Page 36 of A Sham Engagement

How tall and slim Jack was, and how smartly dressed. Quite the dandy with his dark hair styled into the Grecian and white stockings and tight silk breeches on, but also with the look of a military man about his bearing. She might ask him if he’d ever served in the army. Of course, he must have looked like this on the night she’d met him, but that memory had been erased from her mind. All she could recall of that night was him holding onto her dress so firmly it had torn, and then Mama and everyone bursting in on them. If only that wasn’t the sole bit she could remember, she’d be happier.

Aunt Penelope, with a little, self-satisfied harumph, hung back, a hand restraining the grumpy Petunia, whispering, “Go down to him on your own.”

On her own? Elenora hesitated, wishing herself anywhere but here. However, with Aunt Penelope behind her blocking any attempt at escape, she had no choice. She set her silver slippered foot on the top step, and as she did so, he must have heard her because he turned to look up.

Their eyes met and his rather severe expression softened into a smile. She hesitated, disturbed by both the smile and the strange look in his eyes. Why was he regarding her like that? Why was life so very complicated and filled with things she couldn’t understand but others seemed able to?

“Keep going,” Aunt Penelope hissed from behind.

Taking a deep breath, Elenora took another step, and then another, descending the staircase as slowly as possible, desperate not to trip on her long gown and looking where she was stepping rather than at Jack, but all the while conscious that his gaze hadn’t wavered from her. Her cheeks bloomed with heat. Good heavens. It was bad enough having one person staring at her, how much worse would it be with a whole ballroom of people doing so?

She reached the bottom of the stairs, eyes still down.

“Elenora, you look beautiful.” How deep and husky his voice was.

She dared a peek up at him. The smile had vanished and his face had taken on a deadly serious expression. At least, she thought it had… Long ago she’d realized how hard it was to read faces the way her sisters and brothers could, which was one of the reasons she watched people so closely. She tried to emulate their reactions where possible, but here she had no one’s response to go on but her own. She tried a tremulous smile. “Thank you.” She could return the compliment. That would be an easy reply. “And you look most handsome and dashing tonight.”

He reached out and took her gloved hand, bending his head to kiss her fingertips, all the while keeping his eyes on her face. Her heart performed a little, frightened flutter to add to all the other things she didn’t understand. No man had ever looked at her like that before.

Aunt Penelope arrived beside her and Jack released Elenora’s hand and executed a bow to her chaperone. “Lady Dandridge, as gorgeous as usual. My mother will be pleased to see you again so soon after your last meeting. She has decided to attend with my father.”

Petunia cleared her throat.

“And Miss Dandridge. You look charming.”

Elenora wasn’t paying much attention to this. What had he said? His mother again? Oh no. The churning sensation in Elenora’s stomach increased and for a moment she suffered the nasty sensation she might really be going to cast up her accounts—possibly all over Jack himself.

Aunt Penelope slid a supporting hand under her elbow. “Lord Broxbourne. I very much look forward to seeing Lady Amberley again tonight, and I’m sure Elenora does too.”

Oh, but everyone was so polite. Elenora longed to tell them both the last person she wanted to ever see again was Jack’s acerbic mother with all her catechism of questions. But she didn’t. Hard as it was, she held her tongue.

“My carriage awaits you,” Jack said, with a sweeping gesture of one hand toward the door where Hemmings was on duty waiting to open it for them. “Shall we depart?”

Jack offered Lady Dandridge and Petunia his hand up into the waiting carriage, and, as they settled themselves, turned to Elenora. For a moment, he faltered. He’d thought her uncommonly pretty the first time he’d met her, but something about her extreme practicality had detracted from that beauty. Now, decked out like Cinderella on her way to meet her prince, she was exquisite. How would it be if she chose him to be her prince?

Pushing that rather disturbing thought out of his head, because it definitely wasn’t what he wanted, he held out his hand.

She hesitated. Why was it she seemed to so dislike being touched? He kept his hand outstretched. Not because he wanted to force her into taking it, but because he very much wanted to feel her touch.

Her breasts rose and fell as though she were taking a deep breath to steel herself for something unpleasant. Damn it. Why did she still persist in finding his presence so distasteful? He’d thought the other day that things had warmed between them after she’d met Edward, but now it seemed they’d regressed to the start again. The urge to make her like him better, combined with a not unnatural annoyance that she didn’t, had him almost snatch her hand.

He felt her resist and tightened his hold. Much as he had done with her dress, and perhaps for the same reasons. Despite himself, he wanted to get to know this strange young lady better. Whether she liked it or not.

Elenora shot him a sharp look, but allowed herself to be helped up the step and into the carriage. She sat down between her aunt and cousin, smoothing her skirts and keeping her eyes lowered. Had he not already known her better, he would have thought she was being demure, but he’d already worked out that demure was not an adjective to be used about Miss Elenora Wetherby.

He settled himself opposite the ladies, Hemmings put up the step and closed the door, and the carriage moved off.

Only a single lamp burned inside the carriage, and it was difficult to make out Elenora’s face, not least because she was regarding her hands as though they were newly attached.

For some reason, though, Jack could think of no small talk to make, which was most unlike him. His mind remained a blank, as he studied Elenora and she studied her hands.

Lady Dandridge broke the awkward silence. “Will you be going to the soirée at Lady Routledge’s next week?”

That old harridan. Not if he could help it. “I have had an invitation.”

“I have received one as well and will be taking Elenora and Petunia.” She paused. “It would be most acceptable if you would be able to accompany us.”

“In that case, I will do so.” Damn it. Lady Routledge was such a nosy woman. If she sniffed a rat of any sort, she’d be on it like the terriers his grooms kept to keep the vermin down.