5. Chapter 5
The silence among Javenia’s friends would have been deafening if the rest of the room had not been a buzz of excitement. Algenon’s mouth hung slightly agape, his eyebrows knit together. He probably thought she’d lost her mind. Heat crept up her neck.
True to form, he recovered quickly. “What have I done this time?”
Eddie snickered while the others cast each other furtive glances.
No doubt they all expected her to answer with a snide jab.
She certainly was tempted to, but number two on her list was not to antagonize Algenon.
Something she desperately wished to do, especially after he’d opened himself up for a lovely set down.
She shifted to her left and chose a less combative direction for conversation.
“Nothing. Can I not offer a sincere compliment?”
He leaned in and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead.
She scrunched her nose and pulled away. “What are you doing?”
“Checking for a fever.”
Eddie guffawed. The others covered their chuckles with hands and fans.
Without thinking, Javenia flicked his arm with her fan. “You are a pest; besides, you cannot adequately tell one’s temperature through evening gloves.”
Algenon let out an exaggerated sigh, his shoulders visibly sagging. “Much better.” Then turning to the others, he motioned with both hands for them to stay calm. “All is well, ladies and gentlemen. No need to panic. It was only a momentary lapse in judgment.”
Javenia rolled her eyes, but a tiny smile slipped through her defenses. Algenon always knew how to lighten the mood.
Conversation moved on as normal as they each fell into their roles as friends.
It was safe and comfortable and completely not what Javenia needed if things were going to change between her and Algenon.
She opened her mouth to try her hand again at flirting, but the discussion turned to Lord Penwick’s passing and she froze.
It had been a month since the news had come that Duncan Boleyn, the Viscount Penwick, had succumbed to the disease that had plagued him all summer and fall. She should be relieved, but the mere mention of his name still made her shiver as her heart beat loudly in her ears.
Instinctively, she glanced over each shoulder, then let her gaze drop to the floor as she took several deep breaths in through her nose. Her fingers twitched, aching to worry the fabric of her skirt, but she resisted the temptation.
Someone bumped into her shoulder, and she glanced up to see Algenon’s narrowed eyes and downturned lips.
“Did you swallow an insect?” he asked softly. He had meant the question as a jest, but any reference to insects was also his way of giving her an escape.
She stood in a room full of friends and neighbors and yet he was the only one who sensed her trembling, he who knew her past well enough to know why she’d retreated into silence.
His eyebrows rose, a question in them. To anyone else, it would look like his usual challenge, but he was asking if she needed him to give her an excuse to leave. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin.
“No.” She gave him a dramatic once-over. “But one is hovering too close for comfort and I am about ready to squish it with my reticule. Shoo fly.”
He pursed his lips, but she’d seen the momentary smile that pulled at them. He was proud of her and somehow that soothed away her unease more than anything else could have.
Mr. Kendall spoke up. “Just think, Al. With Lord Penwick’s passing, you will no longer be required to swoop in at balls and rescue Miss Harris from his unwanted attention.”
The gaping pit returned to Javenia’s stomach, only this time, it was accompanied by a sense of loss.
Algenon had danced with her at least once at every ball since she could remember.
Mostly to irritate Lord Penwick after what he’d done to her, but she’d hoped he had other motives for wanting to keep her from dancing with the viscount.
She’d appreciated his protection in those moments. It was something she could count on, even if they were cross with each other. It was a time when all would be made right. What would happen now?
The musicians began warming their instruments, a sign that they needed to move into the main hall. Nate offered his arm to his wife, as did John and Eddie. That left her and Algenon. A sudden nervousness rose in her chest and tightened her throat so she couldn’t speak.
All of her friends were married. It was not a new revelation, but with Algenon’s absence, it had been months since she’d had to face the reality that at twenty-seven she was still single. It made the dynamic among them quite awkward.
Each couple walked away, their heads bent together, affection evident in every gentle gesture and spoken word, making Javenia feel alone in a room full of people.
Slowly, she turned to look at Algenon, but his attention was on the door, his face stone cold.
Her gaze wandered in the same direction and what she saw made her stomach roil.
Apparently, Lord Roberts had not gone to the card room as they all had surmised. He stood in the doorway, chatting with an older gentleman, which would not have been out of the ordinary except for the presence of the woman on his arm that was most assuredly not his wife.
No, it was the same woman who had kissed Algenon five months ago in Reading. The woman who had ruined Javenia’s season and almost her entire friendship with the man she loved.
Algenon could have strangled his father. By the way Lord Roberts eyed him from across the room, he had no doubt his father had selected his wife. Of all the women he could have foisted on Algenon, his father had chosen the most deceitful, conniving, and immoral one he’d ever met.
How the man had convinced Miss Weston to pursue a match with him after the way he’d scolded her back in June was a miracle in and of itself.
Then again, if she was anything like Lord Falcross, one need only offer something she could not obtain on her own.
But with what could his father have to tempt her?
As the daughter of a viscount, Algenon’s eventual rise to baron would still be a step down for her.
He narrowed his eyes at the woman fawning over his father. She had no need of money or connections, so why make his life miserable with her presence?
As if she sensed his attention, her gaze slowly moved to him.
Brazenly, she maintained eye contact, her head held high, the set of her shoulders confident in her success.
If she was trying to appear alluring, she was failing miserably.
The only thing he saw was an arrogant young woman who thought she could wheedle her way into his good graces by making a deal with the devil.
Then her gaze slipped to his side. A gleam entered her eyes, and a smirk stole over her face. When her chin tipped up, raising her little pointed nose a notch higher, he turned to see at whom she was looking.
Javenia’s cheeks flushed bright red. Never had he seen her so blotchy, except perhaps the time she’d had scarlet fever when she was ten. Her eyes narrowed, and her hands fisted.
Miss Weston’s smile grew, her eyes sparking with challenge.
Something shifted in Javenia and her shoulders relaxed, her posture straightening. She flicked open the fan in her left hand and beat it rapidly. Miss Weston lifted the fan that hung from her wrist and drew it through her hand.
Javenia’s fan snapped shut, then she too drew her fan through her hand.
Algenon was certain a silent conversation had just passed between the two.
What they had communicated, however, was beyond him.
He’d never understood all the fan tapping, flapping, and swirling.
Why not say what one had to say and be done with it?
He took a slow, deep breath, knowing exactly why silent modes of communication were necessary even if he thought them ridiculous. Society was a turbulent sea to navigate with all its spoken and unspoken rules.
When Miss Weston left his father’s side and glided toward him, he was desperate to make an escape. Without waiting for her permission, he slipped Javenia’s free hand onto his forearm and spun her toward the ballroom doors.
He didn’t miss the way Miss Weston’s expression of triumph faltered. Nor did he miss his father’s look of frustration.
Algenon would pay for these few moments of freedom, but he could not regret it, especially when he glimpsed the smug smile Javenia cast over her shoulder at Miss Weston.
She was happy with the outcome. That was a step in the right direction, was it not?
Then he remembered his father’s threat.
There was no right direction for him. He could either risk ruining the person he cared for most in the entire world with the hope that she’d forgive him, live the rest of his father’s life alone as a pauper—which might still lead to Javenia’s downfall—or be tied to Miss Weston forever.
All roads led to a life of misery, but which one was the least of all the evils?
He really did not know.
If he could only get his father to see reason.
But Lord Roberts and reason never seemed to reside in the same room where Algenon was concerned.
As logical and sensible as his father could be with his accounts, estates, and even his peers, it seemed like all sense escaped his head when it concerned his only son.
The first chords of a song lilted through the room and only then did Algenon realize he’d led Javenia straight to the dance floor without asking her permission. She let go of his arm and stepped into her place without a word, her expression devoid of any emotion. His heart stuttered over itself.
Why did she have to be so beautiful with all those shimmering curls piled high on her head and a few left out to expertly drape across her left shoulder?
Their placement drew his attention to the delicate skin around the square neck of her gown.
It glowed with youth and health in the candlelight.
When his gaze rose to her face, pink tinged her cheeks, whether from the exertion of the dance or because she’d seen the direction of his gaze, he wasn’t certain.
Then heat rose under his collar. She’d caught him staring at her neckline. If she hadn’t thought him a rake before, she probably did now. How could he explain himself? It really had been innocent.
The warmth that coursed through his body argued to the contrary.
“It’s just the dancing,” he muttered.
“Pardon?” she asked as she clasped his hand.
His voice caught in his throat and she blinked up at him with her big brown eyes.
He was an idiot. There was nothing more to it. No matter what he did of late, he was bound to make a muddle of his friendship with Javenia.
“Are you feeling well?” she asked.
The downturn of her full pink lips did nothing to help him find his voice. If anything, his mouth became drier. Where were his charming conversation skills when he needed them most?
He started to cough. Apparently, they were stuck in his throat next to all the pretty compliments he’d swallowed this evening so Javenia wouldn’t think him a rake… which she probably did after he’d ogled her.
His coughing increased, causing him to miss a step and bump into the gentleman on his left.
Javenia’s frown turned into a look of true concern.
Like a mother hen, she swooped in, pulled him out of the dancers, and toward the refreshment table.
When they reached it, she shoved a glass of questionable looking lemonade into his hand.
Even though a few brown specks floated on the top, he took it gratefully.
After several sips, the tickle in his throat subsided. Javenia stared at him expectantly, and he wondered if she was waiting for an apology. She was well within her right, but which should he apologize for first? Making her leave the dance or his ungentlemanly behavior?
“Please accept my ap—”
“Mr. Roberts, how lovely to see you here this evening.”
Algenon glanced to his left to see a couple of his sisters’ friends beating their fans slowly, their lashes fluttering in the odd way women used when trying to gain a gentleman’s attention.
He nodded to them and gave a clipped “Good evening” before turning back to Javenia.
“You have been out of the neighborhood for quite some time,” another young woman said, joining the first two. Javenia’s sister Janessa had her arm linked through the newcomer’s, a pleased smile on her lips.
“I have.” He wasn’t certain what else to say. All the smiles and eye batting, however, proclaimed the expectation of every young lady present.
He knew full well what they wanted. They were waiting for their fair share of flirtatious compliments.
It was what all of Society had come to expect from him, but he’d no longer give it.
Four months ago, he’d realized how much his flirting had hurt Javenia.
She’d always twitted him about it as if his compliments meant nothing, but there had been true pain in her every look after Miss Weston had kissed him right in front of her. So he clamped his lips shut.
Yes, the pretty brunette holding Janessa’s arm had on a fine pink gown with a fascinating organza overlay, but he’d hold his tongue on the exquisiteness of the dress’s design. And he’d definitely not tell Miss Oak her curls were expertly arranged. He bit down on his lip.
When had his ridiculous ploy to keep his father’s demands at bay become second nature to him? He couldn’t help but notice the effort each woman had taken to make themselves presentable.
He would say nothing, though. It was not his responsibility to make everyone feel comfortable and seen. The women closed in closer to him, their smiles growing. Pressure filled his chest and his palms began to sweat in his gloves.
He hated disappointing people.