Page 8 of The Lady Was Lying
It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Beauty had never actually helped her achieve anything.
As she always did when she felt trapped, she turned to biting sarcasm. “Heaven forbid you kiss a woman and not marry her.”
He stiffened. “A gentleman?—”
“—kisses whomever he wants. It’s no wonder you were overwhelmed while indoors. You are clearly unlike the rest of the men at the ball.” Her words were mean, far harsher than he deserved. Lashing out did nothing to diminish her discomfort, but it did offer him an invitation to respond bluntly.
“I find it hard to imagine that I’m the only man who refuses to randomly kiss an unfamiliar woman. There is nothing more important to a gentleman than his honor.” Straightening his jacket and squaring his shoulders, he looked down his nose at her. “Honor is what defines a man. I came to London to meet, court, and marry an eligible young lady without displaying the slightest impropriety or disrespecting her in any way. I will not alter my plans.”
“My apologies to your future wife,” she responded before dropping into a mocking curtsy and spinning on her heel. Unwilling to give him the opportunity to further expound on what an exemplary gentleman he was, she disappeared into the bushes.
When she was certain he couldn’t see her, she picked up her skirts and ran to a partially obscured door that would allow her to reenter the house far from the ballroom.
She crept up the stairs and into her bedchamber. In the flickering firelight, she berated herself as she stripped off her gown and unpinned her hair. Once she was in her night rail, she flung herself onto the chair in the corner.
It was rare that she experienced regret, but as she stared out the window and into the night, she wished she’d listened to Sebastian and stayed in the damn ballroom. Nothing good ever came of encountering men in the shadows.
As she tried to tell herself that everything would be fine, the shame of rejection refused to dissipate, and she couldn’t help wondering what she would do if she couldn’t use her body to attract a man. Would her chance to experience passion eventually disappear entirely?
Chapter Two
The next morning, as soon as Belinda emerged from her bedchamber, she was accosted by her sister. “I cannot believe I arose before you,” Jane said as she linked their arms together and tugged Belinda down the hallway. “You are not usually one to lay about.”
“I’ve been awake for hours,” Belinda grumbled.
After a restless night, she was in no condition to engage with her sister. She had intended to sneak out of the house and take a brisk walk before she was forced to interact with anyone. The fact that Jane had so easily thwarted her escape solidified that she wasn’t herself, and the fact that she didn’t have the heart to yank her arm away and flee was more than a little concerning.
For most of their lives, she and Jane had not been particularly close. Jane typically gravitated toward their younger sister. Louisa was much closer in both age and temperament, and it wasn’t until she had decided to move in with their brother Edward and his wife for the season that Jane began seeking Belinda’s company.
At times, she found Jane’s constant chatter irritating, and yet she was loathe to put distance between them. The middle child of five, Belinda had never been the confidante of anyone other than their mother, and she had uncovered a strange level of satisfaction in the burgeoning friendship with her sister. It was more than a little confusing to discover that she might have been slightly jealous of her sisters’ relationship without realizing it.
“I can’t believe you didn’t dance yesterday,” Jane said in a soft voice as they descended the stairs to the main floor.
“I promised I’d attend your debut,” Belinda replied. “I never promised I’d dance.”
“But you love dancing.” Jane patted her arm, a wrinkle appearing between her brows. “Why would you avoid something you love?”
Not wanting to argue, Belinda attempted to redirect the conversation. “It was a lovely evening. Quite well attended. You enjoyed yourself?”
“Of course I did. It was nearly perfect. So many eligible gentlemen and the ladies were surprisingly friendly.” Unlike Belinda, Jane had a desperate desire to be liked by everyone.
“I’m so glad you had an agreeable time,” Belinda responded as they entered the morning room and settled into chairs on opposite sides of the small table near the windows. Sunlight spilled across the heavy carpet, and the warmth on the side of Belinda’s face was more than welcome. If she’d made her escape sooner and avoided her sister, she would be basking in its full force rather than enjoying a mere sliver.
Jane frowned as she started to pour the tea that had been waiting for them. “You didn’t enjoy yourself?”
“Of course I did. The evening was more than pleasant.”
“Pleasant. Bah. I don’t believe you.” Jane’s voice dropped as she set the teapot down and leaned closer. “I appreciate that you came, but I wish you’d allowed yourself to have fun, and I wish you’d consent to join us in society more frequently. I cannot understand why you come to London if you refuse to take advantage of all it has to offer.”
“I am content with my life as it is.”
Apparently not believing her, Jane asked, “Did anyone in particular catch your eye?”
The man in the garden stampeded into her thoughts, and she ruthlessly shoved him away. “I was not looking at the gentlemen.”
Jane paused and tipped her head to the side. “Whyever not? You aren’t too old to secure a husband.”
Belinda had managed to mostly dodge this discussion during the month since they’d returned to London from the country, but as Jane’s debut had gotten closer, she’d become more insistent that Belinda also find a husband. For whatever reason, Jane couldn’t seem to accept Belinda’s assertion that she would never marry.
