Chapter 5 #2
The duke didn’t disagree. Instead, he said, “Then we widen the search.”
Jane straightened. “Other gaming hells?
“No.”
Her frustration flared immediately. “Then what are we doing?”
“I will send men,” the duke said. “We do not go from house to house. It draws attention.”
Jane snapped, “So we wait?”
“No,” he said sharply. “We gather intelligence properly. Two people moving through every establishment in London is not subtle. It is reckless.”
“And sending others is safer?”
“It is necessary.”
“If there is no other choice…” Jane murmured, biting her lip.
If she could run across all the gaming hells, brothels, and other unsavory establishments to find her brother in one night, she would. But it would be impossible for a woman alone. It would be impossible still for two people without putting themselves in danger.
She sighed. “Very well. I understand. But the moment you find anything important—”
“We made an agreement, Lady Jane, and I intend to keep my word,” he interrupted.
For some reason, that eased Jane’s racing heart far more than the assurances of the Bow Street Runners.
The ballroom shimmered beneath hundreds of candles. Crystal chandeliers scattered warm light across polished marble floors while musicians on the raised gallery played a lively dance.
Ladies drifted through the room in gowns of silk and gauze, their jewels catching the candlelight each time they laughed or turned.
Jane rested one gloved hand lightly upon her mother’s arm as the footman announced them. Conversation faltered, but only for a heartbeat.
Then the whispers started.
Jane kept her chin high. She had promised herself she would. The whispers stung no less for expecting them. Beside her, her mother drew a slightly unsteady breath.
“They are staring,” she said.
Jane squeezed her arm. “Let them.”
“But…”
“If we hide ourselves away, my uncle wins.”
Her mother looked toward the crowded ballroom with uncertain eyes. She managed a faint smile. “I think you have enough courage for the both of us.”
Jane wished that were true. If she were truly brave, her heart would not be pounding quite so violently. Her gaze swept across the ballroom. Every conversation seemed to pause just long enough for someone to glance toward her.
She forced herself not to shrink beneath it. Instead, she looked elsewhere and froze.
Across the ballroom stood her uncle Zachary.
Her uncle wore an expression of perfect satisfaction as he conversed with several gentlemen. He noticed her almost immediately. Their eyes met. Then, as though she mattered no more than another piece of furniture, he returned to his conversation.
Before Jane could comment to her mother, her thoughts were interrupted with, “There you are!”
Lavinia hurried toward them in a gown of soft sage green, her curls decorated with tiny blossoms.
She embraced Jane. “I’m so glad you came.”
“So am I,” Jane admitted.
Lavinia greeted Lady Wynten warmly before turning back to Jane. “You look beautiful.”
Jane laughed. “You are an exceedingly loyal friend.”
Lavinia sniffed. “I happen to possess excellent eyesight.”
Lady Wynten laughed softly. “I believe Jane could use some company her own age.”
“Mama,” Jane began.
“Go,” Lady Wynten said, pushing her away gently. “I shall go talk to Lady Weatherby. I promise not to disappear.”
Jane hesitated, only briefly, and then kissed her mother’s cheek. Lavinia looped her arm through Jane’s, and they wandered slowly through the ballroom, smiling politely whenever introductions became unavoidable.
They paused beside the refreshments. A servant handed them each a glass of lemonade.
Lavinia lowered her voice. “Has there been any word?”
Jane’s smile faded. “No.”
“I am sorry.”
“So am I.”
Silence settled briefly between them. Then Lavinia suddenly looked across the room. “Oh!”
Jane followed her gaze. Immediately, she wished she had not.
There was the duke. He stood among a circle of gentlemen near one of the tall windows.
Even from across the ballroom, he seemed taller than everyone surrounding him.
His dark evening coat fitted his broad shoulders with effortless perfection.
Several gentlemen appeared to be laughing. The duke merely listened. When he finally spoke, every one of them fell silent.
“He came,” Lavinia murmured.
Jane forced herself to sip her lemonade. “So I see.”
“You sound terribly indifferent.”
“I am.”
Lavinia looked unconvinced. “He is rather difficult not to notice.”
“I had not noticed him.”
“You looked directly at him.”
Jane frowned. “I looked across the room.”
“Convenient timing.”
Jane gave her friend an innocent look. “You imagine things.”
“Oh?” Lavinia smiled knowingly. “Then why have your cheeks become pink?”
“They have not.”
“They absolutely have.” Lavinia laughed.
Before Jane could think of another excuse, the musicians changed tunes, marking the beginning of the first dance. Almost immediately, gentlemen began crossing the ballroom toward waiting ladies.
One such gentleman bowed before Lavinia. “Lady Lavinia, might I have the honor?”
Lavinia glanced toward Jane. Jane nudged her friend’s arm. “You should go.”
Lavinia laughed before finally placing her hand in the gentleman’s. “I shall return.”
“I know.” Jane watched them disappear toward the dance floor. Then she found herself alone.
“Lady Jane.”
The deep voice came from directly behind her.
Jane turned, her spine instantly straightening.
The Duke of Sunderford stood there. In the glittering heat of the ballroom, he looked entirely untouched by the humidity or the noise, his expression perfectly composed.
Only those piercing gray eyes regarded her, holding her gaze with an unsettling, deliberate intensity that made the surrounding chatter fade into a low hum.
He bowed. “Would you honor me with this dance?”
Jane stared. “Your Grace, I—”
“Wouldn’t dare decline a duke’s offer to dance before an entire ballroom?” he whispered, then raised an eyebrow at her as he extended his hand.
She pursed her lips, knowing he was entirely right. A woman of her precarious circumstances could not refuse a duke. Certainly not the Duke of Sunderford.
“Indeed, Your Grace,” she gave a curtsy and placed her hand in his. “I’d be honored.”
With that, he led her toward the dance floor. His hand settled lightly against hers. As they took their places opposite one another, the next figure of the dance began.
For several moments, neither spoke. Jane focused entirely on her posture, acutely aware of the sharp, speculative glances from the sidelines.
They moved through the familiar steps with practiced ease, but the space between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension.
Only when the pattern of the dance brought them close once more, their shoulders nearly brushing, did Jane finally break her silence.
“Your Grace, I must ask… Why?”
He looked at her. “Why what, my lady?”
“Why ask me to dance?”
“It is customary for gentlemen to ask ladies to dance.”
“Not ladies whose families have become tonight’s entertainment,” Jane said. “Besides, people will speculate and wonder why on earth a man of your station has chosen me.”
His expression did not soften, yet something in his gaze locked tighter onto hers. “Let me be clear, my lady; I do not pity you. And besides, it is hardly peculiar for a man to ask a beautiful lady to dance.”
Her pulse stumbled, a sudden, erratic beat that caught in her throat. Her cheeks heated, the warmth spreading rapidly beneath her powder. He finds me beautiful. The realization felt dangerous, like stepping too close to a ledge.
Before she could process it, the music drew them apart, the final chords of the set ringing out to signal the end of the dance.
“Thank you for the dance, Lady Jane,” he whispered as they reached the edge of the ballroom.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she responded with a curtsy.
The duke kept his eyes on her for a second longer than she’d expected, but then he turned and walked away.
Jane watched his tall figure disappear into the crowd, only realizing she had been staring when the colors of the ballroom blurred together.
“Jane!”
She turned, snapping back to reality, to find her mother approaching. Lady Wynten’s face was a mixture of sheer astonishment and desperate hope. “My dear…”
She took both of Jane’s hands, her grip tight and slightly trembling. “Did you just dance with the Duke of Sunderford?”
Jane forced her shoulders to relax, managing what she hoped resembled a casual, unaffected smile. “It was nothing, Mama.”
“Nothing?”
“He was merely being polite.”
Her mother looked unconvinced, her eyes scanning Jane’s flushed face. “A duke does not simply appear from nowhere to dance with a lady out of mere politeness.”
“He asked after Colin,” Jane lied smoothly, desperate to redirect the interrogation.
“While dancing?”
Jane hesitated, the memory of his gray eyes flashing in her mind. “For part of it.” She could not tell her mother the truth—could not admit to the thrilling, terrifying way he had looked at her.
“And the rest?”
Jane felt the telltale warmth rise in her cheeks once more. “The rest was just dancing.”
Lady Wynten studied her daughter carefully, searching for any sign of a miracle that might save their family. “I wonder whether he truly asked after Colin,” she speculated.
Jane gently tucked her mother’s arm through her own, steering them away from the whispering onlookers. “I honestly believe he was only being courteous.”
“And nothing more?”
Jane looked toward the far side of the ballroom, where the crowd had swallowed him whole. “Nothing more.”
Though, for reasons she could not explain, the lie tasted bitter on her tongue, and she was no longer entirely certain she believed it herself.
Several days later, Jane received a note from the duke. She ducked out of Wynten House and hurried to the corner where she was to meet him. When he arrived, a footman helped Jane climb inside his carriage.
Then, the duke signaled, and the carriage moved through London like a shadow trying not to be noticed.