11. Chapter 11
The moment the ladies rose from the table, Javenia knew she was in trouble. Her mother sent her a warning look that promised they’d have words later. How much later was yet to be seen.
Cindy, on the other hand, appeared ready to burst with excitement. Her eyes darted to Algenon, a question in their depths. She’d love to be connected with her dearest friends in any way possible. However, Javenia refused to show how she felt.
It wasn’t necessary, anyway. Sisters always had a way of knowing, and it appeared her mother wasn’t fooled either. When they reached the drawing room, she pulled her to the window and dropped her voice.
“Vee, if you are not careful, you will give all of London something to gossip about.”
“When do I ever not give them something to gossip about?” She cast her a cheeky smile.
“Vee.” Her mother’s tone held a sharp warning.
Javenia sobered. She’d meant the quip to be lighthearted, but the truth of it settled into her bones. She wasn’t what most of Society considered proper. Her friends were mostly of the male variety, and she was often too loud and independent for Society’s tastes.
As if that were not enough, her age and failed courtships marked her as a significant risk in the eyes of potential suitors and their fretful mothers.
Frankly, if she’d not become so close with Melior two years ago, she’d probably have been relegated to the corners of ballrooms by now.
Melior had considered their friendship a godsend after her own scandal with Nate, and it really was…
but for Javenia, Melior’s connections had been her saving grace.
Having the Duke of Bedford as an intimate friend had lifted Javenia in the eyes of Society and opened up doors that had been previously closed to her.
“If you are not careful,” her mother continued when she failed to respond, “you will create an expectation in Society. Imagine what Lord Roberts would say to that.”
Interesting that her mother had not mentioned Father’s objections. The omission further solidified Javenia’s assumption that the true barrier was Lord Roberts.
A billowy white handkerchief appeared from the sleeve of her mother’s gown, which she used to dab daintily at her nose. “You would not want to trap your friend in a situation he could not remedy, would you?”
The question hit her square in the chest. Would she?
No, she wouldn’t. She’d never want to force anything on him.
The only thing she truly cared about was his happiness.
But the way he’d looked at her when he’d realized it was her hand on his thigh, the light in his eyes and the intensity of his steady gaze when she thought he might want to kiss her was undeniable. He had to feel something, didn’t he?
So why hold back?
If they could fulfill each other’s dreams, why did he not unleash the desire she saw lurking behind his eyes?
Then again, if it was only desire, if it did not go any deeper than a need of the flesh, she’d not want him to give in. Was that what Algenon was frightened of? Did he not know himself enough to know the depths of his feelings?
Maybe he just hadn’t had enough time.
She nearly scoffed out loud. They’d had decades together.
She’d fallen in love with him at the tender age of twelve, not that it’d been mature, nor had she understood it then.
He’d respected her passion for life when no one else had, and that had been enough to win her heart.
When the rest of Kent had told her to make herself smaller, quieter, and more submissive to gain their admiration and prove her worth, he’d encouraged her into loud, entertaining games.
She clasped her hands behind her back and tipped her head to the side. Was that really immature?
Her mother had gone on to speak about duty and honor or some such, but Javenia didn’t pay much mind until she patted her arm. “I shall give you time to ponder my words, but please remember to be wise.”
She watched her mother go, grateful to be free of her well-meaning lectures. At least Mama had thought she’d listened. It gave her time to ponder her own heart.
Maybe her childish love had not been as immature as she’d thought. Algenon still respected her, encouraged her to this day—even though he’d teased John about doing the same—and he still stepped in to protect her when her wild and whimsical heart made her stumble into danger.
Her hands grew cold and her left eye twitched. Thoughts of danger opened the old wound she hid deep behind her smiles. Apparently, it still festered with the same pain she’d tried to ignore.
It’s your fault. You don’t deserve respect or admiration.
Her stomach turned over, threatening to spill its contents on the floor. She could not think on this. Not today. There were too many people lingering about for her to risk casting up her accounts in front of them.
She pinched the silky overlay of her dress between her fingers and made slow methodical circles. The feel of the moving fabric relaxed her nerves.
“It’s not your fault,” she repeated silently in her mind.
The doors to the drawing room opened and she startled. The men had arrived much sooner than any of them had expected. His Grace must have cut short their time for after-dinner port.
She spun away from the door, not wanting to catch anyone’s attention. If she were to get a hold of her feelings, she needed more time.
Her mother’s admonition caught up with her thoughts. You would not want to trap your friend in a situation…
No, she did not. She wanted him to come to her freely, of his own choice. Maybe the list had been a bad idea. Maybe she should give up. She didn’t deserve his admiration, anyway.
Then a hand settled at the curve of her back as a familiar scent of cinnamon and sandalwood filled her nose. How could such a small gesture be so exciting and so relieving all in one moment?
It had been over a year since Algenon had seen Javenia pinch her gown in such a way. The sight brought a pang to his heart.
She was distressed. No, more than distressed. The pinch of her closed eyes before she turned her back to the gentleman showed pure anguish. Was she reliving memories? Who had caused it?
He glanced about the room before crossing to her, but no one appeared to be a threat.
Gently, he laid a hand at the small of her back and whispered, “Vee, are you well?”
He’d not meant to employ her family’s nickname for her. It had just slipped out. A little shudder ran through her, and he gave a gentle nudge to push her farther from the gathered group. It would not help the attention they’d garnered, but he could not let her struggle alone.
Javenia kept her gaze averted until they reached the far edge of the drawing room where a pair of chairs leaned against the wall. They were probably used by the servants to maintain decorum, but he and Javenia lowered themselves into the seats all the same.
“No one can hurt you,” he murmured softly. “I am right here.”
“I know,” she said softly, “but it doesn’t mean I no longer feel the mortification and disgust.”
Algenon swallowed down his anger for probably the thousandth time in the last seven years. If only he’d been more aware. If only he’d been quicker or had the knowledge that he did now.
A glimpse of Javenia’s pale face made him bite back his own feelings of guilt. This wasn’t about him. He needed to focus on her.
“It wasn’t your fault, Javenia.”
A quiet, stilted laugh sputtered out of her. “I know. Do not fear. I have been repeating that to myself.”
“Well, at least you listened to me on one thing.”
She tilted her head and rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He smiled. If Javenia could poke at him, she’d be all right. He let the chatter of the other guests fill in the silence between them, knowing she’d need time to gain control over her senses.
Javenia inspected her cream-colored gloves. “You should probably not linger near me.”
“Why is that?” He chanced a glance at her. A little color was returning to her cheeks.
“I would not want to set everyone’s tongues to wagging, as my mother has been so kind to remind me.”
He choked down a laugh. “When have you ever cared what London thinks of you?”
She didn’t smile. There was an odd tension about her eyes, a testament that her painful memories were still bothering her. She glanced at the guests, and he followed her gaze. Lady Plum’s lips were pursed as she beat her fan in a firm, steady rhythm.
“I do not care about my reputation.” She lowered her voice, her gaze intensifying. “I care about yours.”
Him? She cared about how Society viewed him?
The compliments she’d been giving, the touch at dinner, and now her sudden interest in his reputation?
Javenia was declaring her intentions as clearly as two caged birds could, and he didn’t know what to do with the information.
Like a bucking horse, he wanted to cast off his father’s threats and throw caution to the wind.
Maybe love was really all they needed to weather such a storm.
Then he noticed Javenia’s fingers still worrying her gown, and his heart dropped. Not a person in the room knew the significance of the motion, but what if they did? What if all their friends and family knew what had happened all those years ago?
It would break Javenia. He could never do that to her. But which would hurt more? If she truly cared for him, wouldn’t losing each other be just as painful?
Time to test the waters and see how deep Javenia’s dedication ran. He shifted until she looked at him, then he gave her a cheeky smile. “If you are so worried about my reputation, why were you fondling my thigh under the table?”
Color flamed in her cheeks and her neck blotched. She darted a glance around the room, no doubt to see who might be close enough to hear. Several groups of people stood not far away.
He lowered his voice and leaned closer, partly to apply pressure, but mostly because he desperately wanted to be close to her. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I expect an explanation, Javenia, and it better be a good one.”
She sat up straighter and clasped her hands in her lap. Her proper posture was disappointing, but at least she’d let go of her skirt. If she’d kept going, she’d have worried a hole in the delicate material, and that would have been a travesty. Madam Javier’s masterpieces were not cheap.
“I hardly think this is the place to-to…” She swallowed hard, and he could not help the grin that split his face.
It was rare he caught Javenia off her guard. It thrilled him. Such a stutter meant only one thing. She felt strongly about the subject. So strong that words had failed her.
However, as much as he wished to pursue the conversation, she was correct about their current company.
“I agree,” he said softly. “Are you to attend the opera tomorrow night?”
She shook her head. “And even if I were, that is not a good place to speak either.”
He frowned. “How about Lady Jersey’s card party?”
Again, she gave a denial. If only Eddie and Melior had come to London for the season, then they could have met at Kendall House without anyone suspecting anything untoward.
His gaze shot to John and Susannah. Newhurst House was a little out of the way, but at least it was neutral ground. It would have to do.
“Expect an invitation to dine from the Newhursts.”
“Are they having a dinner party?” She scrunched her cute nose at him.
He cast her a rogue smile. “They are now, whether they like it or not.”