Page 55 of A Stormy Season

She went on smiling and soon another young man asked her to dance. She ended up dancing several more dances, smiling and determined to enjoy herself.

Luke suddenly appeared when the ball was nearly over. “May I have the last dance?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” she said. She did her best to make conversation with Penelope while she waited for the last dance to start. What would Luke say? Would he be angry with her for dancing and flirting with every unmarried man in the room? He shouldn’t, since he didn’t care about her. Would he tell her he wished to inform everyone they were not engaged?

Her heart beat fast, practically jumping into her throat.

“My dear, when the ball is over, please talk to me and tell me what’s wrong,” Penelope said.

“Very well.” Jane could never deny Penelope anything she asked for, as she never asked for too much and was so generous herself. Besides, she knew Penelope genuinely cared about her.

Before the last dance Luke came and claimed her. As they started toward the dance floor, she tried to read his expression. Was he angry? Embarrassed by her behavior? Did all of her flirting remind him of his first wife?

Needles pricked her skin as the blood drained from her face. How similar her behavior must seem to Anne’s.

How he must despise her. And how glad he must be that they were not actually engaged to be married.

As they danced, not speaking, part of her wanted to apologize to him. But then she remembered how cold he had been when he’d accused her oflurkingoutside Jeffrey’s room and when he’d told her it would be her reputation that would suffer.

Her cheeks heated. She was glad she had danced with the other gentlemen. Luke obviously didn’t care about her, didn’t want her, didn’t care to dance with her. He probably only asked to dance with her now to show that it wasn’t his fault if people thought they weren’t in love. He could blame it all on her if people discovered the truth.

Chapter Seventeen

Jane was dancing with Luke, but she wished she was back in London adding and subtracting numbers and filing away the shop’s receipts. Numbers didn’t upset her. They never confused her or made her question herself or her motives. They were what they were and they didn’t change.

In her office, in her own little chair, all was predictable and safe.

But it wasn’t like her to want predictability and safety, not all the time. She wanted to gallop across the countryside, visit the ocean and its crashing waves, see things she hadn’t seen before. She wanted . . . something she couldn’t have—the love of a good man.

Luke was staring down at her as if he wanted to say something. “There is some gossip,” he said, or at least, that’s what she thought he said. His voice was so low it was barely audible.

“Gossip?”

“About us. There is talk that we are not, in fact, engaged at all.”

“Who is saying that?”

“My friend told me he overheard some ladies speaking of it.”

“I think Lady Ingraham heard what I said to you in the hall outside the nursery.” She wanted to say she was sorry, that she had been foolish to say what she did, especially where someone might hear. But her pride held her back.

She was about to ask him what he thought they should do, but the music ended and so did the dance.

The servants were already moving to place tables and chairs on the dance floor and all around the ballroom. In very little time, the room would be turned into a large dining hall and filled with conversation instead of dance music.

Before Jane could try to talk to Luke, an older gentleman came to talk to him, and Jane went to find Penelope.

The rest of the evening, Luke was surrounded by guests, and he often looked deep in conversation. Jane stayed near Penelope, trying to look as if she was enjoying herself, talking with the people sitting around her.

The woman who had been sitting next to Jane vacated her seat and Lydia Newman, a long-time acquaintance of Jane’s, took her place.

“So, Jane, tell me the truth. Are you and Luke Watley actually engaged to be married? For there is a rumor that you are only pretending.”

“Aren’t you the brave one, Lydia.” Jane stared her in the eyes.

“It is only a rumor, probably invented by someone who is jealous of you landing the gentleman we were all madly in love with a fortnight ago. But is it true?”

“People will believe what they want to believe, no matter what I say. So I will not tell you. Let each person make up his own mind.”