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“Then you must fall into the other category of people who believe I murdered my husbands.”
Unfortunately, she had guessed quite correctly the second time. “Did you?”
“Of course not!”
Her indignation sounded quite real to his ears. Of course, most liars were quite talented and she was no exception. “Then perhaps it is not a curse or murder but simply some dreadful luck,” he said, noticing how she twisted her handkerchief in her hands.
“No, it is a curse,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “There is no other reason for someone my age to be a widow three times over.”
She should think about a career on the stage, for even he was starting to pity her, but only for a moment. “Why are you out here alone? Or are you waiting for someone?”
She laughed scornfully. “There is not one man in that room who would want to have anything to do with me.”
“Perhaps not inside the ballroom.”
Her blue eyes widened and her full lips parted slightly. “You are rather bold, sir.”
“I do find it to be the only way I get what I want.” With her reaction, no one would believe she was insulted by his comment. He wondered why after a dance where she barely uttered more than a few words, she seemed quite chatty outside. Perhaps alone without the stares of the ton, she felt less constricted by the confines of Society.
“And what do you want?” she asked softly.
“I think you know what we both want.” He cocked a brow at her. “You cannot be that innocent. You must feel this attraction.”
“Attraction?” she mumbled and her cheeks reddened. “I believe you are mistaken.”
He laughed softly. “Time will tell.” Seeing her slight discomfiture, he decided to switch topics. “So tell me, how did you meet the duke? Is he a family friend or relation?”
For the first time tonight, she smiled fully. “Oh no, we are not related. We met at Lackington’s when I was nineteen, the year I came out. We were reaching for the same book of sonnets. Being the gentleman he is, the duke allowed me to purchase the book, which I did and then promised he could read it when I had finished. From that time on, we became friends discussing books, politics, and history.”
“How wonderful,” he commented flatly. He couldn’t help but speculate if she had deliberately reached for the same book as the duke in order to meet him. If she had, it appeared not to have worked for her, as she still hadn’t snagged the duke.
“Yes, he has been a valuable friend and advisor.”
“Advisor?” Could he actually be wrong about her trying to ensnare the duke? Highly doubtful. He didn’t trust much of anything she had to say.
“Yes, he gave me some very practical advice when it came to husbands. To think, I actually thought Lord Comstock would be a good husband.” She rose and looked down at him. “I must get back.”
“Will you save me a dance?”
“Perhaps,” she said with a slight tilt of her head and then smiled. “But you should be warned there are people who will say even one dance with me could put your health at risk.”
“Well, since I a
lready have danced with you, and I feel quite healthy, I shall take the chance with another,” he said as she gave him a quick curtsy and hastened back to the ballroom. Feeling as if he had made a little progress, he waited for her to enter the ballroom before returning there himself.
Something still niggled him about their conversation, but he couldn’t put a finger on what bothered him. He snatched a glass of wine from a footman and then took a position in the corner of the room. As he lifted the glass to his lips, his hand stopped. Comstock? What was wrong with him? Everything he knew about Comstock exhibited a gentleman with wealth who respected people from all ranks.
Scanning the room, he noticed Miss Emma Drake dancing with the Duke of Worthington, Miss Louisa Drake conversing with friends, and notably absent again was Lady Stanhope. Two women near him were speaking in low tones about the missing sister.
“I cannot believe she had the nerve to attend the ball tonight,” whispered the dark-haired woman.
“It is her sister’s come out ball,” said the blonde. “I’m certain her mother must have insisted she attend.”
“Humph, she is still in mourning. She should have at least worn gray.” The dark-haired woman leaned closer to the blonde. “You know she is only here to look for her next husband, or perhaps I should say victim.”
Jack fisted his hands. While he wanted to turn and speak his mind to these gossipmongers, how could he when he felt the same way? Deep inside him, he knew she was hiding something, and innocent women had nothing to hide.
“Mary Patterson, that is cruel,” the blonde said before giggling in a high-pitched tone that irritated Jack to no end. “Although most likely true.”
