“I’ve done it again.” Reese slouched back in her chair with a grunt of disgust. “I have strong opinions and no discretion. I’ll be quiet.” She slid her hand away from his but rubbed where he had touched her.
Jem played with the rim of his glass, forcing himself not to smile. Reese had felt the energy between them when he’d touched her. It showed in her body language, her facial expressions.
“Miss Clarisse is too hard on herself,” he said. “She is a philanthropist and always seeks ways to better the lives of others.”
“Ohh,” Lady Ellen breathed. “What charities do you aid?”
“I work—” When he coughed, Reese shot him a frustrated glance and added, “Ivolunteerat health clinics and schools for the poor.”
“Schoolsfor the poor?” Lady Ellen asked. “What need have they for schools?”
“That,” Reese punctuated the word with a finger in the air, “is the mentality that keeps the poor poor. You people give them no opportunities to improve their situation and then tell them they’re stupid. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. You’ve been given so much because of the simple circumstance of the family you were born into. Don’t you see the responsibility you have to help those who were not so fortunate in their birth? It’s not that hard, and it doesn’t take much to give them the tools to succeed.”
“Miss Clarisse,” Jem said, “has always been a firm believer in the idea that people should pay for their time on earth by working to make it a better place for everyone.”
Lady Ellen had been listening intently, but she blinked at that, seeming to study the words. “Ilikethat.” A soft smile grew, and her expression turned dreamy again.
The man next to her said something, and she shifted toward him.
Reese shot Jem a thankful glance and leaned back so the servant could remove her bowl.
“You can do this,” he whispered.
“Yeah, like I’m doing so well.” She rubbed her temple like her head hurt.
Chapter 4
WHEN IT CAME TIME TO head into the ball, Reese accepted Jem’s arm again, not surprised when he offered his other to Lady Ellen. She accepted it with pink cheeks.
Reese gave herself a mental kick at the twitch of irritation at the girl’s obvious crush on him. Ellen was a sweet girl, and she seemed a step above most of the people of her class. What kind of ogre brother did she have to keep her locked into the proper Victorian lady role?
“I wish I had one of those dowager caps,” Reese muttered when they entered the ballroom.
“Why?” Ellen asked. “Do you not wish to dance?”
“No. I’m no good at it.”
“Do you really think you’d be happy sitting with the matrons and listening to them talk of marriages and children?” Jem asked, teasing.
“Just shoot me.” Reese let go of his arm.
“Shoot you?” Ellen asked. “Ah, yes. Does everyone in America carry pistols? Do you need them to protect yourselves from the wild Indians?”
“Those ‘wild Indians’ were just defending their lands from the thieving white—” Reese broke off when Jem gave her a soft nudge with his elbow. “Sorry. It’s just an expression to mean I would hate sitting with women who only wanted to talk about enslaving their daughters.”
“Cousin,” Jem hissed. “When in Rome? You need to keep your tongue between your teeth.”
She burst out laughing at his use of a term she’d only ever heard in a Regency romance.
“I do not wish to be rude,” Ellen said, “but I find American conversation to be very strange.”
“That’s not rude; it’s honest.” Reese noticed for the first time that they had become the focus of attention. “I’ll behave.” She fumbled the fan from her wrist and opened it, trying to remember how to use it to signal to guys that she didn’t want to dance.
Which one was the “no” sign? Was it resting it on the cheek or drawing it through the hand? Or was that the folding one? Reese stared at the fan in her hands, seeing it now for the dangerous thing it was. Maybe she better not use it. If she did it wrong, she could get herself into some serious trouble.
“Lady Ellen,” she whispered, “how do I let gentlemen know that I don’t want to dance with them?”
“Miss Clarisse,” she said, “you cannot decline unless you are already engaged in a dance. Courtesy demands it.”
