She even sensed that something troubled him. She questioned him several times, but he could not confide his feeling for Lady Charlene in her. He could confide in no one.
Instead, he kept himself apart when Charlene was around and remained polite and as distant as he could... which was difficult. They often attended the same events.
The more he observed her, the more he found to admire. She had a good heart and the sort of spirit that didn’t suffer fools.
She knew Jack avoided her. A time or two, she’d tried to engage him in private conversation. He had not allowed it. There was hurt in her eyes, and yet, he believed she understood.
He did do one thing for her. Routinely he walked by the alley that was the lair of the Seven. There were signs they still visited the place. He knew it was only a matter of time before he met Leo. The trick to successful hunting was patience.
Saturday evening, the duke, Lady Charlene, the dowager, and Jack were together at a dinner party given by Lord Raneleigh. Fyclan Morris was slated to attend but canceled at the last moment. Jack was interested to note that his mother was not offended. Instead, she announced that Jack would be her escort.
“Don’t worry,” she had assured him. “You may talk politics all you wish.”
Gavin felt Raneleigh was a person who could derail the meeting if he chose. He believed it important for Jack to be present and search for an opportunity to cultivate Raneleigh’s support.
Jack knew he had a challenge ahead of him when he saw that he was seated well down the table. His brother, Lady Charlene, and his mother were in places of honor. Jack supposed he would need to bide his time to make an impression at the end of dinner when the ladies withdrew to the sitting room, leaving the gentlemen to enjoy their brandy.
Matters did not work out that way.
The caustic Lady Damian decided to mock Jack and his loyalties right there over the first course. She had a blistering tongue with an arrogance that would have put zealots to shame. She prided herself on being a social keeper of the hallowedhaut ton.
“Americans are like impertinent puppies,” she announced, picking up her soup spoon. “Sharp teeth, no manners, and a need to be routinely paddled. They act as if they have a voice in the world. They don’t. And another thing I don’t like about Americans, they are cowardly whiners. And yet we accept them.” She sniffed her disdain and shot Lady Raneleigh a look as if holding her personally responsible for Jack’s offensive presence.
Lady Raneleigh appeared ready to swoon.
A gentleman did not attack a lady. Nor would Jack make a scene at a civilized table, even to defend his country.
However, he did want Raneleigh’s support so he was pleased when Gavin spoke up. “I support my twin’s decision.”
Any man at the table, understanding Gavin’s power would have backed down.
Not Her Ladyship. “Because you are clueless. Or undiscerning, Your Grace. I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” she said to their mother. “I understand you have no control over your sons. After all, what choice do you have? Family allegiance demands you support the black sheep. The rest of us would prefer to see him on the gallows.”
Silence met that statement. Both Gavin and their mother were speechless.
Everyone else at the table either agreed with her or was cowed by her viciousness—except for Lady Charlene.
“I find your comments ridiculous in their naiveté and cruel in their content.”
Lady Damian stared at Lady Charlene as if she had never seen her before, and perhaps she hadn’t. Jack was fairly certain the sarcastic woman had dismissed Lady Charlene for a pretty face with more hair than wit.
She was wrong. Lady Charlene continued. “If you wish to be rude, then do so to someone who can answer you back in kind without impugninghishonor. I believe to behave otherwise is cowardly. We must not hide behind our sex if we wish our opinions to matter.”
Her rebuke was more than a warning shot across the bow. It was a broadside. The guests, Gavin, and the duchess appeared stunned. Even the servants stopped moving.
And Jack wanted to clap. She was going to be a magnificent duchess.
Lady Damian twitched like a banty hen ready to do battle. Apparently no one hadeverchallenged her before.
For her part, Lady Charlene sat serene.
Lady Damian opened her mouth. There was fire in her eyes, but before she could deliver a blast of whatever spite she had in mind, Lady Charlene smoothly warned, “Be wise, my lady. I’m certain the women around this table have all been subjected to your scorn. However,weare not honor-bound to sit silent. If we band together, you may find yourself very uncomfortable.”
“And why shouldIfeel that?”
“My aunt always says that women need take care of one other. Our power is in our understanding of what is important in this life. I find good manners have a certain grace. I don’t think it is right to embarrass guests. It is insult to the host and hostess.” Not even one of the patronesses of Almack’s could have delivered such a setdown.
Nor did Lady Charlene rest on her laurels. She looked to Jack. “Please tell us, Mr.Whitridge”— he liked that she used a plain “mister” instead of the title “Lord Jack,” which seemed alien to him—“what have you found about America that has encouraged you to support it?”
