Chapter Eight
Jansen stood with his back against the wall, staring at the arched entrance to his main parlor.
They had expanded the area by removing the temporary walls between it and the formal dining room that joined the garden at the back of their townhouse.
This gave their guests plenty of space to mill about and enjoy the evening.
From his vantage point, there was but one guest who interested him.
Joy had yet to arrive, even though Aurelia had sworn to him she would come.
He rarely entertained, but Aurelia had said this would be the perfect way to coax Joy out of her self-imposed exile to her bedchamber.
She said it would be his best chance of talking to her.
Jansen wasn’t so sure about that but was willing to try anything.
He had to win back his angel. Had to make her understand that he wasn’t trying to clip her wings, merely protect her.
Nimbus perched on the ledge behind him, taking in everything with avid interest.
“No stealing tonight, old man,” Jansen said to the cat. “Understood?”
The feline flicked an ear, obviously shrugging off the order.
A tap on Jansen’s shoulder made him instinctively go for his sword. Luckily, it was locked away in the cabinet in his dressing room. He turned and faced Aurelia. “You know better than to startle me.”
“Sorry.” With a motherly scowl, she tipped her head toward the guests milling about the room and settling down at tables to play whatever games the particular spot offered. “As the host, you are supposed to mingle. We talked about this. Remember?”
“I remember I told you that there was only one guest with whom I wished to mingle.” For the umpteenth time, he scanned the room. His heart sank even lower. His angel had not yet arrived, and he very much doubted that she would. “She is not coming.”
“It is early yet. I promise—she is coming. She wouldn’t disappoint me by staying at home unless something dire had happened.”
He jerked to stare at his sister. “What happened? Has another threat surfaced? Is she in danger?”
“Calm down,” Aurelia said in a low voice. “To the best of my knowledge, nothing dire has happened. I just used that as an example. Pull yourself together. You are behaving worse than Ambrose.”
“Where is Ambrose, by the way?”
“With Lady Serafina again. It does not look good.” She wrinkled her nose, making a sour face. “I fear he is quite smitten with her.”
“Heaven help us all if he marries that woman.”
“Look!” Aurelia whispered excitedly. “Your angel is here. I told you she would come.” She rushed across the room, gracefully weaving around the tables to greet Joy.
Jansen remained rooted to the spot. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what to do.
Broadmere and his sisters—Serendipity, Felicity, Merry, and his precious angel—eased into the room, taking in the party’s offerings with interest, or something akin to interest. Joy didn’t look at all pleased to be present.
Jansen willed her to look his way, but she didn’t.
Unsmiling and aloof, she ambled along with a glass of lemonade a servant had pressed upon her.
Gads alive. She was loveliness itself in a sapphire-blue silk that reminded him of the gown she had worn the very first time he ever saw her.
But this one was enhanced with a gossamer layer of sparkling silver lace, making her even more ethereal.
She looked up and met his gaze. Thankfully, she didn’t look away when their eyes met.
Instead, she held him prisoner, pulling him in and daring him to challenge her.
And challenge her he would. He needed his angel. Couldn’t live without her, in fact. Plowing through everyone in his path, he went to her and offered a formal bow. “My lady. Thank you for coming this evening. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.”
She returned a curtsy so slight it was barely noticeable. “I didn’t wish to disappoint Aurelia. She is a dear friend.”
“We left much unfinished between us. I beg you hear me out.”
She shifted with a deep breath, her delicate nostrils flaring, but didn’t release it with a sigh as he expected. Instead, she held it for a long moment, then allowed it to ease out. “Not here. Not yet. All right?”
“What must I do to win your forgiveness?”
“You can start by listening to me when I speak. Did I not just say, not here? Not yet?” She fiddled with her silver reticule that matched her gown, looking ready to swat him with it.
“Might I interest you in a game of whist, then? German whist. Just the two of us rather than four?”
She stared at him as if judging the purity of his heart and soul and finding both lacking. “There will simply be either winning or losing, understand? If anything is wagered, it will be coin only.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are the stakes understood as I explained them?”
He bowed again. “You have made yourself quite clear, my lady.”
He offered his arm and held his breath, praying she would take it.
Take it she did, and allowed him to lead her to a table.
With any luck, he could coerce her into forgiving him and erase the dark cloud of unhappiness that floated between them.
He helped her into her chair, then seated himself opposite her.
“Do you wish to deal or shall I?” he asked.
“This is your house. You deal.” She looked around as if uninterested in the entire affair, but then she somehow softened. “Is that your Nimbus? What a sleek fellow he is.”
“Yes.” Jansen shuffled the cards and started dealing. “I have always gotten the impression that he believes this to be his home, and he simply allows me to live here with him.”
She almost smiled but stopped herself, making his heart ache to erase the misery between them. “Blessing’s cats are much the same. As are Fortuity’s, but hers seem to get more pleasure out of tormenting Ignatius than Fortuity or Matthew.”
“Ignatius?”
“The lone dog of the household. A rambunctious little pug who considers himself one of the cats.”
He studied his hand and sadly realized he had dealt himself a fortuitous start to the game.
If anything, he wished to lose to her. Not win.
Yet if he purposely threw the wrong cards, Joy would know.
She understood the game too well for any sneakiness to slip past her.
He threw the appropriate card and braced himself, hoping she had an even better hand than his. “You love animals?”
She narrowed her eyes, staring down at the card he’d discarded and comparing it to her hand.
“Yes. I love animals,” she said slowly. She tossed a card, then lifted her gaze to his.
“Not as much as my sister Grace, though. She is a bit of a fanatic about her animals. Never expect to be served meat at her table unless Wolfe decides to share his platter with you.”
“I look forward to meeting them.”
Joy frowned, but it was more than a simple frown. Her expression was one of dismay and disappointment. “Yes. I am sure you do,” she said, her voice cold and detached.
“Joy, my angel—”
“Stop. Right now. Just stop it.” She glared at him. “We are in the middle of a room full of people. Now is not the time.”
“I assure you they cannot hear us over Aurelia’s pianoforte.”
“Are you insinuating that your sister bangs on the keys?”
“I am not insinuating anything. Listen to her.” Jansen flinched as Aurelia found the wrong note yet again, then he played his next card. “That is the thirteenth trick, my lady. I win the first stage. We are now starting the second.”
Visibly perturbed, Joy scowled at her cards. “So we are.”
They played on in silence, discarding and picking up cards faster and faster.
“And that is the end of the hand, my lady. It appears I have won.”
“Drat,” she said under her breath. “So you did.”
“As for the stakes, I ask nothing more than your forgiveness for behaving like a hulver-headed fool.” He set the cards aside and folded his hands on the table. “But in my defense, I need you to understand it was only because I needed you safe. Always, your safety is my greatest concern.”
She didn’t speak, simply glared at him until he wanted to squirm like an errant schoolboy. “I would rather pay you in coin, for once I am angry with someone, I tend to hold tightly to that anger—and coin is the stakes we agreed upon.”
He ignored the part about the stakes. “Grudges are beneath you, my lady. Remember Alexander Pope’s An Essay on Criticism? ‘To err is human. To forgive, divine.’ You, my angel, are divinity incarnate.”
“You border on blasphemy, sir.”
“Jansen—or your horse’s arse of a husband. Remember?” He risked a smile, then wished he hadn’t because her glare hardened.
“You, dear sir, are not my husband.”
“Yet.” In for a penny, in for a pound. “I would also like a wedding date along with the forgiveness I won, my lady.”
“We agreed upon coin only for the stakes. Or have you forgotten?”
“When you spoke about the wager, I said you had made yourself quite clear. I did not say I agreed to the stakes as you stated them.”
“I will pay you your coin, sir,” she said loudly enough to make heads turn, since Aurelia’s pianoforte recital had ended.
Silence fell across the room, and everyone stared at them.
“This is ridiculous. As soon as I pay you, I am leaving.” She reached down beside herself in her chair, then scooted back and looked under the table.
“It is gone. My reticule has gone missing.”
“How can that be, my lady?” Jansen matched the loudness of his voice to hers.
He knew exactly how that could be, but wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity that his old friend Nimbus had provided him.
He joined her in searching the floor all around and under the table.
“I see nothing, my lady. Did you perhaps leave it in your carriage or the cloakroom?”
“Neither, and you very well know it. I had it with me. It has to be here.”