Thomas had always prided himself on being able to accommodate any situation. But he had no idea how he was going to work any of this, especially if she continued to regard him with that mix of innocence and desire, a look that said, “I don’t know what it is I want, but I do know I want it.”
He wanted it, too.
But he couldn’t allow it, no matter how tempting she was. No matter how much he wished to discover what would make her sigh in pleasure. What would make her cry out in ecstasy.
What would take her to the heights of passion.
Like the night before, she wore a simple, elegant gown she must have purchased—or had purchased for her—when she was dowried and looking for a husband.
It was several layers of sheer fabric, shot through with silver thread that highlighted the silver of her hair. A light pink ribbon wrapped around her, right under her bosom, with the ends of the ribbon trailing down her back. Her gloves were pink as well, and she wore what Thomas presumed were diamonds in her ears and around her neck.
She looked like what she was, what she no longer wanted to be: a lovely unmarried lady whose most obvious accomplishment was being beautiful.
“Thomas!”
He jumped at the voice shouting in his ear.
“Percy!” he exclaimed, clapping one hand on his friend’s shoulder and reaching out to clasp his friend’s hand with the other. Hoping Percy would be reasonable, even though he strongly suspected he would not.
Instead of attending the Free Exhibition, as they’d planned, Percy had made an excuse while holding his head and scowling. Thomas presumed the head holding was because of drinking the previous evening, while the scowling might have been because of what Percy’s sister and Thomas had planned. Before Thomas could ask for details, however, Percy retreated back to the dining room.
Percy glared at Thomas’s outstretched hand, then looked up at Thomas with a suspicious gaze. Thomas didn’t blame him; Lady Jane had confirmed that she had informed her brother of her wish for shenanigans. And even though Percy had no idea the extent of the shenanigans she wished for, Thomas knew that Percy was naturally concerned about his sister.
So not only would he have to walk the narrow tightrope of assisting her without compromising her, he would have to walk an even narrower tightrope of making certain his best friend believed his sister was in good care.
Perhaps if he wasn’t able to find a wealthy woman to marry he could consider a career as a diplomat.
Though a diplomat’s salary wouldn’t give him enough money for his family.
“She told me you’re going to take her places,” Percy said, still glaring. “Show her things.”
Thomas hated to lie to his friend. But he couldn’t tell him the truth either.
“Yes, she asked me to escort her to places such as Miss Ivy’s. And in exchange, she has said she will help me in finding a wife. You know how badly I need that, Percy.”
It felt even worse to remind his friend just how desperate his straits were as an excuse for engaging in the behavior she was asking for.
“I do.” Percy folded his arms over his chest. “And I’ll tell you what I told her, which is that neither of you is allowed to fall in love with the other.”
Well. That was certainly blunt speaking. He admired Percy for that.
“I assure you, Lady Jane has no intention of that. She said as much,” he replied, his lips curling up at the memory of her saying it. I will take it as a personal challenge not to fall in love with you.
“Jane is too innocent for all of this,” Percy said, holding his hands out to indicate—the world? This party? Their society?
Likely all of it.
“And doesn’t that mean she should learn more before she makes her mind up about what she wants to do?”
Odd that Thomas now found himself in the position of defending her. But it wasn’t fair that she should remain so sheltered, not if she wished to be educated.
“She’s just barely learning who she is, much less what the world is like.” Percy shook his head. “Jane had her heart broken only a few years ago, and I was proud of her for refusing to go along with her mother’s plans.”
“Which were?”
“To drag her right back on the marriage market.” Percy spoke in a bitter tone. “To parade her in front of all the eligible bachelors in hopes that one of them would take her.”
Thomas felt a keen anger at the image—that she would have so little say in her own life that her mother would just roll past a broken engagement and try to settle her as soon as possible.
Though that was what he was trying to do for himself, wasn’t it? Get married as soon as possible to the first wealthy woman who would have him?
But at least he was choosing to do that. Even though the choice had been forced on him by his father’s feckless investments.
“It’s no wonder she wants to know something else of the world, then, if that is all she thinks is out there for her.”
“That’s the thing, though,” Percy replied earnestly. “I’m concerned she won’t like what she learns. Jane isn’t like us, cynical about the world and our place in it. She was badly hurt once, but that doesn’t mean she won’t find happiness again. I want to be certain she’ll stay herself.”
Who do you want to be then?
Anyone but me.
Percy had no idea who his sister was.
And neither did his sister.
“I promise I will do nothing to change who she is, who she is at her heart.” Thomas spoke fervently, hoping his friend would hear the truth in these words, even though his other words had been deliberately vague. He could make the same promise to Percy, who hadn’t said it in so many words, but whose romantic choices were not the usual. His friend didn’t need his protection—Percy had his father and the queen at his back, after all—but he would fight anyone who tried to make Percy change.
“Thank you,” Percy said at last.
Thomas exhaled in relief. At least he wouldn’t have to get into a fight with his best friend this particular evening.
Perhaps later, if Percy ever learned just what Lady Jane wanted from Thomas.
But for now, he could breathe.
“It is time for our dance, Lady Jane.”
Jane turned casually, as though she hadn’t been aware of the precise moment when it would be time for them to dance.
“Oh of course, Mr. Sharpe. Might I introduce you to my acquaintances? This is Miss Grosvenor from Sussex. This is her first Society party.” Miss Grosvenor was a fresh-faced girl with bright red cheeks and a delighted gleam in her dark brown eyes. Thomas bowed, noticing the excellent cut of her gown and the perfect strand of pearls wrapped around her neck. “And I believe you already know Lady Elizabeth?”
Lady Elizabeth offered him a wan smile as he bowed in her direction. She was one of the wealthiest unmarried ladies who was in London this Season, but she was also one of the snobbiest women he had ever met—he knew she would never deign to marry a mere mister. She was on the hunt for a titled gentleman, even if he had nothing else to recommend him.
And as if on cue, Lord Joseph arrived to join their group.
“My lady, my lady,” he said, nodding to Jane and Lady Elizabeth in turn. “And I do not know your lovely friend. I am Lord Joseph Callender, a friend to these two. Oh, hello, Sharpe,” he added, sounding as dismissive as he could without actually causing a scene.
Thomas opened his mouth to say something in response, but he caught Jane’s eye, and she was shaking her head no as though to warn him to stay quiet.
Fine. He’d stay quiet.
“This is Miss Grosvenor, my lord,” Jane said. “She has just come to town.”
“And I have just arrived here! Miss Grosvenor, might I beg you for a dance?”
Lady Elizabeth’s face tightened, and Thomas resisted showing his delight at the obvious annoyance on her face.
“And that reminds me, my lady, the dance is already halfway done.” Thomas gestured toward the dance floor. “I don’t want to miss a moment more.”
“Yes, I’ve been anticipating it all evening,” Jane replied in an artless manner. As though she didn’t know entirely what she was saying.
Thomas froze for a moment as she placed her hand in his. She had actually unsettled him. Yesterday she had left him with nothing to say and today she was upending his unflappably calm mien.
Had he thought he was in trouble before?
He was in so much trouble. More than he possibly knew.
He followed her onto the dance floor, then she turned to place her hand on his shoulder as he put his at her waist. They began to dance, and within seconds, Thomas had forgotten everything he’d been thinking of.
She was a beautiful dancer, light and elegant, a slight smile on her face as her eyes met his. Of course she was good at dancing; ladies in her situation were drilled on how best to become a welcome accessory at a party. To engage in light, meaningless conversation; to be perfectly attired for any occasion; to wear a benign smile on their faces even if they were experiencing discomfort.
“Miss Grosvenor has oodles of money,” she said after a moment. “And she is new here—she wouldn’t have seen you make your way through all the debutantes like others have.”
Put that way, it sounded vulgar. Rapacious.
Which, honestly, it was.
It was also necessary if he was going to help his family.
But for the first time, it made him feel uncomfortable inside. He didn’t want to be seen, at least not by Lady Jane, as someone whose only thought for the future was finding a wealthy woman to marry.
Even though that was his only thought.
Goddamn it. He couldn’t be honorable and save his family. He’d long ago reconciled himself to the latter, leveraging his appearance and manners to obtain his goal. But the longer it took to obtain that goal, the more obvious and calculated it seemed.
“She might be a bit silly,” Jane continued, unaware he was currently suffering a moral crisis, “but she seems good-hearted.” Her gaze went over his shoulder, and her eyes narrowed. “And I would not want to see Lord Joseph get his hands on her.”
“How am I any better?”
He hadn’t wanted to say that, hadn’t even realized he’d been thinking it, until it burst from his mouth.
Her gaze snapped back to him, her eyes wide. “Of course you’re better than he is. You’re far more handsome, of course,” she said.
“Of course,” he echoed.
“And you are more charming, and I get the feeling you will be a decently kind husband to whomever you marry.”
He snorted. “Decently kind?”
Was that all she could say about him? That he probably wouldn’t treat his wife poorly? That he was handsome and able to parlay his looks into a charming facade?
Probably. Because that was all he’d ever shown the world. Was that all he believed himself to be?
“Can we—?” he said, not finishing his sentence, but guiding her toward the doors that led out onto the terrace.
“Oh!” she said in what he presumed was her delighted debutante voice—pleased, enthusiastic, and innocent. “Yes, that would be lovely.”
Jane had been led onto terraces by gentlemen before, of course. Under the guise of showing her the night sky, or a particularly intriguing bit of shrubbery, or because the gentleman was concerned she was getting too warm.
All ruses, of course. All suggested in the hope of getting her alone so they could tell her how beautiful she was or, in the case of some of the bolder gentlemen, to try to steal a kiss.
Thankfully, she’d always had her sister, Lavinia, nearby to come to her rescue. But Lavinia had been married to her duke for two years now, and Jane had had to develop her own terrace-avoiding strategies.
But for the first time, she actually wanted to go onto the terrace.
Her ex-fiancé, Mr. McTavish, had been far too proper to even suggest anything remotely terrace related.
Perhaps if he had, she would have realized long before she did what a wretched person he was. Or would she? She wasn’t certain, not at all, that she was any kind of judge of good character. After all, she had fallen in love with Mr. McTavish, rat though he was.
“How does one know if someone else is a good person?” she blurted as they stepped out into the cool night air. Not quite the conversational lure she knew was proper, but everything about their situation was improper—except for how it appeared to everyone but them.
“Pardon?” Mr. Sharpe said, sounding startled. Of course, she’d just posed some sort of philosophical question to him, and likely she was supposed to say something about the darkness of the night, as if the daily disappearance of the sun was something to remark on. It was astonishing just how banal an unmarried lady’s conversation was supposed to be.
“I was just thinking,” she said, reaching the edge of the terrace and leaning over the stone wall to look at the gardens, “that we all assume someone is of good character until they do something that indicates they are not.”
“Not all of us assume that,” he said dryly. His back was to the wall, and he leaned against it, regarding her with an amused expression. One that also added in a touch of his usual condescension. As though her statement was naive.
“I tend to think the worst of people, at least until they do something that indicates they are not the worst.” His lip curled. “Sometimes they are merely not good. A few, a precious few, are good.” He nodded toward her. “I believe you are of good character, for example. As is your brother.”
Her cheeks heated. “Even though I am asking for things no proper lady should?” She huffed out a breath. “And I do not mean the most scandalous things. I mean no proper young lady should want to be taken to some sort of evil den.”
“An evil den?” he said, his eyebrows raised, laughter in his voice.
“Or wherever you’ll take me,” she replied, waving her hand.
“I think proper young ladies want to be taken to evil dens,” he said matter-of-factly. “It is just that our world has said they should not. It does not mean they do not want to.”
“But shouldn’t young ladies know their world? All of it?” She shook her head in frustration. “Now that I think about it, truly think about it, I wonder just what our world is trying to keep from us. Are they worried that we’ll refuse to follow the course we’re supposed to?” She felt herself grow more irate by the second.
And it felt marvelous. Feeling angry about what she was supposed to do, and who she was supposed to be, was why she was here on this terrace in the first place.
If she had done what she was supposed to, she would have married anyone who’d asked after Mr. McTavish jilted her. If she had done what she was supposed to even before that, she’d have married the duke, when it was now so clear that he and Lavinia were the perfect match.
Thank God she hadn’t done what she was supposed to. And now she was going to do even more of what she wasn’t supposed to—taking control of her own life, her own destiny.
It was far beyond just going places a young lady would not normally go. It felt as though she was fomenting a revolution, albeit a revolution of one.
He hadn’t answered her question yet. Instead, he was regarding her with what appeared to be surprise—appeared to be, since she’d seen that expression on his face only a few times, all of them within the past two days.
“You should see things. You will see things.” He spoke in a determined tone. “I hope you find what it is you’re looking for, my lady. And that you are able to choose what you want rather than have it chosen for you.”
“Unlike you?” She regretted the words as soon as she spoke. Not because it wasn’t true, but because it felt unkind. As though reminding him that he had no choice in his own future, in contrast to her, was a slap in the face.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” She took a deep breath. “I know you don’t have a choice.”
“Oh, but I do,” he replied, his expression hardening. “I could take myself back to my family and tell them I cannot marry someone I don’t love just to keep them in food and clothing.” She winced at the sharp tone in his voice. “Though that is what women have done for eternity, haven’t they?”
His words were softer now, as though he was being thoughtful about what he was saying. “You are fortunate enough not to have to make that choice, Lady Jane.” He shrugged. “I am fortunate enough that I can choose who I will marry, although my choice is limited to women with money.” He smiled as he spoke, but it was a smile without humor. She felt her chest constrict at the clear ache in his expression. “I would never want anyone to have their choice forced on them. It’s not a choice at all, is it?”
From his tone, she suspected he was speaking not only about her, but about Percy. Something that made her warm toward him even more.
“But in the meantime, you and I will have a last hurrah. Before I finally persuade a lady to marry me for my pretty face.”
She couldn’t help but reach out to touch him. Putting her hand on his arm and giving a gentle squeeze. “You know what you’re doing is noble, in a way.”
“In a way,” he snorted, moving away from her touch.
“Because you’re not doing it for yourself,” she retorted. “You’re doing it for your family.” She met his gaze. “Tell me about them.”
Had anyone besides Percy ever asked him anything about himself?
He could answer that definitively. No.
People asked him if he would like to attend their gathering. If he would like this beverage or that one. If he would dance with that young lady in the corner.
But never anything about him.
“They—” he began, but stopped as Lord Joseph stepped out from the ballroom, accompanied by Miss Grosvenor. She held on to his arm, gazing at him with those same bright, wide eyes she’d had before. Thomas wished he could warn her against him, but what would he say? Don’t fool yourself, Lord Joseph is only interested in your money?
It would be hypocritical to say anything of the sort, given that he was only interested in her—and every other unmarried lady’s—money.
“Hello, my lady,” Miss Grosvenor said in a cheery voice. “And Mr. Sharpe.” Her eyes widened even more as she looked at him, and he felt the familiar spark of potential flare within him, scenting a possible target.
He’d need to find out precisely how much she was worth.
“Miss Grosvenor wanted to see the gardens,” Lord Joseph said, sounding defensive. As though he had heard Thomas issuing a warning to her. “I have been to the Lindens’ house a few times—they are quite splendid.”
“Are they?” Lady Jane asked, stepping forward. She glanced back at Thomas. “Could we accompany them? I wish to see the gardens also.”
“I don’t think—” Lord Joseph began.
“Of course. An excellent idea.” Thomas extended his hand toward the gardens. Which were, he wanted to point out, in the dark, so there would be nothing to see.
But that was the point, wasn’t it?
Which was likely why Lady Jane leaped to Miss Grosvenor’s defense. Not that Miss Grosvenor likely understood she was under assault from a desperate fortune hunter, but Lady Jane certainly did.
Miss Grosvenor glanced at Lord Joseph, whose expression had tightened. She looked as though she was considering what he might be feeling.
Don’t do it, Thomas wanted to say. Because he’ll never do the same for you.
“Mr. Sharpe,” Miss Grosvenor said, returning her gaze to Thomas, “please show the way to these estimable gardens.” She spoke in a dry tone, and Lord Joseph’s face began to turn red.
He heard Lady Jane smother a snort of laughter, and he felt his lips twitch. “Of course,” he said, taking Jane’s arm and nodding toward the other couple.
The four made their way to the stairs and descended, Jane tightening her hold on him when her dress caught under her slipper.
“Thank you for following along,” she said in a whisper. He could hear Lord Joseph and Miss Grosvenor conversing behind them.
“Certainly. I know what it sounds like when a lady wishes me to do something without saying it aloud.”
He bit back a curse as he realized that what he’d just said could be misinterpreted, particularly in this context. And her sharp inhale told him she had misinterpreted.
“Do ladies wish you to . . . do things often?” Now she was speaking in code.
“Uh—”
“Perhaps you could earn money for your family by opening up a school of sorts. For one-on-one instruction.” She spoke in a wry tone, and his tension eased.
Because while he’d have to answer yes to her question, he didn’t want her to think she was just another one in a long line of ladies wishing to do things with him, even though she was precisely that. But she was also his friend’s sister, and a kind, generous woman who merely wished to know more. And had chosen him as her teacher.
“Isn’t that what I am attempting to do already?” he asked in a dry tone.
“Oh!” she exclaimed as they walked onto the grass. “I suppose it is. I hadn’t thought of it in that way before, but that is precisely it.”
“What part of the garden do you recommend, Mr. Sharpe?” Miss Grosvenor’s voice called from behind them. He and Jane turned to face the other two, Lord Joseph’s expression still set and sullen.
If Thomas had a school for fortune hunters, he’d instruct his pupils never to allow their pique to show on their faces. They were not allowed to be displeased with the object of their hunt, at least not until after marriage.
But he didn’t, so Lord Joseph would remain unenlightened.
“I’d say the fountain,” Thomas replied, turning back to indicate the fountain that lay directly ahead of them.
Thank God.
He’d had no idea what the gardens held when Jane had suggested viewing them. Perhaps they were the kitchen gardens, with a few rows of bedraggled lettuces fighting for dirt alongside various squashes.
Or maybe it was an actual flower garden, but all the flowers there were closed up for the evening, in which case they’d be looking at a whole bunch of tall plants with closed buds.
Well, he could cross becoming a gardener off his list of potential future occupations.
“Thank goodness there is a fountain,” Jane murmured, and he had to force himself not to exclaim how similarly their thoughts had run.
“The fountain, then,” Miss Grosvenor said, a bright smile on her face.
The four made their way forward, moving past various trimmed bushes and trees, benches at regular intervals indicating this was a place to rest, and converse, and observe.
Although usually, Thomas had to admit, during the day.
The moon hid behind some clouds, casting a faint silver glow to light their way. They could hear the fountain’s gurgling now, and Thomas’s sharp eyesight could see the details more clearly, a stone boy perched on top of a complicated set of shapes pouring water out of his pitcher.
The boy appeared to be a Cupid sort, a chubby angel with a riot of curls around his head, his feet lifted as though he were in motion.
“There it is,” Thomas proclaimed, feeling like an idiot. “The fountain.”
“Indeed. The fountain,” Lord Joseph echoed, sounding as though he was blaming Thomas for the fountain’s less than impressive appearance. What with being in the dark and all.
“I wonder if any fish live here,” Miss Grosvenor said, darting forward. Jane released Thomas’s arm and joined the lady, both of them peering into the wide moat that encircled the boy and his pitcher.
“She doesn’t have anything, you know,” Lord Joseph said in a low voice as he stepped to Thomas’s side. “Her family disowned her when her fiancé jilted her.”
That wasn’t what happened, Thomas wanted to say, but it wasn’t any of Lord Joseph’s business, and that wasn’t the point, anyway. Percy had confided what had really happened, and it would break that confidence to share anything with Lord Joseph, who definitely did not deserve the information.
“I just thought you should know since you and I are in the same game.”
Thomas felt himself recoil at the words. And the truth.
“Thank you, my lord,” he replied, speaking through a clenched jaw. “I appreciate your looking out for my interests.”
“Not that she’s not a welcome companion,” Lord Joseph continued. “If only she had even some of that dowry left, I’d take her.” He spoke as though there would be no hesitation on her part to take him.
“Well, then, it’s good she does not have even some of that dowry left,” Thomas replied in his smoothest tone of voice, “because I’d hate to see her married to an oafish dunderhead like you.”
He didn’t wait for the lord’s reply, but walked to join Lady Jane and Miss Grosvenor. “And are there piscine creatures lurking below?” He dug in his waistcoat for a coin, holding it between the two ladies. “If either of you would like to make a wish . . . ?” he said.
Lady Jane and Miss Grosvenor glanced at one another, then Lady Jane snatched it from his hand, a look of delight on her face.
And when she smiled—it felt as though it was midday and the sun was shining, even though of course it was nearing midnight and the moon was still behind the clouds.
Thomas felt his lips tug upward at her expression. “And what will you wish for, my lady?”
She shook her head in mock disapproval. “You know that if I tell that means the wish will not come true. And I very much wish for this wish to come true,” she added, one eyebrow rising in challenge.
Thomas froze at her words, his gaze darting between her and Miss Grosvenor. The latter’s expression did not change, so likely Thomas was the only person who had understood her coded language.
It was a dangerous game she was playing. And, he realized, he had started it.