Lady Jane's Ribbons by Sandra Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

Paris?’
    ‘My, my, word does travel.’
    ‘It was mentioned in passing in one of Blanche Lyndon’s letters.’
    ‘In passing? How unflattering! I would have thought it warranted at least a page, possibly even two.’
    ‘You haven’t answered my question. I understand you didn’t encumber yourself with much of any value for the trip; you took with you only a very little baggage. Baggage indeed.’
    He smiled. ‘For someone who claims to be so little affected by what I sayor do, you seem inordinately interested in my private life.’
    She flushed at that. ‘It’s idle curiosity, no more.’
    ‘Idleness is not to be recommended, so I shall not show encouragement by pandering to it.’
    She looked out of the window again, wishing with all her heart that he didn’t have such a devastating effect upon her. She envied Alicia every moment spent in his arms, and she longed more than anything to feel his lips over hers again and to hear that seductive softness in his voice when he whispered her name…. Her eyes flashed then. What a fool she was – she should despise him!
    South Audley Street was still in uproar because of the queen’s supporters. The coachman eased the horses through the crush, taking several minutes to reach the curb outside the Derwent residence.
    Lewis didn’t immediately open the carriage door, but looked at Jane again. ‘Perhaps I should tell you that I’ll be at the ball tonight, with Alicia.’
    ‘It’s no concern of mine, sir.’
    ‘Is Charles Moncarm escorting you?’
    ‘I really don’t see why I should tell you.’
    ‘I still want to know.’
    ‘No, Charles isn’t escorting me tonight, but I do expect to see him there. Will that suffice?’
    ‘Are you going to accept him?’
    She gave him a cool smile. ‘No, Lewis, I think I’ll become his mistress and then pretend to the world that I’m no such thing. Now then, will you please let me alight?’ Her glance rested briefly on the forget-me-nots in his lapel. ‘The symbol of true love and fidelity? How singularly inappropriate!’
    He caught her wrist, his gray eyes very bright. ‘Pride is a perverse emotion, it can save one from humiliation or it can plunge one into the depths of needless misery. You have far too much of the wrong kind of pride, Jane Derwent, and it will please me immensely when one day you’re forced to admit it!’ He released her, opening the door and stepping down to the noise and clamor of the street.
    The cheering and wild chanting echoed deafeningly between the elegant Mayfair houses, but she hardly heard a thing as she alighted, ignoring his outstretched hand and hurrying into the house, blinking back the tears which had once again sprung hotly to her eyes.
    For once, Melville had been caught unawares by her return, but as he hurried into the vestibule she managed to present an outward calm. ‘Has the earl returned?’ she inquired, teasing off her gloves and dropping them onto the console table beside the vase of carnations brought that morning from the market garden in Chelsea.
    ‘The earl? Why, no, my lady, I thought he was with you.’
    ‘So did I, but he has apparently taken himself on some other business.’
    ‘Will he be here for luncheon, my lady?’
    ‘I really have no idea, but I somehow rather doubt it.’
    She was right. Henry didn’t return for luncheon, and as the afternoon began to wear on with still no sign of him, she began to fear that whatever business it was which was occupying him would once again dominate him to the exclusion of all else, including the ball that night! As the clock struck four, she asked Melville to send a man to the Fleece in Thames Street, in the hope of finding her wayward brother and prompting him to return. An hour passed and the man came back to tell her that Henry had gone to Brighton, driving the Iron Duke himself.
    Jane stared at him in dismay. ‘Brighton?’
    ‘Yes, my lady.’
    ‘When is he expected back?’ She hardly dared ask.
    ‘They