challenge, Kersey? The choice of weapons would be mine, would it not? I have a little skill with both swords and pistols. Or would you merely ruin my reputation? It cannot be done, my dear fellow. My reputation has sunk as low as it will go. I am reputed to have seduced my stepmother, got her with child, and run off with her, leaving my father to die of a broken heart. And if that was not quite devilish enough, I then abandoned her in a foreign land, leaving her among strangers. And yet here I stand as an invited guest at a
ton
event in London. No, Kersey, I do not believethere is a great deal you can do to my reputation that you have not already done.”
“We will see.” The viscount turned abruptly to go back upstairs. “Two can play at your game, Thornhill. It will be interesting to discover which of us plays it with the greater skill.”
“Quite fascinating,” the earl agreed. “I begin to enjoy this Season more and more.” He bowed elegantly and continued on his way down the stairs.
6
I
T WAS DIFFICULT TO THROW OFF THE FEELING that everything had been spoiled. Merely because the Earl of Thornhill had kissed her, Jennifer told herself, trying to minimize the importance of what had happened. All he had done was touch his lips to hers for a few seconds. It was really nothing at all.
But it was everything. Everything to spoil the pattern of life as it had been building for five years. Everything to upset her and everyone around her—not that everyone else knew the whole of it.
Aunt Agatha scolded in the ballroom. Very quietly and quite expressionlessly so that no one, not even anyone standing within a few feet of them, would have known that she was scolding. But she made it clear that if dancing with the Earl of Thornhill was not indiscreet enough to raise the eyebrows of society, leaving the ballroom with him, being absent with him for all of half an hour, was enough to ruin her reputation. She would be fortunate indeed if her absence had not been particularly noted and if she did not become the
on dit
in fashionable drawing rooms tomorrow.
It was in vain to protest that both the balcony and the garden were lit and that other couples were outside. Thebalcony and the garden were not for the use of a young unchaperoned girl who happened to be with a man who was neither her husband nor her betrothed, she was told. Especially when that man was a rake of the lowest order.
Jennifer now believed that he was indeed a rake. It was unpardonable of him to have stolen that kiss. And unpardonable of her to have allowed it, not to have protested her shock and outrage. She was unable to argue further with Aunt Agatha or to wrap herself about with righteousness. She felt horribly guilty.
Viscount Kersey danced the supper set with her and led her in to supper, but his manner was cold. Icy cold. He said nothing—that was the worst of it. And she was quite unable to bring up the topic herself. She was powerfully reminded of Samantha’s opinion of him. But she could not blame him for his coldness this time, though she would have far preferred to be taken aside and scolded roundly. She felt very much as if she had been unfaithful to him. She felt unworthy of him. She had kissed another man when she was betrothed to Lord Kersey.
And yet Lionel was the only man she had ever wanted to kiss. She had so looked forward to the supper dance and to the supper half hour spent with him. But it had all been totally ruined—entirely through her own fault.
After supper Lord Kersey returned her to Aunt Agatha’s side and engaged Samantha for the coming set. He took her out onto the balcony and kept her there the whole time—as punishment, Jennifer supposed. And it worked. It was agony knowing he was out there, eventhough it was only with Sam. She danced with Henry Chisley and smiled at him and chattered with him and was all the time aware of the absence of Lionel.
Yes, it was suitable punishment. If she had made him feel like this when
ton
event in London. No, Kersey, I do not believethere is a great deal you can do to my reputation that you have not already done.”
“We will see.” The viscount turned abruptly to go back upstairs. “Two can play at your game, Thornhill. It will be interesting to discover which of us plays it with the greater skill.”
“Quite fascinating,” the earl agreed. “I begin to enjoy this Season more and more.” He bowed elegantly and continued on his way down the stairs.
6
I
T WAS DIFFICULT TO THROW OFF THE FEELING that everything had been spoiled. Merely because the Earl of Thornhill had kissed her, Jennifer told herself, trying to minimize the importance of what had happened. All he had done was touch his lips to hers for a few seconds. It was really nothing at all.
But it was everything. Everything to spoil the pattern of life as it had been building for five years. Everything to upset her and everyone around her—not that everyone else knew the whole of it.
Aunt Agatha scolded in the ballroom. Very quietly and quite expressionlessly so that no one, not even anyone standing within a few feet of them, would have known that she was scolding. But she made it clear that if dancing with the Earl of Thornhill was not indiscreet enough to raise the eyebrows of society, leaving the ballroom with him, being absent with him for all of half an hour, was enough to ruin her reputation. She would be fortunate indeed if her absence had not been particularly noted and if she did not become the
on dit
in fashionable drawing rooms tomorrow.
It was in vain to protest that both the balcony and the garden were lit and that other couples were outside. Thebalcony and the garden were not for the use of a young unchaperoned girl who happened to be with a man who was neither her husband nor her betrothed, she was told. Especially when that man was a rake of the lowest order.
Jennifer now believed that he was indeed a rake. It was unpardonable of him to have stolen that kiss. And unpardonable of her to have allowed it, not to have protested her shock and outrage. She was unable to argue further with Aunt Agatha or to wrap herself about with righteousness. She felt horribly guilty.
Viscount Kersey danced the supper set with her and led her in to supper, but his manner was cold. Icy cold. He said nothing—that was the worst of it. And she was quite unable to bring up the topic herself. She was powerfully reminded of Samantha’s opinion of him. But she could not blame him for his coldness this time, though she would have far preferred to be taken aside and scolded roundly. She felt very much as if she had been unfaithful to him. She felt unworthy of him. She had kissed another man when she was betrothed to Lord Kersey.
And yet Lionel was the only man she had ever wanted to kiss. She had so looked forward to the supper dance and to the supper half hour spent with him. But it had all been totally ruined—entirely through her own fault.
After supper Lord Kersey returned her to Aunt Agatha’s side and engaged Samantha for the coming set. He took her out onto the balcony and kept her there the whole time—as punishment, Jennifer supposed. And it worked. It was agony knowing he was out there, eventhough it was only with Sam. She danced with Henry Chisley and smiled at him and chattered with him and was all the time aware of the absence of Lionel.
Yes, it was suitable punishment. If she had made him feel like this when
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