“We will,” Miss Birkchester said. “And we’ve only just arrived, so we’re promised to no one.” She offered another bright smile. “You may have any dance you like.”
Until that evening, Madelina hadn’t appreciated how aggravating Miss Birkchester’s outgoing nature and adorable dimples were.
“Then you must promise me the second set, Miss Birkchester,” Mister Mclintock said.
“Certainly,” Miss Birkchester replied sweetly.
Madelina tried not to gnash her teeth. Really, what did she care with whom the man danced? Her job was to attract as little notice from thetonas possible, to hide in plain sight, while she joined Lord Lefthook’s battle to eliminate London’s greatest evils, of which the abduction of women certainly counted.
Mister Mclintock turned to her. “Lady Madelina, may I be so bold as to request the first set, and the dinner dance?”
She nodded, shocked. To request two dances, that was one step shy of asking William if he could court her. Mister Mclintock watched her for a long moment, amber eyes ensnaring. Madelina stared back, mute.
“Until then,” he finally said, then bowed again to her brother, Lanora, and Miss Birkchester. He pivoted and walked away.
Chapter Two
Jasper strode from Lady Madelina Greydrake as quickly as his legs would bear him. A tumble of emotions blurred the faces he passed. He’d never, in all his twenty-six years, not even when he’d loved Clementine, been so struck by a woman. Instantly ensnared. Immediately possessed of the need to have her. The feelings coursing through him were madness. Lunacy. Symptoms of a fractured mind.
And unshakable.
Jasper fled to an empty alcove, leaned his fevered brow against the cold of a marble-clad column, and tried to piece his world back together. How quickly, how completely that world had changed.
Upon Greydrake’s arrival, his name and title had rippled through the assemblage. Speaking with the marquess and a few other select members of the peerage was the reason Jasper had finagled an invitation to the ball; the reason he endured the derisive looks of his former associates and their righteous womenfolk. Sighting the tall marquess among the crowd, Jasper had set out across the room to secure Greydrake’s assistance.
Then, she’d turned. A porcelain goddess dipped in gemstones, though none so bright as her eyes. Those twin pools. Stormy. Deep. If a man could plunge into the depths of those silver eyes, would he come out gilded? Would he be polished free of sin?
Jasper forced down a shaky laugh at such frantic, nonsensical thoughts. He drew in a long breath, seeking control. She was only a woman, after all. Jasper had rather a great deal of experience with women, starting as a lad of not quite fourteen, when he learned how far some of the staff would go to curry favor with the duke’s best-loved son.
For a moment, lost in daydreams of Lady Madelina’s perfection, Jasper had forgotten that he was a bastard. It mattered not that he was wealthy in his own right, or that his father had given Jasper his name and openly acknowledged an undying love for his mother and a preference for Jasper over his legitimate son.
All thetonremembered was that he was a bastard son of the Duke of Aspen. Now, with the duke gone and his title and influence passed on to his son born in wedlock, most of society had no more use for Jasper Mclintock.
Some exceptions existed, like Greydrake. A man who’d been Jasper’s friend before his father died and after, evidencing no change in their dealings, save to frequent Jasper’s gambling hell, The Black Aspen, less often. That change in habit had everything to do with Greydrake’s dedication to the lovely Lanora and nothing to do with Jasper.
But remaining cordial with a titleless bastard didn’t fall anywhere near the same realm as permitting a bastard to court one’s sister. Especially not Greydrake’s coddled, younger sibling, kept sequestered from society and out of harm’s way for the majority of her life. Even the fair-minded Marquess of Westlock must baulk at the idea of a bastard courting his sister.
Jasper couldn’t afford to alienate Greydrake, one of his most charitable and influential associates. Yet Greydrake hadn’t appeared angry. Not that Jasper had paid much attention to the man’s reaction to his dance requests. He’d been too busy impetuously courting Lady Madelina.
Jasper let out a harsh chuckle. He truly was mad. Not five minutes in Lady Madelina’s company and he’d declared his intentions by selecting two sets, and one of them the dinner dance. He’d meant to leave before supper, but the prospect of dining alongside her overshadowed that plan.
A plan to which he ought to adhere. He straightened, then tugged at sleeves and jacket to ensure order. He had more votes to attempt to sway and more money for which to beg.
Not that he hadn’t wealth, he reflected as he strode free of the alcove, his face a polite mask of disinterest. On his death, the duke had left Jasper everything not entailed, including a fortune in investments, a lovely little country estate, and the exquisite townhome in which Jasper’s mother resided.
Unfortunately, Jasper’s charitable work was exceedingly expensive. On top of that, The Black Aspen proved less profitable than most such establishments, due to what he recognized as unreasonable moral expectations and a horrendous honest streak. Jasper knew that, alone, he couldn’t win his battle against the abduction and enslavement of innocents. Especially not the way in which he fought it, retroactively. More must be done to stem the tide of abductions. That was where the city watch came into play.
He stopped to search the sea of hostile faces. Each time he watched a former companion look away or scowl, Jasper worked to keep his expression bland. Inside, every cut rankled.
They’d always known him for a bastard. His father’s devotion to his mistress had never been hidden. The duke had lived with them, rarely visiting his wife or the ducal London seat. He’d conducted all dealings, business and social, from his home with Jasper’s mother. Until his father’s death, Jasper had been accepted by theton.
No longer. Now, he had to beg invitations to their events, and even then, he often failed to gain admittance. Women who once danced with him and batted coquettish lashes now scurried from his path, lest he attempt to speak with them.
Even those men who still came to his club, for the most part, no longer treated him as their equal. They lorded over him or eyed him with pity. In the two years since his father’s death, Jasper’s whole world had changed.
Music slipped through the room, signaling that the first dance would soon commence. Jasper adjusted his course. He would have to beg for funds later. His set with Lady Madelina was about to begin.
Greydrake and his family remained where Jasper had left them. He cut through the ring of gentlemen who’d gathered before them and offered a nod to the marquess before turning his gaze on Lady Madelina. The impression might be wishful, but he felt that the encircling gentlemen displeased her.
