One Night With You
Page 8
Her hand fluttered to the hand of the youngest girl squirming beside her. Gesturing to each of them, she introduced, “Allow me to present my nieces, Miss Dahlia Billings, Miss Iris Billings and Miss Bryony Billings.”
He nodded in acknowledgment, barely sparing the girls a glance, barely hearing his sister launch into effusive greeting as he focused on Jane.
“A pleasure, my lord,” the eldest girl greeted in jarring tones, pulling his attention from Jane. The chit eyed him as boldly as any husband-hungry debutante.
Dismissing her, his gaze returned to Jane, finding her studying Julianne with something akin to pity. He was accustomed to the pitying looks people sent his sister. That much hadn’t changed in his absence. Each look served as a further heaping of guilt. But there was something different in Jane’s look. Something more. Something heartfelt. Something that he would not allow himself to credit.
“It has been too many years, Julianne.” Jane’s voice washed over him, throatier than he remembered, warm as the Indian sun. Had her mouth always been so damn inviting? Her bottom lip always so moist? So alluringly full? Like the pink meat of a watermelon he would like nothing more than a taste.
“I don’t think I would have recognized you. You’ve grown into a lovely woman.”
Julianne beamed, her vacant eyes seeming to sparkle. “Have I?”
“Indeed,” Jane returned. “I often remember you bemoaning your carroty hair as a girl. It has deepened into a handsome auburn now.”
Julianne gasped. “Truly? No one has told me that.” In her enthusiasm, she turned to her brother,
“Do you think so, Seth?”
A strange tightness closed his throat at his sister’s delighted expression. Such a small thing to bring about a smile, but he had not thought to comment on what he too had observed. Only another sign that his sister needed a lady’s attention in her life. “Indeed, it has.”
“Oh, Jane,” Julianne chirped. “I’ve missed you these years. Now that we’ve crossed paths, I hope we shall not become strangers again.”
Jane darted a nervous look at Seth, her voice a trembling thread on the air as she said, “That would be my wish as well.”
Seth swallowed down the sudden sour taste to fill his mouth. His sister and Jane had been close once—almost as close as he and Jane. Until his father cloistered Julianne away, treating her like an invalid.
“Perhaps you could join us for tea?” Julianne suggested.
Jane stared at him, her pretty lips parting but saying nothing.
“Yes,” he invited, even as he wondered what possibly motivated him to extend such an offer.
“Do call.”
He might have put the past behind him, but that did not mean he wanted to revisit friendships best left buried. Especially when the friend in question happened to be a married lady and he could not stop agonizing over her mouth, over those plump lips closing around him, drawing his pleasure deep into her mouth…
Locking his jaw, he shoved the coarse thoughts from his mind and reminded himself that his wishes meant nothing. Only his sister’s happiness mattered. She’d had very little joy in life. If Jane’s company brought pleasure to his sister, then so be it. He would not deny her something so simple. Harmless, really.
“Thank you, but I’m afraid Jane cannot accept,” the bold-eyed eldest girl volunteered with decided relish. “She is in mourning, and Papa says she cannot go about.”
“Oh, Jane,” Julianne murmured. “I had not heard. I’m dreadfully sorry.”
Seth looked Jane over, noting the flush of color creeping up her neck to stain her cheeks. Even as he told himself to resist, he evaluated her in new estimation. As a woman unwed. A widow.
Widows, he had always considered ripe for dalliance. Only not this one. No matter that the sight of her spiked his desire, filling him with a burning urge to peel off her prim, high-necked gown and discover precisely how far that blush crept.
“Thank you, but it has been over a year now,” Jane explained, darting a narrow look to her niece.
“I am quite ready to rejoin Society.”
Her niece’s lips thinned until they all but disappeared.
“Oh,” Julianne murmured in a hopeful voice. “Then tea one afternoon this week would not be remiss.”
“Tea would be lovely,” Jane agreed even as her nieces glowered beside her.
“What about us? What about our lessons?” Bryony, the youngest, demanded in a squeak, her nostrils flaring with indignation.
Seth reassessed the girls in their frilly, beribboned gowns, allowing that although his experience with children was limited, this gaggle of young womanhood reminded him of a motley bunch of pirates he had once faced.
“You’ll make do for one afternoon.” Jane glared down at the girls as though daring them to object. Her gaze lifted then, locking with his. With her lovely mouth compressing into a tight smile, she stared down the slim line of her nose at him.
“I shall look most forward to it,” Julianne trilled.
“As I,” Jane murmured.
Seth’s gaze raked her, sitting so cool and composed in her carriage, a marble statute, nothing like he remembered. No hint of the exuberant, shrieking wild girl who had swum the lake with him, climbed trees in his family’s orchard, and gathered holly at Christmas.
He continued to stare after her as she drove away, deciding that that girl of his youth had gone, disappeared. If she ever existed at all.
Chapter 9
Adjusting her careful grip on a fragile Wedgwood teacup, Jane struggled to follow Lady Julianne’s animated chatter.
Murmuring and commenting at appropriate intervals, she struggled to understand why she risked the wrath of her relations to sit in the Earl of St. Claire’s townhouse.
If Desmond or Chloris returned home and discovered Anna tending to the girls instead of her, they would have a great deal to say on the matter. Her fingers plucked at the arm of her chair and she shoved the prospect from her mind.
She looked up quickly at the sound of the door opening. A maid entered, bearing another tray of biscuits. Rebecca, Julianne’s companion, rose to take the tray.
Sighing, Jane leaned back on the sofa feeling an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. And she had her answer. The one she had been avoiding.
With a small shake of her head, she took a sip of hot tea. No matter how she had hid from it, the truth reared its head. She sat in the St. Claire townhouse because she wished to see Seth again.
_Craved _ to see him. If only a glimpse. Even if he looked on her as he did in the park. With that same remote stare. As if he stared through her and did not see her at all.
Even so, she still longed for the sight of him, recalling him as he’d been at Madame Fleur’s. His eyes had gleamed, burned. Burned for her. Jane gave her head a small shake. Not her. He would never burn for her.
“I’m so glad you saw fit to come today.” Julianne leaned forward, her voice gentling as she added, “And I respect your need to properly mourn your husband. Did you love him very much?”
Jane choked on her biscuit. She cleared her throat with a deep drink of tea before answering. “It was a match arranged by my parents. Lord Guthrie and I were not… close.”
“Oh.” Julianne leaned back, her disappointment obvious. And Jane felt that disappointment as keenly as a knife’s blade to her flesh. Somehow she felt she had let Julianne down. As girls, they had shared dreams of marrying dashing gentlemen and living happily ever after in neighboring castles.
Naturally, Jane had never told Julianne that her brother was the hero of her fantasies. She had told no one that, had kept that particular secret tied close to her heart.
Eager to change the subject, Jane asked, “How long have you been in Town?”
“Nearly a fortnight.” Julianne sighed, an edge of dissatisfaction in the sound. “I’ve longed to come to Town. Remember how we planned taking our Seasons together?”
A smile tugged Jane’s lips. “I recall we were to wear matching gowns of white Charmeuse to Almack’s,” she murmured. Neither ever had that Season. Jane’s parents had arranged her marriage without the need for a Season, using the connections of Madeline’s new husband, the ancient Duke of Eldermont.
“Yes!” Julianne laughed, then sighed, the sound tired, defeated. “At least I finally made it to Town. I have Seth to thank for that. Albert would never have brought me.” Her expression clouded. “But it’s not all I thought it would be. Not that I’m ungrateful to Seth. I’m so happy he’s back. He’s the only one who has ever taken my wishes into account. But…”
“But?” Jane prodded.
“He suffocates me terribly,” Julianne confessed. “He insists on limiting me to drives in the parks.
He doesn’t permit me to accept a single invitation.” She crossed her arms rather severely, reminding Jane of a child denied. “Why did he bother to bring me? He might as well have left me at the Priory.”
“Don’t overset yourself.” Julianne’s companion glanced up from her knitting. “Give him time.
He’ll soon see how capable you’ve grown.”
Julianne smiled indulgently. “Rebecca is the eternal optimist.”
Jane moved beside Julianne. “I’m sure your brother intends to make the rounds with you once the Season gets in full swing.”
A frown flitted about Julianne’s mouth. “Seth worries how I will be received.”
Jane nodded, well imagining the manner in which the _ton _ would regard her. Overly concerned with individual assets—internal or external—they would treat her like damaged goods.
“I’ve told him I don’t care.” Julianne’s chin lifted. “I’m no fool. I realize many will dismiss me.
Heiress or not, I am blind.” She paused, moistening her lips. “And yet I still yearn for the chance.”
Jane scanned Julianne’s earnest expression. “If anyone could open minds, it would be you.”
“Hmm.” Rebecca nodded in agreement.
“Surely a brave enough gentleman exists to ask me to dance.” Julianne angled her face, and it seemed that she turned instinctively to the warm rays of light spilling from the open terrace doors. “It would require a special sort of man to want to dance with me—”
“Not so special,” Jane argued. “You’re charming. And pretty. Two traits I happen to know attract gentlemen.”
“Yes.” Julianne’s mouth twisted in a manner reminiscent of Seth. The similarity caused a bothersome pang in the region of her heart. She must really put an end to this annoying infatuation. It should have died years ago. With all her other childish dreams. “But sight happens to be another trait gentlemen prefer.”
“I’ve told you already,” Rebecca inserted, her hands working with feverish ease as she knitted.
“Some fellow with less than refined looks is going to hone in on you like a bee to honey.”
Jane and Julianne both burst into laughter.
“And I would welcome his attention,” Julianne replied, her laughter subsiding. “Blindness has taught me to value an individual’s inner light.” She exhaled deeply. “Now if I can just convince Seth to let me out for an evening so that I might stumble upon a gentleman with inner light.”
Jane studied Julianne thoughtfully and wondered if she had ever witnessed anyone so determined to make the best of her life, despite all hardships. It made Jane more resolved to seize what happiness she could.
“Seth’s venturing to Vauxhall tonight,” Julianne volunteered, a plaintive edge to her voice. “Of course he claims it unsuitable for me to join him.” She pulled a face, indicating what she thought about that.
“Vauxhall?” Jane murmured, thinking of the recently reopened outdoor theater. A prime place for assignations of a less than respectable nature.
He nodded in acknowledgment, barely sparing the girls a glance, barely hearing his sister launch into effusive greeting as he focused on Jane.
“A pleasure, my lord,” the eldest girl greeted in jarring tones, pulling his attention from Jane. The chit eyed him as boldly as any husband-hungry debutante.
Dismissing her, his gaze returned to Jane, finding her studying Julianne with something akin to pity. He was accustomed to the pitying looks people sent his sister. That much hadn’t changed in his absence. Each look served as a further heaping of guilt. But there was something different in Jane’s look. Something more. Something heartfelt. Something that he would not allow himself to credit.
“It has been too many years, Julianne.” Jane’s voice washed over him, throatier than he remembered, warm as the Indian sun. Had her mouth always been so damn inviting? Her bottom lip always so moist? So alluringly full? Like the pink meat of a watermelon he would like nothing more than a taste.
“I don’t think I would have recognized you. You’ve grown into a lovely woman.”
Julianne beamed, her vacant eyes seeming to sparkle. “Have I?”
“Indeed,” Jane returned. “I often remember you bemoaning your carroty hair as a girl. It has deepened into a handsome auburn now.”
Julianne gasped. “Truly? No one has told me that.” In her enthusiasm, she turned to her brother,
“Do you think so, Seth?”
A strange tightness closed his throat at his sister’s delighted expression. Such a small thing to bring about a smile, but he had not thought to comment on what he too had observed. Only another sign that his sister needed a lady’s attention in her life. “Indeed, it has.”
“Oh, Jane,” Julianne chirped. “I’ve missed you these years. Now that we’ve crossed paths, I hope we shall not become strangers again.”
Jane darted a nervous look at Seth, her voice a trembling thread on the air as she said, “That would be my wish as well.”
Seth swallowed down the sudden sour taste to fill his mouth. His sister and Jane had been close once—almost as close as he and Jane. Until his father cloistered Julianne away, treating her like an invalid.
“Perhaps you could join us for tea?” Julianne suggested.
Jane stared at him, her pretty lips parting but saying nothing.
“Yes,” he invited, even as he wondered what possibly motivated him to extend such an offer.
“Do call.”
He might have put the past behind him, but that did not mean he wanted to revisit friendships best left buried. Especially when the friend in question happened to be a married lady and he could not stop agonizing over her mouth, over those plump lips closing around him, drawing his pleasure deep into her mouth…
Locking his jaw, he shoved the coarse thoughts from his mind and reminded himself that his wishes meant nothing. Only his sister’s happiness mattered. She’d had very little joy in life. If Jane’s company brought pleasure to his sister, then so be it. He would not deny her something so simple. Harmless, really.
“Thank you, but I’m afraid Jane cannot accept,” the bold-eyed eldest girl volunteered with decided relish. “She is in mourning, and Papa says she cannot go about.”
“Oh, Jane,” Julianne murmured. “I had not heard. I’m dreadfully sorry.”
Seth looked Jane over, noting the flush of color creeping up her neck to stain her cheeks. Even as he told himself to resist, he evaluated her in new estimation. As a woman unwed. A widow.
Widows, he had always considered ripe for dalliance. Only not this one. No matter that the sight of her spiked his desire, filling him with a burning urge to peel off her prim, high-necked gown and discover precisely how far that blush crept.
“Thank you, but it has been over a year now,” Jane explained, darting a narrow look to her niece.
“I am quite ready to rejoin Society.”
Her niece’s lips thinned until they all but disappeared.
“Oh,” Julianne murmured in a hopeful voice. “Then tea one afternoon this week would not be remiss.”
“Tea would be lovely,” Jane agreed even as her nieces glowered beside her.
“What about us? What about our lessons?” Bryony, the youngest, demanded in a squeak, her nostrils flaring with indignation.
Seth reassessed the girls in their frilly, beribboned gowns, allowing that although his experience with children was limited, this gaggle of young womanhood reminded him of a motley bunch of pirates he had once faced.
“You’ll make do for one afternoon.” Jane glared down at the girls as though daring them to object. Her gaze lifted then, locking with his. With her lovely mouth compressing into a tight smile, she stared down the slim line of her nose at him.
“I shall look most forward to it,” Julianne trilled.
“As I,” Jane murmured.
Seth’s gaze raked her, sitting so cool and composed in her carriage, a marble statute, nothing like he remembered. No hint of the exuberant, shrieking wild girl who had swum the lake with him, climbed trees in his family’s orchard, and gathered holly at Christmas.
He continued to stare after her as she drove away, deciding that that girl of his youth had gone, disappeared. If she ever existed at all.
Chapter 9
Adjusting her careful grip on a fragile Wedgwood teacup, Jane struggled to follow Lady Julianne’s animated chatter.
Murmuring and commenting at appropriate intervals, she struggled to understand why she risked the wrath of her relations to sit in the Earl of St. Claire’s townhouse.
If Desmond or Chloris returned home and discovered Anna tending to the girls instead of her, they would have a great deal to say on the matter. Her fingers plucked at the arm of her chair and she shoved the prospect from her mind.
She looked up quickly at the sound of the door opening. A maid entered, bearing another tray of biscuits. Rebecca, Julianne’s companion, rose to take the tray.
Sighing, Jane leaned back on the sofa feeling an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. And she had her answer. The one she had been avoiding.
With a small shake of her head, she took a sip of hot tea. No matter how she had hid from it, the truth reared its head. She sat in the St. Claire townhouse because she wished to see Seth again.
_Craved _ to see him. If only a glimpse. Even if he looked on her as he did in the park. With that same remote stare. As if he stared through her and did not see her at all.
Even so, she still longed for the sight of him, recalling him as he’d been at Madame Fleur’s. His eyes had gleamed, burned. Burned for her. Jane gave her head a small shake. Not her. He would never burn for her.
“I’m so glad you saw fit to come today.” Julianne leaned forward, her voice gentling as she added, “And I respect your need to properly mourn your husband. Did you love him very much?”
Jane choked on her biscuit. She cleared her throat with a deep drink of tea before answering. “It was a match arranged by my parents. Lord Guthrie and I were not… close.”
“Oh.” Julianne leaned back, her disappointment obvious. And Jane felt that disappointment as keenly as a knife’s blade to her flesh. Somehow she felt she had let Julianne down. As girls, they had shared dreams of marrying dashing gentlemen and living happily ever after in neighboring castles.
Naturally, Jane had never told Julianne that her brother was the hero of her fantasies. She had told no one that, had kept that particular secret tied close to her heart.
Eager to change the subject, Jane asked, “How long have you been in Town?”
“Nearly a fortnight.” Julianne sighed, an edge of dissatisfaction in the sound. “I’ve longed to come to Town. Remember how we planned taking our Seasons together?”
A smile tugged Jane’s lips. “I recall we were to wear matching gowns of white Charmeuse to Almack’s,” she murmured. Neither ever had that Season. Jane’s parents had arranged her marriage without the need for a Season, using the connections of Madeline’s new husband, the ancient Duke of Eldermont.
“Yes!” Julianne laughed, then sighed, the sound tired, defeated. “At least I finally made it to Town. I have Seth to thank for that. Albert would never have brought me.” Her expression clouded. “But it’s not all I thought it would be. Not that I’m ungrateful to Seth. I’m so happy he’s back. He’s the only one who has ever taken my wishes into account. But…”
“But?” Jane prodded.
“He suffocates me terribly,” Julianne confessed. “He insists on limiting me to drives in the parks.
He doesn’t permit me to accept a single invitation.” She crossed her arms rather severely, reminding Jane of a child denied. “Why did he bother to bring me? He might as well have left me at the Priory.”
“Don’t overset yourself.” Julianne’s companion glanced up from her knitting. “Give him time.
He’ll soon see how capable you’ve grown.”
Julianne smiled indulgently. “Rebecca is the eternal optimist.”
Jane moved beside Julianne. “I’m sure your brother intends to make the rounds with you once the Season gets in full swing.”
A frown flitted about Julianne’s mouth. “Seth worries how I will be received.”
Jane nodded, well imagining the manner in which the _ton _ would regard her. Overly concerned with individual assets—internal or external—they would treat her like damaged goods.
“I’ve told him I don’t care.” Julianne’s chin lifted. “I’m no fool. I realize many will dismiss me.
Heiress or not, I am blind.” She paused, moistening her lips. “And yet I still yearn for the chance.”
Jane scanned Julianne’s earnest expression. “If anyone could open minds, it would be you.”
“Hmm.” Rebecca nodded in agreement.
“Surely a brave enough gentleman exists to ask me to dance.” Julianne angled her face, and it seemed that she turned instinctively to the warm rays of light spilling from the open terrace doors. “It would require a special sort of man to want to dance with me—”
“Not so special,” Jane argued. “You’re charming. And pretty. Two traits I happen to know attract gentlemen.”
“Yes.” Julianne’s mouth twisted in a manner reminiscent of Seth. The similarity caused a bothersome pang in the region of her heart. She must really put an end to this annoying infatuation. It should have died years ago. With all her other childish dreams. “But sight happens to be another trait gentlemen prefer.”
“I’ve told you already,” Rebecca inserted, her hands working with feverish ease as she knitted.
“Some fellow with less than refined looks is going to hone in on you like a bee to honey.”
Jane and Julianne both burst into laughter.
“And I would welcome his attention,” Julianne replied, her laughter subsiding. “Blindness has taught me to value an individual’s inner light.” She exhaled deeply. “Now if I can just convince Seth to let me out for an evening so that I might stumble upon a gentleman with inner light.”
Jane studied Julianne thoughtfully and wondered if she had ever witnessed anyone so determined to make the best of her life, despite all hardships. It made Jane more resolved to seize what happiness she could.
“Seth’s venturing to Vauxhall tonight,” Julianne volunteered, a plaintive edge to her voice. “Of course he claims it unsuitable for me to join him.” She pulled a face, indicating what she thought about that.
“Vauxhall?” Jane murmured, thinking of the recently reopened outdoor theater. A prime place for assignations of a less than respectable nature.
