Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

J enny cringed as Lord Banefield stepped on her foot… again.

"Are you enjoying the Season, Miss Bennett?"

Not as much as I enjoyed having ten toes.

Jenny forced a smile. "Very much so, thank you, My Lord. However, if I may be frank, I must say the pool of willing suitors is severely lacking."

Lord Banefield stumbled slightly, stepping on another one of her toes in the process. "I beg your pardon," he choked out.

He looked absolutely horrified. Jenny didn't know whether to laugh or be embarrassed.

"What?" she questioned with a chuckle. "Is it not the purpose of these affairs to find a suitable match and wed?" She fluttered her eyelashes for extra emphasis.

She used to be excited about these balls, but she quickly became quite tired of all the pomp and hype that surrounded them. If she didn't poke the bear every now and then, she feared she'd lose her mind.

Lord Banefield blustered at her question.

Jenny let out another laugh and patted his shoulder. "There's no need to worry, My Lord. My sights are not set on you."

He seemed unsure how to take her comment. Jenny chewed on her bottom lip.

Oh. I may have just insulted him.

"That's not to say that you aren't a suitable match," she continued. "You seem like a lovely man. I mean, if you were interested and if we could get to know one another more, there could be something there, and we cou?—"

"Miss Bennett," Lord Banefield's harsh whisper interrupted her rant. "I must say this is a highly inappropriate conversation to have while dancing." He looked around the room, making sure no one overheard her salacious ramblings.

Jenny shrugged. "Dancing, eating, walking—it makes no difference to me where I am. I think it is an appropriate conversation to have anywhere." She scrunched up her nose at the thought. "If it involves a decision that will impact the rest of my life, why reserve it for just a drawing room? Life primarily takes place outside of such rooms, Lord Banefield, so why not discuss it anywhere? It's not like I'm asking you to do untoward things in the middle of the dance floor." She snorted at the idea.

Lord Banefield huffed out hot air that lifted the tendrils that framed her face. "I must insist we end this conversation at once. An unmarried lady should not discuss such issues openly with an unmarried man, lest you attract rakes and scoundrels like the Duke of Marlow. Men like him are always on the prowl for unsuspecting young women."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Pfft. Rubbish. You must think I'm a dolt who can't spot a reckless rake a mile away."

Lord Banefield's shoulder tightened under her hand, while the hand holding her own twitched. The poor man might go into an apoplectic shock if this conversation continued further.

"You na?ve, little girl. Men like the Duke of Marlow only have one goal in life—to bed as many women as possible and leave them ruined. They don't care who they stomp on to have their fun."

Jenny pursed her lips. "Now, My Lord, is this proper dance floor conversation?"

Lord Banefield's face turned an impressive purple. Jenny had to swallow her laugh so as not to push him over the edge.

"Rest assured, My Lord, I am an excellent judge of character. I have no doubt in my abilities to protect myself and my heart from rakes and scoundrels such as the intolerable Duke of Marlow ." Jenny drew out the words as if she were telling a scary story to her nephew to entertain him.

This whole conversation was preposterous, and she was surprised she had entertained it as long as she had. She must be bored.

Her eyes scanned the room while Lord Banefield slowed his breathing. She eyed her sister-in-law, Frances, who was standing near the refreshments table, and made a mental note to go to her once this blasted dance ended.

Ouch.

Lord Banefield once again stepped on her foot. Jenny took a deep breath to regulate her emotions like Frances taught her, and brought her attention back to the man with two left feet.

Lord Banefield lifted his chin. "Regardless, it is quite off-putting, and a gentleman would not engage in such conversations. I guarantee, if you were having this conversation with an ill-mannered man, he would have left you standing here by yourself."

Jenny took a deep breath. "If any man could not handle my honest and sincere opinions about with whom I should share my life, then he is no man for me."

Lord Banefield bristled. "You sound like a child dreaming of a fairytale."

"No, I sound like a woman who believes what I say holds some merit. And while I know my place, I also know my opinions are not fairytales." She tilted her head up and met his eyes. "Surely, there must be a strong enough man out there willing to engage in conversations that will benefit his life as well as mine. Clearly, that man is not you."

"Clearly."

Oh, I should step on his toes!

Thankfully, the music ended with his retort. They both quickly stepped back as if they were burned. She curtsied, he bowed. Jenny willed herself to turn around and be done with the dance, but her pride won out.

"And thankfully so, My Lord. Gross incompatibility aside, I fear I would lose my foot by our wedding if I had to keep dancing with you."

She turned and made her way to the refreshments table, proud that she didn't let him have the last word.

The cool punch helped calm Jenny's nerves. Away from the dance floor, the tension began to wear off, and embarrassment set in.

Why must I say everything that is on my mind?

When she debuted, she would overshare everything and had trouble controlling her excitement. It would spill out in rants and ramblings, causing the demure ton to titter about her outlandish behavior. Luckily, Frances was a calming force and helped her refine some of her rougher edges. Much like she did with Jenny's brother, the Duke of Pilton, whom she married.

Where is Frances, anyway? She was just here.

Jenny busied herself with her punch, looking around for a friendly face. Unfortunately for her, her eyes landed and a group of giggling girls. When she made eye contact with one of them, the giggles stopped—a tell-tale sign she was the subject of their mirth.

Her heart sank.

"How are your feet?"

Jenny turned around, finding Frances standing behind her with a knowing smile.

"Is it that obvious? I tried not to limp too much when I walked away."

Frances's laugh was a soothing balm to her nerves and helped ease the tension in her shoulders.

"I danced with Lord Banefield more than once in my day, and each time I walked with a limp the day after."

Jenny's smile didn't reach her eyes. The feeling of disappointment once again tightened her shoulders.

"Jenny?" Frances took Jenny's free hand in her own. "Are you all right?"

"Frannie, I did it again."

Jenny put down her drink so she wouldn't spill it. She had a bad habit of talking with her hands.

"I started rambling, and before I knew it, I was defending my dream to find a husband who wouldn't dismiss my opinions. Apparently, I offended the precious Lord Banefield by discussing it in a ballroom where"—she pretended to gasp—" anyone could hear. As if we're not all here parading around each other, hoping to find a match."

Frances smiled. "Thankfully, it was a short waltz, or who knows what gossip you would have started."

Jenny groaned into her hands. "How did you do it, Frances? You grew up in the ton , yet you speak your mind freely and still have a good reputation."

Frances snickered. "Well, that depends on who you ask." She tilted her head in the direction of the gaggle of girls who were back to giggling, most likely at her expense.

"I'm serious, Frannie. Just when I think I've made my mark, or at least have enough people fooled into thinking I'm respectable and homely, I open my mouth and all my hard work goes right out the window."

Jenny looked up at Frances, who was watching the dancing couples—she seemed distracted.

"I'm sure it's not all that bad," Frances sighed.

Jenny's eyes once again landed on the group of girls at the end of the table. She couldn't help but eavesdrop. Pretending to look at the different desserts laid out, she moved slightly closer to them.

"Did you see her dancing with him?" one of them harshly whispered.

"He was looking positively horrified," came the reply.

"Wouldn't you be if you were him?"

"Who knows what she said to him? She always has a way of broaching the most inappropriate subjects. She can be so awkward."

Ugh. Jenny knew that voice—Marie was not a fan of hers and vice versa.

Jenny turned away. She had heard enough. While they never said her name, she would have to be an imbecile not to know they were talking about her.

She stepped closer to Frances, whose attention was still fixed on the dance floor.

"I think it is that bad, Frances. If I'm not insulting the men who dance with me, I'm giving the women plenty to gossip about."

Jenny looked over to Frances, hoping to find solace and comfort. Instead, she found her sister-in-law standing on her tiptoes, trying to see over the dancing couples.

"Frances? Are you listening?"

"Hmm, what?" Frances huffed out a flustered laugh. "I'm sorry, Jenny. Yes, I heard. I'm sorry, it's just…" She began to wring her hands—her tell that she was nervous.

"You miss the baby, don't you?" Jenny smiled.

As much as she needed reassurance, she couldn't deny the hold that tiny baby had on her entire family.

Frances flushed. "I do. I'm sorry. I'm not used to being away from him for this long. We rarely attend these events anymore, much to the chagrin of your brother." She winked.

"Ha! I'm sure," Jenny countered.

"But the Countess specifically asked for our attendance at her ball. She said it would be highly improper for us not to attend and give honor to her matchmaking skills."

Jenny cocked her head in confusion. "Matchmaking skills?"

Frances flicked her hand. "Oh, were you not aware? Since it was at her dinner party that I first met your brother and it was apparently that evening that sealed our fate. It was her idea that we sit male-female-male-female, therefore she is solely responsible for him sitting next to me." She rolled her eyes. "If that was the case, I should have sent her my laundering bill for the stain that the drink he spilled on me left."

Jenny laughed. That sounded exactly like something Lady Staunton would claim. "Go. Find Thomas and get back to that handsome baby boy. I'm sure enough people have seen you and Thomas tonight to be in awe of the Countess's matchmaking prowess."

"Are you sure? You still seem upset, I can…" Frances's eyes found Thomas, and she smiled, once again losing her train of thought.

"You can…?" Jenny prompted.

"What?"

Jenny rolled her eyes and pushed Frances towards her husband. "Go. Give my nephew a big kiss for me."

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Frances didn't even let Jenny answer as she continued. "I will tell Lady Staunton—she will see to you." She hadn't averted her gaze from Thomas even while talking to Jenny.

Jenny shook her head. "I promise. It's been a long night, I think I'll take a break outside and cool off and let my feet rest before I venture back onto the dance floor and risk more injury."

She winked at Frances as she gave her one more playful shove towards Thomas, who was looking just as anxious to leave as his wife was.

She watched them leave and couldn't help but feel bereft. Smoothing down her dress, she eyed the shortest path to the terrace, and then made for the door. Luckily, she happened to look up and see that Marie and her minions had moved to the terrace.

No, thank you.

Jenny quickly scanned the ballroom for another escape route. She found a door that led to a well-lit hallway. Feeling some sense of security with the lights, she tried her luck with the first door on her left and sighed in relief when it opened.

The room was dark, with only the faint moonlight filtering through a grand window in the middle of the wall. Shadows danced along the bookcases that lined the rest of the walls.

A library. The perfect room for solitude.

She made her way into the room and plopped down on a plush sofa in front of an unlit fireplace. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air, and she took in a deep breath. She always enjoyed reading in front of a roaring fire. She closed her eyes and took one more deep breath, settling into the comfort of the quiet.

"I think it would be wise if, upon entering a room, looking for solitude, one should make sure it is not occupied. Unless you want company, that is."

Jenny's eyes flew open at the deep baritone that floated from a darkened corner of the library. Apparently, the room was lit enough to see the furniture but not enough to see the stranger sitting in the corner.