Authors: Brenda Novak
Jeannette blinked at Rose Marie, her mind too busy to answer. Treynor didn’t generally circulate among the ton. According to the
Times,
he had been knighted, but she still didn’t expect to find him at a duke’s ball.
She craned her head to see inside the double doors ahead of them.
Her mother grasped her arm. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “I am a bit cold.”
“Then pull your cloak tighter, dear. It is this cursed rain. I swear, I shall never get used to it.”
Her father patted her mother’s shoulder, then glanced down at Jeannette. “You look lovely,
ma petite
. You will be the toast of the evening.”
“Merci,”
she replied, curbing the more instinctive,
I hope
not
! For once, she wasn’t interested in generating attention or gathering beaux. Not like before. If the man she saw wasn’t Treynor, there was no one here to interest her. And if he was...How would she face the lieutenant without giving her heartbreak away?
The servant at the door announced them, and Jeannette reluctantly followed her parents through the portal.
A man with fine brown hair and eyes the same color stood next to the Duke of Ellsborough, helping him greet the guests.
“Ah, there you are.” The duke smiled when he saw them. “Lord Darby, you know my son. Comte de Lumfere, Lady Lumfere, and Lady St. Ives, this is my heir, Lord Baldwin.”
The duke was far more distinguished-looking than Baldwin was. Ellsborough stood several inches taller and carried himself with an athletic grace Jeannette couldn’t help but admire. But his son was not unhandsome.
She smiled as he kissed her hand.
“
Tout le plaisir était le mien
,
Lord Baldwin.”
“So this is the one,” he replied, sending a glance at his father. “I can certainly understand the attraction.”
“
Pardon,
my lord?” Jeannette asked.
“You are a vision of loveliness, my lady. If you would be so kind as to save me a dance or two, I would be most honored,” he replied.
“Of course she will.” Rose Marie spoke with a blatant eagerness that caused heat to shoot up Jeannette’s neck and pool in her cheeks. Evidently her mother hadn’t given up hope that Jeannette would marry again instead of becoming a governess.
She sent her a pointed look before responding. “Who can refuse such flattery, Lord Baldwin?”
“I will anxiously await the moment.”
The liveried servant at the door announced the next guests and Jeannette followed her parents deeper into the ballroom. Large chandeliers, blazing with candles, hung from the ceiling over a marble floor. The orchestra played from their place in the far corner, but was nearly drowned out by the low roar of voices.
The women were dressed in fine, jewel-colored gowns. Most of the men wore brocade waistcoats of similar hues with black tailcoats and knee-length breeches. Jeannette searched for another glimpse of the man with the sandy hair, but the room was already crowded. She could see only those immediately surrounding her.
A maid passed, carrying a tray of drinks, and her father paused to sample the champagne. “Excellent,” he murmured, and they moved on, occasionally stopping to visit with some of those they had met at other soirees.
Many raised their fans to whisper about Jeannette as she passed, but she ignored them. She was too preoccupied to be annoyed by the gossip over her ordeal with St. Ives.
Hair the color of Treynor’s caught her eye again. She made her way toward it, only to discover a man too fat to resemble the lieutenant in any other way.
“Lady Lumfere, is that you?”
Jeannette glanced back to see a rotund woman push past a couple of young ladies to reach her mother’s side. Wearing a yellow gown bedecked with gathers, frills, and ribbons, the woman smiled in obvious pleasure when Rose Marie turned and recognized her.
“Lady Hafton! It has been too long! How wonderful to see you looking so well. I had heard you were ill.”
“Oh, deathly so.” The woman fluttered her fan. “I thought I would die for certain.”
As Lady Hafton expounded upon the details of her ailment and her subsequent recovery, Jeannette watched others mingle about the Hepplewhite tables and chairs, which were strategically placed so those too old or too tired to dance could sit and enjoy the sights. Only a few heeded the music this early in the night. Most were too busy greeting old friends, taking note of the new arrivals, or admiring what the fashionable wore.
Jeannette's eyes sought the sides of the room, the corners, every nook or cranny, hoping to locate the man she had glimpsed earlier, but she found him not ten feet away, on the dance floor.
Evidently her mother caught sight of him at the same time. “
Ma petite
, look who is here. It is none other than your friend, Lieutenant Treynor,
n'est-ce pas
?”
Jeannette struggled to keep her mouth from gaping open as she gazed at Treynor moving in step with a tall blonde wearing a green velvet gown. An exceptionally attractive woman, his partner had a voluptuous figure to rival her porcelain-pale face. And she turned a dimpled smile on him every time he spoke.
“Did you say something about the lieutenant?” Lady Hafton asked.
A definite numbness began to deaden Jeannette’s fingers and toes, making her wonder if her heart had stopped beating altogether.
“He is the latest rage, you know,” Lady Hafton continued, without waiting for an answer, “a bit of a war hero. That is my niece Maude he is dancing with now. They make a divine couple, do they not?”
Jeannette forced herself to nod and smile along with her mother. “You know him, then?”
“Yes. He is courting Maude. He has been to the house a number of times over the past week.”
Jeannette purposely ignored the look of sympathy and understanding her mother gave her. She had been mooning over Treynor for nearly six weeks. And here he was, looking as fit and handsome as ever in a single-breasted black coat over a double-breasted blue silk waistcoat, making his debut with the aristocracy.
Throwing her shoulders back, she forced her eyes from the woman who touched Treynor with a familiarity that lent credence to Lady Hafton’s words. She couldn’t watch them together, or she would cry. And she refused to shed any tears over him—not here, not now.
Rose Marie nudged her again. “You are too good for him anyway,
ma petite
.”
“He made me no promises,
ma mère
. I expected nothing more.” The falter in her voice gave away her true emotions and solicited a gentle squeeze from her mother.
“What is it?” her father asked. “Jeannette, you look so pale.”
“I have a headache, Papa. Perhaps we can go.” She started toward the door, but her mother pulled her back.
“Wait.” Rose Marie nodded at Lord Baldwin, who was making his way toward them, and Jeannette felt her heart sink even farther. The music had stopped. Those on the floor were getting ready to start another quadrille, but she wasn’t up to smiling and dancing and talking.
“Is something wrong, Lady St. Ives?” Lord Baldwin asked as those around her parted to let him through. “You seem distressed.”
Jeannette shook her head. She dared not speak.
“Would you care to dance, then?”
Forcing a shaky smile, she nodded and curtsied before taking the arm he offered. She wouldn’t make a fool of herself and humiliate the duke’s son by pulling away and fleeing the ball in front of everyone. She would dance one dance, then slip out before Treynor saw her.
Unfortunately, however, Lord Baldwin lined up right next to the lieutenant and the blond woman, and it was only a moment before she heard Treynor’s unmistakable voice.
“Lady St. Ives, what a surprise to see you here.”
The fact that he had greeted her forced her to acknowledge him. She nodded, using every ounce of self-control to appear indifferent. “I might say the same, Lieutenant Treynor.”
He smiled, but his gaze sparked with anger. “Indeed. May I introduce Lady Ambrose? Lady Ambrose, this is Lady St. Ives.”
Jeannette felt the tightness of her own smile but did her best to be pleasant. “Lady Ambrose.”
As Treynor’s lady friend nodded, her gaze ranged over Jeannette from head to foot with little effort to hide the perusal. “I have heard a great deal about you.”
“I am sure you are not the only one,” Jeannette said.
Lady Ambrose’s eyes widened, but the music started, cutting off any reply.
Jeannette endeavored to keep her mind on the dance, which moved her down a line of men and presented her with a new partner every few moments. Treynor was the last to take her hand, and try as she might, she could not stop herself from feeling the warm vibrancy that coursed down her arm when he touched her.
“The duke is playing games with me, I see,” he said, his voice curt, as though something had upset him.
“
Pardonez-moi,
Lieutenant?” She and the other women turned a full circle before they came close enough to their partners to speak again.
“Nothing. How are you, anyway?”
“As well as could be expected. His Grace, the Duke of Ellsborough, has promised me a recommendation. It seems that his granddaughters are in need of a governess.”
“He has, has he?”
Jeannette ignored his wry tone. “I should be well-engaged in teaching before long.” She didn’t know why she added that, except she wanted him to think she her life well in hand. “Are you now a captain?”
Again she turned around and came back to face him before he could answer. “Yes, but I am still awaiting word of my ship.”
“The wait must be very frustrating. It is a good thing you have had Lady Ambrose to entertain you.”
“Jeannette—”
It was time to switch partners again. Gratefully, Jeannette released her hold on the lieutenant and returned to her beginning position across from Lord Baldwin. As they started through the line again, she heard Lady Ambrose say, “You promised to tell me more of the battle that won you such honors, Sir Crawford.”
Jeannette wished she could tell Lady Ambrose about the rats, the lice, the smell of blood, and what it was like to see a man die, but Treynor merely shrugged.
“The weather turned and allowed us to gain the upper hand.”
“Surely you are being modest,” Lady Ambrose responded. “Men are not knighted for a lucky turn in the weather.”
“Are you enjoying your stay in London?” Lord Baldwin intruded upon Jeannette’s awareness of Treynor and his partner, causing her to lose the thread of their conversation.
“
Oui,
my lord. Do you like it here, as well?”
“At this time of year, I do. But when August hits, the heat drives me to our country home farther north.”
“I see.” Jeannette’s eyes flicked toward Treynor every few moments despite a supreme effort to stop them. Once their gazes clashed, and she looked quickly away.
“Have you known Captain Treynor long?”
If the duke’s son wasn't privy to the latest gossip, she had no intention of enlightening him. “No. We are merely acquaintances.”
“I thought we had graduated to friends, at the very least,” Treynor interrupted, overhearing her words.