“Wouldn’t be in this fix if it weren’t for my mother,” he complained further. “She’s had me dancing attendance on the lady ever since she arrived.” He cleared his throat. “James,” he said, effecting a rather good imitation of Lady Finch, “please show Miss Smythe around the Orchid Room.” Laughter followed. “James, Miss Smythe will require a dancing partner for the opening set; I expect you to do your duty.” He waved his hand at them. “As if my time with Wellington wasn’t enough service for one lifetime.”
“Exactly, my good man,” one of them declared.
Fently cleared his throat. “I think we’ve been had, my good friends. I’m for going back to the inn. The only way to save this wasted evening is a rousing game of loo and enough port to dull the memory. What say the rest of you?”
His compatriots were of a like mind. “Oh, aye!” one of them said.
“Count me in,” came the enthusiastic chorus.
Fently turned to Jemmy. “Shall we save you a chair, Reyburn?”
“Most decidedly.” Jemmy pointed at the double doors that led to the garden. “I’d suggest using the side door over there. You’ll be able to make your escape that much quicker.”
Fently grinned and slapped him again on the back. “Missed you in Town, Reyburn. Do come around, and I’ll introduce you to this pair of dancers I’ve had my eye on. Twins, I tell you. Best part is, we won’t have the dilemma of which of us gets the lesser one.” He laughed and strode through the room, his bold, gallant manners parting the way for him and his boon companions.
Relieved he and his lot were gone, Jemmy tugged at his cravat and shifted in his coat. They were both too tight and hardly comfortable. There had been a time when he wouldn’t have felt dressed unless he was turned out to the nines, but country life had shifted his priorities and his sensibilities.
As had Amanda.
He’d gone nearly half the day before he realized he hadn’t reached for his cane once. In fact, he realized he’d dropped it in the garden when he’d kissed her and hadn’t needed it since.
Her passion had filled him with life and a desire to live that spread through his limbs as swiftly as her tempestuous response.
Looking up, he watched half a dozen of the fellows slipping into the night. Jemmy smiled inwardly. Gotten rid of most of the likely fellows and a few fortune hunters to boot.
His little speech had done the trick.
Unfortunately, more so than he could ever have suspected.
Amanda had stood in the music room awash in panic, until she’d heard Jemmy’s deep, soothing voice on the other side of the door. She’d pressed her ear shamelessly to the panel, feeling relief at having him so close at hand. She should have learned her lesson from the other day that eavesdropping would only cause her pain.
But this was Jemmy, her Jemmy, and she smiled as she heard him greet an old friend. But the balm of his voice didn’t soothe her nerves as she had hoped.
His cruel boasts and jests had answered all her worst fears. What had he called her? Cowhanded. Well, granted she wasn’t the best dancer, but he needn’t be so cruel.
How had she been so foolish to believe him… and his kisses? He’d pursued her at his mother’s behest, he’d made her feel beautiful so she would believe in the fairy tale happily-ever-afters that Bramley Hollow prided itself in.
Amanda swiped the tears off her cheeks as she hastily backed away from the door. Despair clutched her heart as she dashed up the servants’ staircase, down the dark hall to her room, and yanked and pulled herself free of her ball gown. She tossed her own day gown back on and sniffled one more time.
How could she have believed that Jemmy was the hero she’d created in her careless dreams and not the selfish coxcomb she’d been unwilling to see? He’d merely toyed with her heart as a diversion from his lonely country existence.
Pity me. I’ve got to dance the first set with her.
“Ooh,” she gasped, the sting of his words piercing her dismay. If the doctor’s pronouncement of her impending death wasn’t enough to do her in, Jemmy’s betrayal should have. Instead she shook with anger. Anger that she’d wasted what precious little life she had left in Bramley Hollow. She yanked on her pelisse and retrieved her traveling valise from under the bed.
“Well, Mr. Reyburn,” she said. “You needn’t fear for your toes any longer.”
“And now, I would like to introduce our guest of honor, Miss Smythe,” Lady Finch called out, waving her hand toward Jemmy, who then turned and opened the door to the music room.
Except the room beyond was empty.
He glanced at his mother, and then at the still crowd. “Must have the wrong room,” he joked. “Just a moment.”
As he poked his head farther into the empty chamber, one thought echoed through his mind.
She’d left. Left him.
Glancing back at the ballroom, he forced a grin on his lips and blithely said, “Seem to have lost our bride. Demmed inconvenient, but I’ll find her.”