Simon looked affronted. ‘What the devil has Alex done to deserve such opprobrium? You make him sound like a dashed moneylender! From all I hear he’s as straight a man to do business with as one could wish!’
Jane shrugged, feeling a little ashamed of herself. She could hardly tell Simon of Alex’s threats at Almack’s and, as the Duke had seen fit to apologise, it seemed ungracious of her to continue to suspect him. And yet it made her uncomfortable. To think that he had an interest in Ambergate and a growing friendship with Simon brought him a little too close for comfort. It was almost enough to put her off her toast. She eyed the dish of butter with disfavour. This really was not to be borne! Alex Delahaye had achieved what no other man had ever done, and put her off her food!
After Simon had gone out, secretly relieved that his sister had not made more of a scene, Jane poured herself another cup of chocolate and sat back to consider matters. She had believed the Duke entirely when he said that the game had only just begun. It would never do to underestimate him and, rather disconcertingly, she thought that he already had her measure. The patronising attitude he had assumed at Almack’s had been replaced by something far more dangerous-the watchful respect a man might show a real adversary. The barriers seemed formidable. Ranged against her to a greater or lesser degree were her own family, who would be happy to see the match made with Lord Philip, as well as the Duke and Lady Eleanor. Worse, she would have to guard against her own wayward heart, which, despite her opposition to him, was inclined to consider Alexander Delahaye with far more warmth than was at all prudent for her peace of mind.
Chapter Five
‘Oh Jane, is this not splendid?’ Sophia said. Her eyes behind the mask were as bright as stars as she watched the dazzling company mingling in Lady Aston’s ballroom. She smoothed her rose pink domino with excited fingers. ‘I cannot wait for the Duke and Lord Philip to arrive! I have a wager with Lord Philip that he will never find me in this crush!’
Jane looked at her friend’s radiant face and reflected that it would take Lord Philip all of two minutes to identify Sophia, for all that she was masked. There seemed to be some irresistible attraction that drew them directly to each other’s side at every opportunity.
Their party was somewhat diminished that evening, for Lady Verey had suddenly succumbed to a sick headache, making it impossible for her to accompany them. Jane and Sophia had been consigned to the somewhat erratic care of her cousin, Mrs Brantledge. Mrs Brantledge had a daughter of her own to launch into society, a young lady who might unkindly have been considered to be firmly on the shelf at twenty-three. Fortunately a suitor had recently swum into view and both Miss Brantledge and her mother were hellbent on encouraging him. Simon Verey had been prevailed upon to accompany his sister, but had made a purposeful beeline for the cardroom and showed every sign of staying there all evening. This left Jane and Sophia very much to their own devices, which suited Jane admirably, since she was free to pursue her strategy without interference.
Sophia clutched Jane’s arm. ‘Jane! He is here! Lord Philip is here!’
Jane was amazed that Sophia could distinguish Lord Philip in the crowd about the door and yet her friend seemed quite certain. In a few moments, Sophia was proved correct as Lord Philip, dashing in a black domino, was beside them.
‘Miss Verey?’ he said cautiously, addressing himself to the pink domino. ‘Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?’
‘Happily, sir,’ Sophia replied softly.
Lord Philip stiffened. His gaze went from the pink domino to Jane, in sapphire blue, who smiled encouragingly but did not speak. Lord Philip turned back to Sophia and his tone changed completely, softened. ‘It is a great pleasure to see you again, ma’am. I trust that you are well? It has been too long since we last met!’
‘I am very well, I thank you.’ Sophia sounded as breathless and happy as he. ‘But for shame, sir! It is all of a day since we were last together!’
‘Does your brother accompany you tonight, sir?’ Jane could not help asking. She convinced herself that she needed to know for strategic reasons, but felt her heart sink with disappointment as Lord Philip shook his head.
‘I fear that Alex has cried off! Some party of Lady Dennery’s contriving, I believe. He tells me that a trip to the opera is far more suitable for someone of his years.’ Lord Philip spread his arms out. ‘He gave me his domino and told me to dance with the beautiful lady in the pink domino and I intend to take his advice!’ He turned to Sophia and offered his arm, and they moved away towards the dancing.
Jane sighed. The sharp pang of disappointment that had assailed her when she heard of the Duke’s absence was something that she did not care to think about. She felt oddly flat, as though all the excitement had already gone out of her evening. She frowned at her own perversity. What could be better? Lady Verey and the Duke were absent, Simon preoccupied and no one there to notice that she and Sophia had exchanged dominos!
On her left, Mrs Brantledge was chatting to another chaperon, deeply engrossed.
‘Such a suitable connection for my dear Evelyn! Mr Coomberson’s father made a vast fortune but he is a man of both leisure and good education, with a fine estate in Hertfordshire! I am persuaded that they will make a match of it!’ And she fell to discussing Evelyn’s prospects further.
It seemed to Jane that she was the only one without a beau, a situation that would not have distressed her unduly were it not for the irritating preoccupation she appeared to have with the Duke of Delahaye. It was inexplicable that her thoughts should centre on him, for she had met several young men of good family and unblemished reputation at her come out, and many more men of a shadier sort, yet none of them had interested her in the least. Whereas Alex Delahaye, far beyond her reach and completely uninterested, was constantly in her mind.
Still, there was always the food as consolation and she was already hungry…Excusing herself to Mrs Brantledge, Jane slipped out of the ballroom. A huge buffet supper was laid out on a long table in the next room, with small chairs dotted about so that the guests could gather in informal groups whilst they ate. The table was piled high with the most wonderful food and the smell was very appetising. Jane’s mouth watered.
The room was completely empty. Jane tiptoed forward and reached tentatively for a slice of cold chicken pie. It was absolutely delicious, light and creamy with a flaky pastry crust. She licked her fingers, looking dubiously at the gap left on the plate where the slice should have been. Someone would be sure to notice the space.
‘All alone, my lady?’
Jane jumped violently. She had not heard anyone approach, despite keeping a wary eye out for attentive servants. Yet the gentleman in the dark green domino was standing almost directly behind her.
The dark gaze behind the mask moved from Jane’s guilty, flushed face to the pie dish. ‘You could rearrange the remaining slices,’ he suggested with a hint of a smile. ‘I am sure that no one would notice. But only if you also removed this-’ And he stretched out a hand and touched Jane’s cheek. A crumb of pastry floated down to the floor.
He had not been wearing gloves and his touch seemed to burn Jane’s skin. For a moment her startled gaze locked with his, then she took a hasty step back. She knew at once who he was, despite the disguise of the domino and mask. She had known as soon as he had touched her.
A footman and maid came in, bringing huge silver dishes of fruit, and the silence between them was broken.
‘Perhaps I should escort you back to the ballroom,’ the gentleman said gently, and there was a note in his voice that Jane did not understand. He offered her his arm and she took it without a word. She felt as though her whole body was tingling, alive to his touch. The recognition between them was not a matter of names or even faces, but something far deeper.
‘You must tell me how I may address you,’ the Duke said lazily, steering her purposefully along the colonnade that skirted the ballroom, and away from Mrs Brantledge’s curious gaze. ‘It is important to settle such matters early on at a masquerade, for you could equally be a Duchess or a milkmaid in disguise!’
Jane smiled a little, remembering the curious pleasure she had felt when he had called her ‘my lady’. It seemed that they were to pretend to anonymity, which was, after all, the purpose of a masked ball. She had no objection, but she was certain that he had recognised her all the same. And she was wary. Why had he pretended to be
