CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

That afternoon, the maid—whom Jessa had learned was named Betts—came and knocked on their door to summon them to tea in the parlor.

“Doesn’t the earl have guests at the moment?” Jessa asked.

She had spent well over an hour staring out the window, trying desperately to think of a solution, to no avail. During that time, two carriages had arrived. One with the Dearborn crest, which disgorged two fashionably dressed ladies, and another plain black one that left a blond gentleman on the doorstep.

“Yes,” Betts said. “Lady Dearborn and Lady Anne are here, and milord’s cousin.”

“Then it’s not necessary for us to attend,” Jessa said, her stomach knotting at the thought. “We are hardly the kind to take tea with the lords and ladies.”

Louisa set down her sketchpad, which showed an awkward drawing of a horse. “Please, Jessa? I am famished.”

“Lady Agatha expressly told me your presence is desired,” the maid said.

“Will there be cakes?” Louisa asked.

“Cakes, and scones with cream, and sandwiches,” Betts said. “It’s a lovely tea, if I might say so.”

Jessa frowned at the girl, but the maid only gave her an impish grin.

“We must go.” Louisa turned to Jessa, her hands clasped. “It sounds delicious. And Lady Agatha said we were to come.”

“I’ll help you freshen up.” Betts went to the dresser and fetched the silver-backed hairbrush that had belonged to their mother, then began fixing Louisa’s hair.

Jessa let out a long breath. Surely the earl did not wish them to come to tea. He favored propriety above all things—and seating the Gypsy Violinist and her odd sister across from some of the most fashionable ladies of the ton was courting social disaster.

But his aunt had insisted.

At least she and Louisa had gowns that would do—though for only one event. They had just enough room in their bags to bring a single change of clothing, and each of them had selected their best gown. Tomorrow they’d be back to wearing the dark walking dresses they had arrived in.

“You look lovely,” Betts said, smoothing the top of Louisa’s hair. She shot a glance at Jessa. “Ready, miss?”

“I suppose I am.” She tidied her own coiffure and shook out her skirts, silk striped in teal and ivory.

The dress made a soft hushing sound as they descended the stairs, but it was not enough to soothe Jessa’s mind. A pall of worry settled over her the closer they came to the parlor.

Betts showed them into the room, an elegant space done up in shades of gold and apricot. The earl and his guests were seated in the center of the parlor, and upon their entrance the two gentlemen rose. Lady Agatha sprang to her feet as well, and came to take Louisa’s hand.

“Here they are,” she said. “The granddaughters of Viscount Trenton, whom, as I mentioned, are staying with us for a time.”

Lady Anne blinked and opened her mouth, then shot a glance at her mother.

“I declare!” Lady Dearborn was not as hesitant as her daughter. “But isn’t that Miss Lovell?”

Jessa gave the woman her best curtsy, and Louisa followed suit.

“Yes,” Lady Agatha said. “I am pleased to introduce Miss Jessamyn and Louisa Lovell.”

“Well, I…” Lady Dearborn was clearly at a loss.

“My visitors are Lady Dearborn and her daughter, Lady Anne,” Morgan said smoothly, stepping into the awkward silence. “And this fellow here is my cousin, Mr. George Fielding.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the young man said. His eyes were alight with curiosity, but he glanced at the earl and said nothing.

“Come, sit.” Lady Agatha led Louisa to the divan, and the two of them settled there cozily. There was not quite room for Jessa.

“Miss Lovell?” The earl held a chair for her, set at an angle that would allow Lady Dearborn to direct sneers at her all afternoon. But there was no help for it.

Dipping her head in thanks, she perched on the apricot silk of the wingback chair and fixed a smile upon her face. Lady Anne moved her knees away from Jessa and toward the earl’s fair-haired cousin.

The conversation swirled about, and Jessa had very little to contribute except for an “ah” or a pressing together of her lips. Lady Dearborn steered the talk to the details of various events her daughter and the earl had attended recently. There were a good many: riding in Hyde Park, boating, an opera performance. It seemed the Earl of Silverton was paying quite assiduous court to the lovely Lady Anne.

Betts and another maid arrived with the tea trolley, and Lady Agatha poured out with the ease of long practice. Louisa fell gleefully upon the lemon cake and fruit tarts, which prompted a haughty eyebrow raise from Lady Dearborn.

“Your sister is rather an… enthusiastic young woman,” she said to Jessa.

“She’s never been one to curtail her enjoyment,” Jessa replied. “I think a free and open heart is a great gift.”

“I suppose. If one knows how to temper it properly.” Lady Dearborn looked down her nose at Jessa. “Of course, that takes a certain amount of breeding.”

Jessa felt her cheeks flush at the insult.

“Yet too much pedigree can have rather the opposite effect,” Lady Agatha said. “Everyone’s life should have moments of unfettered joy. I pity those who cannot feel it.”

She sent the earl a look, as though she were speaking of him.

Jessa glanced at Morgan, remembering his smile gleaming in the moonlight as they galloped over the green. Remembering the passion in his kiss. She did not share Lady Agatha’s opinion that the earl was entirely joyless. It was simply that he buried such emotion so deep as to be nearly undetectable.

What had made him so contained?

“I think displaying the proper amount of enjoyment is only polite,” Lady Anne said. “One wouldn’t want to offend.”

Jessa glanced from the prim young lady to Louisa, who had a bit of jam smeared on her cheek and a look of pure contentment.

“I know which life I’d choose,” she said. “Happiness is more important than respectability.”

“I disagree.” The earl’s expression was set. “Respectability is paramount. It cannot destroy happiness, despite what my aunt thinks. While the opposite, abandoning hard-won respectability in the foolish pursuit of happiness, is all too common.”

Jessa bit her lip. She wanted to argue, and yet was not her own life a result of her mother’s choice to abandon respectability in the face of love? A choice that had ultimately brought only sorrow.

“Just so.” Lady Dearborn gave a sharp nod.

“I believe there must be a balance,” the earl’s cousin said. “It shouldn’t have to be one or the other.”

Lady Anne smiled gently, seeming in agreement with the young man, but the earl set his teacup down firmly.

“You will learn the truth of it, Geordie. I only wish I’d been wiser at your age.”

“Well,” Lady Agatha cut in. “I think we might all safely enjoy a stroll in the garden without jeopardizing our reputations. Or our complexions, as I’ve had the maids fetch our hats. Ladies?”

She rose and gestured to the French doors that led onto the terrace—the same terrace where Jessa and the earl had shared a midnight conversation. His study must be next door.

The women donned their bonnets, and the earl offered his arm to Lady Anne. His cousin glanced at Louisa, then Lady Dearborn. Hastily, he stepped up to Jessa.

“Might I accompany you?” he asked.

She could hardly refuse, although she longed to safeguard her sister from Lady Dearborn’s sharp-tongued comments. Of course, Louisa would smile blithely through them, but she was not insensible to the venom that lurked behind people’s words. Jessa was relieved to see Lady Agatha put Louisa on her right side, while gesturing Lady Dearborn to her left.

The sky was strewn with clouds, the sun beaming down for a few minutes, then sliding away to hide behind the puffs of white. Canterbury bells and dame’s rocket bloomed in the borders, and the lawn edging the flowerbeds lay smooth and perfectly green beneath her boots.

“So.” The earl’s cousin bent toward her. “What brings you and your sister to reside at Trevethwick House? It’s quite outside the normal course of things, especially where Morgan is concerned.”

“We are staying at Lady Agatha’s behest.” She hoped he would not notice that she’d sidestepped his question.

“Mother has her opinions, that’s certain. She’s set on shaking Morgan’s principles, though he’s immovable as marble.”

Not nearly so cold or hard as he would have people believe, however. Jessa could not help glancing ahead, to where he escorted Lady Anne, and her heart lurched at the sight of them in close conversation.

Ah, she was a fool. There was no place for her in Morgan’s life, or his bed.

“They’ll announce the betrothal any day,” Mr. Fielding said. “As soon as my cousin feels it’s appropriate to ask her to marry him.”

“Appropriate?” Jessa turned to him. “Are they not in love?”

He let out an ungentlemanly snort of laughter. “Love? My cousin’s immune to such emotion. No, he has settled upon Lady Anne as the most suitable candidate to continue the Trevethwick line.”

“That seems rather unfortunate for her, to be thought of as a broodmare.”

“It’s how things are done among the ton. Oh.” He glanced at her. “My apologies—I forgot that you’re part of the gentry.”

She sent him a wry look. The earl’s cousin was endearingly frank. “I might bear the bloodlines, but I’ve not had the upbringing. As you know.”

He pressed his hand over hers. “You seem to be doing well enough. It’s plain your mother brought you up to be a lady.”

And her father had brought her up to be a wild Gypsy girl.

“I can perform a proper curtsy, and sew and make lace, and play the violin—”

“Clearly!”

She smiled up at him. “I confess, however, that I am not completely sure about place settings. And I never learned how to dance.” Beyond the turnings and twirlings of the traditional Rom dances, which bore as much resemblance to the ballroom stylings of the ton as a tiger bore to a domesticated cat.

“Then we will have to teach you. You and your sister, both.” He looked over to where Louisa and the older ladies strolled beside the hedge. “My mother has been rather lonely of late. It is good to see her back in Society. The spark has returned to her eyes.”

“She’s a delightful lady.”

“If by delightful you mean dreadfully outspoken and opinionated.” Despite the words, his voice was fond.

“I value such things over what one ought to do and say. No doubt a sad result of my upbringing.” And once again a stark reminder of how ill-suited to this world she was.

Yet where did she fit in? She and Louisa were adrift in cold currents, belonging to no place, no people. The sun slid behind a cloud, and she shivered.

“Mother will look after you,” he said. “She was always tending to strays—animal and human both—when I was a boy.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t usually reside here at Trevethwick House, does she?” Jessa had gathered as much at the musicale.

“Well, no.” Mr. Fielding gave her an apologetic look. “But with Morgan’s upcoming nuptials, I’m certain she’ll stay for quite some time.”

She glanced again at the older ladies, who seemed in deep discussion while Louisa watched a silver-blue butterfly hover among the flowers. No doubt they were planning details of decorations and food for the wedding. Despite herself, she let out a low sigh.

If not for Louisa, she would leave that very afternoon. Already she had embarrassed herself with the earl, and she had little taste for becoming Lady Agatha’s pet charity project. But the alternatives were even worse.

“Don’t fret.” He patted her gloved hand. “Come, let’s join Lady Anne and my cousin. He looks a bit glum.”

It was true: there was a resigned look on Morgan’s face, but as she and Mr. Fielding approached, his features settled back into imperviousness.

“Excellent,” he said. “We were just discussing the garden party I am hosting next week.”

“And here is Miss Lovell to consult with.” Lady Anne gave her a cold look. “Since you will be the hired musician, where do you think the music should be—under the trellis, or by the rose garden?”

Jessa blinked. The young lady seemed determined to bring her down in Morgan’s eyes, and Jessa did understand, though she did not like Lady Anne any better for it.

“How kind of you to ask,” she said. “The shade of the trellis will protect my violin. And it can be rather awkward trying to perform whilst bees attempt to land on you.”

As intended, Mr. Fielding chuckled, and Lady Anne’s eyes widened. Morgan, of course, said nothing.

“Has that happened?” Mr. Fielding asked.

“Yes. I imagine I appeared engaged in a most peculiar dance as I sidestepped and swayed. However, I did manage to keep playing, even when a bee landed atop my bow. It stayed there for the entire piece, and finally flew away when the music stopped.”

“It seems your playing entrances every listener,” Mr. Fielding said. “I haven’t had the opportunity to hear you, and I’m greatly looking forward to it.”

Morgan sent him a sharp glance, as if in warning. It made Jessa’s heart stutter briefly. But no—the earl had made his disinterest in her quite clear.

“Miss Lovell is rather talented,” Lady Anne said. “We’re all so very pleased that you will be able to perform at the party. Have you other upcoming hired engagements?”

“I’m currently taking a short hiatus,” Jessa lied. “With the exception of the earl’s party, of course.”

A calculating light came into Lady Anne’s eyes, and it seemed she clung harder to Morgan’s arm. “Perhaps, Miss Lovell, you might be prevailed upon to play another event in the near future. A very happy one. Don’t you think, my lord?”

“Certainly.” The earl’s voice was cool, and his cousin gave him a thoughtful look.

For her part, Jessa did not want to understand the tangle of her emotions at the thought of seeing Morgan and Lady Anne wed.

“Look, Mother is waving at us to come in,” Mr. Fielding said. “Morgan, do part with Lady Anne and allow me to escort her back to the house.”

“Do not fill her ears with lies about me,” the earl said.

“Never.” His cousin’s voice was full of laughter as he extended his arm to the young lady. “We will simply pass the time in discussing your shortcomings.”

“Oh, I’m sure the earl has very few of those,” Lady Anne said, sliding him a glance. “You are a most exemplary gentleman, Lord Silverton.”

“Then I must tell you about the summer he tricked me into jumping, fully clothed, into the lake at the country estate,” Mr. Fielding said, leading her away.

“Shall we, Miss Lovell?” The earl held out his arm.

Jessa took it, still pondering Lady Anne’s naiveté. Did she truly think the earl was a paragon of virtue? Could she not see the fire lurking in his eyes, or feel the suppressed heat of his body?

It was a pity the earl insisted on maintaining such a cold façade. He would certainly gain more enjoyment from life if that shell were cracked open. Some imp seized hold of her tongue, and she looked up at him.

“Have you kissed her?” she asked.

He missed a step, then gave her a quelling glance. “That is absolutely none of your concern.”

Heat stormed into her cheeks, and she studied the grass beneath their feet. “You’re right. That was far too presumptuous of me. However, as you are aware, I’m no exemplar of ladylike behavior.”

“And you’re implying I’m not the gentleman Lady Anne thinks me to be.” The coolness in his voice was marred by a warm streak of anger.

“I’d wager that midnight gallops and stolen kisses do not fall within Lady Anne’s parameters of propriety.”

“You are hardly one to make accusations, what with sneaking naked into a man’s bedchamber and attempting to seduce him.” His hand closed firmly over hers, as if preventing her from escaping.

Not that there was anywhere in the garden she might flee. Besides, she relished cracking his cool façade, welcomed the undercurrent of roughness in his usually controlled voice. It meant she still had an effect upon him.

“I was wearing my nightdress.”

“As if a thin layer of cotton could conceal your…” He checked himself. “I am not pleased that you and your sister will be here a few days more. During the remainder of your stay, there will not be a repeat of last night’s folly. Understood?”

She glared up at him. “You’ve made your position quite plain, my lord.”

“Good.”

Despite his words, she was almost certain he still desired her. Yet if he were determined not to act upon it, there was nothing she could do to sway him. And no matter how much she might contemplate sneaking back into his bedroom at midnight, the regret she’d feel when he turned her away again would be too much to bear.