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If she were, in fact, a clergyman’s daughter, this would be insult adding to injury. “Mrs. Graves thought I had designs on her son from the start. He employed me with no reference, no character, and when she found out what had happened and that her son was honour-bound to marry me, she threatened to throw me into the street. She said if I couldn’t go home—for that was the truth—it must be because my family had disowned me because I was ruined.”
“So Graves took you away and made you his mistress instead. He abused your trust and then he ruined you?” He touched her face with his forefinger but took it back quickly at her enraged look.
“Do you want Deveril to shoot you?” she hissed. “And no,” she added, “it wasn’t quite like that. I had a…a friend in London who was going to help me, only when I went to meet him, he wasn’t where he said he’d be.”
“Another lover? Oh, Jemima, but you are irresistible.”
He wished he’d not spoken so flippantly, but he was trying to lighten the mood that had suddenly grown tense. He was also aware of Deveril’s scrutiny and felt levity would be less suspicious than the intensity he really felt.
Surely Jemima must know he didn’t care about her past or how many lovers she’d had.
She stared at him coldly. The music was coming to an end. In a moment, he must drop his arms from her shoulders and allow her to be reclaimed by Deveril. The competition.
“My father was killed. I found him in a pool of blood on the carpet when I came back into the house after collecting holly for the Yuletide dinner we were to hold exactly a year ago. Suddenly, I was…alone in the world. A gentleman rescued me.”
“A gentleman?” Miles hesitated. With the slightest curl of his fingertips, he kept her from leaving. “Do you mean Roderick Graves? You just said he was no gentleman!”
“No, not Roderick. Not Mr. Graves!” She seemed impatient. He followed her gaze, and was dismayed to see Deveril advancing upon them. She made to move away, adding under her breath, “A friend of my father’s, if you must know. But something terrible happened. I can’t talk about it. I…I loved him. We were parted and…he didn’t come back.”
Miles waited for her to say more. She looked torn; her expression tortured as she clearly made the effort to conjure up the requisite smile for Deveril who was nearly upon them. Miles meanwhile was forced to hide the tumult of his feelings also. For her, and frustration at being denied the rest of her story. Her father had been murdered? She’d been left alone at the mercy of the world and abandoned by her lover?
A strange confusion began churning in his mind. There was something about what she’d said that sounded strange.
Just the mention that her heart had been engaged by a man she described as honorable stirred the fires of jealousy within him. She’d seemed as cold as marble when he’d first met her. Clearly, she didn’t transfer her affections easily. But she’d admitted to having a true love. What if this man returned, repentant, and wanted to win her back?
“Thank you, Miles, for entertaining the lovely Miss Mordaunt in my absence.” Smoothly, Deveril insinuated himself between them and caged his mistress’s hand upon his sleeve. “Much obliged. And now we will bid you goodnight.” He patted his coat pocket his eyes seeming to feast upon Jemima’s face, Miles forgotten, it seemed. “After a poor ending it has, nevertheless, been a lucrative evening, but now I can lavish my attention on the most beautiful woman in all England. Come, Jemima.”
Miles kept his disquiet to himself as he watched Deveril snake a proprietorial arm about Jemima’s waist and with a nod of dismissal, sweep her away.
The whirl of richly garbed women and sartorially dressed gentlemen enveloped him in a blur. Yet he’d never felt more alone. He longed to claim Jemima for his own, not just to have what Deveril had. If Deveril had her body, Miles would have her mind and heart. Could he do that? Could he make her trust him so that he could help her? Not just so he could make her his mistress, offering himself as a poor substitute for Deveril. She did not want that, he knew.
A large dowager trod on his toe and he winced, almost exulting in the pain and the act it required of him to hide his true feelings. For in truth, he could almost fancy his foot was broken. And yet he smiled his reassurance that there was no damage before moving on.
As if in a daze of unreality. For that’s what it felt like and would feel like until he could see her again.
But how? He’d have to contrive to meet her alone He hoped she’d be amenable to his overtures and that he’d not misinterpreted her interest. She’d overcome her earlier anger towards him. In fact, the gradual warming in her attitude toward him was like a snow maiden finally shedding her icy mantle. Why else would she have made a confidante of him? He doubted she’d divulged so much to Deveril.
Strange how intense was the longing and loneliness that washed over him as he watched her disappear through the double doors on Deveril’s arm. Was she warming to him? He thought she was. He did so want to be the one to look after her. Deveril treated her like a prized possession. Miles, on the other hand, would treat her like a rare gift. He’d do whatever she wished. Lord, maybe he’d even defy convention and…
He curbed his thoughts. It was stretching conventions too much to hope she could be more to him than would be possible given the social constraints under which they lived.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t treat her with all the defence he would an adored wife. She’d unleashed something in his breast that made him believe he truly could be a better man than he’d once believed.
In the meantime, there were the arrangements to be made for transporting the various urns and weaponry from his country estate to Griffith House.
Fortunately, it seemed likely his brother’s trusted batman, John, would make it back from Devon in time to assist him. At last, Miles’s letter had reached him and the man had agreed to meet the brother of the man he’d served so well.
Perhaps he’d take up Miles’s offer of employment.
At least John would be pleased to know that the highwayman who’d murdered his brother was now dead.
He caught a last glimpse of Miss Mordaunt in the doorway before Deveril ushered her outside and it was like a physical pain.
He hoped he did not give himself away. The truth was that he’d give up all the antiquities his brother had amassed during his travels in return for a future with Miss Mordaunt.
Chapter 13
The House Party
