The man was too handsome for her peace of mind. He blinded her.
A sudden, half-smile twisted his lips. Her heart fluttered.
“I tell you, Jack, this latest lot of students are even more dim-witted than the last. Lord Muster’s son still believes the world is flat. Obviously the result of his upbringing. But his comments send the whole class into an uproar, and it takes an hour to settle the boys.”
Unnerved by Jack’s sudden smile, Constance wrenched her gaze away from him to Lord Hallam. He’d almost looked pleased with her.
“Yes, it is difficult to change a wrong opinion,” Jack replied. “I commend you for your patience and perseverance.”
“Oh, I gave up on changing his mind. The lad simply cannot fathom that things might not be the way he was told. The next time I cross his father’s path, remind me to congratulate him for having a genius for a son. He deserves to believe that lie for making a mess of the boy’s mind.”
Jack dropped into the empty seat beside Constance, laughing at Hallam. “That should be interesting to watch.”
Despite her earlier confusing thoughts, she relaxed. With Jack so close, she would not worry about appearing foolish in front of the far more intelligent baron. Hallam would center his remarks on Jack, leaving her free from the burden to make polite conversation.
“Taverham left London last week to scour Kent again,” Jack remarked.
“Is he still searching for his wife? I do hope Miranda has a good excuse for her disappearance,” Hallam grumbled.
The Marquess of Taverham’s wife had disappeared on the night they had wed, eight or so years ago. According to Virginia, Taverham had been searching for Miranda ever since. To Constance, the tale sounded wildly romantic and scandalous in equal parts. She, too, had wondered why the new bride had run away.
“I have always believed she must. It was just so damn odd where the fire started,” Jack said, but cast a surreptitious glance sideways. “She could have easily slipped away in the chaos.”
Their gazes held and a strange warmth raced across Constance’s skin. Flustered, she glanced down at her lap.
“Yes, you’ve said as much before. The more important question is why disappear at all?” Hallam scoffed. “She is a marchioness, not a scullery maid. She has a responsibility to produce his heir.”
“That wasn’t the only reason Taverham married her. He seemed to truly care for her.”
Hallam laughed. “God, you’ve turned into a romantic popinjay behind my back. Next minute you’ll be spouting poetry. Who is she?”
Jack sighed. “Never mind. What brings you to London?”
The conversation swiftly turned to other matters, and both men appeared to forget Constance sat among them. Or so she thought. Jack stood to pour drinks, brandy for himself and Hallam, Madeira for her. Their bare fingers brushed as the offering changed hands. Lightning rippled up her arm and she had to concentrate on the fine glass in her grip. When Jack reseated himself, his shoulder was a scant inch from her own.
“Has Virginia wearied you of Town life yet, Pixie?” Hallam asked abruptly.
Constance smiled, setting her untouched drink to an elegant side table. “Not yet. She hasn’t wanted to venture out much at all.”
Hallam pursed his lips but kept his opinions to himself.
Beside her, Jack stirred, shifting position until he sat with one arm draped across the back of the lounge. Her unease returned. That cinnamon scent he wore was really becoming a distraction. It made her hungry.
“You shouldn’t coddle the woman,” Hallam said suddenly.
Jack leaned forward, his arm dropping across Constance’s back. She stiffened, but Jack didn’t appear to notice where his limb had fallen. “I won’t have her rushed.”
Clearly, the men were discussing Virginia’s fragile emotional state, but what could Hallam know of it. Why would he know more than she?
Hallam lurched to his feet and strode to the window, the angry movement
A sudden, half-smile twisted his lips. Her heart fluttered.
“I tell you, Jack, this latest lot of students are even more dim-witted than the last. Lord Muster’s son still believes the world is flat. Obviously the result of his upbringing. But his comments send the whole class into an uproar, and it takes an hour to settle the boys.”
Unnerved by Jack’s sudden smile, Constance wrenched her gaze away from him to Lord Hallam. He’d almost looked pleased with her.
“Yes, it is difficult to change a wrong opinion,” Jack replied. “I commend you for your patience and perseverance.”
“Oh, I gave up on changing his mind. The lad simply cannot fathom that things might not be the way he was told. The next time I cross his father’s path, remind me to congratulate him for having a genius for a son. He deserves to believe that lie for making a mess of the boy’s mind.”
Jack dropped into the empty seat beside Constance, laughing at Hallam. “That should be interesting to watch.”
Despite her earlier confusing thoughts, she relaxed. With Jack so close, she would not worry about appearing foolish in front of the far more intelligent baron. Hallam would center his remarks on Jack, leaving her free from the burden to make polite conversation.
“Taverham left London last week to scour Kent again,” Jack remarked.
“Is he still searching for his wife? I do hope Miranda has a good excuse for her disappearance,” Hallam grumbled.
The Marquess of Taverham’s wife had disappeared on the night they had wed, eight or so years ago. According to Virginia, Taverham had been searching for Miranda ever since. To Constance, the tale sounded wildly romantic and scandalous in equal parts. She, too, had wondered why the new bride had run away.
“I have always believed she must. It was just so damn odd where the fire started,” Jack said, but cast a surreptitious glance sideways. “She could have easily slipped away in the chaos.”
Their gazes held and a strange warmth raced across Constance’s skin. Flustered, she glanced down at her lap.
“Yes, you’ve said as much before. The more important question is why disappear at all?” Hallam scoffed. “She is a marchioness, not a scullery maid. She has a responsibility to produce his heir.”
“That wasn’t the only reason Taverham married her. He seemed to truly care for her.”
Hallam laughed. “God, you’ve turned into a romantic popinjay behind my back. Next minute you’ll be spouting poetry. Who is she?”
Jack sighed. “Never mind. What brings you to London?”
The conversation swiftly turned to other matters, and both men appeared to forget Constance sat among them. Or so she thought. Jack stood to pour drinks, brandy for himself and Hallam, Madeira for her. Their bare fingers brushed as the offering changed hands. Lightning rippled up her arm and she had to concentrate on the fine glass in her grip. When Jack reseated himself, his shoulder was a scant inch from her own.
“Has Virginia wearied you of Town life yet, Pixie?” Hallam asked abruptly.
Constance smiled, setting her untouched drink to an elegant side table. “Not yet. She hasn’t wanted to venture out much at all.”
Hallam pursed his lips but kept his opinions to himself.
Beside her, Jack stirred, shifting position until he sat with one arm draped across the back of the lounge. Her unease returned. That cinnamon scent he wore was really becoming a distraction. It made her hungry.
“You shouldn’t coddle the woman,” Hallam said suddenly.
Jack leaned forward, his arm dropping across Constance’s back. She stiffened, but Jack didn’t appear to notice where his limb had fallen. “I won’t have her rushed.”
Clearly, the men were discussing Virginia’s fragile emotional state, but what could Hallam know of it. Why would he know more than she?
Hallam lurched to his feet and strode to the window, the angry movement
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