Page 28 of The Lady Was Lying (Greydon #3)

Chapter Twelve

W hen James ventured to the Earl of Greydon’s townhouse for dinner later that week, there were significantly more people than the first night he’d dined at the townhouse.

Danford and his wife Clarissa had joined them, along with Belinda, Edward, Louisa, Edward’s wife Violet, and her sister Isabelle.

The meal had been quite a bit more boisterous than James was used to, with talk across the table and side conversations galore.

Twice they were interrupted by children, and no one flinched when a full glass of wine was overturned.

It was the opposite of meals at his townhouse, but he didn’t mind the chaos.

Even though he was trying not to be overt, he spent more than a little of his time observing Belinda.

She was quiet, withdrawn in a similar way to how she’d been in the carriage, and even when she was engaged in conversation, she seemed muted.

She had not spoken to him or so much as glanced in his direction since his arrival, and the absence of her attention was noticeable.

At least to him.

It had taken a bit of time for him to realize that anything was amiss.

She’d been absorbed in conversation with her brother Edward when he first arrived, and it would have been odd if she’d abandoned the conversation immediately.

They had never sought each other out in such a blatant manner when in mixed company, and it wasn’t reasonable to expect that she would do so now.

As the evening wore on, it became apparent that she was purposefully avoiding him.

Part of him was gratified. She wouldn’t have any reason to ignore him unless her emotions were as engaged as his own.

The rest of him was annoyed. Their previous interactions suggested she was the sort to confront, not retreat.

Where was the woman who had vowed to seduce him? And how did he find her again?

He was aware that the missteps he’d made during their initial meetings—almost kissing her, insulting her, daring her to seduce him—were a barrier he’d have to overcome if he wanted to court her.

She wasn’t the sort of woman who said things she didn’t mean.

Nor was she the sort to easily forgive rejection.

He hadn’t imagined she would welcome a declaration of interest from him, but he hadn’t imagined she’d completely ignore him either.

The urge to march up to her and demand she speak to him, consequences be damned, was difficult to resist. Infuriating her did not seem the proper way to embark on a stealthy courtship, so he kept his demeanor casual, waiting patiently for the right time to approach her.

When Emmeline and Clarissa disappeared to see to the children, James decided that the evening was going to end before he identified the right time. He took a handful of steps toward Belinda only to have Jane halt his progress with a hand on his arm. “Your Grace. Is something the matter?”

She was as beautiful as ever in a pale pink gown, and instead of enjoying her company as he usually did, he had to resist the urge to glance longingly at Belinda. “Not at all.”

“Are you sure? You seem…distracted.”

“I am well,” he smiled as convincingly as he could manage.

“My sister is not herself either.” She bit her lip. “Had you noticed?”

“I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with Lady Belinda this evening.”

“Because she’s avoiding you.”

“She’s—” No additional words came. Was it obvious to everyone, or just Jane?

Without consent from his brain, his eyes darted to where they’d last seen Belinda. She remained in the same spot, alone in the corner, staring out the window. What was she thinking about so pensively?

“Belinda doesn’t intend to marry,” Jane informed him.

“She what?” he asked, even though she wasn’t sharing anything he didn’t already know.

“She intends to remain a spinster,” Jane clarified bluntly. “She’s quite adamant about it. Won’t even discuss potential suitors for herself. Gets a bit irate when I bring it up.”

“Why are you sharing this with me?” He could only imagine Belinda’s reaction if she caught them gossiping about her. It wouldn’t be pretty.

Jane laughed. “I’m not blind.”

It was the same thing his mother had said. Was he really so transparent? “And that means…what exactly?”

“Belinda doesn’t intend to marry and since?—”

“And since…” he prompted when she didn’t finish her thought.

She waved her hand in the air. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

He leaned closer, dropping his voice so he couldn’t be overheard. “Please explain. I’m…uh…curious about your…family.”

“My family?” She pressed her lips together, sneaked a glance over her shoulder, and then whispered, “You like her.”

“I do.” It was a relief to admit it.

“Belinda is convinced she isn’t meant to marry. It’s total nonsense of course, but she won’t listen to me. She probably won’t listen to you either. If you try to convince her she’s wrong, she’ll either ignore you or twist your words so that she only hears what she wants to.”

Belinda’s opinion on marriage wasn’t exactly news to him, and thus far, Jane hadn’t been much help, only confirming that he wasn’t very good at hiding his interest and that she was more observant than he had realized.

The urge to peek at Belinda again rose, but he resisted. Furtive glances would only make it obvious that they were talking about her, and he didn’t want her to interrupt until after he learned something useful.

“She told me that you want love and made it sound both ridiculous and important,” he told Jane. “It seems as if she expects everyone to find love except herself.”

Jane visibly relaxed. “I’m so relieved you noticed. I could be wrong, but I think that she’s dedicated to finding me a husband so her life can return to the way it was before. And when Louisa debuts, I assume she’ll try to do the same thing with her.”

“Louisa is going to debut next year?” he asked.

“That was the plan, but she mentioned earlier this evening that she’s in no rush, so I can’t say for certain.

” Jane paused, a frown on her face, and then steered the conversation back to her elder sister.

“Belinda didn’t want to debut at all. She was one and twenty when Sebastian dragged her to London.

” Her voice dropped conspiratorially as she leaned close.

“She was furious with him, and her season did not go well. She returned to the country months sooner than she should have.”

The information Jane seemed determined to share with him matched what he already knew. But it also didn’t. It felt as if he was missing something. Something critical.

Suddenly, unable to resist, he glanced at Belinda again and, for the first time all evening, found her staring directly at him.

She raised her eyebrow, and a wave of guilt hit him squarely in the chest. It was unforgivably rude to gossip about her while she was in the room. Or gossip about her at all, really. What was wrong with him?

Even though he didn’t want to, he forced himself to change the subject. “Do you think the warm snap will continue?”

Discussing the weather was always appropriate, and although Jane looked at him strangely, she replied, “I try not to speculate about the temperature. Although I can admit that I’m grateful that we’ve had so much sun lately.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and kept his gaze firmly averted from the corner as he and Jane continued conversing about nothing at all.

* * *

Belinda was in hell. In all her years, she had never been so aware of a man. She didn’t need to look at the duke to know exactly where he was. Since they had danced together, she had been frightfully aware of his presence.

And it was only getting worse.

Ignoring him with every fiber of her being had somehow heightened her awareness.

She could sense the very air that escaped from his lungs, and it took every scrap of her control to continue to ignore him when Jane stopped him with a hand on his sleeve and engaged him in an intimate conversation in plain sight of the entire room.

Her sister had treated him with nothing more than casual affection since he had arrived.

No special attention. No longing glances.

Nothing to indicate that she viewed him as more than a friend.

Until now.

Belinda forced herself to stare out the window as if it held the mysteries of civilization.

It was the only way she could maintain the facade that she didn’t care and wasn’t jealous.

Her control lasted until the whisper of her name floated through the air.

It was so soft that it could have been nothing but her imagination, and yet it gave her the perfect excuse to turn her head and look directly at him.

As soon as she turned, she wished she hadn’t.

Jane was leaning so far forward she was in danger of tumbling straight into his arms, and he was completely focused on listening to whatever her sister was saying.

Suddenly, his gaze shifted, and he glanced toward her. She raised her eyebrow in challenge, and it was hard to tell, but she thought she saw him flush as he hastily returned his attention to her sister, stepping backward so they weren’t as close.

“Stop glaring,” Sebastian hissed, suddenly appearing at her elbow.

She slowly transferred her gaze from James to Sebastian. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He sighed. “What happened between you and the duke?”

“Nothing,” she hastily replied.

“You’re avoiding him.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’m not certain, but I’ve spent the evening watching you flee any time he gets close, and I’m convinced something happened between you.”

“Nothing happened. I’m not avoiding him. I simply have no reason to interact with him.”

“You have no reason not to either.” He paused. “Was it the dance? Should I not have suggested it? Or was it something earlier? You acted peculiarly the first night he came to dine too.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she repeated.

“You have more control than you give yourself credit for, and you can be very disciplined when you want to be. Making sure you don’t have to speak to him takes constant focus.”

She didn’t roll her eyes.

Or sigh.

Or argue.

Unless she wanted to explain all her interactions with the duke, she had no choice but to continue to pretend that Sebastian was making incorrect assumptions.

“I believe I will retire for the evening.” It was moderately late, late enough that it wouldn’t be too odd for her to excuse herself.

Instead of wishing her a good evening, her brother laid his hand on her forearm. “If something happened, you can trust me to support you.”

“Nothing happened,” she replied stubbornly. “Nor will it. You do not need to concern yourself about the duke.”

“Are you sure?”

“I will see you in the morning.” She started to walk away and then, in a thoroughly unusual gesture, stopped and kissed her brother’s cheek. Afterward, pointedly not looking toward the duke again, she made her way out of the room.