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The Jersey burst out laughing, and her uncle choked somewhere between a cough and a laugh before he tried to cover his lapse with a long series of coughs.
Not in the least abashed, Sir Warren said with a charming smile, “Ah, my unfortunate reputation precedes and withers me in your estimation, my lady. I wish it otherwise.”
“It precedes you, yes, but I didn’t say it has withered you.” Jessie flirted outright. “I am afraid I am one of those who won’t be swayed by any but my own experiences.”
“Then I am saved, for I declare myself your most humble servant, my lady, and mean to do naught but win favor in your eyes, and dare I say, your heart.”
Jessie, unlike most of her peers, was, in spite of her wildness, a thoughtful miss. She was able to consider Sir Warren Woodfall carefully without giving her opinions away. What she saw was a flirtatious man who most certainly thought a great deal about himself. Yes, he was handsome with his yellow hair styled in a mass of Brutus curls. Yes, his brows were dark, thick, and straight, giving him a manly appearance, in spite of the thick, long, dark lashes. Yes, his lips were sensuous, and his jawline strong and masculine, but all the yeses added up to a sure ‘but’.
He had certainly set himself to enchant her over the next twenty minutes, and she found that unobjectionable, but although he was engaging, she was not taken in.
Later, at home, in her bed, it wasn’t the blond and handsome Sir Warren who intruded on her dreams, but that of a dark and mysterious stranger. Even as she waltzed with Sir Warren in her dream, a dashing black haired and arrogant fellow cut in and held her close enough to wake her up with a start.
Absurd woman, she told herself, and punched her pillow into place. You will probably never see that black haired devil ever again!
~ Two ~
TWO WEEKS PASSED AND THE Season had moved into April. Jessie’s ball was upon them. She had turned one and twenty during this interim, and teased her uncle incessantly about being her very own woman.
The dowager, Lady Charlotte Wilton, who was older than the admiral, was installed at Stafford House to play duenna for Jessie and be the grand hostess. This, much to Jessie’s chagrin, her ladyship did with a great deal of zeal and raised eyebrows.
The dowager stood, all five feet of her, hands on hips, studying her great-niece’s form in the ballgown of white and silver that had been designed for her.
“Stunning!” the dowager declared approvingly. “I saw five daughters married, m’girl, and you out do even my eldest, the prettiest of them all.” Her faded grey eyes looked Jessie over again, and she sighed. “It is plain as pikestaff you haven’t a notion what it means to look as you do, have your background, your wealth, and...well, you shall have every fortune hunter in London chasing after you just as they did last Season. What am I to do with that dreadful nephew of mine telling me he means to go off to sea again soon?”
Jessie eyed herself in the long looking glass. She rather liked the way the pearls and white lace entwined with her cascading red hair, which framed her face. She supposed she was pretty enough, but she so hated parading herself about like merchandise to be auctioned off.
She pinched at the short frothy sleeves of white organza, which swagged over her slender arms. She eyed the low cut of the heart-shaped bodice, and felt her cheeks burn. “Auntie...my...oh my, is this gown too low cut?”
“Yes. You shall be the talk of the town, but you have the title and the wealth, and so rather than criticizing you, all the debutantes will follow your lead,” her great aunt said knowingly. “I trust you shall have the sense to dismiss the fortune hunters this Season as you did last Season, no matter how good-looking you find them.”
Jessie laughed. “I am not interested in any of the men whose morning calls I have had to endure.”
“What of the handsome Sir Warren?” Charlotte asked with a raised brow.
Jessie laughed. “Yes, he is a charmer, is he not? But at least not a fortune hunter.”
“No, but the way he sits a gaming table, he might end up needing to be,” her great-aunt returned sharply.
“Oh, I did not know he had a penchant for gambling,” Jessie said on a frown.
“Ah, what London beau on the town does not?” her great-aunt returned. “Most of them know how to curb themselves. From what I hear, Sir Warren does not.”
“Well, Aunt Charlie, it is just gossip, and I am persuaded you don’t really believe Sir Warren is after my fortune,” Jessie said, giving her aunt an arched look.
“I am not sure about that, and I don’t quite like him,” her great-aunt answered.
Jessie laughed. “I shall keep that in mind.”
A knock at their door and a young maid peeped her head inside and said, “Bless me, but the admiral says he won’t be left to greet his guests on his own and wants ye both right away.”
Charlotte sighed and gave her grey curls a pat, smoothed down her gold silk gown, and turned back to Jessie. “Mind now, you are not to come down until I have sent that silly chit up to fetch you. I mean for you to make the grand entrance.”
“Oh, Auntie, must I? I have been through this once before, you know. Can’t I just come down with you and be one of the reception committee in the central hall?” Jessie’s eyes twinkled because she knew the reaction this would get, but she did really feel this was all too much for her second Season.
Her ladyship did not bother to answer, but as a parting shot said, “Do try not to sit down tonight and wrinkle your gown.”
Jessie laughed and told her, “I have half a mind to rip off my fineries and head for the stables.”
