Page 51 of A Stormy Season

She went to look for Penelope before anyone should ask her a question, for she was at risk of snapping at anyone who spoke to her at this moment.

She finally spotted her approaching Luke. He stepped away from the small group of men and apparently had to bend down to hear her. Moments later, he straightened, looked around until he saw Jane, then strode toward her.

Jane could just imagine what Penelope had said to him. Something like, “Shouldn’t you be dancing with your fiancé? Everyone is expecting it.”

Penelope was so gentle and soft-spoken, everyone listened when she talked. But Jane was just the opposite. She could be quite loud and free with her opinions, and often she’d seen the taken-aback expression on people’s faces when they thought she had shared her forward-thinking opinions too frankly.

Jane had accepted a long time ago that she wasn’t the quiet, perfect image of a young lady that Society portrayed as the ideal, and she didn’t want to be. Someone had to challenge the norms, did they not? There were too many women who were maltreated, hidden and downtrodden, with no good options for their future. It was a Christian’s duty to defend the orphan and widow, but few people seemed to remember that.

Such strange thoughts to go through her head when Luke was coming toward her, his face serious and grim.

Before he could speak, she said, “You look as if you are on your way to your execution.”

His face went slack, his mouth falling open slightly. “Forgive me.” He leaned down and whispered, his breath tickling her ear, “Will you dance with me?”

When he lifted his head, he was smiling. But again, she hoped she was the only one who realized he was smiling with his lips but his heart was not in it.

They were able to join the dance that was just starting. Luke was an expert dancer and never seemed to miss a step. But she couldn’t help remembering how he had gazed into her eyes at the last ball they’d attended, that fateful night. He’d made her feel as if he truly saw her, as if he was intrigued by her and was enjoying dancing with her.

At the moment he was looking into her eyes but she felt as if his thoughts were galloping here and there. He was dancing by rote, not with his senses. Why should that send a pain through her chest?

At the risk of looking like a fawning fool, Jane smiled brightly at Luke, glancing away, as if he’d said something that made her feel shy. When she looked back, he seemed to have taken the hint and his smile was bigger and less wooden.

When the dance was over, he walked her to where Penelope was sitting and asked, “Are you enjoying the ball?”

“As much as I can under the circumstances.” She smiled as if she had said something witty.

“I am sorry I’m not very good at pretenses.”

“It is not what I prefer either. But as long as we can get through the rest of the ball . . .” She stopped talking when she saw a mother and her daughter, who was in her second season, approach them.

“Allow me to wish you every happiness,” the mother said, “as I hear you are engaged.”

“Thank you very much,” they both said.

“It is only a shame that you have no brothers for my daughter, Mr. Watley.”

“Mamma!” Her daughter’s face turned red.

“It is a shame indeed,” Jane agreed, smiling, “as he would be quite handsome, judging from how handsome my Mr. Watley is.” Jane laid a hand on Luke’s arm, smiling as if she truly were in love.

“It is good to see a sensible match that is also a love match,” the lady said, but Jane thought she noted a bit of artifice in her eyes, as if she were being insincere and doubting that they truly were in love.

They needed to be more convincing, but Jane felt a bit of panic fluttering inside her stomach. Did everyone know their engagement was not real? If so, Jane had to break it off. Was everyone laughing at her, seeing through their charade and clucking their tongues at Jane’s hypocrisy?

“Shall we dance again?” Luke said, gazing down at her.

Jane nodded and turned to the mother and daughter. “Excuse us.”

“Of course.”

Jane let Luke lead her to the dance floor again. She did her best to pretend joy and high spirits. She smiled and danced with a lively step, imagining what it would be like if she truly was in love and Luke was in love with her. As long as she believed it, on some level, she was able to keep smiling, to let her hand linger on Luke’s hand or arm longer than necessary, and to throw flirty looks his way. She was flirting, truly flirting, something she rarely allowed herself to do, and never to this degree. And she found she rather liked it, as Luke became more attentive, more intense with his gazes, with every flirtatious smile and touch of her hand. How could she not enjoy it?

A feeling of guilt was also lurking, for it was wrong to lead a man to think she felt more for him than she did. But Luke had made her so angry, her guilt was short-lived.

Besides, she was doing what they had agreed to do, and he was so bad at pretending to be engaged that she had to play it up as best she could.

At least, that’s what she was telling herself.