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Chapter Twenty-Nine
After settling a little confusion regarding the champagne she had asked to be brought out from the cellar, Jenny made her way back to the ballroom as quickly as she could. The event was going wonderfully well and her husband was being accepted by the Lords. He was also giving her more attention.
She nearly collided with someone coming out of the ladies’ retiring room. “Pardon me,” she said, looking up at the guest, “I did not…” she trailed off as recognition struck her.
The very face from her past that had taken to appearing in the most unexpected of places was before her. "Jennifer Robshaw," Vanessa Whittaker, the girl who had tried her damndest to make life at the seminary difficult for Jenny said very slowly, giving her a slow and deliberate look of appraisal.
Although Vanessa was her senior at the seminary and about four years older in age, she had always viewed Jenny as her rival. "I suppose I should sayYourGracenow.”
"Proper forms of address at etiquette class have never been your strong point, Vanessa,” Jenny responded calmly. "I see even France could not change some things.”
Her words did not move Vanessa. “I must admit that I was surprised when I learned you are a duchess.” She laughed. “And you caught Nicholas. A big fish.”
Her husband was no fish, she wanted to say, marveling at how after all these years, the animosity between them still remained, as though it had only lain low to resurface once they reunited.
The last time Jenny had seen Vanessa was at her passing ceremony at the seminary. And the last she had heard of her after that, she had moved to France—her mother's home country—not long after making her bow into society due to her father's untimely death, and her uncle tossing them out on their ear after inheriting her father's title of the Viscount of Digby.
“When did you return to England?” Jenny asked her. She had not known of her return until she saw her climbing into a carriage at Bond street, after which she began to suspect, and was reassured of this suspicion when she spied her at her wedding luncheon. “Some time ago.”
Jenny’s brows rose. “Disinclined to share, I see. I drew up tonight’s guest list myself. I don’t remember extending an invitation to you. How did you get in?”
This might be her house and her ball, but on a night like this, it was bound to be a little porous and Vanessa might have come with another guest. Vanessa looked as though she was trying not to betray her displeasure at Jenny's words just now. She pinned a tight smile onto her delicate features and said, “I came with a friend.”
Jenny thought she looked somewhat sallow. Her naturally rosy cheeks had almost no color now. She was about to ask her if she was feeling well when her next remark—one designed to bite—came.
"A very bold color you are wearing tonight,YourGrace. Is it your husband's influence? He has always been very bold." Vanessa's piercing blue gaze slowly moved over Jenny once more.
Jenny felt confident in her midnight blue dress and would not be perturbed by her comment. But then something in her tone and words struck Jenny as odd, sending an unsettling feeling over her. Vanessa’s comment suggested she knew Nicholas well and she wondered how. If Vanessa were not a genteel woman, she would not have been surprised, given Nicholas’s past with women. But this was very odd. Too odd for comfort.
Not giving the unease any room to grow, Jenny responded with, "A quick pointer, Miss Whittaker," She lowered her voice so only Vanessa could hear—not that there was anyone in the hallway with them. "It is never the dress that is bold but the wearer, you see."
Vanessa swallowed, looking green before quickly collecting herself. Something was wrong with her but in spite of that, she was still out to get Jenny. "Well, I would advise the wearer to not get too comfortable in her new dress. It just might be for someone else."
That cryptic statement sent a chill over Jenny’s body but she squared her shoulders and set her chin. “Say all you want, Vanessa, I have grown past being bullied by you. If you will excuse me, my attention is required in the ballroom.” She gathered her silken skirts and turned around.
She had taken only two steps when Ernest appeared. “Oh, hello there, Your Grace!” he called.
She smiled at him before the ladies’ retiring room door closing caused her to turn around. Vanessa was nowhere to be found. "What are you doing standing alone in the hallway?" Ernest crossed the hall to meet her.
“I was not alone. I was speaking with an old acquaintance.”
“I jest.” He offered her his arm. “Who was it?”
“Someone I attended seminary school with.” As he led her away from the door, the sound of someone retching reached her and she wondered if it was Vanessa. That was a very strange encounter she had.
In the ballroom, she spied Nicholas talking with Sir Phineas and he did not look pleased and neither did Sir Phineas. “Good God!” she whispered.
Ernest followed the line of her gaze and he chuckled. “Your husband cannot stand Sir Phineas.”
“Thank you for stating something rather obvious, Ernest.” Seeing them and the identical expressions of disapprobation on their faces annoyed her.
“My point is, leave them be,” Ernest said, guiding her in the opposite direction. “They will grow out of it.”
“When?”
“When Nicholas is certain Sir Phineas is not trying to steal you from him.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Steal me?” she echoed.
