The Regency Redgraves: What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares. Kasey Michaels
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Delightful times.”
Lady Caro flinched visibly, almost as if she’d been slapped. “Do…do you enjoy the theater, my lady?”
“The earl tells me we have a box, but I’ve not attended a performance as yet, I’m sorry to say. My life, as I’ve said, has been a whirlwind of late. If you are soon to remove to the country, I do envy you. I’m sure country parties are much more relaxing.”
Lady Caro’s smile was weak and rather trembling. “Yes, I suppose so.”
Really, this was hard going. “Do you agree, Mrs. Urban?”
Felicity Urban appeared to be attempting to raise her eyebrows but couldn’t seem to manage the act. “Do I agree with what, my lady?”
“Um…that country parties are relaxing.”
The woman turned hard brown eyes on Jessica, as if something inside her just woke up and took notice. When she next spoke, her words couldn’t be more affable. “Oh, yes, I very much agree. In fact, my husband and I are even now planning a small get-together at our estate near Isleworth, quite a pleasant day’s journey from London, I assure you. Please do give it your consideration. It would be a lovely break from the hustle and bustle of the Season.”
“Felicity,” Lady Caro whispered hastily, “do you think…?”
Mrs. Urban’s voice had knives in it. “Yes, I do. You should attempt the exercise.”
“I will, of course, be delighted to forward your kind invitation to his lordship, Mrs. Urban,” Jessica said quickly, pretending not to notice the new tension between the women. “How exceedingly kind of you. Other than my husband, I have no real acquaintance, I’m afraid, having lived out of the country for several years.”
“Ladies, your servant.”
At the sound of the man’s voice, Jessica saw Lady Caro reach out her hand to clutch at that of Felicity Urban, as if seeking protection.
“My lord,” Mrs. Urban said, her previously strong voice quavering slightly. “How condescending of you to notice us languishing here amidst the potted palms. You know Lady Caro, of course, but please allow me to introduce you to our new acquaintance, the Countess of Saltwood. My lady, may I present Simon Ravenbill, Marquis of Singleton.”
Disappointed by the interruption, Jessica summoned a smile and raised her head to see a magnificently constructed man, surely as tall as Gideon, but light to her husband’s dark. His eyes, startlingly blue, his longish hair nearly guinea gold. “My lord, it is an honor,” she said, quickly lowering her eyes once more even as she offered her hand, prudently recalling Gideon’s warning not to attempt to bluff anyone. Because her mind had heard Ravenbill and immediately thought Bird, one of the names listed in her father’s journal.
But dear and merciful God, that had only been the half of it!
“The honor is completely mine, my lady, I assure you. I arrived only a few moments ago and have been punished ever since for my tardiness, as the ballroom is abuzz at the news Saltwood has taken a wife. My further punishment is that he saw you first, or else I would have stolen a march on him, most definitely.”
Jessica smiled, as she knew she ought, even as she worried her heart might leap out of her chest. “I don’t think my husband would have allowed that, my lord. He’s quite the determined man.”
“Yes, we all know the stories of the infamous Redgraves. Such a fortunate thing that dueling has been outlawed. Not that Redgraves concerned themselves overmuch with the rules of the thing.”
Jessica felt her cheeks growing hot with indignation, her own fears forgotten. “You’re no longer amusing, my lord.”
“Oh, no, my lady, don’t say that,” Lady Caro interrupted, nearly pleaded. “I’m certain his lordship most certainly didn’t mean—”
“Ah, yet his lordship most certainly did,” the marquis interrupted. “But I will take myself off now, mumbling insincere apologies as I go. Ladies, my best to your husbands. Do tell them I will be seeing them at some other time, as I’m always about somewhere, aren’t I?”
Jessica watched as the marquis bowed with much grace and some insolence and then turned away, moving unerringly across the ballroom now cluttered with couples taking up positions for the next dance, and heading straight for the staircase. He didn’t look back. He didn’t have to. He had to know her eyes had followed him.
“Well, whatever was all that about?” she asked the ladies, struggling to compose herself. “He seemed so pleasant and then…well, and then not quite so much.”
“The marquis is not known for his polite manner,” Felicity Urban said. “He was a naval officer you know, a mere second son until his brother’s death, and not at all suited to ascend to the title.”
“He exudes power, don’t you think?” Lady Caro asked nervously, as if to counter Felicity’s complaint.
“I think you’ve been sneaking wine from the servant trays again, and your brain has disconnected from your mouth,” Felicity Urban said, turning her back to the woman, blocking Lady Caro from Jessica’s sight. Suddenly, inexplicably, her eyes were alight with intelligence and perhaps some desperation. “So you’ll consider joining us in Isleworth, my lady? I’ll send round an invitation in the morning. Please do give it your attention. Your immediate attention.”
“Yes, thank you, I’ll be certain to do that,” Jessica said, her heart leaping as she saw Gideon striding toward her. She stood up to greet him as would a stranded sailor at the sight of an approaching ship.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“IS SHE ALWAYS LIKE THIS?”
Richard Borders took another sip from his teacup and replaced it on the tray in front of him. “You mean the pacing? Yes, I’m afraid so. Jess, sweetheart, you’ll soon wear a rut in his lordship’s pretty carpet.”
It was after two, and Gideon was more than ready to say goodnight so that he and Jessica could adjourn to his bedchamber. They had only made love in hers, and it was time he introduced her to his, where she would spend the majority of her nights in any case. He’d made a mistake, plunking her down with the wives before he knew more about Lord Charles and Archie Urban. He wanted to make amends, or at least divert her from her fears.
But Richard had still been awake when they’d returned to Portman Square, and once she’d seen him she’d gone rushing toward him, to tell him what had happened at Lady Jersey’s ball.
“Yes, Jessica, sit down,” Gideon said, not for the first time. She was still the most beautiful woman in the universe, but she looked exhausted, drained of her usual liveliness. “You can’t know he recognized you any more than you can be certain it was him in the first place.”
She stopped her pacing at last and plopped herself down rather inelegantly beside Richard, rather like a rag doll that had lost half its stuffing. She took the man’s hand in hers. “But only because I’m exhausted. No, Richard, I can’t be certain. And I kept my eyes down as much as possible. And it was more than four years ago in any event. Still, those eyes—”
“And the man you speak of was wearing a French uniform when we saw him,” Richard pointed out, again not for the first time. “Speaking flawless French as he asked his questions.”
Gideon rubbed the brandy snifter between his hands. If Jessica was correct, they may have just made a large leap forward. But at what cost? She was obviously terrified; all the way home from the ball she’d been working her hands together in her lap, clearly trying to hold on to her composure. Did he need to remove Jessica and Richard from London before this Ravenbill fellow’s mind could be jogged into remembering them? It seemed a prudent move. “Tell me again if you please, Richard. From the beginning.”
Richard ran his fingers through his shock of white hair,