as the guests found their seats in the dining room.
Owing to his position as highest ranking peer, Lord Royce had been placed at Lady Elsbeth’s right. Next to him they’d assigned Millicent Hedgeworth, and next to her Lord Royce’s guest. Lord Conisbrough, taking in the situation, calmly exchanged his place card with Royce’s. Other than raising an eyebrow, Royce displayed no other reaction to his friend’s actions, for in truth, Conisbrough’s rank was the higher. Bowing to Lady Elsbeth, Lord Conisbrough took his seat and proceeded to make himself amenable to both Lady Elsbeth and Millicent. His conversation never strayed beyond practiced social gallantries, which drew an amused smile from Elsbeth.
Jane could not hear what was said from her end of the table. She shifted uneasily in her seat and found she could make only stilted responses to questions. All around her talk flowed easily. No one seemed to notice her reticence. She knew she was behaving badly, but could not seem to help herself. She was embarrassed for having cut up Royce only to have him proved right by Elsbeth’s inexplicable behavior. She hadn’t even known that Elsbeth and the marquis were acquainted, let alone that they had once enjoyed a close relationship! It seemed impossible. The Marquis of Conisbrough’s reputation made Royce seem angelic in comparison. Blackjack, Elsbeth called him, as did most of society whenever his name came up in conversation.
Now in his forties, the once strikingly handsome John Trent, Marquis of Conisbrough, was showing definite signs of weathering. His wavy guinea-gold hair, laced with silver, was worn a bit longer than the fashion, one stubborn curling lock falling across his high brow in a raffish manner. He had a tanned face, lined with years of experience. His pale blue eyes were his most startling feature. He reminded Jane of a pirate. He’d never married, though scores of women threw themselves at him. More than one woman of position was said to have offered herself without promises of matrimony. Jane remembered gossip that he’d once proposed marriage, but the woman had refused him. For whatever reason, he’d never given another woman the same opportunity. Could Aunt Elsbeth have been that woman? It could not be possible. They were so different. As different as—as a Chinaman and an Englishman!
Then what was behind this facade of friendship?
No answers swam into Jane’s beleaguered brain, only more questions, and a nagging fear. Did she listen too closely to society’s tales? Was she a creature of gossip, as Royce suggested? Delicately Jane shuddered and her spirits ebbed. She prayed not. Still, she acknowledged she knew more stories than truths, of the driftwood remains of wrecks than of the vessels themselves. She needed to sift the sands of her knowledge if she wished to turn up gold rather than pottery shards.
When she and Lady Elsbeth rose from dinner, the entire company joined them as they had no host to entertain the gentlemen over port. Though the Marquis and Lady Elsbeth parted after dinner to converse with others, Jane covertly watched him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"And just what is it you fear?" asked a quiet, deep voice behind her.
The rumble of that voice always sent shivers through her body. She jumped in reaction to the feeling and whirled around. Her pride smarted and would not allow for honesty. Her eyes flared, their green light glittering hard like faceted gems. She tossed her head up and turned away before the buttress of prideful strength gave way before his knowing glance.
A laugh now came from behind her, following, mocking, as she walked away. What was worse, what caused the laugh to echo in her head and pulsate throughout her body, was the knowledge that she couldn’t answer the earl’s question. She didn’t know what she feared, and so the feeling fed upon itself and grew.
Jane’s increasing agitation rent her cool society cloak, reducing it to tatters. By the time the rest of the guests arrived for the planned dancing, her color and voice were unnaturally high. She soon replaced the marquis and Lady Elsbeth as the subject of whispered speculation. But Jane did not notice. She drifted through the guests with all the charm of a virtual stranger.
Observing her, the Earl of Royce felt his sardonic amusement fade. He was not as pleased as he knew he should be. He’d vowed to strip away her ice barrier, for those barriers guarded her passionate nature. But this was not the method he’d intended, and he questioned