Page 15 of The Truth about the Marquess (Whispers of the Ton #3)

Chapter Fourteen

S miling as she took Lord Edenbridge’s arm, Jane did all that she could to smother the feelings that were trying to expand in her heart as he smiled at her. Ever since he had spoken of the soon-to-occur masquerade ball, and his hope of inviting the lady who wrote in The London Chronicle, she had found her heart doing all manner of strange things, rendering her nothing short of lost in confusion. Why she should feel anything for the gentleman, aside from friendship, she could not say, for there was certainly nothing else that ought to be present within her, surely?

“You do not look as though you are enjoying the evening, Lady Harsham.”

Jane looked up at him.

“No?”

“No.” With a slight lift of his eyebrow and a quirk of his lips – both of which sent a sparkling light into his brown eyes, he lifted his shoulders. “Might you wish to dance?”

“To dance?” she repeated, a streak of what felt like anticipation rising up within her, though she set that aside quickly. “Goodness, I do not think that I have danced the waltz in some time!”

That streak quickly turned into heat which wrapped itself around her, before then dissipating into a chill as Lord Edenbridge chuckled. It was not because of his laughter that she shivered, but because the thought of being in his arms, of being so close to him, almost terrified her.

But why?

“That does not mean that you have forgotten the steps, I am sure,” he told her, with such a sweet encouragement in his voice that Jane did not think that she could refuse, not without appearing rude or giving the impression that she simply did not want to dance with him! “What say you?”

Jane took a deep breath but forced a smile.

“Yes, of course. I would be glad to.”

“Capital!” He sounded so happy that she had accepted that Jane could not help but quieten her anxiety, feeling herself relaxing just a little as she looked up at him. “I am already looking forward to it.”

“Are you sure that you do not want to dance the waltz with either Miss Leverton or Lady Henrietta?” she ventured, reminding herself that he was already pursuing two young ladies and saw her only as a friend and nothing more. “I am sure that both of them would be glad to step out with you.”

Lord Edenbridge shook his head.

“I am afraid that Miss Leverton has no permission to dance the waltz and Lady Henrietta’s waltz has been taken by another.”

Jane looked up at him again, expecting him to sound disappointed but, much to her surprise, he did not. Instead, he was smiling down at her as though he was pleased that she would be dancing with him instead of one of them.

Her heart leaped, and Jane turned her gaze away.

“Ah, I can see Lady Guilford.” Jane glanced up at him again but did not look him in the eyes, her whole being seeming to writhe with a mixture of uncertainty and fear that swept over her completely. “Might you excuse me for a few minutes, Lord Edenbridge?”

With an easy smile, he nodded.

“But of course. I will come and find you again in time for the waltz.”

It was with a sense of urgency that Jane hurried towards Lady Guilford, though she could not explain why. Seeing her friend glance towards her – and then for her smile to fade – Jane caught her arm and, her heart pounding in a way that she had never expected, quietly begged her to walk with her for a short while around the ballroom.

“But of course.” Lady Guilford smiled at the others she had been speaking with, excused herself, and then fell into step with Jane, bending her head close to hers. “My dear friend, whatever is the matter? You have gone as pale as can be! Are you unwell?”

“I – I do not know.” Jane closed her eyes briefly, a breath shuddering out of her. “Louisa, whatever has come over me? Lord Edenbridge asked me to dance, and I felt myself glad to be asked, only for my whole being to suddenly turn weak with fear!”

Lady Guilford stopped walking and turned to look into Jane’s eyes, though Jane closed hers again, trying to regain a sense of composure.

“He asked you to dance?”

“The waltz,” Jane answered, opening her eyes and looking back at her friend, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “The closest, the most intimate of dances. Why do I suddenly fear it, Louisa? Why do I now fear being close to him ?”

A small, soft smile began to spread across Lady Guilford’s face as Jane pressed her lips tight together, steadying herself.

“My dear friend, could it be that what you denied so vehemently before might, in fact, be true?”

“Denied?”

“Yes, your denial that there might be something more than just friendship between yourself and Lord Edenbridge,” Lady Guilford said, gently. “I spoke to you because I believed that there might be something, but you refused to even consider the idea, I think.”

Jane nodded.

“That is because I was sure… no, Louisa. I cannot let myself be drawn into this!”

“No?” Her friend tipped her head just a little. “And why would that be?”

Trying to answer, Jane opened her mouth and then closed it again, unable to give any sort of explanation for why she felt this way. It was as if part of her could see what was being offered, but the fear that was within her over it was so great that she could not… would not… let herself consider it.

“You are afraid.” It was not a question but a clear statement and Jane, recognizing that there was no need for her to pretend otherwise, nodded. “But why are you afraid?” Lady Guilford pressed, still speaking gently, though her questions felt like sharp knives pressing into Jane’s skin. “You know that Lord Edenbridge is a good man. There is nothing that he has said or done to frighten you, is there?” Jane shook her head, wordlessly. “He is nothing like Lord Harsham,” Lady Guilford continued, as tears quickly sprang into Jane’s eyes at the mention of her late husband. “I can see that, and I am certain that you can too.”

“But what if he hides a good deal of his character, just as Lord Harsham did?” Words began to tumble from Jane’s mouth, her heart pounding as she gazed at her friend, her vision a little blurred. “Lord Harsham hid his cruelty from most of the ton , though I will admit that some knew of his true character. What if Lord Edenbridge is the same?”

Sympathy poured into Lady Guilford’s expression.

“Oh, my dear friend.” She came closer and took both of Jane’s hands in her own. “You are afraid that, should you let yourself be a little more vulnerable when it comes to Lord Edenbridge, he will then turn into a gentleman you do not recognize? That there is a part of him – a big part of him – that he is hiding from you?” She shook her head as Jane tried to swallow past the knot in her throat, feeling pain clasp at her heart. “That is an injury that your late husband placed upon your heart,” Lady Guilford continued, gently, “and it has clearly not yet healed. I can understand why you would be afraid, but you must understand that there are very few gentlemen like your late husband. Most of them are just as they seem! I say this with confidence, for I know my own husband is one such gentleman, and all of his closest friends are of similar ilk. You need not fear that Lord Edenbridge will be like Lord Harsham, Jane! You will rob yourself of any potential happiness that might come from being honest with your own heart and, mayhap, with him!”

Tears began to burn in Jane’s eyes as she fought to speak. She could not find any words to explain all that was building in her chest. She understood what her friend was saying, and wanted to believe it, wanted to take it in, but there was too much fear there, too much dread over what might be, should she be honest about her heart, as Lady Guilford had suggested.

“You must trust him!” Lady Guilford said, her fingers tightening on Jane’s, her eyes searching hers. “Tell him of your fear, if you wish!”

“Tell him?” Jane croaked, pulling back from the idea immediately. “I do not think that I can! I would not be able to do such a thing!”

“Why not?” The thought of speaking to Lord Edenbridge of her late husband and all of his cruelty sent a tremor through her. “Do you not think he would understand?” Lady Guilford asked, softly.

“He would wonder why I was telling him!” Jane exclaimed, pulling her hands out of Lady Guilford’s. “He would ask why–”

“Of course he would,” her friend interrupted, gently, “but then, mayhap, you could share with him the truth.” Smiling as Jane shook her head, Lady Guilford shrugged lightly. “I think that you would be very happy with Lord Edenbridge, Jane. You are close in your acquaintance with him, he seems very happy to be in your company, and you seem glad to be in his – and that is what I want for you. I want you to be happy.”

Jane swallowed and then looked away.

“I am happy.” Her voice rasped, betraying her emotion, for no sense of genuine happiness spread into her words. “I am. Truly.”

“Are you?” Lady Guilford’s quiet question made Jane’s skin prickle, and she looked back at her, seeing how her friend’s eyebrow lifted, a glimmer of a smile still on her lips. “Then if you are so happy and contented, tell me how you will truly feel when Lord Edenbridge decides to take a bride? When he chooses one of the two ladies he is considering?”

Thinking of this, Jane tried to pretend that she would be more than contented, tilting her chin up so that she could speak with confidence… but nothing more than sadness hit her. Her shoulders rounded, her heart dropped to the floor and her spirit grew heavy.

She closed her eyes.

“I know that you have the town house and your employment, and I understand that you are afraid of what might be, should you listen to all that your heart is saying.” Lady Guilford embraced Jane for a moment, then released her, her hands at her shoulders, her gaze fixed and determined. “But you must consider what you will lose if you do not tell him. That is all I am saying to you.”

Jane nodded but shivered, the thought of being honest and open with Lord Edenbridge in that way making her tremble with dread. She feared that, in doing so, he might then reveal the truth of his character, just as Lord Harsham had done the day of their wedding.

“I have come to find you, as I have said!” Lord Edenbridge appeared just as Jane shivered, yet again, making the smile on his face fade away. “Are you quite all right?”

Jane nodded.

“I am.” Pushing down everything within her heart and mind so that she barely felt or thought of anything other than what was now expected of her, she accepted his arm. “Thank you.”

“You are certain that you are quite ready to dance? We do not have to, if you do not wish to.”

The concern in his voice made Jane’s heart squeeze and, despite her attempts at pushing everything away, she could not help but let warmth flood through her as she nodded.

“I think a waltz would be a capital idea,” Lady Guilford remarked, sending a kind smile towards Jane, who could not respond in any other way but with a small smile of her own. “I think I shall go in search of my husband and demand that we dance also!”

This made Jane laugh and, with that sweetness beginning to fill her heart, she was led to the dance floor by Lord Edenbridge and, after a moment, stepped into his arms.

It was as though the entire world shifted as she danced. The ground seemed to move under her feet, weakness beginning to take hold, forcing her to tighten her grip on his hand and shoulder. Lord Edenbridge did not remark on this, however, though his eyes searched hers, the worry within them offering her a sense of comfort which she grasped hold of.

Strength slowly began to return to her as the waltz continued. She did not know where it had come from, but the weakness in her limbs began to flee, her poise returning as her gaze melded with his. There was a slow growing happiness in her now, something that sent out heat into the very tips of her fingers, seeming to push back the fear that she had felt so strongly only moments ago.

And then, Lord Edenbridge smiled.

Jane’s heart exploded. She could not quite understand it, her breath hitching, her chest tight as she lost herself in his eyes. There was something so wonderful about this moment, as though she had found something that, for a long time, she had been searching for and had been unable to discover. Lord Edenbridge pulled her just a little closer, as though he knew all that she was feeling and wanted it to linger, and Jane’s heart burned hot again.

Dare I confess to him what I have only just begun to realize myself?

She pressed her lips together, realizing that she had been dancing with him without even thinking of the steps, that they had been moving as one across the dance floor. Lady Guilford had recognized that there was a closeness between them, an intimacy that was continually growing and, as the dance slowly came to an end, Jane realized just how much she did not want to step away from him. Instead of the dread she had felt in stepping out to dance, she now wanted to linger a little longer, to have his arm at her waist, to have her hand in his.

“I think you are a wonderful dancer, Lady Harsham.”

“Jane.”

The word came from her before she could even have thought to keep it back, seeing the way his eyebrows shot towards his hairline.

“I do not like being continually reminded of my husband,” she said, as the other couples began to leave the dance floor. “We are closely enough acquainted for me to ask you to call me Jane whenever you can, though I understand that in a place such as this, it would not be right, given what rumors might spring up if someone should overhear you.”

Lord Edenbridge considered this for a moment, then nodded, turning so he could accompany her back to the side of the ballroom where the other guests stood. Jane’s hand went to his arm almost without her thinking, though he did not seem in the least bit upset at this.

“I do hope I have not embarrassed you in any way by speaking so. There is no need for you to do as I ask.” Heat seared her cheeks as she looked away, but Lord Edenbridge stopped suddenly, just as they reached the other guests and Jane turned to look up at him.

“You must not apologize,” he said, with such a softness in his voice that the heat in Jane’s face grew all the more. “I am honored, truly, that you would not only ask me such a thing, but that you would be so vulnerable with me as regards your late husband.” His eyes searched hers. “I would never speak a word of whatever you chose to share with me. I pray that you know that.”

Jane swallowed and looked away from him, suddenly unable to look into his face.

“I do,” she said, a little huskily. “Given all that you have endured from the ton, I am certain that you would never share a word of what I have said to you.”

Lord Edenbridge caught her hand and then, before she could even take a breath, pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“I am grateful for the trust you have in me, Jane,” he said, using her name for the first time. “I swear to you, I shall never make you regret it.”

Try as she might, Jane could not say a single word in response, given the tumbling, swirling, astonishing feelings that poured through her. All she could do was smile and wonder, desperately, whatever she was to do with all that she now felt.