Mrs. Northrop arched a brow. “Neither is ‘masquerading.’”
Odette’s mind simply stopped. Had Mrs. Northrop seen through the act so quickly, so thoroughly? More to the point, what did she mean to do about it?
“Ah, we are here.” Mrs. Northrop gave her a rather disconcerting smile. “This should be a very . . . interesting evening.”
Time dragged as the night wore on. Mrs. Northrop kept nearby, offering friendly welcomes to the gentlemen who requested a dance with Odette. Gentlemen’s mothers were pulled into Mrs. Northrop’s conversations at alarming rates. Were they interested because of the matchmaker’s connection to Odette in particular or simply hoping to capitalize in the future on their acquaintance with Mrs. Northrop?
When Terrance came to offer his greetings, Mrs. Northrop was particularly welcoming. She asked questions, inquired after his family, made absolutely certain he knew he had met with approval. Though Odette did not know the remaining two rules of Mrs. Northrop’s matchmaking service, she could not deny that Terrance Lexington met the first requirement. He was a fine person, but he was not the gentleman she loved.
The supper dance arrived. She watched Jack approach. The joy she had anticipated feeling had been replaced with anxiety. She had to tell Jack what had happened; they needed to determine what to do, how to salvage the quickly deteriorating situation. And their moments together at supper would likely be the only opportunity to do so.
Could fate not give her even one evening of simple tenderness?
He bowed over her hand. Smiled. Pulling her arm through his, he led her toward the dance floor. His pleased expression did not slip as he whispered, “You appear distressed.”
“I thought I kept that well hidden.”
“I know you very well, Odette.” They would soon be too near the other dancers for even whispered words to go unheard.
“Mrs. Northrop is suspicious of Princess Pompous,” Odette said, rushing the words. “And she is worryingly interested in Terrance.”
“Terrance?” Jack looked and sounded shocked.
“I don’t know what to do. She is too clever and too observant to be kept in the dark for five more weeks.”
“We will sort it.” He likely would have said more, but they’d reached the line of dancers and were obligated to separate.
The musicians struck up the tune, and the dance began. Whenever the movements brought Jack and Odette together, they undertook precisely the inane, empty comments a romantically uninterested couple would. Jack, as always, wore an expression of friendly pleasure. He had insisted upon that. He would hide the depth of his regard, but he had utterly refused to appear displeased with her company.
That decision had been a balm to her oft-wounded heart the past months. It was again now.
By the time they walked in to supper, her worries had calmed, though not entirely disappeared. Mrs. Northrop sat a bit apart from Jack and Odette, far enough to afford a bit of privacy. Indeed, Jack had chosen seats for the two of them at the very end of one of the many tables set out for guests to take their supper. He sat beside her rather than going directly to the buffet to fetch them both plates of food.
“How set is Mrs. Northrop on a match with Terrance, do you suppose?” he asked in a nearly silent whisper.
“Not entirely, though she does seem keen on it. She knows I am feigning my arrogance and disdain and has expressed her intention to repair that perception.”
He did not look as displeased with the prospect as she was. “I would so like for you to be known as your true self. You deserve to have friends here, to associate with people, to be happy, and you have not had any of that, aside from our ride in the park.”
“That was rather foolish.” She had worried over that again and again in the days since. “Anyone looking on was likely struck by how very different I was. We are too close to risk undoing what we have managed thus far.”
“What we have managed is your unhappiness.”
She shook her head. “We are securing our future. That is of utmost importance.”
Beneath the table, hidden by the long linen tablecloth, Jack took her hand in his. “Perhaps we should reconsider the possibility of Scotland.”
She could smile a bit at that, though only briefly.
“I do not think there is harm in softening Society’s perception of you,” he said. “Gradually. Bit by bit. You will still be viewed with wariness, which should keep suitors at bay. But when we return—”
“We,”she whispered the word as much to herself as to him.
“We.When we return next Season, together, you will have far less ground to make up, and that is a very good thing.”
“It is the very best thing if we are together.”
“We will be.” He spoke with utter confidence. “I swear we will.”
