10. Chapter 10
Javenia ran a hand over her cream gown with its golden overlay.
It wasn’t a true gold, but the yellow shimmery satin gave the appearance of gold in the flickering candlelight.
She’d dressed with the utmost care this evening, knowing it might be her only chance to see Algenon without Miss Weston’s irksome presence.
Cindy had carried on about her excitement at dining with the Duke of Bedford the whole ride to London and Javenia had listened with only half an ear.
Thanks to her friendship with Melior, she’d dined with His Grace on multiple occasions.
The awe she’d felt over Melior’s uncle’s rank had worn off years ago.
However, when her sister had mentioned Phillipa’s expected attendance, her curiosity piqued.
Would Algenon attend? He often avoided the places his father would be during the season, but his connection with the duke might override his normal reservations.
After a warm greeting from the duke and his wife, Javenia stepped away from her sister and parents to take a turn about the familiar room.
Not much had changed since Melior’s marriage to Nate two seasons ago.
Plush red settees sat opposite elegantly embroidered Queen Anne chairs, and several small tables with intricately carved legs dotted the room.
The red, yellow, and blue flowers on the embroidered chairs accented the powder blue wallpaper with cream wainscoting, bringing the decor into harmony.
It was a lovely room that held beautiful memories of love and laughter.
A familiar tall gentleman entered the drawing room, a pretty blonde woman with cherubic cheeks at his side.
Javenia smiled. At least John and Susannah would fortify her if she met with disappointment tonight.
Susannah locked eyes with her and smiled, but her attention was taken up with greeting the duke and duchess.
His Grace was an intimidatingly large man, his dark hair greying at the temples. His wife, a couple of decades younger than him, dipped her head to her guests. Petite with wispy brown hair, no one would consider her an incredible beauty, but Javenia knew her to have the sweetest disposition.
Initially, Javenia had thought the woman timid, but since Her Grace had married the duke, a quiet sort of confidence had grown in her.
The moment John and Susannah finished greeting their hosts, they made their way to Javenia’s side.
“It is so lovely to see a friendly face.” Susannah looped her arm through Javenia’s.
“We dined at Lord Brock’s house two evenings ago, and it was the most miserable experience.
Of course, I can count on you not to tell him that, but he has a way of looking at me that makes me wonder if my hair is askew or I have soup on my nose.
And then there is his daughter. The whole meal she had nothing kind to say of anyone, especially her cousin.
Poor girl just stared at her food the whole time… ”
Susannah’s words came out in a rush, a sure sign of her nerves.
Javenia smiled as she listened, noting the way John hovered nearby.
When a particularly unpleasant matron began making her way toward them, he moved his large frame to block the woman’s view and ushered both women to another part of the room.
The quiet way he’d gone about protecting his wife burrowed deep into Javenia’s heart. He was such a good man. Adorably awkward and sometimes impulsive, he’d been the older brother she’d always wanted.
When Susannah released her arm to speak to another guest, she leaned close to John and dropped her voice. “Was the dinner at Lord Brock’s really so disconcerting that you feel you need to shepherd us about like a sheepdog?”
“W-worse,” he whispered.
Javenia raised her eyebrows at him.
“I’ll not have my w-wife insulted again.” He dipped his chin as if punctuating the sentence with the movement.
Again? That would imply that there had been a first time. Javenia narrowed her eyes. “Lord Brock?”
“No, his chit of a daughter.”
That John had completed his sentence without a single stutter testified to his frustration. Anger often cleared his mind and opened his mouth like nothing else could.
“Do you want me to accidentally spill wine down her front the next time I see her?” Javenia waggled her eyebrows at him, fighting a smile.
He smirked. “I shall leave that to your discretion.”
She covered a snicker with her hand. Too bad Livy was not here to help her carry out such retribution. Actually, it was probably best that she wasn’t. Lord Roberts respected Lord Brock. If Javenia found herself on the wrong side of one, she’d find herself even more ostracized by the other.
“John, what have I said about encouraging her to wage war on those lacking in the mental acuity to defend themselves?”
The deep, familiar voice warmed Javenia from within. She didn’t need to turn to know Algenon stood close behind her. So close, she felt his warmth in the rather large and chilly room.
Every piece of her wanted to nestle back into his arms. She wouldn’t, though. Primarily because such an action might shock Algenon into thinking she was ill again, but mostly because his gentlemanly nature would not allow a display of that sort to happen with this large audience.
John pulled his timepiece out of his pocket and flicked it open with a bored expression. “I do not believe you have ever told me any such thing.” He narrowed his eyes at the piece and then began winding it. “If you had, I’d have worried for your health.”
“My health?” Algenon asked. “What does my constitution have to do with warning you from encouraging Ja—Miss Harris?”
Javenia flicked a quick smile over her shoulder at him. “Everything, since you happen to be my most valued opponent.”
Algenon stepped to her side, his brow lowered in confusion and his hands clasped behind his back. “Forgive me, but I do not follow.”
“Yes, that happens when one is lacking in the mental acuity to defend oneself.”
Algenon rolled his eyes, no doubt annoyed that he’d opened himself up to such a perfect set down, but his lips twitched.
John cleared his throat to cover a chuckle and changed the subject. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t arrive before they announced dinner.”
“I wondered if we’d arrive in time as well.” Algenon let out a long-suffering sigh. “Phillipa could not decide between the pale pink or the robin’s egg blue gown this evening. Honestly with her coloring, blue looks best, but I know better than to make a recommendation.”
“Why is that?” Susannah asked, returning to their group. “Of any gentleman in this room, I would trust your tastes the most.”
Javenia had to agree. Algenon’s knowledge of fashion was impeccable, exactly why she knew which modistes were best in London. She’d had the very dress she was wearing designed by a woman he had recommended to multiple other ladies. However, she also knew Phillipa’s disposition better than Susannah.
“Yes, but would you trust your brother to choose your gown?” Javenia raised a single eyebrow.
Susannah pondered for a moment, then smiled sheepishly. “Probably not. It is a risk a sister ought not to take.”
“And there lies the problem. Algenon is more likely to choose the least flattering just for a lark.”
His mouth dropped open, the faux look of offense far too theatrical to be taken seriously. “You wound me. I would think by now you’d know I do not play when it comes to fashion.”
His dandified tone threatened to make her laugh.
He was a bit of a fop, but he hadn’t always been.
Four years ago, his coats and cravats had been far more subdued, but something had changed.
If she knew him as well as she thought, it probably had to do with his father.
A silent protest or maybe a way to set himself apart.
She laid one hand upon his sleeve and fluttered the other at her neckline, badly imitating the many featherheaded females she’d witnessed fawning over him. “Oh dear, please forgive my offense. How could I have doubted your indisputable good taste?” Then she batted her lashes for effect.
Algenon’s lips rolled inward as he pressed them firmly together. Laughter danced in his eyes, but he held it in. He laid his gloved hand over the one she had placed on his arm and she braced herself for whatever mischief he was about to spit out.
He gave two gentle pats. “It is quite understandable… for someone lacking in mental acuity.”
She slammed her hand over her mouth to keep from snorting out a laugh.
The butler chose that moment to open the door and announce dinner; the added noise of everyone shuffling into line saving her from being overheard as she tried to gain control over her mirth.
Her mother glanced her way, concern etching her brow, but no one else seemed to notice.
Thankfully, her father was still engaged in a conversation with Lady Plum, a widow of some years and one of the biggest busybodies in London.
To Javenia’s right, Susannah took the arm of an older gentleman, while John offered his arm to the man’s wife. She’d not paid enough attention to all the guests to know where she fell in line of rank, so when Algenon stepped to her side and offered his arm, she was pleasantly surprised.
His gaze softened. “It seems we are evenly matched this evening.”
Truer words had never been spoken. If only he could see how well they suited one another. But his father—
Javenia tensed, her eyes flicking over the faces in the room.
If Lord Roberts had witnessed half of what had transpired between them, he’d be livid.
Any issues with her own father could be easily addressed later in the evening, but Lord Roberts would not hesitate to make his objections known, although quietly and for her ears only.
The man was not stupid. He’d never cause a scene that might damage his reputation.