“Hmm…” She swiped away a few remaining tears and pasted on a smile for them. “I’m sure there are a number of activities that might brighten my mood.”
Hayden’s gaze narrowed on him; Leo smiled in return.
Jez drummed her fingers along her beaded reticule, the sound reminiscent of a snare drum readying soldiers in line for war. “The Randalls are hosting a ball tonight. And I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to assume I’m in mourning.”
Tristan clapped his hands together. “Excellent.”
“We’ll have to stop at my townhouse. I don’t want to be seen wearing my funeral rags to the duchess’s ball.”
“Nor I, for that matter,” Tristan concurred, fixing his skewed black cravat.
“And no more feeling sorry for myself. I’m never maudlin.” Jez raised her chin high. “It’s better to be angry. If ever there was a woman scorned, that woman is I. And I will not be kicked down a moment longer.”
The carriage turned toward Mayfair, quickly approaching Jez’s townhouse.
“My solicitors will look over the will first thing in the morning,” Hayden insisted for the umpteenth time.
The man was determined to find a loophole and no one would begrudge him that. Hell, Leo still couldn’t believe that Fallon had so thoroughly tied up his funds in his successor. All Jez had was the paltry sum she’d gone into her marriage with.
“I’ll worry about the will tomorrow, Hayden.” Jez gave them all a droll look. “I deserve a short reprieve from the reality of my situation for at least one night.”
The carriage rolled to a stop.
“Are we sure this is wise?” Hayden interjected as the door opened and Jez took the footman’s hand to be let down.
Tristan ducked his head and exited. “Should we hide behind our mothers’ apron strings?”
Leo laughed and slapped Hayden on the shoulder as he stepped down from the carriage. “Come on, Hayden. It’s meant to be a night of celebration now that the old scalawag has kicked the bucket.”
“I’m willing to do just about anything to cheer you up, Jez.” Tristan offered his arm. “I’ll see you to your townhouse.”
With a pointed glare aimed at Hayden, Jez batted her lashes at Tristan. “I couldn’t ask for a better or more willing companion.”
“What have you planned for the evening, Jez?” Leo asked, trailing behind Jez and Tristan up the steps to her townhouse.
“This particular ball is full of debutantes … ripe for plucking. I do believe Mr. Warren has his eye on one of the ladies in attendance. There was something he said at the reading of the will to indicate such.”
Not sure how he should interpret this tidbit of information, Leo only quirked one brow. No one knew how to exact revenge quite like Jez. That was what had set her apart from most women of his acquaintance: she thought and acted as ruthless and as cunning as a man.
It brought a smile to his face when he remembered the first time he’d met her. It had been gentlemen’s night at Hastley’s and she’d been smoking a cigar and playing cards at a table with ten other men.
“What do you have in mind?” Leo asked, intrigued.
“I’m only thinking of the girl,” she said with a sweet pout tilting her mouth down. “I wouldn’t wish the life I had on anyone. She mustn’t marry Mr. Warren.”
Chapter 2
Though a host may turn away any guest without an invite, it would be bad judgment to refuse the Duke of A___ entry anywhere, even with friends considered to have the lowest of morals in tow.
The Mayfair Chronicles, May 26, 1846
“You’re to stay by my side this evening, as your grandmother instructed. I will not be impressed if I have to search for you in the gardens with your newest beau,” Genevieve Camden scolded her cousin.
Her younger cousin, Charlotte, had debuted in society this past spring and all had gone swimmingly well between them for months. Everything had changed with Charlotte’s father’s insistence that his daughter be courted and married to a man of his choice come fall—one Mr. Warren.
So far, Charlotte had only disappeared twice into a garden and dark alcove with gentlemen this past week. Still, the suddenness of her impending marriage—to a man neither knew well—did not mean that Charlotte could eschew proper conduct.
And, really, it could be far worse for her cousin.
Genny guessed Mr. Warren to be in his early to mid-thirties. He was handsome enough with his lithe, strong-looking frame. More importantly, he had a full head of hair and was in possession of all his teeth. There were far too many bald-headed, gum-grinding gentlemen for Genny’s liking. All in all, she thought her uncle had chosen well.
“Pooh.” Charlotte pouted. “You really aren’t any fun at all.”
“That is why your father asked me to accompany you around Town,” Genny retorted before she could rein in her frustration. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”
“Yes you did.” Hurt was etched in her cousin’s face. “You should never have sided with my father.”
“What else could I do?” Genny couldn’t stand up to her uncle, else he’d have her removed from the house and cut off his support.
“You could have made excuses on my behalf. Instead you just stood beside me and nodded in agreement with everything my father said.”
“It won’t matter how often I apologize, you’ll never forgive me, will you?”
“This isn’t the place for this.” Charlotte looked around the room before turning back to Genny with a forced smile. “We are at a ball, and I should be dancing the night away.”
Genny did sympathize with her younger cousin’s plight. But that didn’t mean Charlotte should risk damaging either of their reputations, especially since Genny relied upon the generosity of her extended family to keep her clothed, fed, and comfortable now that she was firmly considered an unmarriageable spinster without an income to sustain a life of independence. It wasn’t so terrible having to rely upon family. Genny did have more freedom now than she had when she was a debutante.
“I am headed for the punch table,” Charlotte said, smoothly changing the topic when Genny made no response. “Can I bring you a refreshment?”
“I will pass, thank you. I have already partaken of the punch and it’s quite bland.” She took a deep breath and tried to summon a reasonable tone. “Please don’t leave this room without me, not under any circumstance, or your father will hear about it.”
Charlotte’s brows puckered closer together and she let out an annoyed huff. “You really are a spoilsport. I promise to do no more than converse with my friends and wait for gentlemen to fill in their names on our dance cards. You’ll see me directly across the room. Does that meet with your approval?”
“I wouldn’t have to scold you if you acted like a proper young lady.”
Charlotte looked affronted. “The best years of my life are going to be wasted in marriage. Why shouldn’t I experience what life has to offer before then?”
Before Genny could come up with a reasonable response, Charlotte was halfway across the ballroom, weaving through guests and dancers with sure footing. The heavy pleats in Charlotte’s green silk gown seamlessly flowed through the crowd instead of dragging behind her. Heads turned, but her cousin gave no notice to anyone until she reached her friend Ariel’s side. Ariel had on a blush silk gown with pearls sewn right into the fitted bodice, making her look almost like a fairy princess with all that opalescent shimmer and pale blonde hair to give her an ethereal quality men seemed to adore.
Genny looked down at the drab affair she wore with a slight shake of her head; it was better suited for a funeral than a ball. She felt too young to be a spinster and sometimes wished that life could be as easy for her as it was for her cousin.
Genny had been born to a modest family with an equally humble income. But she knew that wealth came with a few disadvantages of its own. She supposed she was lucky to have been sponsored at all and had at least experienced a debut at eighteen. She had not made good use of her great-aunt’s generosity and married well, though.
She blew out a frustrated breath and looked away from the small gathering of debutantes and young, marriageable gentlemen that surrounded Charlotte and Ariel.
Genny was not envious. Well, maybe slightly since she had wanted to marry, just not to any of the men who had offered.
Taking a step back, Genny pressed her shoulder against the wall. Would it really hurt anyone’s sensibilities if a few chairs were placed in the ballroom? She didn’t wish to stand all evening.
Though it hadn’t been that long since she had debuted into society, she was no longer cut out for the late nights and early mornings. Not after playing the role of companion these last three years to her aunt Hilda, the very woman who had sponsored her. Her aunt was in her sixth decade and in bed before the evening clock struck eight once she’d retired from society.
Now, from luncheon to the latest hours of the night, Genny was at her cousin’s side. She swore by the time she closed her eyes to finally sleep that the girl’s grandmother, too aged to escort her granddaughter around Town herself, was ringing that dratted servants’ bell and demanding Genny’s attendance. Sometimes Genny was summoned before the sun even had a chance to rise—like today.