“Mister Taylor,” Nellie said from his side. He started, and she grinned. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“I—” Jem broke off, unsure how to put them into words. “That man with Lady Ellen, Lord March.” Something flashed across Nellie’s expression but then was gone. It reminded Jem of what had crossed Ellen’s face. “What is he to her?”
“We expect news of their engagement as soon as she turns twenty-one in a few months.” Nellie’s gaze followed the couple waltzing around the room. “It would be an eligible match for the younger sister of an Earl, as Lord March owns several estates and has a good fortune. It would be an excellent match for him, as it would connect him to Lord Hildebrand who is quite powerful.”
“Is Lord Hildebrand her father?” Jem continued to watch the couple.
“No, her father died when she was quite young,” Nellie said. “Gareth Hildebrand is her much older brother, the son of the old Earl’s first wife.”
“I’m guessing Lord March has political aspirations,” he said.
“Who has political aspirations?” Reese asked from behind.
“Welcome back.” He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “How’s your headache?”
She ignored him and stepped between them. “I thought I might go to sleep, but when I got back to my room, I was still too wired.”
“The tonic is wonderful, is it not?” Nellie asked. “Do you truly have a headache? The tonic should have relieved it.”
“I think her headache was more philosophical,” Jem said.
“Ah. I understand,” Nellie said.
“Who is that man dancing with Ellen?” Reese asked. “I don’t like the looks of him.”
“He’s a piece of work, that’s for sure,” Jem said.
“As I was telling Mr. Taylor,” Nellie said, “Lord March desires a connection with Lord Hildebrand, who has many important political connections.”
“Is he a rake?” Reese asked.
“Whichone?” Nellie sent her a sidelong glance, an odd twist to her mouth.
“So, MarchandEllen’s brother are rakes?” Reese asked, but their hostess only shrugged.
“A rake?” Jem knew he’d heard the term before but couldn’t remember what it meant. He was pretty sure she didn’t mean the garden tool.
“A man of loose morals, one who preys on women,” Reese said. “A lot of rich men in this time act all virtuous in public and then do the dirty on the side.”
“Sadly, it’s not all that different in our time,” Jem said.
“But modern women don’t have to stay with a cheating husband,” Reese said hotly.
“And guys don’t have to stay with a cheating wife.” Jem faced her. “You’re being unfair, and it’s not like you. Not all men are like that, and you know it. Don’t paint all of us with your father’s brush.”
Her eyes flashed, and she opened her mouth, but Nellie stepped between them.
“Now, now,” she said. “Mister Jem has a duty to my guests. You must dance.” She pointed to the side where two young women sat with older ladies. “The Atwood sisters need some attention. I’m sure their cards are empty.”
Jem glanced at Reese, but she wouldn’t look at him. He straightened his jacket and strode across the room.
***
“You were quite harsh, Miss Clarisse,” Nellie said when Jem was out of range. “I apprehend that you do not approve of a woman’s role in this time. However, youmustconform while you are here. Consider the rare opportunity you have been given to observe a different culture firsthand. These people are a reflection of theirs, as you are of yours. If you insist on acting the termagant, no one will listen to you.”
“Termagant?” Reese asked, insulted.
“If what you seek is to influence change, I suggest subtlety.” The older woman gave her hand a gentle pat and walked away.
