Page 2 of The Lady Was Lying
“In that case, it would behoove you to cease arguing and start preparing.” Even though she had not been to London since before he was born, she had vastly more experience than he did, and he would be grateful for her company. “My solicitor has secured a townhouse for the season.”
She raised her chin and nodded stoically.
He probably should have assured her that all would be well, but he had no idea what the future held and couldn’t bring himself to lie, so he mounted his horse with nothing more than a stiff smile. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
She nodded again and then slowly turned toward the house.
As he trotted away, he couldn’t help wondering when he’d finally have the wherewithal to demand the truth about the past. He might already know far more than he wanted to, but he suspected the time would come when he would need to know the rest. It was too much to hope that he could remain ignorant forever.
Chapter One
LONDON, FOUR WEEKS LATER
Lady Belinda Elizabeth Grey did not appreciate being told what to do. It had always been a weakness of hers—a flaw even—and over the years, it had caused more than a little grief. As she’d gotten older, she’d tried to become less rash and more sensible, but her stubborn nature prevailed far too often.
Sebastian, her eldest brother, knew as well as anyone how difficult it was for her to follow directives, and yet he stood in the doorway of her bedchamber and declared, “You must stay in the ballroom at all times,” like he had the right to tell her what to do.
Barely resisting the urge to defy his edict, she took a deep breath and responded as calmly as she could manage. “I promise I will not lure a gentleman into a compromising position.”
“Belinda,” he sighed. “I was not suggesting?—”
“You were,” she interrupted. “And it is fine. During my debut, I gave you plenty of reasons to doubt I could attend a society function without acting like a tart.”
His posture stiffened. “You are not a tart.”
“I’m an unmarried woman who has kissed twenty-seven men. I am, in fact, the very definition of a tart.” She wasn’t proud of her more foolish exploits, but she wasn’t ashamed of them either, and she certainly wouldn’t pretend they hadn’t happened.
“Twenty-seven.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked into the room, sinking into the chair closest to the fireplace. “I’m not here to argue, nor am I here to cast aspersions on your character. I won’t deny that I harbor worry about your future, but I have not interfered with your choices in years, and I don’t intend to start again now.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. “It’s just…Jane is very excited about tonight, and I should hate if anything were to spoil her debut.”
How dare he.
She had many faults, but she loved her family and wouldn’t purposefully hurt any of them. Unable to fully suppress her annoyance, she leveled him with a rather irate glare. “I won’t spoil Jane’s debut. I would never do such a thing, but if you’re concerned, I can simply stay in my room for the duration of the evening.” It wasn’t as if she’d shed a single tear if she had to stay far from the temptation of poor choices and easily seduced men.
“I didn’t mean—” He sighed again. “I always say the wrong thing when I speak with you.” He shifted his gaze to the ceiling for a beat and then back to her. “Jane wants you there, and so do I. The whole family would be disappointed if you didn’t attend, but it’s important that you remember what is at stake.”
As if she could forget. “Jane’s happiness.”
He nodded. “We both know what a scandal would do to her.”
“I will be on my best behavior,” she vowed.
Sebastian raised his brow as if to suggest her best wasn’t good enough.
“I will act like a respectable lady,” she clarified.
“Thank you,” he responded softly. “You’re a splendid sister, you know?”
She rolled her eyes. “I already gave you my word that I would behave. You don’t have to flatter me.”
He smirked and shook his head before rising to his feet and pulling her into a hug. Even though she wasn’t terribly fond of relying on her brother for comfort, she allowed herself to sink into his embrace.
There was little doubt in her mind that it was going to be a miserable evening.
When his mother announced that she was feeling a bit poorly and therefore could not join him at the ball hosted by the Earl and Countess of Greydon in honor of the earl’s sister, James did as any good son would do. He inquired whether she needed anything, instructed her maid to prepare a posset, and then left her to rest as he readied himself for the ball.
Since it was his first formal outing, he dressed carefully and timed his arrival perfectly, making sure he was neither too early nor too late. When he stepped to the front of the receiving line, he had a polite smile on his face. The congenial greeting he had practiced in the carriage on the short trip across Mayfair got stuck in his throat when the Countess of Greydon turned toward him and gasped. Not a single word emerged from her mouth as her hand flew up to cover her lips and the color leached from her skin.
Panicking a little, he faltered, “Uhh.”
