Читать книгу Tall, Dark... Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 57

Hawk was aware of Jane—as were several other pairs of male eyes—from the moment she stood, slightly hesitant, at the top of the sweeping staircase to stare down at the guests who had already arrived and were now milling about the entrance hall, chatting and laughing with friends they had not seen for several weeks or months.

For a few seconds Jane looked slightly overwhelmed by the prospect of meeting so many people, and then Hawk saw her bare shoulders straighten and her chin rise determinedly, before she held her head regally high and began her slow descent of the staircase.

She really did look magnificent this evening. The simplicity and colour of her gown gave her skin the creamy texture of velvet, and the deep red of her hair made her stand out from the other women in the room like a beautiful, exotic butterfly amidst less colourful moths.

Hawk was not even aware of making excuses to his guests as he began to cross the room to Jane’s side, barely acknowledging the remarks addressed to him as he did so, the intensity of his gaze fixed firmly on Jane as she reached the bottom of the staircase.

But his gaze narrowed, his mouth thinning disapprovingly, when he realised, despite his own promptness, that another man had already stepped forward to take Jane’s hand in his own and raise it to his lips.

Justin Long, Earl of Whitney. The very last man Hawk would wish anywhere near a young woman under his protection!

A man who, the last time the two men had met, had made known his displeasure at being asked to relinquish his place in the Countess of Morefield’s bedchamber to Hawk.

It was so typical of Whitney that he had seen and at once sought out the only young lady present not already known to him! A young lady who surely could not help but be drawn to and flattered by the attentions of a man such as the rakishly handsome Earl of Whitney.

Would Jane be flattered and attracted…?

The older man certainly had much to recommend him—and not only to the matchmaking mamas of Society. Oh, the Whitney estates were very wealthy ones, but it was Justin Long himself that the women of the ton seemed to find so fascinating. His blond good looks and rakish exploits seemed to challenge the interest of both old and young women alike.

Whitney had been a widower since his wife and young son had died of influenza twenty years ago, and since that time had displayed absolutely no inclination to repeat the marital experience. Neither did the man show the slightest hesitation when it came to taking advantage of his boyish good looks, his ruthlessness where women were concerned was legendary.

And Jane did look very desirable this evening…

Hawk’s mouth tightened grimly as he moved forward to join them. ‘Whitney.’ His greeting was deliberately cool.

Whitney turned to look at him with amused blue eyes. ‘Stourbridge.’

Hawk bristled at his amusement. ‘The Countess has not accompanied you this evening?’ he challenged hardly, immediately knowing from the light of challenge that entered the other man’s gaze that he should not have done so. It had been extremely indiscreet on his part to so much as mention in front of Jane the woman who had been mistress to both men.

That he had done so Hawk knew was due solely to the fact that he was disturbed enough by Whitney’s interest in Jane to feel goaded into the challenge.

‘I believe that is now your privilege…?’ the Earl taunted.

Hawk eyed the older man coldly. ‘I have not seen the Countess for several months. I was not aware that you had been introduced to my ward, Miss Jane Smith…’ he added tersely.

‘Your ward?’ The older man raised his brows in surprise before returning his speculative blue gaze to Jane. ‘In that case perhaps you would care to make the introductions now, Stourbridge?’ he prompted dryly, as he continued to look at Jane.

Far too familiar for Hawk’s liking. But in his role of host this evening he had little choice but to comply. ‘Jane—may I present Justin Long, Earl of Whitney?’ he bit out harshly. ‘Whitney—my ward, Miss Jane Smith.’

‘My Lord.’ Jane inclined her head politely. ‘What a pity that your Countess was unable to accompany you this evening,’ she added lightly.

The Earl’s eyes glinted wickedly. ‘You misunderstood, my dear,’ he drawled. ‘It was not my Countess to whom Stourbridge alluded.’

‘Oh…’ Jane looked even more confused.

As well she might, Hawk acknowledged, as his narrowed gaze dared the older man to explain exactly whose Countess she was—or indeed had been!

Whitney ignored the challenge and instead bestowed his most charming smile on Jane. ‘I hope you will forgive any offence I may have caused earlier by speaking to you so impulsively, Miss Smith? I had thought this to be an evening spent amongst old friends and acquaintances, with none of the stuffy formality that invariably makes an evening with the ton so incredibly tedious.’

In truth, Jane had been slightly surprised, but not in the least offended, when this handsomely distinguished man had approached and spoken to her. In view of the nervousness she had felt as she descended the stairs, Jane’s principal emotion had been relief at having someone speak to her at all!

But she knew from just one glance at the Duke, as he looked so contemptuously down his arrogant nose at the older man, that he, at least, did not like or approve of at least one of his sister’s guests this evening.

And who exactly was the Countess the two men referred to so challengingly…?

‘I have taken no offence, My Lord,’ she assured the older man coolly, as she gently but firmly released the fingers he still held in his own. ‘And, never having spent an evening with the ton, I have no idea if their company be tedious or otherwise.’

‘No?’The Earl’s eyes widened. ‘Where can you have been hiding Miss Smith until now, Stourbridge?’ he taunted the other man softly.

The Duke stiffened. ‘Miss Smith resided with relatives in the country until very recently.’

‘Really?’ The Earl still mocked the younger man. ‘And which part of the country would that have been, Miss Smith?’ His narrowed blue gaze returned to Jane.

‘It is surely of little consequence where Miss Smith once resided, Whitney, when it must be obvious she now resides here in Gloucestershire with my family,’ the Duke cut in harshly.

Jane was finding the intensity of the Earl’s gaze upon her more than a little disconcerting. The shrewdness in those blue eyes was a complete contradiction to the lazily mocking drawl he affected when speaking.

‘Of course,’ the Earl answered the other man dryly. ‘I was merely showing polite curiosity, that is all.’ He shrugged dismissively.

Despite the fact that the other man’s estates seemed to prosper, and his business interests to thrive, Hawk had always considered Whitney something of a wastrel—a man who spent his time in London, when not at the gambling tables, occupying the bed of one bored wife or another of his fellow peers.

He was certainly not a man Hawk could ever approve showing an interest in an innocent such as Jane!

Hawk reached out to lift Jane’s hand and place it firmly upon his arm. ‘I believe it is time for us to go in to dinner.’ He nodded his cool dismissal of the other man before turning away, the firmness of his hand over Jane’s leaving her no choice but to accompany him.

‘You will stay away from the Earl of Whitney for the remainder of the evening, Jane,’ he rasped grimly, once they had moved out of the Earl’s hearing. ‘Besides being far too old for you, the man is an obvious rake who is only interested in bedding a woman rather than wedding her!’

Jane gasped—both at the Duke’s arrogance in once again telling her what she should do, and at the indelicacy of his warning about the Earl. He almost made it sound as if she had deliberately set out to engage the other man’s interest.

Well, she might be inexperienced in the ways of men, but that did not mean Jane did not recognise a consummate flirt when she met one. Although, strangely, the Earl’s behaviour had not been in the least flirtatious with her until the Duke had appeared at her side…? But after days of not knowing exactly how she should behave towards the Duke since he had made love to her, she now found herself consumed with anger at the return of his high-handedness.

She also recognised that the apparent intensity of her conversation with the Duke was now attracting attention from Arabella’s other guests…

‘Surely you are mistaken, Your Grace?’ she said evenly, her expression deliberately serene in acknowledgement of those curious glances. ‘I thought it was the case that all titled gentlemen needed to marry and produce an heir?’

The Duke turned to scowl down the sharp blade of his arrogant nose at her. ‘It may have escaped your notice, Jane, but I have not yet chosen to do so.’

‘I am sure that is only because you have so far been too busy.’

‘My estates—’

‘I was not referring to work on your estates, Your Grace.’

His dark brows rose. ‘Then to what were you referring, Jane…?’

Her lips curved into a smile even as her eyes glowed with challenge. ‘I had assumed that the reason you are still unmarried at the age of…thirty…?’

‘One and thirty,’ Hawk supplied cautiously, sensing from Jane’s too-innocent demeanour that he was about to receive another one of her infamous setdowns.

‘Exactly.’ Jane nodded coolly. ‘I had assumed that the reason you are still unmarried at such an advanced age must be because you are far too busy interfering in other people’s lives to have time to attend to your own…’

For what had to be the second time in Jane’s company—or possibly the third?—Hawk found himself unable to repress the hard bark of laughter provoked by this woman’s wicked sense of humour.

At his own expense this time!

The unexpected laughter also served to dispel the tension he had been feeling since he first saw her in Whitney’s company.

‘Touché, Jane,’ he drawled dryly.

‘You are more than welcome, Your Grace,’ she returned pertly.

‘I never doubted for a moment that would be the case.’ He nodded, still smiling, relieved that after days of awkwardness Jane at last seemed to be showing signs of returning to her more forthright self. ‘Perhaps you will now allow me the honour of escorting you in to dinner, Jane?’

Her brows rose. ‘Is there not some other, worthier lady present this evening, who is eagerly awaiting the Duke of Stourbridge’s attentions?’

Yes, Hawk knew that Lady Pamela Croft, the most highly raved lady in the room, and Whitney’s older sister, would be expecting him to escort her into dinner.

But, unlike that evening at Markham Park almost a week ago, when Hawk’s offer to take Jane in to dinner had been thwarted by Jane herself, Hawk felt no more inclined to bow to Society’s dictates than Whitney. At an evening ‘spent amongst old friends’ he could ignore rules of etiquette for once.

‘Perhaps,’ he dismissed arrogantly. ‘But none that I would rather have on my arm,’ he added distractedly, as his attention was drawn to the fact that a blushingly pretty Arabella had accepted being escorted into the dining room by a smugly triumphant-looking Earl of Whitney.

Damn the man.

First Jane. Now Arabella.

Surely he would not have to spend the entire evening fending off the other man’s attentions from one or the other?

‘If you are sure, Your Grace?’ Jane answered him huskily.

‘I am very sure, Jane,’ Hawk confirmed tersely, and he turned his gaze reluctantly away from Arabella and Whitney.

Jane’s hand trembled slightly as it rested on the Duke’s arm, and her face felt flushed as the other guests turned to watch the formidably arrogant Duke of Stourbridge escorting her, a young woman with whom none of them were as yet acquainted, through to the formal dining room.

Neither could she help but notice the narrowed blue gaze of the Earl of Whitney as he too turned to watch the two of them. It was an intense blue gaze that was fixed firmly on Jane. And, unless she was mistaken, not in the least rakishly.

She was aware of his shrewd gaze several times during dinner, but deliberately ignored it. The Earl even smiled at her in a frankly conspiratorial manner on one occasion, as if encouraging her to share with him the joke of such pompous formality. Jane did not so much as acknowledge the smile as she turned her attention to Lord Croft, where he sat to the left of her at the table.

The Duke presided over the head of the table, of course, with Arabella, as his hostess, seated at the other end. Arabella had placed Jane between Lord Croft and his son Jeremy. Both men were charming and affable as they easily put her at her ease. The younger man was especially attentive after learning that Jane had spent her early years in Somerset, proceeding to talk knowledgeably about the area from memories of his own visits there as a child.

But still Jane could not help but be aware of the intensity of the Earl of Whitney’s interest as he sat across the table from her, listening intently to her conversation rather than taking any part in it…

Hawk found his attention wandering constantly from the dry wit of Lady Pamela’s conversation. Instead he watched Jane with a brooding intensity. The fact that several other men were looking at her as intently, the Earl of Whitney and Jeremy Croft but two of them, caused his brows to draw together darkly.

‘Miss Jane Smith has become quite the darling of the evening, has she not?’ Lady Pamela commented dryly.

‘What?’ Hawk turned to bark tersely.

His friend and neighbour arched teasing brows at his obvious irritation. ‘I was commenting on the fact that Miss Smith seems to hold my husband entranced, my son beguiled, my brother amused and the Duke of Stourbridge mesmerised,’ Lady Pamela drawled.

Hawk frowned at her. ‘You are imagining things, Pamela.’

‘I do not think so.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Can it be possible that the elusive Duke of Stourbridge has at last settled on his choice of bride…?’

Bride?

Could Pamela possibly be referring to Jane…?

‘Do not be ridiculous, Pamela.’ He snapped his impatience at the absurdity of her suggestion that he could seriously be contemplating making Jane his Duchess. ‘Jane Smith is my ward, not my future bride.’

‘Really?’ Pamela drawled derisively. ‘In that case, Hawk, and unless you wish others to make the same assumption I did, I would advise you not to spend quite so much of your time staring at her in that hungrily devouring way.’

‘Now you are being deliberately provoking, Pamela,’ Hawk bit out harshly, before emptying his wine glass and motioning for it to be refilled.

‘And you are drinking far more wine than usual this evening, too, Hawk.’As a friend of his mother, and his closest neighbour these last thirty years, Lady Pamela felt no hesitation in speaking her mind to him whenever she chose.

Hawk bared his teeth in a humourless smile. ‘When I wish for your advice, Pamela, be assured I will ask for it!’

She gave a softly indulgent laugh. ‘Be assured, Hawk, you will receive it whether it is asked for or not!’

Hawk gave a rueful shake of his head, knowing that there was no point in arguing with Pamela—that since the death of his own mother Pamela had chosen to take on that role for herself.

Could there possibly be some basis for her observation concerning the way in which he had been watching Jane? Had his gaze been ‘mesmerised’ and ‘hungrily devouring’…?

Surely not?

Admittedly, he had not liked Whitney’s attentions to her earlier, and nor did he particularly care for the way that Pamela’s own son was paying Jane such marked attention, but surely that was no reason for Pamela to imply that his own interest was any more personal than any guardian for his charge?

No, of course it was not, he assured himself determinedly. He was merely concerned for Jane, that was all. Because she was young and innocent, and could have no idea of the danger a man with Whitney’s reputation represented to that innocence.

It was an ignorance Hawk had every intention of correcting as he made his way immediatately to Jane’s side once dinner was over, when she and all the other guests were making their way to the small ballroom where dancing was due to commence.

Unfortunately for Jane, an hour of watching as both Jeremy Croft and the Earl of Whitney seemed to become more and more captivated by her every word had not diminished the force of Hawk’s temper in the slightest.

‘I think it might be as well, Jane, if for the remainder of the evening you were to refrain from flirting with every man in the room under the age of sixty!’ Hawk bit out harshly as he glared down at her.

Jane gave a gasp, her face paling at the unexpectedness of the Duke’s attack. In fact she had been quietly congratulating herself on having successfully negotiated the intricacies of social behaviour, and now the Duke was accusing her of doing the opposite.

She returned his glare unblinkingly. ‘I have not yet had the opportunity to flirt with you, Your Grace!’

‘Neither will you, if you know what is good for you!’ Those gold eyes glittered warningly.

Jane looked up at him challengingly. ‘Could you possibly be threatening me, Your Grace?’

His jaw was clamped tightly together. ‘I am trying to assist you, Jane—’

‘By insulting me?’

‘By advising you.’

‘I was mistaken, then, Your Grace. For your advice sounded distinctly like an insult to me!’ Jane breathed indignantly.

Hawk’s nostrils flared angrily. ‘You—’

‘Sorry to interrupt your little tête-à-tête with your ward, Stourbridge, but perhaps I might have your permission to invite Miss Smith to dance?’ the Earl of Whitney interrupted smoothly.

Hawk turned a quelling glance on the older man, having every intention of telling Whitney that he most certainly did not have his permission to dance with Jane. Or indeed to do anything else with her!

‘I do not need the Duke’s permission to dance, My Lord.’

Jane was the one to answer before Hawk had a chance to do so, not sparing Hawk so much as a second glance as she took the other man’s arm and allowed herself to be taken onto the dance floor.

Leaving Hawk no choice but to stand impotently by and watch as the rakish Earl of Whitney took a hold of Jane’s hand and led her confidently into the dance.

An unpleasant image that was reflected back at Hawk many times over from the mirrors that adorned the walls of the small ballroom at Mulberry Mall.

‘I am so pleased to see that Jane is enjoying herself.’ Arabella spoke softly beside Hawk.

Hawk turned to scowl at his young sister—who, as hostess, should have been on the dance floor herself. ‘Whitney is hardly a suitable companion for her to be enjoying herself with!’

Arabella looked up at him steadily for several seconds, before allowing a knowing smile to curve her lips. ‘So, Lady Pamela was right in her assertion that you are far too interested in your young ward,’ she murmured with satisfaction.

‘I—’

‘I must admit I was a little taken aback when Lady Pamela described Jane as such,’ Arabella continued lightly. ‘I had not realised. Exactly when did Jane become your ward, Hawk?’ She arched blonde brows.

‘You are being deliberately obtuse, Arabella,’ he snapped dismissively.

‘I do not think so.’ Arabella shook her head.

Hawk gave an impatiently snort. ‘Obviously I made that distinction for Jane’s sake. It simply would not do for our friends and neighbours—for the ton—to realise that an unmarried young lady with no family connection to us is staying here at Mulberry Mall under the protection of the Duke of Stourbridge.’

‘Perhaps you should have given some thought to that possibility before bringing Jane here…?’

‘Given a choice, I would not have brought Jane here—’ Hawk broke off as he realised he had been provoked into being indiscreet for the second time this evening. Something that, as the haughty Duke of Stourbridge, he never was. Or at least he never had been before Jane came crashing into his life.

‘If you had been “given a choice”, Hawk?’ Arabella echoed curiously. ‘You never have fully explained to me how you came to be acquainted with Jane, or your reasons for bringing her here. Perhaps—’

‘I do not think now is the right time for us to discuss this, Arabella.’

‘Will there ever be a right time?’

Hawk’s mouth thinned. ‘No.’

‘I did not think so.’Arabella shrugged. ‘But you must admit that captivating the Earl of Whitney would be a marvellous feather in Jane’s social cap…’

‘I admit nothing of the sort!’

Arabella turned towards the dancing couples. ‘They do look very well together, do they not…?’

Hawk turned to follow the direction of his sister’s gaze, his own eyes narrowing ominously as once again he found himself looking at Jane as she danced assuredly with the Earl of Whitney.

Arabella was quite right in her assertion: Jane and Whitney did look well together. The two were of a similar height, one so blond while the other a fiery redhead, and their movements were both light and graceful. And when the dance allowed, their conversation was softly exclusive.

Hawk frowned darkly as he wondered what subject two such mismatched people could possibly have found to talk about so earnestly…