Page 4 of The Lady Was Lying
Entering the crowded ballroom did not help ease his discomfort, and circulating as if he didn’t have a care in the world was torture. Everyone seemed to be staring. The reaction in the papers to his arrival and the sheer number of invitations he had received had prepared him for scrutiny, but nothing had prepared him to wonder whether they were staring because he was a duke or because they saw the resemblance too?
After his disastrous introduction to the countess, James had no choice but to change his mission for the evening. Instead of beginning his quest to find a suitable wife, he would focus on avoiding the countess. He would also survey the other guests for suspicious behavior. It wouldn’t do to be startled a second time. While it would be nice if he knew who else to watch for, he’d been too much of a coward to ask for clarification of his father’s confession. He would have to rely on the power of observation.
The doors at the other end of the ballroom beckoned him with the promise of escape. Sadly, it would arouse suspicion if he came and went within the span of a quarter hour, so he kept mingling. Trying to appear relaxed, he allowed himself to be introduced to countless young ladies and their chaperones.
Thankfully, no one other than the countess reacted as if they’d seen a ghost. He would have been relieved if he weren’t already troubled.
Before long, his name was scrawled on dance cards throughout the room. As he took to the dance floor with one lady after another, his mind was not engaged in becoming further acquainted with any of them. He was too busy wondering how his mother would react when he asked for an explanation. Would the melancholy that had clung to her since his father’s death worsen, or would she be relieved?
Belinda was not supposed to be in the garden.
Nor was she supposed to be alone.
She had promised Sebastian she’d stay in sight and pretend to be a proper lady. More or less succeeding at the latter, she had chosen to completely ignore the former when she slipped outdoors. Creeping through the shadows instead of spinning around the dance floor was the exact opposite of what she had promised.
It didn’t particularly matter that she was a spinster. Or that she was four and twenty. Or that she would likely never marry. The sister of an earl could cause a scandal that reverberated through her family at any age if she didn’t follow the rules that govern society. In most situations, this would not be enough to deter her, but her brother had been correct about one very important thing.
She would hate herself if she spoiled Jane’s debut.
Unfortunately, as it turned out, pretending to be proper was a great deal more exhausting than she had anticipated. The three years that had passed since her own debut had allowed her to forget what it was like to be surrounded by haughty aristocrats. The cloying scent of expensive perfume. The blinding sparkle of ornate jewels. The tittering laughter of the women.
It was enough to make her skin crawl.
Society events had always brought out the worst in her, and the urge to misbehave had flared to life as soon as the first matron stepped through the doors.
She had wanted to ruffle the older woman’s feathers.
Give the gossips something to talk about.
Cause a scandal.
The men would be willing to succumb to her charms. They always were.
She assumed that men were open to debauchery because they could weather a scandal more easily than a woman could, but she had never discounted the possibility that they simply had less self-control than women. Either way, she had forced herself to ignore more than one interested gentleman that evening.
As she’d circulated the crowded rooms, she attempted to disregard the stares. Some were blatant. Others were furtive. All were curious.
They were likely thinking the same things.
Unmarried, beautiful, unusual, and scandalous.
A young aristocratic lady was meant to follow a certain code. She was supposed to be demure, unassuming, pretty, and most of all, respectable.
Belinda was none of those things. Never had been. Never would be.
She’d known for years that she was different.
Not wired in the same way as the rest of her family.
Or the rest of society.
The truth was, no matter how many men she kissed, she was unable to feel the captivating effects of passion, and no matter how many times she told herself she didn’t care, the urge to understand—to experience what normal women felt—always simmered below the surface.
In the past, it had made her reckless, but she couldn’t afford recklessness that evening.
Her resolve to seem respectable had held strong until she’d seen Lord Edwin heading directly toward her. He was the exact sort of gentleman she needed to avoid most. Unmarried and unscrupulous, the irresponsible dandy was the younger brother of Lord Anthony, a man with whom she had more than a passing acquaintance.
Near the end of Belinda’s ill-fated season, Edwin had been determined to sample her favors, and if she’d had the opportunity then she probably would have allowed him a certain amount of access to her wares. After all, he’d been married when she debuted, and that made him safer than the men trolling for a wife. Unfortunately, his wife had perished recently, and the gossip rags speculated that he was broke and on the prowl for a new wife with a substantial dowry, which made him firmly off limits for clandestine encounters. A stolen kiss that was surely destined to disappoint was not worth the risk of being encouraged to marry a feckless lord.
