Trials of Artemis (6 page)

"Jacqueline,"
she replied. "Or Jack if you prefer."

He
raised an eyebrow. "Since you say this isn't-"

"A
real engagement, I know. But I think we could be friendly at least. And others
will expect us to indicate some level of... intimacy."

His
hand tightened very briefly on her own, then he released her and stepped back.
"Then until we meet again, Jacqueline."

Jack
found herself unreasonably disappointed that he chose to use the more formal
version of her name even though it made sense that he would do so. She nodded.
"The Yancey ball then?"

"Indeed.
I shall see you on Friday."

Jack
made her way slowly up the steps to her front door, her energy substantially
less than it had been before the carriage ride. Once inside, she watched
Harrington set off down the street in his curricle. She wasn't sure quite what
made her feel dispirited but decided to divert herself with the project of
finding him a wife. She pulled the small journal from her reticule and drifted
upstairs, flipping through the pages.

Gideon
had been brusque and churlish for the last two days, although he wasn't sure
why. He was fairly certain that if he didn't finish dressing soon that his
valet would bolt in fear and the man was normally unflappable. He had
half-expected Quince to put in an appearance again, but perhaps the duke felt
Gideon had finally got on with things and didn't require any more nudging.
Hopefully he could count on the duke to make an appearance at tonight's ball,
however, so that he could put Miss Walters in his path. That was most likely
why he had been surly the last two days, impatience on getting the two of them
together. The sooner Quince realized Miss Walters was a perfect duchess for him
the sooner that Gideon could slip off the marriage noose himself.

It
was too bad, really, that he couldn't involve Miss Walters in his scheme to
marry her off as she was the type to throw herself into projects with enthusiasm.
Honestly, he wasn't sure that anyone else knew as much about him as she now
did. He frowned into the mirror and watched his valet uneasily shift back a few
steps. Gideon sighed. Had his black moods really been so dire? Black moods had
certainly been plaguing him much more often since the beginning of the Walters
problem. Not one to torment his employees he schooled his expression into a
more benign mask before he turned his mind back to what was bothering him. Certainly
he must have
someone close to him who knew him
as well or better? But he couldn't think of anyone. His servants were probably
the closest, having known him from the crib. Some were an encyclopedia of his
family relations and knew more about his family than he did himself. His school
chums, like Quince, didn't know much about his family and perhaps even less
about his properties, other than the ones he used for entertaining. Upon
reflection he found it oddly disturbing
that his
nearest and dearest began and ended with family retainers. One overly
inquisitive accidental fiancée was making him think about things he hadn't
before, and was fairly certain he’d never wanted to. With one final look at his
cravat and a nod to his beleaguered valet, he set off for the Yancey ball. On
time, of course. He was quite done with having to apologize to Miss Walters.

He
was here already. Jack wasn't quite sure how she knew
as
she entered the large townhouse and queued up for the receiving line, but she
could feel it like an electric current below her skin. He was here but she
couldn't see him yet with her limited view of the ballroom. The front hall was
crowded and hot, a welcome change from the frosty night outside. She fanned
herself and surreptitiously looked around, both to take in her surroundings and
to search for the earl.

The
Yancey townhouse was quite grand, easily ten times the size of the Walters’
more modest townhome, and had been recently redone in the Egyptian style. Jack
thought that all the black lacquer and gold must get tiresome after a time. She
was partial to the classic, settled look of their own home. Some of their rugs
were threadbare in places but each one had family history, starting with the
ancestor who had brought it back personally from Turkey or India. She sincerely
doubted that
these
pieces had been
brought back from the desert by one of the Yanceys. After making her curtseys
to Lord and Lady Yancey she was free to venture onto the ballroom floor. She
still hadn't seen Harrington but nearly walked into his friend, the duke, in her
distraction.

"Good
evening, Miss Walters," he said, bowing over her hand.

She
blushed and curtsied. "My apologies, your grace."

"Were
you perhaps looking for someone?"

"I
was... that is..."

He
smiled at her flustered response. "Am I early enough to hope to have a
dance with you?"

Jack
nearly strangled herself in the effort it took to not laugh in his face. She
lifted her wrist to offer her completely blank dance card.

"I
have intercepted you upon arrival, I see. Perhaps the second waltz?"

"I
would be beyond pleased, your grace."

The
duke managed a self-deprecating smile as he scribbled his name on her dance
card. "Don't be too pleased. I've chosen a waltz since I think the two of
us should talk."

"Oh...
I..."

"And
here is the man of the hour now. How are you, Giddy?"

The
earl bowed to the duke, then over Jack's hand. "I'm passable Quince. I see
you have already asked our lovely Miss Walters for a dance."

"Indeed.
I predict you should claim yours before she is overtaken by dance
partners."

Jack
couldn't help the amused smile. "Yes, I can see they will be shoving you
out of the way soon."

Harrington
took up the pencil and dance card. "The second waltz Quince?"

"Yes,
I thought the lady would want to save the first one for you."

"Yes,"
he said, meeting Jack's eyes for the first time. "She usually does
that."

Jack
felt herself blushing again. She wasn't used to being fussed over like a tasty
treat lain out between two dogs. They weren't fighting over her precisely, but
they were circling and more interested than she was used to. She didn't think
that the duke was interested in her per se, but more likely investigating what
she meant for Harrington. As for the earl, she felt he constantly sent out
mixed signals. Denying any interest in marriage, especially with nagging bluestockings,
then giving her looks that reminded her of his hands moving over her. Perhaps
he was just a thoroughgoing rogue and couldn't help himself from looking at any
woman as though she were a flavored ice on a hot summer day. She longed for a
library and some Greek or Latin texts to interpret. Something quiet and sane
and removed from this world of emotions and unknown motivations.

A
new voice interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Walters, if I could beg you for
the pleasure of a dance?" She found herself looking at a major,
resplendent in his regimentals. He had sandy hair and warm brown eyes.

"Of
course," she heard herself responding.

After
sending her and Harrington a self-satisfied smile, the duke strolled off
towards the card room. Shortly thereafter Jack
did
find herself deluged with men requesting a dance. Harrington
stayed nearby, looking grimmer and grimmer as her throng of suitors increased.
She lost count of how many glasses of wine he had taken from passing footmen
and wondered how he still looked sober as a preacher. The orchestra was
beginning the song for the first dance and her partner, the major, appeared to
lead her out on the dance floor for a country reel. Looking back she could see
that Gideon had an oddly flat and sullen expression but she soon lost sight of
him in the swirl of dancers.

Gideon
had a mind to find Quince and tell him to go to hell. At first delighted to see
that the duke had, of his own volition, shown some attention to Miss Walters,
that delight turned sour as he realized Quince had known that his own attention
to the girl would guarantee her a list of suitors for the evening. Gideon
didn't want just anyone stealing Miss Walters from him. It needed to be someone
who deserved her and would treat her as she deserved to be treated. And by that
he meant kindly and with consideration, not with the abuse he sometimes thought
of heaping on her for her stubborn ways. He didn't have time to vet every
baron, military man, and younger son that was dangling over her hand this evening.
What if this continued? What if some sot with a pretty face and smooth manners
swayed her on a night when he wasn't in attendance? What then? That was just
the sort of man that couldn't be trusted. Someone
too
smooth on the surface, while beneath they were a roiling mass of entitlement
and rage. He didn't like the idea of having to face down some idiot to save Miss
Walters from herself. Even if she weren't his fiancée he could hardly let her
be taken in by a man like that, and he knew much better than she how common
those men were in Society.

He
stared down into his glass and wondered how many of them he had polished off
while waiting for the first waltz to begin. His stomach had soured from the
wine and the errant path of his thoughts. It wasn't unreasonable, he didn't
think, to want Miss Walters to at least make a practical choice in husband. If
she didn't think she wanted to be married at all, then certainly it shouldn't
be too hard to keep her away from the reprobates that would sniff around her skirts.
He heard the final strains of the dance immediately preceding the waltz and
struck out across the ballroom to claim her hand from the obnoxious fop who was
still bowing over it.

When
Harrington arrived to claim the first waltz Jack was fairly certain she heard
him growl at the man who had just led her through an English country-dance. She
raised a brow but he merely swept her up into the steps of the waltz as soon as
the music started.

"Yes
my evening has been splendid, thank you for asking," Jack said tartly.

Harrington
looked down at her, furrowing his brow. "What?"

"You're
being beastly but I will ignore it for now and pretend that you are the picture
of grace."

"Count
on you to call me beastly when I haven't said anything yet."

"Your
face speaks volumes."

"Why
should I enjoy having my fiancée spinning around the floor with every Tom, Dick
and Harry of London?"

"I
wondered how much wine you drank and I see the answer is quite a bit."

"That
doesn't negate the fact that you've been hanging on the arms of a good number
of men this evening. Some of dubious character, no doubt."

"You
mean like now?"

"Don't
try to distract me with your wicked tongue."

"I
wouldn't dream of it. I’m sure you realize, of course, that you could have
reserved at least a second dance for yourself without causing gossip.”

Gideon’s
expression remained implacably dark and he didn’t even recognize her suggestion
with a response.

Jack
tried a different tack. “Did you hear talk of a dry summer this year?"

"Why
are you changing the subject?"

"You
weren't going to and the last thing we need to do is end up screaming at each
other in the middle of the dance floor."

"At
least then you would get to break the engagement like you've been dreaming of
since this whole thing started."

Jack
frowned. "Is that what you're trying to do? I'd prefer we not make our
differences public."

"No,
you would rather make your preference for other men public. Although
considering the circumstances in which we met I don't see why I should be
surprised."

Jack
planted her feet and managed to pull Harrington off his balance, causing him to
stumble into her.

"That
is outside of enough!" she hissed at close quarters to him.
"My
circumstances only included a
desire to read rare Greek texts and you well know it."

"You
hardly seemed shocked by my attentions."

Jack
gasped and looked up at him in outrage. "How dare you! Shocked is exactly
what I was." She looked around to see that they had garnered the attention
of a good number of the dancers. She grabbed Harrington's arm and dragged him
toward the French doors that let out onto the veranda. Once outside she pushed
him into the shadows and drilled a finger into his chest. "What exactly is
this about?"

"You
say you were shocked. You say a lot of things. But your body says something
else. And I'm more likely to suspect your words to be lies."

"You
are the most outrageous-"

Jack's
retort was cut short by Harrington taking her lips in a swift kiss. She started
to pull away but he wrapped one arm around her back, his other hand cupping her
face as he deepened the kiss. He licked and nibbled the seam of her lips until
she surrendered and let him plunder her mouth. She had never felt this before,
as though she was floating, all of her nerves tingling in sudden awareness. The
sensations were new, novel, wicked. The warm, solid strength of him pressed
against her. The band of his arm across her back. The swirl of his tongue in
her mouth. The gentle strength of his hand holding her head while his thumb
stroked her jaw. As she melted into his embrace he turned and now she was the
one hidden in the shadows with her back pressed against the cool stone of the
townhouse wall. His mouth moved down to kiss the side of her throat, her ear.
His hand caressed one breast, finding and teasing the nipple that had peaked.