Page 44 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

He paused and for a moment Jane thought he was going to kiss her again.

‘Will you grant me a favour?’

She nodded, her chest feeling as though it were being squeezed from the inside out.

‘Call me Tom. I hate the formalities of society.’

‘Tom,’ she said softly.

‘Good. We should get back before anyone finds us here. Then we really would be in trouble.’

They both moved at the same time, her body crashing into his, and as he reached out to steady her his hand brushed against her breast. Jane inhaled sharply and looked up into his eyes, wondering if she imagined the flash of intense longing before he quickly turned away.

Chapter Thirteen

‘Captain Weyman and Mrs Weyman have been kind enough to invite us for drinks,’ Mrs Burghley said as Tom strolled back into the rapidly emptying foyer of the theatre.

He felt his heart sink a little. This evening had not gone to plan. Mrs Burghley had been introduced by a mutual friend and he couldn’t deny she was beautiful and superficially charming. Tom had been cajoled into inviting her to the theatre as a favour to this friend, who had told him she was in need of company after being dropped by the group with whom she used to socialise after her late husband’s money had started to run low. From the hints she had been dropping all evening, she was looking for a protector, a man to swoop in and save her from the precarious position she was in.

Normally he would have given the widow more of a chance, but today everything she did seemed to grate on him. Even her laugh had annoyed him, and he had quickly stopped the wandering fingers she had placed on his leg as everyone’s attention had been directed towards the stage at the start of the play. He wanted to go home to bed and forget about Mrs Burghley.

Glancing at Jane, he felt that same thrum he had every time he looked at her now. He didn’t want to admit this was one of the reasons he had found Mrs Burghley’s company so trying this evening, but he knew his mind was distracted by Jane.

At this moment, she was trying her hardest to be inconspicuous, as he had seen her do many times before. Even so, he couldn’t rid himself of the memory of their kisses. He found himself thinking about it at inappropriate moments, then having to spend time and energy chastising himself for making such a big deal out of it.

He had kissed dozens of women in his life. There was no reason for him suddenly to obsess over these two kisses with a perfectly ordinary woman.

He grimaced, admitting to himself that Jane was not perfectly ordinary. Perhaps that was the reason he was dwelling so much on the kiss; he had allowed himself to like her, to think of her as a friend, before he had kissed her. Normally he didn’t let the women with whom he conducted his liaisons to get too close, showing them only his superficial self. Jane had crept under his defences, becoming his friend.

‘Enough,’ he murmured to himself. She had assured him that to her it was nothing more than a mistake. He needed to forget their kisses too. ‘That is very generous of you. I would not wish to impose.’

‘Nonsense,’ Mrs Weyman said, her eyes sparkling. ‘The evening is young and it would be our pleasure to entertain you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’m sure we can squeeze into our carriage,’ Mrs Weyman said, motioning to a carriage as they left the theatre. ‘It’ll be a little tight, but it is not far.’

‘A little tight’ was an optimistic way of putting it and for a moment, as he climbed into the carriage, he doubted whether they would all fit. It required a great deal of shuffling until they did, and when they finally lurched forward as the carriage departed Tom was sitting squeezed in the middle of one seat with Mrs Burghley to his left and Jane on his right.

‘This is fun,’ Jane murmured in that dry way of hers.

He had to suppress a smile but didn’t dare move to see her expression lest he upset their precarious balance.

Thankfully the journey was short, as promised by the Weymans, and in five minutes the carriage slowed. It took a little manoeuvring to get everyone out but finally they were all standing in front of a smart house with black metal railings outside.

‘Oh, how pretty,’ Mrs Burghley said. ‘I used to live not too far away, and I’ve often walked past these houses and thought how well positioned they are, overlooking the park.’

‘It isn’t big,’ Mrs Weyman said with a contented expression on her face. ‘But for now it is a very pleasant home. We’re renting it for a few more weeks until my husband gets his orders.’

Inside, the Weymans led the way into a comfortable drawing room and a maid bustled around, ensuring the fire was well stoked and drinks poured. Captain and Mrs Weyman excused themselves for a moment, leaving their guests to make small talk in their absence.

‘Tell me, how do you know each other?’ Mrs Burghley asked, her eyes flicking between Jane and Tom, seated on opposite sides of a low table.

For a moment he thought about saying something shocking and provoking. Perhaps that Jane had punched him in an alley in Southwark and their friendship had blossomed from then.

‘Oh, you know,’ Jane said with a dismissive flick of the hand. ‘The usual mutual friends, attending the same social events.’

‘I thought you said you didn’t attend many events of the ton.’ She turned to him with confusion in her eyes.