Page 3 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

It took all of her self-control not to clamp her lips tightly together.

‘Close your eyes, empty your head of all your thoughts and trust me.’

‘Fine.’

They covered a few feet of ballroom floor before Jane panicked about the lack of control she had over her movement. In the same instant, her feet became tangled and she fell forward, this time thankful for Mr Stewart’s solid form to stop her from tumbling from the floor.

‘Whoa,’ he said softly, allowing her to recover her own balance. Jane looked around, realising many of the people gathered around the dance floor were watching them, and that she had brushed far too close to a man she did not know.

Thankfully the musicians quietened, the couples stopped their lively movements and Jane was spared any further embarrassment.

‘Thank you for the dance,’ she said quickly, turning away before Mr Stewart had time to answer. She doubted he would ask her for another, not unless he secretly enjoyed getting his toes stomped on.

‘Setting your cap a little high, aren’t you, Miss Ashworth?’ Mrs Farthington said as Jane hurried past. Mrs Farthington had started the year with Jane as one of Lady Mountjoy’s debutantes, but had recently married the insipid Mr Farthington. Jane still thought of the woman as ‘snide Miss Huntley’, and found it difficult to believe she was now married. It was an odd match, with Mr Farthington rather in awe of his young bride. He boasted a fortune and a kind heart, but was rather a hapless soul, and nowhere near sharp enough to keep up with his fiancée. Even now he hovered close by as if not sure whether to stand with his new wife or not.

‘I’m not setting my cap at anyone,’ Jane snapped.

‘Everyone saw that not-so-subtle stumble into his arms. I’m not sure you’re his type, though.’

‘I’m not trying to be his type.’

‘Good. I hear he has a wicked reputation.’

Jane glanced back over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of Mr Stewart’s dark hair as he bowed over a young lady’s hand. He was attractive. Even she could not deny that. He had an air of confidence about him that seemed to pull people in, to make them want to be part of his circle. Then there were his eyes, that deep mix of blue and green that was adept at making you feel as if you were the only person in the room.

‘Enjoy the ball, Mrs Farthington,’ Jane said as she swept away, the effect rather ruined as she tripped on her hem and stumbled, but thankfully this time did not lose her footing entirely.

Chapter Two

Tom pulled the covers over his head and groaned, trying to remember where he had ended up the night before. The evening had started respectably enough at Lady Mountjoy’s ball. There weren’t many society events he attended throughout the Season, but Lady Mountjoy was a distant cousin of his mother and had always been kind, even indulgent with him, so he had dropped in on the way to his club.

After the ball had come far too many drinks with an old friend, and he had vague memories of ending the evening in his friend’s tavern on the other side of the river, but had no recollection how he had got home.

The knocking on the door started again and Tom threw off the bed clothes in frustration. It was far too early for visitors—far too early for anyone honest to be out and about. Even his footmen were taking a while to get to the door, which meant either they were still in bed or at the very least downstairs taking an early breakfast.

He rose, moving to the window to see if he could catch a glimpse of who thought it was acceptable to wake a man with a hangover when the sun was not yet peeking over the horizon.

Whoever it was had positioned themselves too close to the door for him to see, and with his head pounding he decided to let his footmen sort it out and collapsed back into bed.

Two minutes later, there was a light tap on the door.

‘Excuse me, sir.’ Upton’s voice came through the thick wood. ‘You’re needed downstairs.’

His servants normally required very little guidance. He paid well and ensured his staff were happy and motivated in their jobs. It meant he didn’t need to worry about any of the day-to-day running of his household and made his life so much easier. It was unusual for one of them to seek him out to deal with something, and as such Tom knew it must be important. Even so, it was still a struggle to drag himself out of bed.

‘Come in, Upton,’ he called, pulling on a nightshirt and then lifting his dressing gown from where he had thrown it the night before.

‘Very sorry to disturb you so early, sir, there is someone downstairs you need to see.’

It looked as though the footman had thrown on his livery, and as Tom peered at the clock on the mantelpiece he realised it was only a little after six.

‘At this hour?’

‘They insisted, sir.’

Tom raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue further, deciding instead to hurry downstairs and sort out whatever misunderstanding had caused someone to knock at his door at such an unsociable hour. By the time he reached the bottom of the sweeping staircase, his mood had not improved, and he threw open the door to the dining room.

All the bluster was knocked from him by the sight that met his eyes. Sleepily curled in an arm chair was a young boy with a shock of dark hair. His eyes flickered open as Tom entered the room, but it was too much of an effort, and after a moment’s assessment he closed them again.