One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(33)

Jane cleared her throat and motioned to the tea service. "Would you care for refreshments, Desmond?"

With a nod, Billings dropped to the chair next to Jane, his gaze drifting to Julianne, staring overly long at the bodice of her dress. Seth's hands curled into fists at his sides. Billings leaned forward to select a biscuit. "You must forgive my sister-in-law." The delicate wood frame of his chair creaked as he settled back and popped the biscuit whole into his mouth. Jane stiffened in her chair but looked resolutely forward, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Billings glanced sideways at her and smiled, a smug stretch of lips over uneven teeth. "I fear Jane has been remiss. Did she not explain that she is still in mourning?" He stretched an arm along the back of her chair, his fingers a hairsbreadth from her shoulder. "She is not receiving callers."

"Forgive us," Julianne murmured, cheeks pink, her awkwardness apparent as she fumbled for Seth's arm, clearly ready to rise and depart.

Billings's eyes danced. Seth's jaw tensed. The bastard was enjoying their discomfiture.

"No harm," Billings assured breezily, his fingers brushing the top of Jane's shoulder, grazing the crisp fabric of her sleeve. Back and forth, back and forth, his fingers crawled, encroaching like a white moth creeping over the unremitting black of her gown.

Seth watched, a strange tightening in his gut as he considered the slight motion, considered Jane's bent head. In a flash of insight, he knew. Knew that Billings pulled the strings and controlled her as he would a puppet.

Anger flooded him. Where was her backbone? Why did she let this strutting peacock speak for her? Did she not possess a voice, a shred of autonomy?

"Perhaps in another year Jane may entertain once again," Billings mused with an idleness that made Seth's already clenched jaw ache. The bastard lifted both brows, daring him to object. Clearly Billings thought he was sniffing about his sister-in-law's skirts and needed to be set in his place like some overardent schoolboy. Seth looked Jane over again and immediately felt the stirrings of desire that had plagued him since first seeing her in the park. To be fair, Billings might not be far off in his concern.

Seth could not deny there was something about her. Those changeable eyes, the rich nut brown hair. The hint of a girl he remembered. Even though he longed to deny it, she tugged at some forgotten part of him.

Jane shrugged Desmond's hand off her with a twist of her shoulder. "You're mistaken, Desmond. I am quite able to receive social calls."

Desmond's face reddened. His gaze flicked to Seth, then back to Jane.

"Perhaps you did not realize it has been over a year," she added in a firm voice.

"No," he bit out through compressed teeth. "I did not." Seth fought a smile, pleased to see that some of her spirit remained intact. She met his gaze, and a familiar spark in her eyes reminded him of the Jane he had known. The Jane, he admitted to himself, he would like to know again.

Rising, he took Julianne's elbow. With a bow, he murmured farewell, his gaze lingering longer than it should on Jane before turning and leading his sister from the room. As he departed, he told himself that he would smother his growing fascination and put Jane far from his mind, focusing, instead, on finding a bride. The sort of woman who would not muddle his head and twist him into knots.





Chapter 15


A low hum of conversation, broken only by the occasional rumble of laughter, reached her ears from the cavernous foyer of Lucy's mansion. A footman took her cloak and led her toward the music room.

Jane was late, having waited for Desmond and Chloris to leave for the evening before venturing out. Cowardly perhaps, but why suffer a scene? She still achieved her goal in the end. A pleasant evening out among friends. Good company, entertainment. A small exercise in freedom, to be certain, even if less dramatic than her previous forays.

The hum of conversation ebbed as she was led down the portrait-lined corridor. The famous Italian contralto Lucy had engaged for the evening eased her rich voice into song. Upon reaching the tall double doors, Jane hovered for a moment, eyeing the rows of velvetbacked chairs occupied with two dozen guests. Astrid sat in the front beside Lucy, a chair vacant beside her, doubtlessly intended for Jane. Not relishing making her way to the front amid the performance, she moved from the threshold to the back of the room and lowered herself to a sofa that had been pushed to the wall to make room for the evening's company.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and let the lilting chords float over her. Sad, haunting words stretched over the air like slow curls of heat. Jane wished her Italian was better so that she might understand their meaning. No doubt it was some tragic tale of love lost, ideal for her dark mood. The woman sang with her entire person, the generous curves of her body angled forward, palms lifted in supplication, face tight with emotion that plucked at one's heart's. Very affecting. So much so that Jane felt moisture gather at the corners of her eyes.

Fearful that she would turn into a blubbering mess and draw attention to herself, she slipped from the room, deciding her current mood not the most suited for tonight's performance. The haunting voice followed her and she quickened her pace, turning the corridor in the direction of the gallery. Her slippers moved swiftly and silently over the runner. Wall sconces dimly lit her way, stretching her shadow long before her, eerie and strange, as though it belonged to someone else. Another woman fleeing the memory of a night never to be relived. The corridor opened up to the gallery—a wide, room with an elaborate mosaic covering the floor. She always felt a bit sacrilegious to walk upon such a beautiful rendition of Madonna and child.