Reunited With Her Viscount Protector. Mary Brendan
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been a mother herself. In the end she purchased just the doll, undecided about the top, and headed to the drapery to buy some pretty clothes. She was on the point of entering the premises when a sleek black curricle drew her attention as it pulled in to the kerb some distance away. Its arrival seemed to have caused a stir—she noticed that people had turned to observe the passengers. Idly, she tilted her head to get a better view of the driver.
Dawn stood quite still and, once she’d conquered her surprise, commenced wondering how she had recognised him. It had been years since she had seen or spoken to Jack Valance and he looked very different. His hair was no longer fair and cropped short, but a silvery tone and worn rather long. His face had lost its city pallor and was now bronzed by a foreign sun, but his height and breadth were familiar. As was the way he agilely leapt to the pavement to assist his companion to alight.
Dawn watched his strong dark hands; once she had felt those long fingers fastened on her, courteously helping her from a vehicle. There had been two occasions on which he’d invited her to take a drive with him. Before they’d parted for the final time he had crowded her behind an oak tree in Hyde Park to kiss her as soon as her chaperon’s back was turned. During that snatched, thrilling episode Jack Valance had broken her heart. He wasn’t in a position to court her, he’d told her. But he’d promised to come back as soon as he improved his prospects enough to take a wife. She’d not seen him again until this moment. Dawn focused on the young woman smiling coquettishly at him...to little response. He seemed more interested in ensuring the tiger had the reins of the fine pale-flanked Arabian in harness.
He hadn’t recognised her, Dawn realised—his gaze had roamed her way and then travelled on. Rather than feeling piqued at being overlooked by a gentleman who once had told her she was beautiful, she was rather glad to be able to discreetly observe the couple from her vantage point in the shop doorway. With an amount of wryness she realised that if that was his future wife, then Sarah Snow wasn’t the refined young lady she’d believed her to be! Neither was she a stunning redhead. But the blonde was pretty, if a touch gaudy in her fancy bonnet and diaphanous muslin gown of pale blue. Dawn imagined that Jack Valance was out shopping with a chère amie. And she wondered how his prospective betrothed might feel about that.
Hastily she entered the shop on realising the couple were heading towards her. She was sure they hadn’t noticed her vulgarly staring at them—even so, she felt annoyed at herself for having done so. She forced herself to put him from her mind and to inspect small ribbon-trimmed bonnets and a lemon-hued dress that the draper assured her were all perfectly sized for a growing toddler.
Having made her purchases, Dawn headed towards the exit, keen to get home and wrap her gifts in colourful paper.
‘Mrs Fenton?’
His voice hadn’t changed even if his appearance had...but she’d been Miss Dawn Sanders when last they had spoken. So he knew she’d been married... Perhaps Emma had spoken about mutual acquaintances yesterday evening when they’d dined together. These thoughts whizzed through Dawn’s mind as she slowly turned about with an admirable show of surprise at seeing him. In fact, she was a trifle alarmed as she’d not been conscious of him entering the shop, let alone approaching her.
‘Why...Mr Valance. How are you, sir? I had heard that you’d returned from overseas.’
‘I know. Your friend Emma said you were aware I was back. I have to say I’m disappointed that we didn’t see one another yesterday evening. You declined to dine with us, I was told.’ Jack’s eyes discreetly studied her. The dark bonnet brim was shielding her complexion, but he knew that beneath it was a face of rare beauty. On first glance Dawn’s features might appear rather severe, yet on finer appraisal were undoubtedly exquisite. Her green eyes were fringed by lengthy black lashes and topped by delicate brows that looked as soft as sable. Her nose was thin, her mouth asymmetrical with a lower lip that was fuller than the curving cupid’s bow on top. She was petite, her smooth peachy cheek barely reached his shoulder, but her figure was generously curvaceous in all the right places. He hadn’t forgotten a single thing about her in all those tormented years they’d been apart.
It might have been a long while since she had lain with her husband, or even been kissed, but Dawn could recognise the signs that a man found her attractive. She had seen the same smouldering intensity at the back of predatory gentlemen’s eyes when they propositioned her. But none of those fellows had managed to neutralise a tense situation, or his lust, as it seemed this man could.
‘You missed a fine dinner,’ Jack said, patting his stomach. ‘I’m still feeling the effect of too many courses.’
‘Emma is a wonderful hostess, but I’m afraid I was too busy to attend. I have a trip to Essex to prepare for to see my family. I’ve had a lot of packing and shopping to do and so on.’ Dawn indicated her parcels. Had she detected something in his tone? Subtle amusement because he believed she’d deliberately avoided him? She had, although she’d never admit to it.
‘Well, no matter, when I saw you walking on Regent Street I hoped I’d have a chance to say hello.’
So he had been aware of her presence all along. Dawn felt her complexion starting to glow as she realised he’d probably observed her spying on him.
‘You go to Essex bearing gifts.’ His slate-grey eyes dropped to the parcels in her arms.
‘Of course...but I have left choosing them to the last minute as usual.’ Her eyes discreetly flitted over his shoulder, seeking a sign of his companion. The young woman was at a counter with a pile of merchandise mounting beside her. He, too, had been buying gifts, she imagined, even if he didn’t get to choose them or decide what they cost. The blonde appeared to be too busy inspecting gloves to come and claim her beau.
But other people...women...were watching them. Indeed, Dawn understood why. His travels and the acquirement of riches had transformed him from an attractive gentleman to a devilishly handsome one. But it was more than good looks and expensive tailoring setting him apart from his younger self: he had an air of sophistication and distinction. Jack Valance had gone away years ago with his pockets to let and come back with a rather startling self-assurance. Yet Dawn had liked him as he was...modest and familiar. On the few occasions they had met she had marvelled at how at ease she felt with him after so short an acquaintance. He had amused yet excited her and on the day they parted she had felt upset enough to cry in private. But months and months had passed and she’d received not a single letter from him. Her hope that he intended to renew their acquaintance had withered; she recalled feeling foolish for having almost begged him to keep in touch because she liked him very much. And then Thomas had asked her to be his wife and a dilemma had been forced upon her: wait longer for Jack, or marry Thomas. The right decision it had been, too, to accept his proposal. She might have been infatuated with Jack Valance for almost a year, loitering in the hallway with bated breath for the post every day, but to him she’d been just a passing fancy, soon forgotten.
‘I believed your father still resided in Marylebone,’ Jack remarked. ‘Where in Essex do your family live?’
‘My father and stepmother have now moved to Shropshire. I am going to visit my late husband’s family in Essex.’
‘I see. I was sorry to hear about your husband’s accident. Emma told me you’d been widowed.’
‘Yes...some time ago now.’ Dawn dipped her head and stepped away. For some reason she didn’t want his pity, or to speak about her short marriage to Thomas. ‘It is nice to see you, sir, but I must get on. I haven’t yet finished packing for my trip.’
‘Where does your stepfamily live in Essex? I might know of it as I have a house there.’
She turned back. The demand in his question had made her bristle and feel tempted to tell him it was none of his business, but she didn’t, although she was again reminded of how very different this gentleman was to the languid fellow she had known all those years ago. But she was determined not to appear flustered by his company. ‘My stepdaughter and her husband live in Wivenhoe,’ she said, then with a fleeting smile and a small bob she made for the exit,