Lady Edding and Lady Townsend exchanged glances. “So you’re the one!” the brunette said. Noses turned up, both women turned their backs on her and proceeded to have their own private, well-heard conversation.
“She was Edward Weston’s mistress,” Lady Ed-ding said. “Imagine—bringing an actress’s illegitimate child here! It’s hard to say who is the more uncouth!”
“They were at the theater last night,” Lady Townsend said eagerly. “I was not there, but the Duchess of Lancaster told me at tea today. He was holding her hand!”
Lady Edding gasped. Both women turned to look at Jane and the earl. Lords Hubberly and Smythe-Paxton walked away. Jane looked at the earl. There were tears in her eyes, but her voice was loud, clear, and rang out. “What unbelievable bitches.”
The earl dragged her away.
“I do not want to stay!” Jane whispered furiously.
“Do not sink to their level,” the earl hissed, equally furious.
“I cannot let them get away with their malicious slandering!”
“Yes, you can,” he said through gritted teeth. “You will smile and be polite and beautiful and show them true gentility!”
“The way you do?”
“It’s only words,” he said.
“You must hate them too,” Jane cried. “Isn’t that why you never come to London?”
“I don’t care enough to hate them.”
“I don’t believe you.”
They stared, fierce gazes locked. The earl finally broke the standoff. “Believe what you want. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Why not?” Jane asked desperately. She touched his sleeve. “I know you. You are kind, you are good. It is these people who are rotten!”
The earl started visibly, and then a mask quickly settled upon his features, chasing away and hiding any emotions he might have had. “Come.” He inclined his head toward the crowded room.
“Please, let’s go home—to Dragmore.”
Their gazes held. “No,” he said finally. He was thrown off balance again, this time by her reference to Dragmore as home. “We are staying. I am going to find you a husband, Jane.”
Her gaze darkened. “I don’t want a husband!”
“Every woman wants a husband.”
Jane opened her mouth to protest, when she heard a woman behind them. “Scandalous,” she said. “Utterly scandalous.”
The earl started to steer her away.
Jane dug her heels in furiously.
She turned around to stare at the speaker—the Duchess of Lancaster. The woman ignored her, and continued to regale her circle of half a dozen men and women. “I saw it myself. He did not take his eyes off her the entire performance.”
“Unbelievable.”
There were murmurs of assent.
“She is his ward, his wife’s cousin,” the duchess said viciously, turning to stare at them. “He is depraved,”
The earl met her gaze. He did not so much as flinch. His face was a mask—but his cheeks had a sunburned cast. He was aware of Jane stepping in front of him, as if to shield him with her little body.
“You are depraved,” Jane hissed. “Wicked and depraved! All of you!” She grabbed the earl’s hand. “Let’s go!”
