Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The musicale was already in full swing when Jane arrived with her mother. The soft swell of a string quartet drifted through the gilded hall like something carefully arranged to sound effortless.
Nothing about it felt effortless to Jane.
Her mother leaned lightly on her arm as they stepped inside, composed in appearance only. The last weeks had taken their toll, but Lady Wynten held her chin high anyway, as though sheer posture alone might convince the world that nothing in their life had been altered.
Jane envied that kind of certainty.
“Stay close,” her mother murmured as they moved forward.
“I am,” Jane replied softly.
What she did not say was that she did not feel particularly welcome anywhere in the room. Whispers followed them almost immediately. Jane felt them like a change in air pressure more than sound.
“Lady Wynten,” Lady Harrington said too brightly. “How…unexpected.” She paused briefly as though considering what else to say. “After… everything.”
Jane kept her expression smooth. The orchestra reached a higher phrase. Laughter fluttered somewhere near the refreshments. She knew what people were saying. She did not need to hear their words clearly to understand.
Scandalous gossip, wrapped neatly in silk gloves and lace sleeves.
Her mother squeezed her arm gently, as if in warning not to react. Jane did not.
A few moments later, a footman directed them toward a row of seating near the side of the hall, where Lavinia had promised to meet them later. Jane had barely reached the chairs before she felt it: the familiar tightening in her chest that meant she would have to do what she had promised herself.
Be practical. Be visible. Be acceptable. Find a husband.
It still felt like a performance for which she did not know the steps.
“Jane.”
A familiar voice cut through the room. Lavinia appeared as though she had been waiting for precisely that moment, dressed in pale green silk that made her look entirely untouched by scandal or anxiety.
Jane’s shoulders loosened in relief before she even realized they had been horribly tense.
“Lavinia,” she said, grateful despite herself.
Her mother smiled faintly. “Lady Lavinia.”
“Lady Wynten,” Lavinia replied warmly, then leaned in slightly toward Jane. “Come with me. You look like you are about to be eaten alive.”
“I am not—”
“You are.”
Before Jane could argue further, Lavinia was already guiding her away.
They moved toward the edge of the hall where groups gathered more informally near the refreshments. The music softened slightly, replaced by low conversation and the occasional laugh.
Only once they were out of immediate earshot did Lavinia speak again.
“It will pass. They will find a new scandal to chase.”
Jane’s mouth tightened. “I am not certain I will be forgiven quickly enough for that to matter.”
Lavinia studied her for a moment. “Then we will make them talk about something else.”
Jane blinked. “Such as?”
Lavinia’s smile sharpened. “How beautiful and graceful you look tonight.”
Jane gave her a look. “I am not certain that is helpful.”
“It is entirely helpful,” Lavinia said firmly. “You are intelligent, composed, and despite your current expression, quite striking when you are not actively trying to disappear.”
“I am not trying to disappear.”
“You absolutely are.”
Jane exhaled slowly. Before she could respond, a small cluster of gentlemen approached nearby, their conversation deliberately loud enough to suggest they had not noticed her. Which meant, of course, that they had.
One of them, young, well-dressed, and just a little too confident, glanced toward her.
“And that,” he said, not particularly quietly, “is Lady Jane, is it not?”
His companion chuckled. “The one whose brother is missing?”
Jane went still.
Lavinia’s expression cooled instantly.
Viscount Alistair Blackwood tilted his head slightly, eyes lingering on Jane in a way that was not quite polite. “Such a pity,” he continued. “One does wonder what sort of household allows such things to occur.”
Jane felt heat rise in her chest, but she did not move. She had promised herself she would not give them the satisfaction.
The man’s companion added, “Maltby did not survive the disgrace. I wonder what other scandal the poor lady will have to shoulder. A kidnapped brother, then a failed engagement… Tsk, tsk. Pity.”
Viscount Blackwood gave a faint laugh. Jane inhaled slowly. Beside her, Lavinia stiffened. Before either of them could speak, another voice cut in.
“I suggest you stop speaking about matters which are of none of your concern.”
The room shifted. Jane turned. Hector stood only a few paces away. He had not been there a moment ago.
The gentlemen stiffened immediately.
The first man blinked. “Your Grace—”
“You have gossiped enough tonight, and you lack the necessary facts,” Hector continued.
The duke did not raise his voice. He did not need to. Something about the way he stood made the air feel suddenly denser.
Jane watched him carefully.
He was dressed for the occasion in a dark coat and immaculate gloves, but there was nothing soft about him. Nothing social. He looked like a man who had stepped into a room only because he had decided it needed to be corrected.
The offending gentleman cleared his throat. “We meant no offense,” he said quickly. “We were only conversing.”
Hector’s gaze did not shift. “You were discussing a lady as though she were not present,” he said. “That is not conversation. It is cowardice.”
Silence fell. Jane felt Lavinia glance at her, but she did not look away from Hector. The gentleman flushed.
“We were merely—”
“Insulting her circumstances and speculating,” Hector finished flatly.
The man hesitated. “I did not intend—”
“You did,” Hector said. The simplicity of it landed harder than any raised voice could have.
Jane’s breath caught slightly.
The man swallowed. “I apologize,” he said quickly. “I did not realize that—”
Hector’s eyes flicked to him. “You did not realize she could hear you?”
The man looked uncomfortable now. “That is not what I meant.”
“No,” Hector said quietly. “It is precisely what you meant. You simply did not expect consequences.”
The silence that followed felt absolute. At that moment, the Marquess of Redforth—and the duke’s friend—appeared; he slid into the space beside Hector as though he had been there all along, although Jane was fairly certain he had not.
“There you are,” Lord Redforth said pleasantly, as if nothing at all unusual was occurring. “I was beginning to think you had abandoned me for the sake of decorum.” His gaze flicked to the group of gentlemen. “Oh,” he added lightly. “Am I interrupting something?”
The tension cracked. The offending man gave a stiff bow. “Your Grace, my lord,” he said quickly. “I believe there has been a misunderstanding. I offer my apologies to Lady Wynten.”
Lord Redforth smiled. “How delightful,” he said. “We do love a misunderstanding that resolves itself before anyone important becomes involved.”
Jane almost laughed. Hector did not move. The man gave another quick bow and retreated with his companion.
Only when they had fully disappeared did Lord Redforth turn slightly toward Hector. “You grow more terrifying in public settings,” he murmured.
Hector said nothing. His gaze shifted, just briefly, to Jane. Then away again, as though he had not looked at her at all.
Jane’s chest tightened in a way she did not fully understand.
Redforth, meanwhile, turned toward her with immediate ease. “Lady Jane,” he said warmly, offering a small bow. “You look remarkably composed considering the quality of company you are being forced to endure.”
Jane blinked. “Lord Redforth,” she replied. “I did not expect to see you here.”
“I go where entertainment is likely,” he said. “Tonight, it appears, I am rewarded.”
Lavinia huffed a quiet laugh beside her. Jane glanced at her friend briefly, then back to Ambrose.
“Thank you,” she said carefully.
Redforth waved a hand. “Oh, do not thank me. I merely arrived in time to prevent an unsavory scene unfolding. You are holding up better than most would,” he said.
Jane hesitated. “I am not certain that is true.”
“It is,” Redforth replied easily. “Most would have retreated to the country by now and taken up embroidery with a vengeance.”
That, unexpectedly, made Jane smile. “Vengeance embroidery sounds quite appealing,” she said.
“Doesn’t it?” Redforth agreed. “Tell me,” he said casually, “are you enjoying the musicale?”
Jane hesitated. “I am… managing it.”
“That is honest,” he said approvingly. “A rare trait in this room.”
Jane felt rather than saw Hector shift. He had not approached. But he had not left either. He was simply…there. Watching nothing in particular, or perhaps watching everything.
From the corner of her eye, she admired the way his evening coat fit him supremely well, outlining his broad shoulders, and giving just a hint of the tapered waist that she knew hid beneath.
She couldn’t help but relish the shiver of pleasure that washed over her. How could she ever thank him for intervening earlier? She felt a flutter in her chest of something that she couldn’t quite name…gratitude? Something deeper?
“Lady Lavinia, would you allow me to steal Lady Jane for a brief moment of conversation that does not involve tragedy or attempted scandal?” Redforth asked with a pleasant smile.
Lavinia glanced over at Jane, her eyes full of concern. Jane only nodded back, after which Lavinia turned to the marquess, smiling. “Gladly, my lord.”
Jane noticed the glare that the duke sent towards his friend, and his fists clenching.
Surely, he’s not jealous? We agreed that our kiss was a mistake.
Although the logical part of her mind was convinced it was nothing, another, more secret part wondered if she had indeed noticed signs of jealousy.
With that, Lord Redforth offered his arm to Jane. After a brief hesitation, she took it.
As they moved away, Redforth lowered his voice slightly. “You are aware,” he said, “that you have become something of a topic of interest.”
Jane’s mouth tightened. “I had noticed.”