“Indeed not!” Stuart exclaimed, getting up and swirling the voluminous coat around him. “Why, Lady Westlake’s musicale is the height of the season. And her daughter. So fair and gifted with a voice that would shame a lark.”
Jenna’s shoulders shook as she rolled her eyes heavenward. A lark? Maybe a buzzard. Did buzzards sing? Perhaps she could hope a lark flew into Lucretia’s open mouth and rendered her unable to make a sound. The windows would likely be grateful, as would any unfortunate people in attendance.
Even though Lady Westlake’s musicale was studiously avoided, she always managed to trap several poor souls into attending each year.
Stuart collected a most hideous hat from a straight-faced Thomas as they exited the house and secured it on his head. The long feather plume swung about as he walked in lively fashion out to the carriage. Jenna kept a cautious distance so her coiffure didn’t suffer irreparable damage from whatever bird had been unfortunate enough to forfeit his life.
Was Lady Westlake hosting a masque instead of a musicale? If so, Stuart was certainly dressed for the occasion.
They climbed into the carriage and rolled away enroute to Lady Westlake’s residence on Mount Street. When they arrived, as Jenna expected, a footman greeted them at the door with an ornately scribed flier. Jenna excused herself to the ladies’ retiring room, leaving Stuart to wait on her before they entered the drawing room.
As she peered at herself in the mirror, she wasn’t surprised to see faint smudges under her eyes. Perhaps she ought to give thought to dabbling with some of the cosmetics so many other women wore. It would certainly go a long way in disguising her evident fatigue.
With a heavy sigh, she returned to the foyer and took the arm Stuart offered. They glided down the long hallway, stopping to converse with a few of Stuart’s acquaintances and some of Jenna’s own.
Moments later, they paused at the doorway of the drawing room and Jenna peered around the room, curious to see who else had been consigned to an evening of agony.
She was surprised to see Lady Lockhart across the room, head bent in conversation with two other ladies. Then to her utter astonishment, Gray walked over to collect Lady Lockhart.
Her breath caught in her throat and her heart lurched. What was hedoinghere?
Chapter Nine
She stared shamelessly as he escorted Lady Lockhart to a seat on the first row. Like someone with a dire thirst, she drank in his appearance, her eyes flitting over the tight-fitting breeches and up to the soft curls resting on the crisp, white collar of his shirt.
Everything about his appearance set her senses on fire. She knew for a fact he wore no padding in the shoulders or thighs. His bulk was all his own, and she looked forward to running her hands over each and every one of his muscles.
As if sensing her perusal his head came up, and their eyes connected for a long moment. Surprise lit his smoky depths, but he continued to stare at her.
“I say, Jenna. Let’s hurry so we can be seated on the first row.”
Stuart’s grip on her arm startled her into motion, and she broke eye contact with Gray. “The front row?” Panic swept over her. She couldn’t possibly sit in such close proximity to Gray.
Stuart rushed forward, nearly dragging her in his haste to get to the front. He handed her into the row Gray was sitting in, and Gray rose as Jenna stood rigidly before him. “My lady.” He inclined his head politely.
Lady Lockhart leaned forward, a kind smile lighting her face. “Good evening, Lady Jenna. How are you, my dear? Have you recovered from your most trying experience?”
She glanced quickly over at Gray, sure that he had heard by now what happened at the opera. His expression was unreadable. “Very well, my lady,” Jenna said, dipping into a curtsy. “You are most kind to ask.” She slid into her seat, careful to keep a respectable distance from Gray.
Her eyes snaked sideways, and annoyance gripped her as she heard Lady Lockhart’s soft laughter, saw her face light up as Gray murmured something close to her ear. Really. It was unseemly for a woman of Lady Lockhart’s advanced age to be fawning over a much younger gentleman. But what really bothered Jenna was imagining another woman holding a place in Gray’s affections. In hisbed.
Heat crept up her neck, and she turned away from Lady Lockhart’s shining countenance. Instead, she studied the program she held in her hand, and began to read Lady Lucretia’s listed attributes.
Of Excellent breeding and composure.
Made her sound like a bloody cow. Jenna continued down the list.
Sweet disposition and of moderate temperament.
Sings like an angel and is accomplished at the pianoforte.
Her beauty knows no comparison.
Well that much was true. Jenna suppressed a grin. Indeed, Lady Lucretia’s beauty, or lack thereof, was legendary.
“Jenna, I am going to fetch a glass of punch. Shall I bring one back to you as well?”
“Yes, that would be lovely, Stuart,” she said, glancing up out of the corner of her eye. “Thank you.”
