Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

6 weeks later …

L ady Jenna flushed as she gripped the edges of her ballgown and surveyed the crowded ballroom. She experienced a thrilling surge of excitement and anxiety and tried her best to give the appearance of a young lady coolly composed. Jenna had taken special care with her appearance tonight, wearing a rose-colored, high-waisted gown with a far too scandalous décolletage that drew more than a few appreciative glances. Her raven-black hair was caught in an intricate chignon, with artful curls kissing her cheeks and forehead, framing her face with allure. Despite her evening gloves, she gripped her delicately painted fan until her palm ached.

Why did you wish for me to attend this ball? Jenna silently asked. The thought of her latest love poem to Cillian Stanhope, Viscount Sallis, brought heat to her cheeks. She discreetly sent it to his townhouse in Grosvenor Square yesterday and knew every line written, for she had agonized over sending the viscount such intimate and improper thoughts.

Love was just a dream to me

A gallant knight from days of yore

A kiss beneath the greenwood tree

A hope to fill my bottom drawer

But then I gazed deep in your eyes

My heart danced to an unknown beat

I knew that I had met my prize

Your kisses hot and very sweet

In response to her poem, which she felt bared her entire heart, a one-line reply was delivered to her.

Attend Lady Panton's midnight ball.

"Arrogant and high-handed," she had whispered, then twirled inside her bedchamber, hugging the note to her chest. Jenna closed her eyes, and the kiss she wrote to him about was pressed against her lips by her phantom lover. Even now, her heart raced as she recalled how tenderly he had cradled her cheeks, the scandalous way he held her against his chest, and the sensual fieriness in which he claimed her mouth.

My very first kiss and it was so gloriously wonderful .

The memory sent a fierce want surging through Jenna's heart, and her lips tingled as if the viscount had just kissed her again.

"Your cheeks are a frightful red," a voice whispered beside her.

Smiling, Jenna glanced at one of her dearest friends, Prudence, Countess Wycliffe, who was also a member of their secret ladies' club at 48 Berkeley Square. Prue's attire was stunning—a deep emerald gown that complemented her bright eyes with her hair arranged high atop her head in a series of soft curls.

"Do you think he will declare himself to me tonight, Prue?" Jenna asked, her voice trembling with a mixture of hope and fear.

Her friend worried her bottom lip with her teeth, a glow of wariness in her eyes. "I …"

Jenna's heart lurched at Prue's indecisiveness. This was not like her friend at all. "What is it?"

"I have no wish to cause you distress, Jenna."

She touched her friend's arm. "Please do not hide what you know from me."

Prue glanced around the ballroom, ensuring they were not overheard. "I overheard a conversation … Lord Sallis was speaking with Lord Pembrook. The viscount mentioned something about a loan that the bank denied."

"A bank loan?" Jenna repeated, her brow furrowing in confusion and unease.

"Yes, it appears the viscount's estates are severely indebted," Prue confirmed, her voice barely above a whisper. "And has been so for many years."

"I … Lord Sallis never shared this, and we've had so many conversations," Jenna said, her belly tightening into a knot. "Could it be idle gossip?"

"It was the viscount himself who said a loan was denied and he has exhausted all avenues. No bank would dare offend a lord unless they believed he was not creditworthy."

"My family does not know about this. I declare no one in society knows, or the rumors would be all about town," Jenna said.

Prue nodded. "I fear there may be more to Lord Sallis's invitation than a simple declaration of affection."

Jenna felt as if the ground had shifted beneath her feet. "What do you mean?"

Prue took a deep breath, her eyes filled with concern. "I fear he might be playing a game, Jenna. I know you deplored your mother's actions when she made it known your dowry was rather impressive. Lord Pembrook urged him to marry an heiress as soon as possible to save his estates."

"No!" Jenna's grip on her fan tightened, the delicate wood creaking under the pressure. "How did the viscount reply?"

"Lord Sallis made no reply to Pembrook's urgings. The viscount merely walked away."

Jenna's heart was a pounding mess. The viscount was impoverished, and she had a dowry of fifty thousand pounds along with a lovely country manor in Berkshire. Her mother had thought it sensible if the ton knew about her wealth, while Jenna had feared only those who wanted her fortune would pay court to her.

She thought about the heated way Lord Sallis watched her when he thought she did not notice, his eyes lingering with an intensity that made her heart race with thrill and anticipation. She recalled how he had danced with her under the stars, his touch gentle yet possessive, how he had walked with her in Hyde Park while she gaily twirled her parasol and chatted about everything and nothing.

There had always been something cool and remote, calculative and reserved in his gaze. Jenna had merely assumed it was his experience as a man about town with a well-earned reputation as a rake. She had believed that he changed for her, that the softness in his voice when he spoke to her and the tenderness in his touch were signs of genuine affection. Now, doubt gnawed at her, making her question every moment they had shared.

Everything felt out of sorts. Surely she was wrong to doubt his intentions. Especially given that Lord Sallis knew why she refused all of Lord Davidson's overtures these last several weeks. Had she merely fallen for the charm of another fortune hunter?

"Cillian would not … surely, he could not be so cruel as to woo me only for my wealth and connections," she whispered, hating the ache behind her eyes.

"I do not know," Prue said softly, comforting Jenna's arm. "The viscount's attentions have been flattering, and he is remarkably handsome and self-assured. But be cautious, Jenna."

Jenna nodded, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. The excitement that filled her earlier were now tinged with doubt and apprehension. She cast her gaze across the ballroom, and her heart quaked when she saw the viscount slipping from the ballroom. Determination hardening within her, Jenna squared her shoulders. She would find out the truth tonight, and if Lord Sallis thought he could toy with her heart, he was gravely mistaken. She would ensure he found her a most unexpected opponent if he dared to play games.

Quietly excusing herself from Prue, Jenna followed the viscount, her steps light and purposeful. She weaved through the crowd, her heart pounding as she followed him down the dimly lit hallway. The viscount entered a room. She approached cautiously, peering through the slightly ajar door. Her heart plummeted, and a shocked sound strangled inside her throat.

Cillian stood with a beautiful woman in his arms, her hand possessively resting against his chest. Their heads were close, their conversation low and intimate. She could not discern their words, and Jenna's heart ached as the vision of them together shattered her hopes. The lady glanced over the viscount's shoulder, her eyes widening slightly. She did not rush to create a respectable distance between their bodies but clasped Lord Sallis's shoulders and passionately pressed her mouth to his in a kiss.

A cry of hurt escaped Jenna. She stepped forward, her voice trembling with hurt and accusation as she said, "How could you!"

He jerked his head backward, and their gazes collided.

The woman quickly pulled away, her eyes wide with feigned surprise. "Dear me, it seems we have an audience!"

The viscount's expression turned cold and forbidding as he turned and stared at Jenna. "Await me outside, Jenna."

"Await you?" she said in a choked voice.

"Yes."

"You jest," she said faintly. "As if I would meekly obey you."

Lord Sallis stared down at her, his face expressionless but his dark eyes glittering with some unreadable emotion. "Lady Jenna, this is not what it looks like—"

"Not what it looks like?" she said with a shaky laugh. "My lord, you were in an intimate embrace with another lady while allowing me to believe you might have genuine feelings for me."

He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "Jenna, please allow me the courtesy of an explanation."

"Explain what my eyes can see?" she spat, hating the pain tearing through her heart. "Do you believe me so foolish that I would listen to your lies?"

The lady tugged at his jacket sleeve. "My darling, let us—"

"Leave," he said, his tone low and dangerous.

Jenna jerked, her hand fluttering to her throat. He had never spoken to her in such a tone. It was as the lady, clearly uncomfortable, quickly left the room that Jenna realized the command was not addressed to her.

The door closed behind the lady, and Lord Sallis reached out to Jenna, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

"You do not care for me, do you?" she demanded, her voice breaking. "Was it all a game? A ruse to secure my dowry and estate?"

His dark gaze was so intense that she was afraid to try to understand what was in his eyes.

"What I feel for you is real. It is not a ruse."

Everything inside her wanted to believe him, for the feelings brewing inside her heart for this man were unlike anything she had ever experienced. "Are your estates burdened by debt, Lord Sallis?"

He jerked, then faltered into stillness.

"Answer me," she said, her voice filled with anguish.

"Yes."

Jenna flinched. "This … this is why you pretended to court me—"

"There was no pretense about it. I am courting you. You must believe me. I do care for you more than I have ever cared about anyone."

Tears welled in her eyes, for she badly wanted to walk into his arms, lean against his chest and let his words soothe the wound inside her heart.

" No ," she whispered, more to that weak part of her that desired the viscount. She lifted her chin and held his regard. "We spoke about many things, and you never told me about this. I even shared my frustration about my mother parading my dowry before me like a beacon, and I boasted that I owned the ability to sniff out fortune hunters. How you must have laughed at me. You … you were kissing your lover—"

"I believe it was the lady who kissed me," he said tightly.

"Is that the distinction you use to justify your dishonor?" she snapped. "I demand my poems back."

"Jenna—"

"Every single one! You are not worthy of them, Lord Sallis."

He became very still, and his eyes seemed to fill with sadness. "I will not return your poems," he said, his voice firm despite the shadows in his eyes.

"Why not?" she cried, her voice echoing in the small room. "What do you mean?"

"Because you will marry me, Lady Jenna."

"I will never marry—"

"Even if I have to use your love letters as proof that we are irrevocably tied together, and you cannot turn back given the intimacies we shared. We will marry."

Shocked, she stared at him, wondering who the creature before her was, who seemed cold and ruthless. Jenna understood what he meant. That she even wrote a single poem was enough for her family to force her to marry him. On those pages, she confessed how she longed for his touch and his kisses. Those damning words would ensure her brother, the formidable Earl of Ralston, marched her down the aisle with their mother's full support.

"How could you?" she asked softly, her lips trembling as she fought the emotions tearing at her.

"Come here, Jenna," Lord Sallis murmured.

His voice was low and intimate, impossibly tender, even after threatening to blackmail her into marriage. She dazedly shook her head, turned and ran from the room, the tears she had held back streaming down her cheeks. Jenna fled to the gardens, where she found a private stone bench, sat, and burst into horrid tears.

Oh, God, how could all my dreams be shattered in but a moment?

A footstep sounded, and she glanced up to see her friend.

"I saw you running out here, Jenna. Is all well?"

"I … I …" unable to speak, she shook her head, pressing her gloved hand over her mouth.

Seeing Jenna's tear-streaked face, Prue's expression turned to fierce determination. "What happened?" she asked, her voice tight with concern.

"He … he was with another woman, kissing her," Jenna choked out, pressing her hand over the ache that felt physical. "I asked for my poems, and he refused. The viscount says we will be getting married. I fear he will not let me go because he needs my wealth and connections. I feel so humiliated. I do not wish to marry him, not anymore. Oh, Prue, if my brother learns of my indiscretion, I will be forced to marry that scoundrel and given what he said, Lord Sallis will share them to compromise my hand."

Prue's eyes narrowed. "We will not let this stand. I vow, Jenna, that we will get those poems back. I will steal them if I must, but they will not remain in his possession. This calls for a meeting at 48 Berkeley Square."

Jenna nodded, feeling a flicker of hope amidst her heartbreak, knowing that with her friends by her side, she had the strength to face whatever came next.