He stopped before her and dipped his head close. His champagne-scented breath wafted about her senses and her lashes fluttered. How was it possible the scent of spirits upon this man’s lips should fill her with a heady desire that drove back the ugly thoughts of another’s brutal attack? Her heart beat an erratic rhythm and she leaned up to take Gabriel’s kiss. “Are you here meeting someone?” The crisply spoken question brought her eyes flying open.
Jane stared at him. “My lord?” What was he going on about?
His gaze darkened. “There is nothing honorable that would have a lady alone in her host’s library, when she should be attending her responsibilities as a companion.”
She choked. “Y-you think I am here on a liaison?” His silence stood as affirmation. Jane gave her head a frantic shake. “Oh, no. Never. Never.” She’d sooner dance through the flames of hell than meet any gentleman for a clandestine meeting. To do so would consign herself to the same ranks as her mother.
“And yet you are here,” he persisted, relentless.
“I needed…” To escape the memory of Montclair. “A moment of quiet,” she finished knowing even as the excuse left her mouth how lame her response sounded. “I grew overheated from the crush of the room.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I saw you conversing with Lord Montclair.”
Her heart dipped. Of course he did. A man who so closely attended to his family and responsibilities saw everything—particularly the actions of a stranger residing under his roof. She’d only hoped he had failed to note Montclair’s approach. Her mind raced and for the span of a heartbeat she considered telling him all. As soon as the thought entered, it fled her mind. What reason did he have to believe her, a stranger? So when presented with the bold demand of that statement, she did the only thing she’d done to him since she’d entered his house. “I dropped my spectacles.” She lied.
“Your spectacles?” he repeated, with heavy disbelief underscoring that question.
She nodded. “My spectacles.” She removed the wire-rimmed pair from her nose and showed him the frame. “He was so good as to rescue them.” Jane detested giving the loathsome letch even a hint of praise for imagined acts. The vile monster was deserving of nothing good.
Some of the fury receded from Gabriel’s taut frame and he reached for the pair. He eyed the delicate lenses bent at the rims with a wary caution. “They are bent,” she said needlessly. Ruined from the man’s attack more than a year past. They’d never been the same since and she’d never spared the funds to have the merely ornamental disguise replaced or repaired.
He handed them over to her slowly and she quickly snatched them from his hand. “You should return to the ballroom, Jane,” he said hesitantly.
Jane nodded. “Of course.” She placed her spectacles upon her face and started for the door.
“Jane,” he called out, staying her movements.
She stopped and turned back to face him.
“If I find you have lied to me and if you, in any way through your presence here, harm my sister,” he paused and lowered his voice. “I will see you ruined.” His words contained the satiny edge of steel, a lethal threat that drove the beat of her heart into an even more frenzied rhythm.
She managed to incline her head. “Is there anything else you require, my lord?”
He shook his head once and she, with forced calm, opened the door and took her leave of him. She did not doubt if he were to discover all the lies she kept, he’d attempt to see her destroyed. Alas, he didn’t realize, it was impossible to ruin someone who’d already been born ruined.
Chapter 14
Jane stood frozen before the bevel mirror. The young woman with some curls held in place with butterfly combs at the base of her neck and the other tresses hanging freely down her back, stared back, a stranger. She took in the pale pink of the satin creation selected by Chloe and with trembling fingers, ran her palms down the smooth, soft French fabric.
It was just a silly scrap of material. In the bearing of a woman’s worth and capabilities, it had neither here nor there to do with her value, as she’d maintained to Gabriel just two days earlier. Her throat worked. Yet, it was by far the loveliest garment she’d ever donned. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked back the useless weak droplets. God forgive her, but five days in the Marquess of Waverly’s household and she’d proven the ugly, sorry fact that she’d spent the better part of her life convincing herself otherwise of—she was her mother.