"Oh, yes, indeed. However, I have yet to meet a gentleman who feels as I do about the social whirl."
Cecilia nodded and laid an understanding hand on Janine's arm. "And if they exist—which I assure you they do—you would not find them in London. They avoid it like the very plague."
"You see my problem," Janine said drily, some of the frightened doe image receding. "And I do know they exist or rather have existed before being twisted and jaded in the social milieu. I hold the example I know of in my heart in hopes of meeting another more immune to society's siren call as a panacea for unhappiness," she confessed, bitterness gnawing at her words.
"Gracious, my dear, don't tell me that you have suffered a disappointment in love!"
"If it was a disappointment, it was a disappointment in calf love, for I was a child of twelve. No, the gentleman I knew has changed these seven long years, and when he lived in the neighborhood, I was merely a neighbor's granddaughter upon whom he bestowed a few kindnesses. But I always thought I should want to marry a man like he was then."
"I have never considered myself a prodigiously inquisitive person, but you have me intrigued."
Janine laughed mirthlessly. "It is difficult even for me to fathom, but I carry around within me an infatuation for the former Viscount Dernley, a personage who no longer exists."
"The Marquis of Havelock? Lord Havelock?"
"Knowing him now, it does seem incredible, But he was not always so arrogant and self-absorbed. At one time, he was extremely personable and charming. My eldest sister, Sophia, had set her cap for him and was confident she could bring him up to scratch."
"Ah-h—"
"Though she did intend to change his mind about London's delights," Janine added wryly. "It used to make me angry to hear her prattle on about changing him, molding him to be the manshewanted him to be. Now, look at him."
Cecilia shook her head. She couldn't imagine Lord Havelock being the man Janine described. Oh, for the innocent eyes of youth! "What happened?" she asked softly.
Janine's mouth twisted bitterly. "Havelock Manor burned, the conflagration claiming the life of his father and younger brother. In a fit of pain and sorrow, his mother blamed him for being away that night, attending a lecture on modern agricultural techniques._ Grandmother told me she made his life an unending misery for weeks. Finally, he left, disappearing for over a year. He returned the man we now know."
"Does anyone know where he went?" Cecilia asked.
"He claims he was in the Mediterranean, enjoying the climate while assiduously avoiding Napoleon. Sophia would have it he went off in search of some insignificant relative who disappeared. She was quite put out. I think because Dorothea Rustian was considered quite a beauty. She tried to convince herself, and anyone would listen, that the little red-headed hussy seduced him away from her."
"Did she?"
"Sophia never had him to begin with. Her catty words were a mere sop to her pride. Anyway, no one knows what happened to Miss Rustian. Havelock swore he did not run away with her. And by the time he returned, Sophia was married to Wentworth Aldrich."
"And no doubt just as loudly decried where formally, she praised," Cecilia hazarded, smiling.
"Precisely. And there were other, juicier scandals for the gossips to enjoy. I'll admit I've never been reconciled to how he is now. He was in the breakfast parlor when I descended this morning. My headlong flight from the house to the isolation of these gardens was to avoid speaking to him. I know if I am forced to make private conversation with him, I will be reminded of how he used to be and undoubtedly embarrass myself by tears. And then what a hubble-bubble should I be in! I would be questioned and plagued unendingly. But what can I do? It would be catastrophic for anyone to discover the extent of my dreams. It would lead, I assure you, to enduring merciless teasing and jibes from my family. Especially from Sophia."
Cecilia laughed. "Am I to understand there is no love lost between you and Sophia?"
"Not in any overt manner. We have always been two different people. Truthfully, my attitudes are constantly at odds with my family's—for all the good it does me. Mama never listens to me. She'd rather listen to herself carp; that way she can be assured she is doing her duty and so tell anyone else who will listen."
"You seem to have a ready understanding of people."
Janine cocked her head. "If I do, I suppose it's because I'd rather be an observer than a participant."
"Tell me, what do you make of my brother Randolph and his friends?"
She wrinkled her nose. "I doubt you'd want to know." "No, seriously, I do," she assured her, leaning forward and resting her hands on her knees.
Janine looked around absently for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "The only one who seems real to me is Lord Havelock."
"Havelock! Oh, you mean because you've known him for so long."
"Partly. Also, I've spent considerable energy studying the changes in him. At any rate, I see him, quite clearly, as totally wrapped up in himself, and sadly, entirely consistent in that manner. The Viscount Dernley I knew is dead. Mr. Haukstrom—" she paused, looking guiltily at Cecilia.
"Go on, please. Nothing you could say about my brother will upset me in any way."
Janine nodded and plowed on. "Mr. Haukstrom is all flash and no substance, the Honorable Mr. Rippy likes to play the fool, and Sir Harry is just too happy and carefree for my tastes. And truthfully, I am not familiar with half the plays he is forever quoting—let alone do I understand them!"
