Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Matilda pressed a hand against her middle. The room swayed. Laughter and music swelled around her, but it was all too bright and too loud. The air in Cordelia and Mason’s ballroom seemed to thicken with each passing minute, and though she smiled as best she could, her lips felt stiff.
It was not the heat of the candles. It was not the waltz that had just ended. It was the stares.
Every glance seemed weighted. Every murmur seemed about her. She felt certain that each gentleman who asked her to dance did so in jest, wagering with one another over who would dare. The thought turned her stomach.
Her breath came shallow. She excused herself from the edge of the floor, forcing her steps to remain measured, though her vision blurred as though she looked through water.
The swell of violins followed her out of the great doors, but at last, the corridor was cooler, quieter.
She caught at the wall with one hand, steadying herself.
How foolish she must look, fleeing like a frightened child. Yet the moment she was free of the press of people, her knees weakened with relief.
Not again, she thought bitterly. Not here.
The evening had been too much from the first. Cordelia had swept her into introductions, exclaiming how splendid she looked, how every gentleman would be struck.
Hazel had murmured encouragements with calm composure.
Evelyn, radiant even as a new mother, had pressed her hand and whispered that she must try to enjoy herself.
But enjoyment was a foreign land to her.
The chandelier light, the whirling gowns, the eager eyes fixed upon her, it was all unbearable. For a moment she closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to the cool wood of the paneling.
If she had stayed a moment longer, she might have collapsed in front of them all.
Matilda slipped along the corridor until she reached the library. It was quiet there, dimmer, where the heavy scent of leather and paper were promising calm. She shut the door behind her and exhaled, finally free…or so she thought.
The sound reached her first. It was a low laugh, throaty, feminine giggle. Then, there was the sight.
Jasper Everleigh, the Duke of Harrow, was pressed back against a bookcase, his mouth curved in a lazy smile as a lady leaned dangerously close. Her hand rested on his chest, her red curls tumbling over her shoulder with deliberate artfulness.
Matilda froze. Her stomach gave an ugly twist.
Disgust, surely. Nothing more. What a vile, brazen display, to use a library, and Cordelia’s library of all, for such shamelessness.
She turned, meaning to slip away, but the widow’s sharp eyes found her at once. So did his.
“Lady Matilda,” Jasper drawled, as though her sudden appearance were the most natural thing in the world. His lips quirked. “You honor us.”
Her chin lifted. “Honor is the last word I would use here.”
The widow… yes, Matilda remembered now, the infamous diamond of some years past, gave a flutter of laughter and murmured something about fetching more champagne. She vanished swiftly, leaving Matilda and Jasper alone amid the silent rows of books.
Matilda crossed her arms. “Is this what you call honorable conduct? Luring widows into corners?”
“Luring?” His brows arched, dimples appearing as if to mock her. “My lady, I assure you, I was the one cornered.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You expect me to believe you were the innocent party?”
“Not innocent,” he said smoothly. “Merely polite. She seemed so determined, I had no wish to wound her pride. But then you arrived, all fire and silver, to rescue me. How very gallant of you.”
“I did not rescue you,” she snapped. “I only wish you to cease such… such rakish displays. It is an embarrassment for a man of your status.”
He stepped nearer, far too near, his height and presence making the air feel heavy. A loose curl had escaped her coiffure, brushing against her temple. He lifted his hand, and before she could retreat, he caught it between his fingers, twirling it lightly.
“Tell me,” he said softly, teasing lilt beneath the words, “was that concern I heard? Or…” his eyes glittered with mischief, “was it jealousy?”
Matilda’s breath caught, a shiver running down her spine. But she stood firm, though her heart thundered treacherously.
“Jealousy?” she repeated, her voice cool despite the warmth flooding her cheeks. “Do not flatter yourself, Your Grace. I would sooner be jealous of a black cat in the sun.”
He laughed, low and pleased. He tucked the curl back behind her ear with a care that made her tremble again. “You wound me, Lady Matilda. And yet somehow, you make it sound like a challenge.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze, grey fire against blue. “You mistake me. I issue no challenge. I simply wish you to behave as a gentleman should, if you even have any knowledge what that might entail.”
“And what a pity that would be,” he murmured. “For I much prefer provoking you.”
Their eyes locked, the silence taut as a drawn bowstring, and that was when the library door burst open.
“Matilda! There you are!” Cordelia swept in, with her cheeks still flushed from dancing. Mason followed, more composed, but with a look of genuine concern. “We could not find you in the ballroom. Are you quite well?”
Matilda straightened at once, willing her own cheeks to cool.
“Perfectly well,” she said, though her voice came a touch too firm.
She glanced at Jasper, then back at Cordelia and Mason.
“Though I must say, your cousin has no idea what it means to behave like a gentleman in another’s home.
He seems to imagine every room is his personal playground. ”
Cordelia blinked, looking between them in confusion, while Mason raised his brows with interest.
Jasper gave a low scoff, folding his arms. “And this from a lady whose sensibilities are so fragile that she nearly swooned in the middle of a ballroom?”
Matilda’s eyes flashed. “I did not swoon.”
“No?” His grin was all provocation. “Forgive me. I must have imagined the pale face, the trembling hands, the desperate flight from the floor. Very convincing performance, though.”
Her back stiffened. “Performance? If I wished to perform, sir, I should not waste it on you.”
Cordelia gave a startled little laugh, quickly covering it with a cough. Mason’s lips twitched, though he wisely stayed silent.
Jasper stepped closer, his tone mocking but warm. “Come now, Lady Matilda. If you dislike my company so much, why chase me into the library?”
“I did not chase you.”
“Then you admit you were hiding?”
Her lips parted, but she caught herself before she gave him further victory. “If I were hiding, Your Grace, it was only from the stifling arrogance of men who think too highly of themselves.”
His eyes gleamed. “And if I am arrogant, what does that make you, to scold me as though you were my governess?”
“A woman of sense,” she retorted. “Something you plainly have in short supply.”
He laughed then, the sound rich and careless, as though her indignation only entertained him further. “God help the man who dares to dance attendance upon you, Lady Matilda. He would not last a week.”
“And God help the woman who dares to marry you,” she shot back, “for she would not last a day.”
His grin deepened, as though her words were a challenge he relished. “Quite so. I don’t think I could handle a woman of your… delicate sensibilities. But seeing you like this, I feared I had caused you a true flutter of the heart.”
“A flutter?” She let out a sharp laugh. “If my heart ever fluttered in your presence, sir, it would only be from dread.”
He gave a low, mock bow. “Then I must do my utmost to maintain that dreadful impression.”
Cordelia glanced helplessly at Mason, who bit the inside of his cheek to hide his smile.
Matilda stepped past Jasper, her skirts brushing against his leg as she did. She paused, with her pale grey eyes flashing up at him.
“Rest assured, Your Grace, I have no wish to encounter you again. Not here, not anywhere. In fact, my dearest hope is that our paths will part tonight, never to cross again.”
He leaned down slightly, just enough that his blue eyes caught hers, mischief gleaming bright. “Then we are of one mind, Lady Matilda. I can think of nothing more disagreeable than to find myself in your company ever again.”
Their sharp and defiant gazes clashed, before she swept past him into the corridor, as Cordelia hurried after with fluttering concern. Mason gave Jasper a long, knowing look before shutting the door.
The library fell silent once more. But the air still hummed with the echo of their words, bold proclamations that both of them, in secret corners of their hearts, already suspected were doomed.