MISSEDJANE MOREthan he would have thought possible. Oh, he called at Lady Webb’s that first afternoon, of course, and was goaded into being unpardonably rude to Jane before a sizable audience merely because she had been pert to him and had smiled so dazzlingly at Ferdinand while accepting his offer to drive her in the park that Jocelyn had been sorely tempted to plant his own brother a facer. And he had ridden in the park when he knew she would be there, first with Ferdinand and then with Kimble, and had greeted her and exchanged civilities with her. No more than that. He had sensed from her mulish look and set lips that had he tried to say more, he would merely have precipitated another sharp quarrel—which he would have been perfectly happy to do if only they could have been private together.
He was determined to have her, of course. Not least, perhaps, because she was determined not to have him. But he knew it would be useless to follow his usual practice and try to force his will on her. She must be allowed time in which to adjust her mind to the change in her fortune.
He must allow her time in which to misshim. Surely she would do so. Although when he had first learned her real identity he had concluded that her sympathy for him must have been a shallow thing, he was no longer so sure. He remembered the comfortable accord they had established in that room she called their den. And there had been no mistaking her sexual passion for him. He bitterly regretted those last two visits he had paid her—one by night, the other by day. He had not handled the situation well.
He would give her time, he had decided at first. And he would give himself time. He had two duels to face, both with pistols. He found he could not face them with the casual ennui with which he had approached the other four. He was startlingly aware this time that he could die.
