Chapter 11

A fter Saturday's ball and a busy night at the Siren's Call on Sunday, Jo was glad to be doing what she wanted to do on Monday evening. Smiling as she departed the hack, she stepped through the wrought iron gate to the front door of the Davenports' house. It opened before she could knock.

"Good evening, Melrose," Jo said.

"Good evening, Miss Harker." The rather short butler closed the door behind her and took her cloak and hat.

Jo made her way upstairs to the drawing room, more eager than usual for tonight's literary salon.

"If it isn't the future Duchess of Henlow!" Mrs. Davenport exclaimed loudly so that everyone who had already arrived, perhaps ten people, quieted and turned to look at Jo.

In any other situation, Jo would have been horrified to have brought everything to a standstill, but she had known these people a few years now. She considered some of them friends, though not in the way of her new friends who were near to her own age.

Jo smiled. "Good evening, Mrs. Davenport."

Mrs. Davenport, a petite woman in her late sixties who wore ornate white wigs that were firmly out of fashion, grinned at Jo. "Shall we have a toast to your good fortune?"

"That isn't necessary," Jo said. "Truly, though, I do appreciate your kindness."

"It isn't kindness so much as envy," she said with a laugh. "Oh, to marry an earl!" She glanced toward her husband, who, as usual, was dozing in the corner. "You must tell me everything. When is the wedding?"

"I want to hear!" Mrs. Fletcher-Peabody hastened toward them. A widow in her early sixties, she possessed a round figure and surprisingly dark hair. Mrs. Fletcher-Peabody hosted the literary salons on the first and third Mondays of the month, while Mrs. Davenport hosted the second and fourth. If there was a fifth Monday, they took a respite, and the next salon was invariably at least an hour longer than normal.

"I would also like to hear," said a third woman, Lady Standish. Her cane tapped on the floor as she approached. In her seventies, Lady Standish was a poetess and occasionally shared her work. Tonight was one such evening, and Jo was particularly looking forward to it. Lady Standish wrote of the intersection of love and nature, and her work moved Jo to seek out beauty and peace. With everything happening, she felt rather in need of the latter.

"What did I miss?" Lady Standish asked, looking at the two older ladies before settling her gaze on Jo. "Here's our beautiful bride."

"You haven't missed a thing," Jo said. "Mrs. Davenport asked when the wedding will be. Not until autumn or winter. We haven't set the date yet."

Mrs. Fletcher-Peabody pouted. "Why so long?"

"Please make it November or later," Lady Standish said. "I won't have returned from the country until then."

Jo kept herself from laughing. As if she would plan a wedding based on Lady Standish's plans. Even so, the woman's desire to be present was incredibly sweet. Jo realized she would have liked all of them at the wedding breakfast. If she were actually getting married.

"I have noted your preference," Jo said before transferring her attention to Mrs. Fletcher-Peabody. "To answer your question, we are waiting because I have always wanted to marry in the autumn or winter. That way I can wear a fur-trimmed cloak." She grinned at them, glad that Sheff had provided her with a reason.

"How splendid. And when will you host your first salon?" Mrs. Davenport asked.

"I'm not sure," Jo replied. "Perhaps in the new year?" How she wished that were true. But perhaps it could be if she used Sheff's payment to set up her own household and establish herself as a literary hostess. More and more, she was truly beginning to see that future. It was both exciting and a trifle daunting. Or perhaps it was the idea of telling her mother that was the daunting part.

"Where will you live?" Lady Standish asked. "I believe the earl resides at the Albany. I can't imagine you want to move in with his parents at Henlow House."

Definitely not. Jo hadn't thought about where they would live because they weren't going to live anywhere. "We haven't decided yet."

"Perhaps Henlow owns another property here in town," Mrs. Fletcher-Peabody said. "How lucky you are to have snared Shefford! He's very handsome. And roguish, but that can be exciting. My husband was somewhat of a rake in his day." She arched her dark brows in a mischievous expression.

"You did not regret marrying a man like that?" Jo asked.

"Absolutely not. Once we were wed, Erasmus only had time for me. The key is to keep them very busy—and satisfied." She smirked at the other ladies. Mrs. Davenport appeared nonplussed while Lady Standish swallowed a giggle.

"Thank you for that advice," Jo said, hoping there wouldn't be any more.

Mrs. Davenport sent Jo an expectant look. "Shall I invite Lord Shefford to my salon next Monday?"

Hadn't he said he should attend one? "Certainly. I'm sure he'll come if he is able."

Jo tried to imagine him at a literary salon. She didn't even know if he liked to read, or, if so, what.

The idea of hosting her own salons as the Countess of Shefford held a surprising appeal. As a countess, she could invite anyone she wanted, and chances were, they'd want to attend. She could invite writers from all over the world.

Her heart beat a little faster until she realized that none of that was actually going to happen.

Another party arrived, and Jo saw that it was Tamsin and Ellis. But where was Min? Excusing herself from her hostess and the two other ladies, Jo made her way to her friends.

"There you are, Jo," Tamsin said with a smile.

"Where is Min?" Jo asked.

Ellis exhaled. "She had to attend a dinner with her mother, who hopes to match her with a gentleman who is attending. Min was so hoping that Sheff's betrothal would keep the duchess occupied, but with the betrothal ball past and the wedding not happening for months, she has plenty of time to try to match Min."

Poor Min. Jo would talk to Sheff and see if there was anything he could do. Perhaps he could take Min with him when he left London.

Jo would miss Min if she left. Shockingly, she realized she was going to miss Sheff too.

But she understood why he needed to go. His revelations at the ball the other night had clung to her mind. She hoped he could find some truth for himself and see that he was more than his father's son. When she thought of how much energy he'd likely expended throughout his life caring for his parents and dealing with their difficulties, she felt rather badly for him. Was it any wonder his view of himself was distorted?

She wanted to support him. To show him that he was cared for.

She even wanted to kiss him again. The things he'd said to her in the study at the ball… Just recalling them brought heat to her core. She had to be careful it didn't show in her face.

"Jo?"

Blinking, Jo realized she'd been woolgathering. "My apologies. I was thinking about the duchess and how she needs something to do that interests her besides managing her children's lives," she fibbed.

"Such as attend literary salons?" Ellis quipped.

Jo stared at her in horror before laughing. "I suppose she could, but not these. I daresay they wouldn't be lofty enough for her. Surely one of her duchess friends hosts one."

"I don't know that I've ever seen her read a book," Ellis mused. "Newspapers and magazines, but not books."

"Some magazines contain literature," Tamsin said.

Ellis arched a brow. "I think the duchess is more interested in fashion and gossip."

"Either of you want something to drink?" Tamsin asked. "I'm going to fetch a glass of wine."

"Nothing for me just yet," Jo replied.

"Me neither," Ellis said with a shake of her head.

As Tamsin moved across the room to the refreshment table, Jo angled herself toward Ellis. "Thank you again for your help the other night."

"You were gone awhile," Ellis noted, her gaze curious. "I couldn't help noticing that Sheff was also absent, and that he returned to the ball not long after you did."

"We ran into each other while we were both seeking a respite." Jo didn't want to say anything about Sheff helping his father in case Ellis didn't know. Though, Jo began to suspect Ellis knew a great deal about what happened in that household. And why wouldn't she?

"I hope that didn't disturb your peace," Ellis said with a smile.

"Not at all. Sheff and I are friends. He apologized for his mother. I was just grateful that I barely interacted with her the rest of the evening."

Ellis chuckled. "How fortunate for you. It was a nice ball. I met your father and found him rather engaging."

"Be careful," Jo warned with a smile. "He's a charmer."

"Is it true that your parents don't live together?" Ellis asked.

"Yes. I've never shared the same household as my father."

"But you are close? I saw you with him at the ball later on, and you seemed to be."

"We are," Jo said. "He's the reason I come to literary salons. He likes to take me to different events."

Ellis smiled, an almost wistful look in her eyes. "That sounds lovely." Her features sobered. "Do your parents know the truth of your betrothal?"

"My mother does. My father would not be able to keep the secret."

"That must be difficult. To have to lie to him, I mean."

"I don't enjoy it, but it's necessary. Sometimes, I think I was foolish to agree to help Sheff, but talking to you at the ball actually helped me feel good about my decision. I will have a chance at the life I want, and I'm incredibly grateful." Jo laughed softly. "And don't ask me if I decided what that will be. I'm still mulling things."

"Fortunately, I don't think you have to rush." Ellis winked at her.

Tamsin returned with her wine, and Gwen arrived. Her husband had dropped her off on his way to the Phoenix Club.

"I'm surprised he didn't want to come in," Jo said with a mischievous smile. "Isn't this where you had your first kiss?"

"Yes. The whole evening was so daring." Gwen giggled. "I don't know where I summoned the courage to dress and act as Lazarus's ‘great-aunt.'"

Jo laughed. "You certainly didn't behave as his ‘great-aunt' when I caught the two of you in the retiring room."

"That's because he's a rogue," Tamsin said, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Or was , anyway."

"He still is," Gwen said primly, though her gaze held a devilish glint. "He's just my rogue."

That had to be a heady feeling—to know a man who'd enjoyed female company, perhaps to excess, had chosen her above all others. And he was so clearly and desperately in love with her… It was enough to almost make Jo want that for herself.

Almost.

A few minutes later, they all took their seats to hear Lady Standish speak. Jo lost herself in the poetess's words, and by the end of the first poem, she had come to one decision.

Jo would host her own literary salon one day. It might not be for quite some time, but she would work toward that goal.

How easy it would be if she were actually the Countess of Shefford. Lady Standish started another poem. It was about the sea. And sexual gratification, apparently.

The waves crash upon the shore. My body rises and falls. The rhythm is intrinsic and intoxicating.

Over and over, the sea advances and retreats. Until a rush of water overtakes the sand. I cry out in ecstasy.

Or so it seemed to Jo that Lady Standish was comparing the ocean to an orgasm. Perhaps it was merely that Jo had been thinking too much of sex and having an orgasm. With Sheff.

So long as she only thought about it. They did not need to be entangled any more than they already were.

When their ruse was finished, Jo could consider taking a lover. She hadn't done so in more than a year.

Those were the kind of entanglements she preferred. Nothing deep or permanent. Nothing that would make her feel trapped. Because nothing was more important to her than freedom.

Thanks to Sheff, she would have it.

S heff strolled into the library at the Phoenix Club and was shocked to see so many of his friends present. They occupied the largest seating area, and it appeared as though Somerton had recently arrived, for he had just sat down. With dark blond hair and an easy smile, he was too handsome for his own good and women fell at his feet. Or they used to anyway. Now that he was married, the viscount only had eyes for his wife.

"Sheff, join us!" Evan Price called. He and Somerton were now related by marriage since Evan's sister was the new viscountess. At one point, Price had been upset that Somerton was paying his sister attention. No one could blame him since Somerton's reputation had been only slightly better than Sheff's.

A footman asked Sheff what he wanted to drink as Sheff made his way to the table. He'd barely sat down before the footman had returned with a glass of claret.

"We're all here," Somerton remarked. "Except Bane."

"Even Wellesbourne," Sheff noted, looking toward the duke. His dark eyes looked a bit tired, but he had a very young son at home. Indeed, this was the first time he'd been to the club since the birth of his heir. "Shall we drink a toast to your return?"

"If you must," Wellesbourne said with a grimace. "I won't be here terribly long. I confess I am exhausted. We try to let the nurse manage the babe, but we usually allow him to fall asleep in our chamber. We are hopelessly smitten." He shook his head.

"Enjoy it," Keele said softly as he raised his glass. "To happiness and fatherhood."

Everyone lifted their glasses and drank.

"And to Bane," Wellesbourne said, keeping his glass aloft. "He was robbed of both those things, and I can only hope he will find them again one day."

"Hear, hear," Sheff said, and everyone drank again.

They were all quiet a moment. Sheff had written to his friend but had to think his words wouldn't do much to ease Bane's grief.

"Even I am finding this to be too maudlin," Droxford said drily, lightening the mood that had fallen over them. A few of them chuckled, and Droxford continued, "Seems like we should all be giving Sheff a hard time about finally being caught in the parson's trap."

"And with Jo Harker!" Wellesbourne said, his eyes rounding. "I would never have guessed. Can't imagine your mother is happy about that," he added with a laugh.

Sheff frowned. "She's even angrier than I anticipated. I thought she would at least like Jo and see why I would choose her. She's clever and capable, and she isn't going to try to overtake my mother as a hostess." He looked at his glass. "Actually, perhaps my mother doesn't realize the latter. I shall underscore that point to her."

"I still don't understand why you're betrothed," Price said, studying Sheff over the rim of his glass. "You don't seem the type to fall in love. But then neither did Somerton." He sent his brother-in-law a wry look.

"It just takes the right woman," Sheff said. He thought of what he'd told his mother recently about Min finding a husband, that she only had to find one who was right for her. Did Sheff think his sister could fall in love? Why her and not him?

Because she was not like their father.

Still, she'd grown up with the same parents as Sheff had. Perhaps his mother was right, that neither one of them would have any romantic inclination. He didn't think he did, but he realized he didn't really know how Min felt. He couldn't blame her if she didn't ever want to wed either. Their parents' marriage had all but ruined the notion of a happily ever after.

Somerton inclined his head. "And Jo is a very fine woman. Truly, you could not have chosen better, Sheff. She is quite perfect for you, really."

"I agree," Price put in before taking a drink of whisky.

"What makes you say that?" Sheff was most keen to hear.

Lifting a shoulder, Somerton said, "She's too smart to let you misbehave, which makes me think you must truly have forsaken your rakish ways."

"That would mean you've all fallen," Price said. "Except me." He sounded smug.

"It's not a bad thing to fall in love," Keele said quietly as he contemplated the port in his glass. "And it can certainly happen when one least expects it." His lips rose in a faint, humorless smile before he sipped his wine.

"I didn't realize your marriage was a love match," Somerton said.

"It wasn't. At first." Keele spoke in a clipped tone that did not invite further curiosity.

Sheff had no hope to be fortunate enough to find love even once. He looked around at his friends, some of whom were newly married, newly in love. He couldn't imagine the emotion would last.

"When are we losing you to matrimony?" Price asked, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.

"Not until the autumn or winter," Sheff replied.

"I confess that makes me question whether you are actually in love," Wellesbourne said skeptically. "When I realized I loved Persephone, I couldn't wait to be wed. It was actual torture to be apart from her."

Somerton nodded vigorously. "Obviously, I felt the same since I married Gwen with the utmost haste."

Price stuck a finger in his ear. "I don't want to hear about how you couldn't live without my sister."

This provoked laughter, but Sheff was thinking of Jo. He definitely understood the torture aspect. Being near her was both delicious and agonizing. The torment was being in her presence, not away from her. Away from her, he felt… as though he wanted to see her again. Indeed, right now, he was thinking when that would be. Not for two more days. How disappointing.

But it wasn't torture! He was not in love. He was, however, in lust, but that was to be expected. He was, after all, a rogue cut in the image of his father.

Sheff considered telling them that he planned to leave town, but he didn't know how to explain why, not without revealing that he was having some sort of introspective crisis. How could he talk about it when he barely allowed himself to think about it?

"What I would like to know," Sheff said, moving to change the topic, "is how Price leapt on a moving horse behind its rider without injuring himself, the rider, or the horse." He pinned Price with an expectant stare, his mouth lifting in a teasing smile.

Price shrugged, and everyone turned toward him.

"That is a very good question," Somerton said. "Do tell."

Wellesbourne held up a hand. "I think I need to hear what happened first."

Droxford explained that his wife had seen it and went on to describe the escapade.

"The rider nearly ran me and Jo down," Sheff added. "What you did, Price, was nothing short of terrifying."

"Something needed to be done. Miss Pilkington was not going to be able to control her mount. And she was in danger of trampling people." Price looked to Sheff. "You and Jo included."

"But how on earth did you learn to do that?" Sheff asked.

Again, Price shrugged. "I like horses, and sometimes I practice…things."

"If working for the treasury doesn't meet your satisfaction, you could seek employment at Astley's," Somerton suggested.

This was met with more laughter as Price smiled. His expression carried an almost mischievous cast as he sipped his whisky.

It felt good to be with friends again, Sheff realized. Even if most of them were now married. He actually found himself feeling slightly envious. They just seemed so bloody happy, especially Wellesbourne with his newborn son, and in spite of the exhaustion hiding in his gaze.

Sheff reminded himself that their joy wouldn't last. Nothing did.