He was wrong. Wasn’t he? All she wanted was for her sister to not repeat her mistakes. Yes, perhaps she did distrust men, but hadn’t she good reason for doing so? She would hate for her loving, happy sister to go through what she had. There was nothing wrong with that.
She, too, had once been like her sister, but Randolph had destroyed all that. Randolph had made her see what men could really be like under the charming exterior.
No, Lord Jake was wrong. Bianca needed to be protected and there was no one other than she who would do it.
She shook off her doubts and sat up straighter.
It was so easy for him. He was a man. No one would ever break his heart or humiliate him. Instead, he was able to live his life in that free and easy manner, while women like Lady Alice, a woman whose name he couldn’t even remember, vied for his attention.
She sent him what she hoped was a withering look. Instead of withering as he was supposed to, he smiled back at her. Did she detect pity in that smile? That was something she would not stand for. She much preferred to be feared, even despised, than to be pitied.
The third course was served. Violet cringed. It was the dessert course already. It seemed that three courses was to be their lot tonight. If Cook had been in residence Bianca’s guests would have been served at least seven courses, maybe as many as fourteen. Instead, they had to make do with this paltry fare. She sent her sister a look of remonstrance, to say, this is what you get when you invite your friends for the weekend without thinking about how they will be fed.
But Bianca was oblivious to her censure, so she looked down at the dessert plate in front of her.
Jam roly-poly. Again, it was something that Violet would never have put on a dinner menu, but the guests started eating it with great enthusiasm.
‘Reminds me of school,’ she heard one man say, causing Violet to cringe again.
‘Yes, lovely,’ a young woman added. ‘Nanny used to serve this and I haven’t had it for years.’
‘It seems Myrtle and Beryl’s simple food continues to be a success,’ Lord Jake said.
‘Hmm,’ Violet responded, not wanting him to think she had forgiven him, although she was no longer sure what he needed forgiveness for.
She was saved from continuing to make strained conversation when Lady Cynthia, the woman sitting to his left, started talking to him in an animated manner. What they said was of no interest to her whatsoever and she tried to not pay them any attention. Why should she care whether they were flirting? It did not matter one fig if she was another young woman like Lady Alice to whom he had promised to dance the night away. Perhaps they were meeting for the first time, but they did seem rather familiar with each other for people who had no history.
She leant a little closer. The weather. They were discussing the weather. She almost snorted with laughter. He must be bored senseless. Lady Cynthia was smiling, fluttering her eyes and acting as if they were having the most riveting conversation. About the weather.
She was no threat whatsoever. Violet almost choked on her pudding. Where on earth had that come from? Of course that young lady was no threat, because Violet did not care if Lord Jake became enamoured with any of the debutantes at the party. He could run off with Lady Alice, or the one giving the weather forecast, or whoever he wanted. She did not care. And it would be much better if he did. Then he would stop bothering her.
Despite that, she couldn’t help but continue to eavesdrop. Once again the conversation had turned to the romance of the last Rosemont ball and once again the young lady was hinting that maybe he, too, would make a similarly romantic gesture when he proposed.
Lord Jake was laughing it off. Couldn’t Lady Cynthia see what was so obvious to Violet? He was merely playing with her. She was seeing him as a potential husband and he was seeing her as little more than a passing diversion.
Men, they were all the same. Randolph had also flirted, he had charmed and, just like Lord Jake, every woman he’d met had adored him. Adored him far too much. Her breath caught in her throat as the full extent of Randolph’s treachery crashed down on her. While he was courting her, he was doing much more than just flirting with other women. How he must have laughed at her. While she’d denied him even the most chaste of kisses, saying it must be saved for their wedding night, he was taking his pleasure with other women. If he hadn’t been caught in flagrante by one debutante’s father and forced to do the honourable thing, he would have married Violet, just so he could get his hands on her money, with no intention of stopping his philandering ways.
The footmen removed their bowls. Lady Cynthia continued to monopolise Lord Jake’s attention. Laughing at something he said, she actually placed her hand on his arm in an overly intimate manner. Violet looked along the table. Bianca was doing the same. Staring at Mr Fortescue as if besotted and tittering at everything he had to say.
This was outrageous. This dinner party was descending into something resembling a bacchanal. What were the other chaperons thinking, letting young ladies behave like this? It was up to Violet to put a stop to this overfamiliarity before they all came to regret it.
She stood up, signalling to the ladies that it was time to leave the men to their brandy and cigars. Several stood, but most lingered in their seats, including Bianca and Lady Cynthia, who had still not removed her hand from Lord Jake’s arm. Violet picked up her silver bell and rung it vigorously. The little bell merely tinkled, hardly enough to be heard above the excessive laughter and chatter.
‘Ladies,’ she called out in her loudest voice. ‘Ladies,’ she repeated, even louder, her throat straining. Finally, voices stilled and with much rustling of skirts and a few groans of annoyance, the remaining young women rose. They formed a somewhat less than orderly file, but at least they all followed Violet out of the dining room.
As soon as the dining room door closed behind them, Bianca took her arm. ‘You and Lord Jake seem to be getting on very well.’ Before Violet could counter her claim, Bianca sighed with contentment. ‘He’s so handsome, almost as handsome as Mr Fortescue.’
‘I hadn’t noticed,’ Violet responded, unsure why she was lying. How could she say she had not noticed that Lord Jake was handsome? It was the first thing she had noticed about him and, every time she looked at him, it was the one thing she could not deny. He was possibly—no, probably—no, definitely the most handsome man she had ever met. And handsome men were top of her list of those one could never trust, along with men who were trying to get their hands on a generous marriage settlement. Men, no doubt, like Mr Fortescue.
‘Yes, you’ve made quite the conquest there and are going to be the envy of every other woman present,’ Bianca continued. ‘Except me. I have no interest in him, but I have heard that he’s quite the lady’s man, with a bit of a naughty reputation.’ She giggled, as if a naughty reputation was something to be admired rather than disapproved of.
‘I have no wish to discuss Lord Jake.’
‘As much of a catch as he is, I think Mr Fortescue has more finer qualities.’
With every word that came out of her mouth, Bianca was proving just how much she needed Violet’s guidance. How could she possibly think that a man with a naughty reputation was a catch? And how could she use the words finer qualities when discussing either Lord Jake or Mr Fortescue?
She needed to ignore the churning in her stomach that mention of Lord Jake’s success with the ladies evoked and concentrate on curtailing Bianca’s over-exuberance. ‘As I said, I have no desire to discuss Lord Jake, but as for Mr Fortescue, all I can say is that you are paying him far too much attention.’ Violet’s voice was suitably stern. ‘You should be attending to your other guests, not billing and cooing with Mr Fortescue.’
Bianca laughed. ‘Oh, can’t you relax a little, Violet?’ She patted her hand. ‘Everyone’s enjoying themselves, and isn’t that what this party is supposed to be about?’
Violet grasped at a reply. In her opinion, they were enjoying themselves way too much. There was far too much familiarity going on, what with young ladies touching men’s arms, flirting, fluttering eyelashes and so on.
‘And tomorrow we’re all going on a picnic.’ Bianca gripped her hand tighter in excitement.
Violet stared at her sister. Surely she was jesting?
‘Don’t look at me like that. It will be such fun and the weather will be simply divine. I just know it.’
‘And have you told Beryl and Myrtle? They’ll need to organise food.’
‘Oh, stop fretting. You worried about tonight’s dinner and it all went off perfectly well. It will be just the same with the picnic.’
‘Not if the cooks have not been informed that a picnic lunch is required. I suppose I’m going to have to sort that out now while you continue to enjoy yourself.’
‘Thank you. And tell them Mr Fortescue particularly likes salmon sandwiches.’
‘Bianca, I’m warning you, be careful. You’re giving far too much encouragement to that man and he’s not good enough for you.’
‘I’m paying no more attention to him than you are to Lord Jake.’
Violet opened her mouth to counter her smiling sister’s accusation, but could think of no response. Instead, she turned and strode off down the corridor towards the kitchen to sort out her sister’s latest impetuous decision, while the other ladies retired to the drawing room.
As she entered the kitchen, where Beryl, Myrtle and the scullery maids were cleaning up, Bianca’s words continued to ring in her ears. She wished her sister was wrong, but knew she was right. She had spent more than enough time with Lord Jake, but that was hardly her fault. Violet hadn’t invited him this weekend. She hadn’t asked him to visit the tavern and she most certainly hadn’t placed him beside her at dinner. All these things were beyond her control. But no more. From now onwards she would take back control. Control of events and control of herself. At least, she would from tomorrow. Right now, she had an unexpected picnic to organise.
‘Well done, old chap.’ Herbert laughed as he sat down next to Jake and banged him heartily on the back. ‘You’re keeping the harpy busy, just as you promised.’
‘I would hardly describe Lady Violet as a harpy.’ Jake bristled. ‘She’s actually entertaining company.’
‘Yes, yes, quite right.’ Herbert winked at him as if they had shared a private joke, looked around at the other men sitting back and enjoying their cigars, then leant in closer. ‘Wouldn’t want anyone to know what we’re up to. Might get back to her and ruin everything.’
Herbert sat up straighter. ‘Yes, Lady Violet is a delightful woman,’ he said loudly, causing Jake to shake his head in disbelief. A career on the stage was certainly not something his friend should be considering.
‘So, tomorrow, my darling Bianca has organised a picnic. We plan to make our escape early. If you can keep her sister busy for as long as possible, I’ll be eternally grateful.’
‘Perfectly happy to do so.’ A statement that was surprisingly true.
‘But do be careful.’ Herbert once again leant in close as if to impart some worldly wisdom. ‘Apparently, she was engaged once, so she’s not completely averse to men and marriage. You wouldn’t want her dragging you to the altar.’ Herbert gave a hearty laugh at the impossibility of such a notion.
‘Who? Why? What happened?’
Herbert raised his hands, palms upwards, to signal he had no idea, and even if he did, it was of little concern to him. ‘Don’t know the details. My sister mentioned something about it when I informed her we were coming up here for the weekend. You know how women like to gossip. Just thought I should give you a word of warning, old chap.’
‘Right,’ Jake said, somewhat amused by Herbert’s attempt at a man-to-man talk, but also curious to know what sort of man would have captured Lady Violet’s heart and why she had decided not to go ahead with the nuptials.
The brandy carafe was passed around the table yet again, and each man served himself a generous glass. As they downed their drinks, the men relaxed more, the voices grew louder, and that was the end of any possibility of private conversations.
Herbert went back to singing Lady Bianca’s praises. Not that anyone was listening and not that Herbert cared whether or not they were.
As Jake sipped his drink, he contemplated Herbert’s words. His friend was worrying needlessly and was wrong about everything when it came to Lady Violet. She was anything but a harridan. She might frighten Herbert, but fear was most definitely not what Jake felt in her company. In fact, he found being with her invigorating and could not remember a time when a woman’s company had been so stimulating, in more ways than one.
And as for the likelihood of her ever expecting a marriage proposal from him—that was laughable. She had made her opinion of him very clear. He was the last man on earth she would see as a potential husband. Well, perhaps the second to last man on earth. Her opinion of Herbert was even lower than her opinion of him.
No, the only thing Herbert needed to worry about was getting Lady Violet to change her mind about him. He looked over at his friend, who had managed to monopolise the attentions of one of the guests and was regaling him with the many amusing things Lady Bianca had said over dinner. Herbert was oblivious to the man’s obvious boredom, but then, at the moment, he was oblivious to everything except the woman he loved.
Tomorrow, Jake would do his best to convince Lady Violet that she should put up no obstacles to Herbert’s courtship of her sister, and he most certainly would give no further thought to Herbert’s irrational fear that the lady might harbour aspirations of her own in that direction.