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  She slowed when they reached the townhouse belonging to Mrs. Araminta Granderson, Mr. Tilbury’s aunt and her sponsor for the Season. “Will you come inside for tea? You can help deflect the questions and instructions my mother and Mrs. Granderson will surely assault me with.”

  “I must return home. Mama has threatened to hire a dance tutor again if I don’t practice with my brother every afternoon.”

  Shaking her head, Jean said, “I shall watch you dance this evening and comment to Mrs. Sunderland on how well you do.”

  Agnes laughed. “Yes, please. She will drive me mad otherwise.”

  They waved goodbye and Jean went directly to her bedchamber to freshen up before joining the older women for tea.

  * * * * *

  Lady Reddingham’s home was aglow with candlelight and lamps, and after an hour of dancing, Jean was certain her complexion was also aglow. The ballroom, actually several connected rooms with doors between them opened wide, was too warm by half, and the iced punch didn’t offer enough refreshment. She wished she could step outside for a few moments, but that excursion would be so much more enjoyable if a certain gentleman would request it of her.

  Lord Milford was nowhere in sight, however. She had danced once with him already and he had requested the supper dance, so perhaps he’d take her aside then and speak to her. Surely he wished to speak with her. He’d played the beau since meeting her at Vauxhall. How long could a gentleman drag out his courtship? It was most vexing the way he kept her waiting. She’d been fairly plain with her affections, so he must be assured of her interest.

  Agnes drifted by in the arms of a captain who looked quite regal in his regimentals. They waltzed beautifully together. Jean had yet to waltz with anyone, as she’d not been introduced to the patronesses at Almack’s who could grant that permission. As she was the twenty-two-year-old daughter of the younger son of a younger son of no one of importance, she hadn’t expected to receive that recognition. Mama’s own father hadn’t enough cachet to outweigh Mr. Seton’s lack thereof in matters such as this. Still, her grandfather’s name and that of Mrs. Granderson allowed her to meet gentlemen of a far better stature than she might in Hambledon, even without the invitations from the grander ladies of the ton.

  “You should be out there demonstrating your grace,” purred a much too familiar voice.

  She gasped but refused to look over her shoulder. Mr. Tilbury shouldn’t be here. Jean forced a polite smile and spoke carefully in light of the gossips surrounding her. “Mr. Tilbury, what a surprise. I hadn’t expected to see you in London.”

  He stood much too close behind her, the warmth of his body igniting her skin where they didn’t quite touch. When he leaned forward to speak, his breath brushed over her bare neck. “I discovered I needed something I couldn’t find elsewhere. As I knew you were attending Lady Reddingham’s assembly, I took the liberty of including myself in my aunt’s invitation.”

  “Do you mean to dance or are the card rooms more to your liking?”

  “That depends.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, she asked, “On what?”

  “On whether you have an opening on your dance card.”

  Wistful curls of excitement fluttered inside her, and she silently cursed her reaction to the man. “I do have one set free after supper.”

  “I shall claim it, then, before someone else does. In the meantime, will you walk with me?”

  She couldn’t gracefully refuse even though she wished to rail at him for disturbing her calm demeanor. Looking back, she saw her mother and Mrs. Granderson eying them. Jean nodded to the ladies and took Mr. Tilbury’s arm.

  “This is quite the crush.” He led her away from the refreshment tables.

  “Yes. I’m not used to being in such a crowd. I believe you could fit all the residents of Hambledon in this room and not have half this many in attendance.” She refrained from mentioning the over-strong perfumes and sharpness of heels and elbows belonging to passersby. How she missed the country.

  “Perhaps this will suit you better.” With a slight tug on her arm, he led her toward the open french doors and the balcony.

  “I shouldn’t be very long, I have a partner for the next set.”

  “I promise to return you when the music ends, all the more refreshed for having air to breathe.”

  Torches lit the edges of the balcony and couples mingled about in the shadows between, so there was no impropriety in being there. The only excuse she could find for her inner trembling was the nearness of Mr. Tilbury, and there was no reason to react to him in such a way. She was not at all attracted to him.

  A breeze stirred, carrying his scent of rosemary and bergamot. How had she not noticed his cologne in the weeks they shared at his home? Putting aside the longings it raised, as he wasn’t the sort of man she sought for a husband, she raised her gaze to his as he turned to face her. “Are you in Town on business?”

  “Of a sort. But not my grandfather’s business.”

  “I hadn’t realized you had business holdings outside of those you inherited.”

  He raised one black eyebrow briefly. “I don’t. This is business of a more…personal manner.”

  Why was he being so coy? Feeling quite obstinate in reaction, she refused to play the game. “Well then, I hope you’re able to conclude it quickly and return to Three Gables.”

  His chuckle was low, barely loud enough for her to hear. “I also wish for a quick resolution. But it depends on the actions of another, so I am out of my depths in how to hurry the conclusion.”

  The torch behind her sent flickering shadows over Mr. Tilbury’s face, making his brow even more brooding, his aquiline nose more pronounced. His eyes were hooded, so she was unable to make out his true expression, but she swore they smoldered. “How frustrating that must be. Perhaps if you were to speak to the party in question, that gentleman might be amenable to a solution that would please you both.”

  He sighed, never breaking eye contact. His face seemed to waver, moving closer before backing away. “I fear my plight can’t be so easily resolved. I’m uncertain the other party is even aware of the matter, much less eager to resolve it.”

  Jean shifted back a step, hoping the distance would cool her sudden, startling need to see how Mr. Tilbury’s lips would feel pressed against hers. The lack of sleep since the Season had begun must be affecting her. The thought of kissing a man she regarded as a brother! “If you are as coy with him as you are being now, I would guess he hasn’t a whit of an idea. Really, Mr. Tilbury, you confuse me with your manner. You stand too close and will give others the wrong impression. However am I to find a husband if you send tongues wagging like this?”

  His lips spread, and she wished she could see if the smile reached his eyes. He hadn’t smiled much at Three Gables. His lips parted on an inhale, and Jean’s tongue flicked across her own lips before she realized what she’d done. She pressed her mouth tightly closed.

  “If I wished to send tongues wagging, I might kiss you here in front of God and half of London. I could announce my right to do so, as we are betrothed. But no. When I kiss you, it will be because you have begged me for it.”

  Mr. Tilbury straightened suddenly and took Jean’s elbow. “Come, we’ve been out here long enough. Your dance partner will be searching for you.”

  Jean planted her heels and jerked her arm free. “We are not betrothed. Do not even whisper such a thing, as someone will hear you.”

  “Ah, but you know me too well to say we are not. I’m a man of honor, if nothing else. I would never back out of a betrothal.”

  Chapter Two

  Jean awoke early, her head pounding so much she could no longer pretend to sleep. Visions of Mr. Tilbury had teased and taunted her all night, increasing her anger and frustration. The problem was she couldn’t decide whether she was more upset he’d leaned in so close as if to kiss her, or the fact he hadn’t completed the action.

  She pressed her cool fingertips to her lips. She’d bee
n kissed a few times and liked it enough, but something told her Mr. Tilbury’s kiss would be unlike those past ones. Even his threat left her restless for something she couldn’t name. When I kiss you, it will be because you have begged me for it.

  Throwing back the bedclothes, she rose and donned her wrapper. How had her world been tossed about like this? A year ago, she’d spoken to the vicar about a letter of character, should she decide to go ahead with her plan to find employment as a governess. She had accepted the fact she would never marry. There were no men calling on her, much less appearing in her dreams at night.

  Now she had gentlemen callers and the possibility of having offers to choose between. Mr. Tilbury wasn’t the man who should be filling her dreams. Lord Milford was, or Mr. Portwine. Even some handsome rake she’d never aspire to, such as Viscount Wetherby or the infamous Miscreant Marquess, would be better choices to reign in her dreams.

  Jean had never aspired to a titled husband. She had only two requirements of the man she sought—love and financial comfort. She didn’t need wealth, a grand country house or a home in Mayfair. Just enough pin money to buy a new ribbon now and again, or a book of poetry, and some to set aside as an adequate marriage settlement for their daughters. Her daughters would never be in her position, if she chose wisely. Titles were prestigious but they didn’t guarantee a happy life. And love spoke for itself, despite what her mother said on the matter.

  The problem with Mr. Tilbury was not his income, for he had enough of that and more. But not once in their time together had he shown any marked affection toward her. Taking into consideration the loss of his grandfather, she didn’t expect grand overtures, but she could have been a sister or cousin for all the interest he’d shown in her.

  He could not have come to London looking for her out of any grand passion, in spite of how flirtatious he’d been last night. Which meant he needed a wife to further his business efforts in some way. Jean was not interested in being his pawn.

  A cold compress put her head to rights in time for Mrs. Granderson’s at home, but Jean’s spirits were lagging. Thankfully, Agnes was the first to appear, with her pug-faced sister in tow.

  Agnes whispered in Jean’s ear when they hugged. “I’m dying to ask about the gentleman you danced with and don’t know if I can wait until we walk in Hyde Park later.”

  Tossing her curls, Jean grinned and pulled her friend aside so the others wouldn’t hear. “Which gentleman do you mean? I danced with so many.”

  “How you go on. ‘I danced with so many,’ as if you were the only Diamond at the ball. You know which gentleman I mean. I haven’t met him. You are keeping him secret, are you?”

  Jean knew exactly which one Agnes spoke of but enjoyed teasing her friend. “Let me find my dance card and refresh my memory.”

  Agnes rolled her eyes.

  Jean laughed. “Very well. He is no one of significance. In fact, he’s Mrs. Granderson’s nephew and a friend of my brother. It is through him we became known to Mrs. Granderson and are staying with her now. His name is Mr. Tilbury.”

  “Will we be seeing more of him?”

  Jean steered her friend toward the window seat filled with embroidered pillows, where they could speak with some small privacy. Miss Sunderland, Agnes’ sister, sat near the older women. Jean waited until the others began to speak before quietly answering Agnes. “I doubt it. I’m surprised to see him in London. I’d thought his business would keep him in Greater Yarmouth. Although, as he does have a family connection with Mrs. Granderson, we might see him on occasion while he’s in Town.”

  “I hope we do. Is he not the most handsome man we’ve seen this Season?”

  He was, if Jean reflected on the smoldering looks he’d given her on the balcony, but she couldn’t admit to that. “I suppose he has tolerable looks.” She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

  Agnes cast her a small smile. “Yes, quite tolerable. If you haven’t an attachment to him, perhaps I should know him better. You must introduce me.”

  A band tightened around Jean’s ribs as if her maid had over-tightened her stays. What a ridiculous reaction. Why should she care if Agnes flirted with the man? She had no feelings toward him. “Of course. It would only be polite to do so, if we do cross paths with him.”

  The salon doors opened and Burton, the butler, announced the arrival of the three Smythe sisters. Jean and Agnes rose to mingle. Lord Milford and another gentleman arrived soon after, and the lord came straight to Jean after greeting his hostess.

  He bowed quickly over her hand. “How are you this morning, Miss Seton?”

  “I am well, thank you. Is it as warm out today as yesterday?” How was one supposed to get to know any gentleman when allowed only minute measures of small talk? She hoped her face didn’t reveal her wish to be out of doors enjoying the spring sun.

  “It’s quite pleasant out. I located a copy of that book you mentioned, but I have yet to find the time to read.”

  “Oh, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.”

  A loud burst of giggles rang out near the doorway. Jean saw Mr. Tilbury surrounded by Agnes and the Smythe sisters. Her heart fluttered as she tried to focus on Lord Milford. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Before he could respond, Mr. Tilbury joined them. “Miss Seton, you are as lovely as the breeze blowing through my aunt’s roses.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “How nice to see you. Are you acquainted with Lord Milford?” She made the introductions, attempting to make clear her friendship with the lord.

  Mr. Tilbury said the appropriate things before steering the conversation his own way. “I picked up the phaeton I ordered this morning and am eager to take it for a spin. If you are free this afternoon, I would be honored if you would join me, Miss Seton.”

  Jean’s mouth opened and closed again. She glanced at Lord Milford, uncertain how to respond. Shouldn’t he jump to her protection and imply they had a prior engagement, even though they had none? If he were considering any sort of suit, as his constant attentions seemed to imply, he should try to keep her from seeing other men.

  Yet he said nothing.

  Jean sighed. “I should be happy to join you if my mother hasn’t made other plans for me.” She could hope either her mother or his aunt had booked her day solid, but she had an inkling those ladies would break an engagement with anyone lower than the Prince Regent himself if it meant she could go riding with Mr. Tilbury.

  “Splendid. I shall leave you to your guests, then.” He performed a slight bow and crossed to where his aunt sat.

  Although she tried not to, she watched him move gracefully about the room speaking to everyone present, even Agnes’ bluestocking sister. He stayed a moment longer with her than with the others, coaxing a smile, then a laugh, from the young woman, whose cheeks blossomed and eyes brightened. Under his attentions, she appeared much more attractive.

  Of course he had the talent of mingling. Such a skill was necessary to succeed in business. She hadn’t seen how Mr. Tilbury got on with others during her stay at Three Gables due to their seclusion, as they’d tried to keep their sham betrothal a secret.

  Everyone in the room seemed taken with Mr. Tilbury. Jean couldn’t explain the disappointment she felt at that knowledge. How much easier it would be to keep her distance if everyone disliked him.

  * * * * *

  A few hours later, Ben called out to a boy on the street, asking him to watch over his horses and phaeton, then trotted up the steps to knock on Aunt Granderson’s door. He was quickly admitted by Burton, who advised Ben the ladies were in the salon.

  “Hullo again, Aunt, Mrs. Seton. You both are looking well.” He smiled at each woman before letting his gaze find Miss Seton.

  “Did you suppose some illness would lay us low since we saw you last?” Aunt Granderson’s eyes twinkled.

  “I wished no such event. I merely meant you look well.”

  “Save the pleasantries for the young ladies. Our constitutions are less able to diges
t too many sweet expressions in one day.”

  Using that as his invitation to address Miss Seton, he held out his hand. “Are you ready for our drive through the park?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She picked up the shawl draped over her chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. She walked toward the door without taking his arm.

  Once they sat on the leather bench of the phaeton, Ben eased his horse into the traffic. “That shade of lavender suits you. I’m pleased to see you aren’t bowing to the strictest fashion that requires young ladies to wear white. Too many of your fair sex are completely washed away in it.”

  Miss Seton gave a strangled cry close to that of a cat being stepped on. “You are the most insolent…”

  He almost wished she’d continued. At times, he wondered what she thought of him. “Because I tell you that you look more fetching in lavender than white?”

  “No. Yes! Not only do you feel entitled to voice your opinion on what I wear, but you imply that our betrothal was real. You know very well I only agreed to pose as your fiancée to please Sir Waldo. No one else was to know of the pretense. I fear you will ruin my chances of a real marriage if you don’t leave London at once.”

  He chuckled. She’d apparently also been pretending to be meek and obedient at Three Gables. He was delighted to see this side of her. He’d never admit it to Ringley, but coming to London had been a wise move. “If I were to leave at this very moment, your character would suffer a much greater blow than my insisting we’re betrothed ever could inflict. Or did you wish me to leave you here on the street?”

  She tugged her shawl more tightly around her. “You understood my meaning perfectly, do not suggest otherwise. I am not suggesting we run away together. I thought you were my friend. Why are you attempting to spoil everything?”

  His posture relaxed slightly as the fight whispered out of him. Did she really not want his company? That didn’t bode well, now that he was willing to admit the truth. “It became quite apparent after you left, I am in need of a wife.”