Pennington was an heiress trolling for a duke at
the least, for she'd given short shrift to any lesser fellows.
The
young blokes about town had dubbed her Lady Pain for her manner of
delivering her refusals. When anyone met with her guardian, Lord
Maywell, to plead for her hand, Lady Jane had immediately shot back a
scathing refusal letter to each. Ethan didn't blame her for seeking a
higher match, but such cruelty could not be excused.
The
most he could hope for this evening was to be seated next to Lady
Maywell, who was far too sensible to flirt and might even offer some
interesting conversation.
Instead,
he found himself between the youngest—and possibly the
silliest—daughter, Serena, and Lady Pain herself.
Of
course. He sighed deeply, hiding it beneath the act of sitting down.
It was going to be a very long evening.
Lady
Jane looked very much the proper heiress now. Ethan was quite
sensitive to the secret code enacted in the nuances of dress and
manner. Here in the full light, it was obvious that Lady Jane's gown
was finer even than Lady Maywell's in cut and fabric.
He
must be slipping, to ever perceive her as a lowly governess.
The
first course of soup was served. To his left, Miss Serena Maywell
promptly tipped her spoon onto her bodice. Ethan suspected it was
because she'd been staring at him and not her soup, but he'd been
careful to not quite meet her eye.
He
continued to act as if the spreading stain on her gown were
invisible, along with her tiny humiliated sniffles. He would have
liked to charm her out of her upset, but she was so young that she'd
surely take his attentions wrong.
Damn,
the girl couldn't be but sixteen! She ought to be dreaming in her
schoolroom, sneaking peeks through the banister at what the adults
were up to! What were her parents thinking to throw her out onto the
Marriage Mart at her age?
On
the other side of him, Lady Jane cast fretful glances past him—or
rather,
through
him—at Serena, but there was little she could do from where she
sat. Finally Ethan, unable to bear the small hiccups now accompanying
the sniffles to his left, turned helplessly to Lady Jane.
"Is
there nothing you can do?" he asked in a low voice.
Lady
Jane shook her head without looking at him. "I fear not,"
she murmured. "She cannot leave the table and I dare not call
further attention to her now. We can only pray that no one else
notices."
She
was kind to her cousin, at least. Perhaps her spleen was saved for
encroaching gamblers and overly ambitious suitors only. Still rather
ill done of her, but not entirely nasty. Ethan tilted his head
slightly toward her once more. "Then I fear I must make sure no
one else notices."
Ethan
leaned forward to speak to the table at large. "Have you all
heard the latest about the Prince Regent? There's a driver who knows
a footman who knows a chambermaid who swears she heard a donkey bray
from the royal bedchamber—"
Jane
sat back and watched Mr. Ethan Damont capture the attention of the
entire party with one skillfully ribald tale after another. He was
shocking, outrageous, and entirely entertaining without ever going
over the line of innuendo and rumor. If she hadn't known his purpose,
she would have thought him presumptuous and flashy— just the
sort of fellow she could not bear.
But
as she watched him engage everyone there, distracting them enough so
that Serena was able to dab secretly at her gown with a damp dinner
napkin—
rescuing
Serena like a knight charging in on a white horse of gossip, for
pity's sake!—Jane found that she could bear him very well
indeed.
He
was angry with her, however, that much she was sure of. His manner
was nothing like his teasing behavior before.
She
could leave it at that, if she liked. He'd proved tonight that he
would not willingly allow a lady to be embarrassed. It was possible
that she could simply trust his nobler instincts…
No.
It was no good. She'd never been one to bear suspense well. She had
to know if he could
the least, for she'd given short shrift to any lesser fellows.
The
young blokes about town had dubbed her Lady Pain for her manner of
delivering her refusals. When anyone met with her guardian, Lord
Maywell, to plead for her hand, Lady Jane had immediately shot back a
scathing refusal letter to each. Ethan didn't blame her for seeking a
higher match, but such cruelty could not be excused.
The
most he could hope for this evening was to be seated next to Lady
Maywell, who was far too sensible to flirt and might even offer some
interesting conversation.
Instead,
he found himself between the youngest—and possibly the
silliest—daughter, Serena, and Lady Pain herself.
Of
course. He sighed deeply, hiding it beneath the act of sitting down.
It was going to be a very long evening.
Lady
Jane looked very much the proper heiress now. Ethan was quite
sensitive to the secret code enacted in the nuances of dress and
manner. Here in the full light, it was obvious that Lady Jane's gown
was finer even than Lady Maywell's in cut and fabric.
He
must be slipping, to ever perceive her as a lowly governess.
The
first course of soup was served. To his left, Miss Serena Maywell
promptly tipped her spoon onto her bodice. Ethan suspected it was
because she'd been staring at him and not her soup, but he'd been
careful to not quite meet her eye.
He
continued to act as if the spreading stain on her gown were
invisible, along with her tiny humiliated sniffles. He would have
liked to charm her out of her upset, but she was so young that she'd
surely take his attentions wrong.
Damn,
the girl couldn't be but sixteen! She ought to be dreaming in her
schoolroom, sneaking peeks through the banister at what the adults
were up to! What were her parents thinking to throw her out onto the
Marriage Mart at her age?
On
the other side of him, Lady Jane cast fretful glances past him—or
rather,
through
him—at Serena, but there was little she could do from where she
sat. Finally Ethan, unable to bear the small hiccups now accompanying
the sniffles to his left, turned helplessly to Lady Jane.
"Is
there nothing you can do?" he asked in a low voice.
Lady
Jane shook her head without looking at him. "I fear not,"
she murmured. "She cannot leave the table and I dare not call
further attention to her now. We can only pray that no one else
notices."
She
was kind to her cousin, at least. Perhaps her spleen was saved for
encroaching gamblers and overly ambitious suitors only. Still rather
ill done of her, but not entirely nasty. Ethan tilted his head
slightly toward her once more. "Then I fear I must make sure no
one else notices."
Ethan
leaned forward to speak to the table at large. "Have you all
heard the latest about the Prince Regent? There's a driver who knows
a footman who knows a chambermaid who swears she heard a donkey bray
from the royal bedchamber—"
Jane
sat back and watched Mr. Ethan Damont capture the attention of the
entire party with one skillfully ribald tale after another. He was
shocking, outrageous, and entirely entertaining without ever going
over the line of innuendo and rumor. If she hadn't known his purpose,
she would have thought him presumptuous and flashy— just the
sort of fellow she could not bear.
But
as she watched him engage everyone there, distracting them enough so
that Serena was able to dab secretly at her gown with a damp dinner
napkin—
rescuing
Serena like a knight charging in on a white horse of gossip, for
pity's sake!—Jane found that she could bear him very well
indeed.
He
was angry with her, however, that much she was sure of. His manner
was nothing like his teasing behavior before.
She
could leave it at that, if she liked. He'd proved tonight that he
would not willingly allow a lady to be embarrassed. It was possible
that she could simply trust his nobler instincts…
No.
It was no good. She'd never been one to bear suspense well. She had
to know if he could
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