Jessamine looked over her shoulder at Betsy, her breath caught. Had Rees come so soon? “Is it someone we know?”
“It’s Miss Phillips’s brother, miss.”
Jessamine drew in a lungful of air, her heart thudding against her chest. The moment had arrived. She moistened her lips, needing to know the worst. “Is anyone with him—his wife?”
“No, miss. He came alone.”
“Thank you, Betsy.”
She finished arranging her hair, glad that the walk had left her cheeks rosy. Her outfit suited her coloring. What was she thinking? She could never compare with that Frenchwoman who had stolen Rees from her—except on one count. Céline Phillips was old, near thirty at least.
Drawing comfort from that fact, Jessamine squared her shoulders and headed up the stairs to the drawing room, feeling as if she were going to face an execution squad.
She could continue on to her room, but that would be the coward’s way. Sooner or later she’d have to see Rees. Better here than in a public place.
She stood a moment in front of the closed door, hearing muffled voices through the panels.
Dear Lord, help me get through the next few moments. If I can just get through those, I shall be all right. Thank You.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open.
The moment she entered the room, the conversation ceased and she was the focus of all eyes. But she only had eyes for Rees Phillips.
His penetrating gray gaze locked with hers as he stood. “Hello, Jessamine, how nice to see you again.”
Continuing to pray for strength, she walked across the room, extending her hand. “Hello, Rees. Welcome back.”
His larger hand clasped hers warmly and he smiled. Was it relief she saw in his eyes? “Thank you. You are looking well.”
She forced her lips upward, keeping all emotion locked down deep where no one could be aware of her inward turmoil.
Their hold loosened, and she stepped back a pace. “As are you,” she said. He was indeed, appearing more elegant than she’d ever seen him, in a dark blue, well-cut coat of superfine with brass buttons; a crisp white cravat with just the right number of folds under his chin; a silk waistcoat of a silvery gray that matched his eyes; and close-fitting, fawn-colored pantaloons tucked into top boots.
“Thank you.” His lips tilted up on one side in that familiar way that made her traitorous heart lurch with longing. “I must say you are looking very elegant. Full of town bronze, the both of you.” He turned toward Megan. “I’d hardly recognize you if I met you on the street.”
Megan laughed. “Perhaps to your inexpert eyes, Rees, but we are still but country bumpkins here in London.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Bess, who had sat quiet until now, said from her place behind the tea service. “I’m so glad you have returned from your errand, my dear, in time for Mr. Phillips’s call. Why don’t you ring for some fresh tea and you can catch up with your old neighbor. I’m sure there is much news to exchange.”
Jessamine did as she was bid, glad for an excuse to turn away from Rees. It had been worse than she’d thought—though she was glad the first moments were over. She had faced him and not given way to her emotions. But it had cost her. Oh, to see him so close and still want him as desperately as she had a year ago—two years ago. Nothing had changed. If anything, he seemed more attractive than ever. It was more than his fashionable clothes, although those certainly added to his allure. He had never worn a watch fob before, she noted. The old Rees would have considered it a bit of frippery reserved for dandies. Had his wife perhaps given it to him? Bitterness cast its shadow over her thoughts.
It was more than clothes and haircut. He had an air of contentment and confidence that he’d lacked before. He’d always been so serious, as if bowed under the weight of responsibilities toward his family and ambitions for himself. Now he seemed more relaxed and at ease with himself. He laughed and smiled more readily.
Jessamine turned away from the embroidered satin bellpull and took her seat, in an armchair neither too far nor too close to Rees, to show him and Megan—and herself—that she was indifferent to his presence and treating him like any guest in Lady Bess’s drawing room.
Rees retook his seat beside Megan on the sofa. “I find it hard to believe the two of you haven’t turned a lot of heads since you came to London.”
Megan rolled her eyes. “I am beginning to conclude that with a few exceptions, London gentlemen are either already married, fops and dandies, or merely hanging out for a wife with a sizable dowry.”
Rees shook his head. “I do hope you exaggerate.”
“Of course she exaggerates,” Lady Bess said stoutly. “They have met some fine gentlemen. Things started a bit slowly, but that is understandable, since I myself no longer go out in society the way I used to.” She fluffed up the lacy fichu at her neckline. “I was quite a renowned beauty once, though you’ll find that hard to believe now, I’m sure.”
“Not at all. My mother and I are very grateful to you for taking our Megan under your wing.” He glanced at Jessamine then away. “You had no obligation to include her in your kind invitation to your goddaughter.”
“Nonsense.” Lady Bess waved a hand at him. “It has been my pleasure to introduce both young ladies into society. Such pleasant girls. They have made me feel young again. And they have had quite an amusing time lately, whatever your sister will have you believe.” She smiled indulgently at Jessamine. “We’ve had a string of gentlemen callers since the ball the other night at Lady Fortescue’s. Jessamine was quite a hit in her new gown and hairstyle—and, of course, Megan looked delightful as always.”
Jessamine could not control the blush creeping up her cheeks as Rees’s assessing gaze turned once more to her. “I am not surprised.”
“Lady Bess grossly overstates it.” Jessamine fiddled with one of the buttons on her cuff as she recalled how sick she’d been at the ball.
As if sensing her discomfiture, which only proved how discerning he was to her moods, Rees turned back to Megan. “What else have you two been up to since arriving in London? Besides dancing till dawn?” he teased.
“Lots of things. Since we knew no one but Lady Bess, we went sightseeing together, taking along the travel guide.” She began describing some of their outings, her hands gesturing and her eyes shining as she described the places they’d visited.
Jessamine was thankful for Megan’s enthusiasm. It saved her from having to speak, except for filling in a detail or an impression here or there so neither would suspect what she was suffering inside. Nothing would appear unusual to Rees, since he was used to his sister’s more boisterous nature and Jessamine’s quieter one.
It could almost be old times, she thought sadly. His wife’s name had not even been mentioned.
The maidservant brought in a fresh pot of tea, and Jessamine busied herself with her cup. When she sat back, she was able to observe Rees over the rim of her cup without appearing obvious about it, since both Megan and he were facing each other.
He looked handsomer than ever. His dark, almost black, hair was brushed back off his square forehead, yet it didn’t hide the distinct wave. His strong jawline was neatly shaved, though his sideburns were longer than she remembered.
His gray eyes glanced her way now and again, and she forced herself not to look away but smiled slightly before shifting her gaze to Megan, as if she were giving them both equal attention.
But as Megan’s voice died down, Rees leaned forward, allowing Lady Bess to pour him a fresh cup of tea. “I’m sorry I won’t be in London long, so I shan’t be able to escort you many places. Things are very uncertain in Belgium right now.”
Lady Bess’s lacy cap trembled. “Will there be war?”
He shook his head. “There is no telling what Napoleon will do, especially if he thinks himself surrounded by his enemies. He is not the type to sit idle if he feels his borders are threatened.”
Megan sighed. “I wish you didn’t have to go back to Brussels so soon.”
“I really shouldn’t have come, but I wanted to bring Céline away, no matter how remote any danger.”
It was the first mention of his wife, and Jessamine thought she detected a slight hesitation before he said her name. He hadn’t glanced at her. Throughout his conversation, he had maintained a balanced focus among the three of them. Neutral, she would describe it, like a good diplomat. No wonder he had advanced in that field. Had all feelings he’d once had for her disappeared? It would appear so if she went by his demeanor and tone of voice.
“I hope the trip across the channel didn’t tire her out too much,” Lady Bess said as soon as he mentioned his wife. “Poor thing.”
“She is fine, thank you, ma’am, and resting today.”
“I . . . I would like to meet her,” Megan said, stumbling only slightly, her gaze flitting to Jessamine and away again.
“Yes, she is eager to meet you too.” He glanced at each one of them without pausing on Jessamine. “In fact, she would like to do anything to help introduce you into society—while she is still able to go about.” A flush crept along his jawline at mention of his wife’s condition. “She has been out of London for almost two years now, but her connections are very good, especially since she has been very active both in Vienna and more recently in Brussels among the cream of society.”
“I’m sure she has. She was most admired here in London.” Lady Bess clucked her tongue. “We were all so surprised when she left for France so suddenly, but thankfully, the war was almost over. Rumor had it she hastened to the side of a relative.”
His look shuttered as he stared down at his teacup. “Yes, she found herself forced to return to France.” Then he seemed to recover and addressed Lady Bess directly once more. “I was able to locate her when I was sent to Paris after the peace to work with Wellington. Céline has proved a fine asset to the British diplomatic efforts since we’ve been together.”
“I think it’s so exciting.” Megan clapped her hands together, ending any awkwardness in the atmosphere.
“You have always wanted to be in the diplomatic service,” Megan continued. “And after so many years working in the Foreign Office here in London, your dream has finally come true—and the Lord has blessed you with a true helpmate at your side.” She sighed as if it had all been divinely orchestrated.
“Yes, I am a blessed man. I could hardly have imagined how my life would change.” He looked at Lady Bess again. “But that’s enough about me. I’m sure despite living a more retired life, ma’am, you have still been able to introduce your two charges into society.”
Lady Bess batted her eyelashes, as if she, too, were falling under Rees’s quiet charm. “I am not completely forgotten in society, it is true. But the real credit of the invitations that have begun to grace our mantel comes thanks to the girls themselves.”
“Though if it hadn’t been for Lady Marfleet, we’d still be waiting to receive our first invitation,” Megan said with an arch look at Jessamine.
“Lady Marfleet?”
“She is quite a leader in society. I’m sure your wife is acquainted with her,” Lady Bess explained.
As he nodded, Megan added with an impish look in her direction, “The credit for her attention belongs solely to Jess, who made quite an impression on her younger son, Lancelot Marfleet, at a rout we attended not long ago.”
Jessamine’s first impulse was to deny any such attraction on Mr. Marfleet’s part. But pride came to her aid. Let Rees think a leading member of the ton was courting her. It would not make up for hearing about his wife and what a blessing she was to him, but it would help ease the pain of this first meeting. “Once again, Megan is given to hyperbole,” she murmured, looking modestly at her lap.
“Not in this case,” Megan asserted. “He is a most attentive, eligible gentleman. Best of all, he is a vicar! He has even been to India as a missionary. What better suitor for our Jessamine?”
Rees lifted a black brow. “I am indeed impressed. I knew there was someone special for you.”
For an instant Jessamine’s gaze clung to his as she felt the knife thrust anew at his words. She forced herself to look away, even as her breast seethed with resentful anger. How convenient for him to think she had already fallen in love with someone else, so he could wash his hands of all responsibility for breaking her heart!
“He is just . . . one among many,” she managed to say in an offhand manner. “I am in no rush to settle with any. I prefer to enjoy my season.”
“That is wise,” he said quietly.
Later that afternoon, after Rees had left, Megan knocked on Jessamine’s door.
Megan crossed the room and stood looking down at her. “Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly.
Jessamine sat propped up in her bed against her pillows, an opened book in her lap. She attempted a careless tone. “Yes, of course. I am glad I could see Rees and know he no longer affects me in that way.”
She withstood Megan’s searching look until finally her friend seemed satisfied. “I am glad.”
“When shall you pay her a visit?”
Megan didn’t ask to whom she referred. “Tomorrow.” Thankfully she didn’t ask Jessamine to accompany her.
Instead, Megan sat down beside her on the counterpane and began to pluck at a thread. “He’s asked me to . . . stay with them.”
Jessamine stared at her friend’s bowed head. Before she could rally herself to express her best wishes for her, Megan hurried on, “I have so little chance to see my brother, and he is to be in London so short a time.”
Jessamine covered Megan’s hand with her own, stilling its nervous movements. “Of course you must go.”
Megan’s gray eyes still looked troubled—in the same way Rees’s had the day he told her to forget him. “It’s not just for the time Rees is here. He—he wants me to stay on and accompany Céline.”
Slowly, Jessamine removed her hand from her friend’s. “I see.”
“He asked me especially. He says he doesn’t want her to be alone when he leaves since he doesn’t know how long this crisis is to last.”
“Doesn’t she have anyone of her own?” Jessamine couldn’t help blurting out, then bit her lip, regretting the question, which sounded so ungracious.
Megan shook her head. “Her mother is in France and she has no one close in England. No one but the late Earl of Wexham’s family, and they are not close. Her former sister-in-law used to live with her, but from what Rees told me, she has always been jealous of Céline and done her much harm. At any rate, her sister-in-law has gone to live with the new Earl of Wexham and his wife.”
Jessamine stared down at the counterpane. “Well, you must do as he wishes.”
“I wouldn’t if he hadn’t asked me expressly. He knows I don’t want to leave you.”
Jessamine forced a laugh. “I shall be fine with Lady Bess. And it’s not as if we shan’t see one another.” Except now it would mean having to see her usurper as well.
“Of course not!” Megan let out a breath of relief. “I shall visit you every day.” Her enthusiasm quickly returned, although it sounded a bit too cheery to Jessamine’s finely attuned ears.
Megan jumped up from the bed with a final pat to Jessamine’s hand. “Well, I shall meet Rees’s wife tomorrow. She’s probably a haggard old shrew,” she threw out as final sop before leaving the room.
Jessamine was only able to muster up a lackluster smile, which faded as soon as Megan shut the door behind her.
When Megan returned from visiting her brother the next day, she said little about his wife except that she seemed nice. Jessamine knew Megan was trying to spare her feelings, because if there had been anything the least unfavorable, she would have been sure to mention it and even exaggerate it.
Jessamine and the maid helped Megan pack her belongings. Rees would come with a carriage later to collect her.
“It’s a lovely house on Berkeley Square, so close to Hyde Park. I hope you come to visit me.”
Jessamine pretended to bend down to retrieve a handkerchief off the floor to avoid answering.
Megan changed the subject to an upcoming ball. They’d both received invitations, confirming their success at the first. “I think I shall wear this ivory crepe. I haven’t worn it yet.” She held it up to herself. “What do you think?”
“It’s very pretty. The color looks most becoming against your complexion and hair.”
“Which gown will you wear?”
“Perhaps the new amber sarcenet with the blonde lace.”
Megan breathed in. “It’s so lovely. I can’t wait to see it on you.”
They spoke some more about what accessories they would wear with their gowns and how they would dress their hair. Jessamine thought about her restored necklace and how well it would match her gown.
She still hadn’t come up with a way to repay Mr. Marfleet. She did not want to be in his debt any longer than absolutely necessary. It was an intolerable situation.
Every time she met Mr. Marfleet at a ball or assembly, she would be reminded of that awful night of her first ball.
When the fancy coach came to collect Megan in the early evening, Jessamine braced herself to face Rees again, but only a groom accompanied the coach.
“Rees had a late meeting at the Foreign Office,” Megan read from a note. “I shan’t see him until later this evening.”
With a sense of relief, Jessamine turned her attention to helping Megan collect all her smaller articles of luggage. Then the two embraced.
“I shall see you tomorrow,” Megan promised, then quickly bit her lip. “Perhaps if I come by early, we can go for our usual walk before anyone else is up, the way we are accustomed to?”
Jessamine withdrew from the embrace though she kept a loose hold on her friend’s forearms. “Why don’t you wait and see what M-Mrs. Phillips’s schedule is first?” she suggested, tripping over the name. The only Mrs. Phillips she’d known was Rees’s mother. She took in a breath, plowing on. “If you have time during the day, feel free to call, but if not, we shall see each other at the ball.”
Megan nodded slowly. “Very well.” Then she giggled. “If we don’t see each other before then, we can surprise each other with how beautiful we look.”
“You shall probably have a French maid to dress your hair, so it is not a fair contest.”
Megan’s smile widened. “I shall use every means available to look my best—not to outshine you but to find my prince charming at the ball.” Reluctantly, Megan pushed away with a sigh. “I shall send a note over tomorrow to tell you how everything is.”
“Thank you, but there is no rush. I know you shall be fine and I don’t expect much to alter here.”
With a final nod and tentative smile, Megan allowed the liveried footman to help her into the coach. Jessamine watched the step being lifted, the door shut, and the footman take his place at the rear with a call to the coachman to depart.
The horse hooves clopped over the cobblestones, the iron wheels grating. Megan pushed down the window and waved.
Jessamine forced a smile and waved back.
When the coach was out of sight, Jessamine reentered the silent house with a weary sigh. Lady Bess was out dining with a friend and attending a card party afterward.
Jessamine faced her first evening in London alone.
Despite what Megan had told Rees about their popularity, their calling card tray had remained empty the last couple of days.
Determined not to mope, she climbed the stairs slowly, trying not to notice how quiet the house seemed without Megan’s lively voice.
In her room, she opened the oak clothespress and took out her ball gown to examine it, already thinking of having to dress without Megan’s help.
She would doubtless see Rees at the ball. Surely he’d escort his sister. And Mrs. Phillips? Would she be seen in society? It all depended on her condition.
Whether Jessamine would see her or only Rees, she was determined to look her best.
To her surprise, the next afternoon Mr. St. Leger called on her and invited her to ride in the park in his phaeton. She latched onto it as a lifeline thrown to her. Mr. St. Leger, handsome, fashionable, appearing bored by all society had to offer, had singled her out. Perhaps her fortunes were finally about to change.
She quickly ran upstairs to change her gown for something more appropriate to be seen riding in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour.
She donned a sprigged muslin with jade trim and over it a jade spencer. She gave herself a final inspection in the mirror, adjusting the angle of her poke bonnet, which was trimmed with a matching shade of ribbons and small pink rosettes. She did not want to appear to disadvantage beside Mr. St. Leger’s elegance.
When he was announced, she ran down the stairs to the drawing room, where he waited. “I am ready,” she said, feeling suddenly shy at the thought of going with this elegant dandy on a ride in an open carriage. He was dressed nattily in buckskin breeches, top boots, and a dark brown jacket fitted snugly over his broad shoulders. He took his time inspecting her outfit and finally declared, “You are looking fetching.”
Her cheeks flushed, understanding how a young gentleman must have felt when given a nod of approval by Brummell himself. “Thank you.”
Remembering Lady Bess’s caution about rakes and young blades about town, she had a few qualms about going alone with a gentleman, but they disappeared as soon as she stepped outside and saw his shiny phaeton standing on the curb, a beautiful chestnut pair harnessed to it. Her spirits lifted. To drive in Hyde Park with an eligible gentleman of the ton, that was favor indeed.
The presence of his tiger reassured her as well. She allowed him to help her up and took her place beside Mr. St. Leger.
“Are you ready to be ogled by every driver on Rotten Row?”
He had been astounded to know she’d never ridden on the famous riding path in Hyde Park.
“I’m sure there are too many others to be ogled,” she demurred.
His tiger took his place in the rumble at the back, and Mr. St. Leger took up the reins, setting the horses in motion. They kept up a smart pace down the cobbled street but slowed as traffic increased on Oxford Street.
They didn’t speak much after that as he concentrated on maneuvering the busy streets. Jessamine relaxed, taking pleasure in seeing everything from the view of a high, open carriage. People stopped to watch the smart vehicle drive by. As they turned onto Park Avenue, he was able to pick up the pace again. He saluted other drivers of his acquaintance with his whip. Hyde Park’s vast fields spread before them to her right.
They didn’t enter the park until they had reached Hyde Park Corner at the southeast corner. “There’s Number One, Apsley House,” he said, pointing his whip at a large brick mansion before the park. “It belongs to the Duke of Wellington’s older brother.”
“I wonder if the duke will be obliged to face Napoleon in battle.”
“There is no telling. If he does, it will be the first time.”
A moment later, he pointed out Tattersall’s.
“The horse auctioneers?” she asked hesitantly.
“The very one. It is where I purchased this fine pair.”
“They are beautiful horses.” She had never thought too much of horses except as farm animals. But since hearing the conversation of the gentlemen at the ball, she realized horses were a passion among them.
The traffic was congested before the Hyde Park Corner tollhouse gate, but they turned in beforehand near the formal gardens at the rear of Apsley House. Here the park traffic forced Mr. St. Leger to slow to a crawl.
Riding on Rotten Row proved an eye-opening experience, vastly different from her morning walks in the park with Megan.
Now the sandy path was crammed with carriages inching along. Mr. St. Leger nodded and tipped his hat as a landau passed them. Two ladies seated within smiled before eyeing her. One drew close to the other to say something.
Jessamine was soon distracted by the other vehicles jamming the driving lane. There were several gentlemen and uniformed soldiers riding horseback and a few more daring ladies doing the same. The traffic was further slowed by all those who were walking on the footpath alongside the Row, the two dirt paths separated by only a low row of wooden posts. The carriages stopped frequently for their occupants to chat a few moments with their acquaintances on foot.
Jessamine recognized almost no one.
Mr. St. Leger, however, seemed to know everyone, especially the gentlemen on horseback. He always introduced her first. There was a speculative look in the eyes of the gentlemen for a few seconds before they would get busy talking horses or races.
She smiled when she finally saw a familiar face from the ball. Cubby drew up in a yellow curricle. “Hallo there, Miss Barry. If I’d known you like to drive, I’d have invited you myself.”
“Hello, Cubby,” Mr. St. Leger drawled as Jessamine smiled her greeting. “Finally taking your grays out for air?”
Cubby looked proudly at his horses. “I exercise them regularly.”
“You mean your groom does.”
They bandied about insults for a few more moments before Mr. St. Leger greeted another rider.
Cubby drew his curricle closer to her side. “How have you fared since Lady Fortescue’s ball?”
Jessamine blushed, wondering if he were referring to her indisposition. “Very well, thank you.”
“We missed seeing you at the rout last night at the Buxtons.”
She had known of no rout but merely smiled. “I’m sure it was a sad crush I’m glad to have missed.”
“Not so tired from the dancing that you won’t be ready to kick up your heels at the Waverley ball?”
She laughed in relief, having received an invitation to that ball. “No, indeed. I look forward to it.” On impulse she added, “I wouldn’t want my new gown to go to waste.”
Cubby’s eyes lit up. “A new gown, eh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “I await in anticipation.”
He touched his gloved hand to the brim of his top hat. “Until then, Miss Barry.”
They continued moving along the drive. The day was clear and warm, and Jessamine’s spirits lifted at being out-of-doors in an area that seemed far from the city. She had received a brief note from Megan just as she’d promised, but it had contained few details. Jessamine assumed she must be very busy in her new surroundings.
“You have made a favorable impression on Cubby. He is not easily taken with young ladies in their first season.”
She arched an eyebrow at Mr. St. Leger. “How unfair of him. Here we try our best to primp and do everything in our power to fascinate and please the company, only to have those like Mr. Fane disdain our efforts.”
Mr. St. Leger smiled down at her, a glint of humor in his blue eyes. “We are awfully hard to please, are we not? But you must see it from our point of view. The least bit of interest we pay a young lady and her mama is already planning the announcement of her betrothal in the Gazette.”
“I am certain you exaggerate.”
“I assure you I do not.”
“If that is so, it is a wonder you dared invite me to ride with you in the park.”
He surveyed her under the brim of his hat. “Ah, but your mama and papa are not in town, are they?”
“No, they are not.” For a moment, she wondered whether he was teasing her or in earnest.
But he chuckled, and the puzzlement disappeared. “I have only Lady Beasinger to fear, and she is a delightful if scatterbrained goose.”
“You mustn’t say such things about my hostess. She is a dear woman.”
Instead of replying, he turned with a smile to chat with an acquaintance who had drawn abreast of the phaeton.
“Jessamine!”
Jessamine started, recognizing Megan’s excited voice. Turning in her seat, she wished herself anyplace else. Megan waved and smiled from a barouche with its top down. Beside her sat a dark-haired, very elegant beauty.
Jessamine’s mouth went dry as she took in the sight of Rees’s bride.