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After last night, he had decided to forget about females for a while, particularly one infuriating, green-eyed vicar’s daughter who was determined to harm herself. If she didn’t know better at twenty, then he washed his hands of her.

This didn’t mean he hadn’t prayed for her last night and again this morning. Only God could show her the folly of her ways and set her on the right path before it was too late.

He had seen too many of St. Leger’s types through his years at school to have any illusions about his intentions. He didn’t know him too well, but he had seen him often enough when he’d sought Harold out at his clubs and gaming dens.

Another wastrel, spending his parents’ money, he concluded. What mystified him was the attention he was giving Miss Barry.
Those types usually confined their conquests to actresses and ballet dancers or lowborn shopgirls who had no one to look out for them.

Unless . . . St. Leger thought Miss Barry had no one to defend her, being far from home with only an older, somewhat scatterbrained godmother to protect her.

St. Leger’s words came back to him. His blood ran cold at the blatant mockery in them.

But if she repudiated Lancelot’s help, there was little he could do. Maybe he could talk to Delawney and ask her help. She’d probably balk and want to know why. He was reluctant to expose his interest in Miss Barry, since he didn’t understand his feelings himself.

Praying for guidance, he sat staring out his window, his botanical notes forgotten.

Megan came to visit Jessamine the next morning. Jessamine had slept late, since she hadn’t gotten to bed until almost dawn. She was still in her room, just finishing her toilette, when Megan knocked on her door.

“Good morning, I hope I’m not too early,” she said, peering around the door.

Jessamine twisted in her seat. “Nonsense. But I’m surprised to see you. I would have imagined you still abed like any good member of the fashionable world.”

“I guess my good bourgeois habits have not left me,” she answered with a sunny smile, coming to sit on Jessamine’s bed.

“Did you have a good evening?” Jessamine asked, continuing to arrange her hair.

“Very nice, thank you. I must admit, having Céline and Rees for sister and brother opens many doors. Rees has many acquaintances at the Foreign Office, and since he is a junior secretary to Wellington, it is like waving a magic wand; everyone comes flocking at the name of the Iron Duke. And Céline—well, you’d never known she’d
been gone from London. She is as sought after as ever.” Megan’s eyes shone. “That is one reason I’ve come to visit you so early.”

Jessamine looked at her friend’s reflection in the mirror, her hands suspended on her coiffure. “What has happened?”

“Céline insists on giving me a ball to signal my coming out. She says I need an official event, since I cannot be presented at court.” She made a face. “My poor papa being in trade. That means vouchers to Almack’s are also beyond my reach. Without those, I may as well be invisible to society.”

Before Jessamine could express her sorrow, Megan laughed. “Céline says this silliness doesn’t exist in Paris. Anyone with style is admitted to the best hôtels. But that is neither here nor there. Céline has convinced Rees that a ball in my honor is the only remedy.”

Megan sat back with satisfaction. “She is sure if Lady Jersey or one of the other patronesses of Almack’s has a chance to see me—or
us
, I should say—she will want to issue us vouchers.”

Jessamine turned around to face her friend, unsure how she felt about the news. “My goodness, I’m happy for you.”

Megan’s smile only broadened. “Didn’t you hear me? After Céline managed to convince Rees that she was perfectly fit to plan a ball, I ventured to suggest that perhaps the two of us could be presented together.”

Jessamine’s mouth fell open. “You didn’t!” Dismay filled her at the thought of being helped by Rees’s wife yet again.

Megan nodded vigorously. “You heard me. How would you like a massive ball in your honor with all the best of society in attendance?”

“Haven’t we attended a couple already?” she said, stalling for time.

“Yes, but as nobodies. Here, we shall be the center of attention.” She beamed at her.

Jessamine began shaking her head. “I . . . I couldn’t possibly.” To be beholden to Céline! The humiliation would be too great. “Rees
is right; it’s too much for his wife to take on two young ladies. Be happy that she is doing this for you. You can invite me, of course,” she added with a smile to offset any suspicion that it was because the dance would be hosted by Rees’s wife.

“Oh no you don’t.” Megan came to stand over her. “You are going to appear with me and that is final!” A smile took away the menace from her words.

“I am going to run out of ball gowns to so many exalted events,” Jessamine said, turning back to her mirror.

“That’s all right. Céline says she has a niece through her late husband, the earl. She was presented two seasons ago and has a heap of ball gowns I am to look through. She has put them at our disposal since she has no need of them now.”

“I couldn’t possibly. I don’t know her, and more importantly, she doesn’t know me.”

“Of course you may. Céline says we are of similar height and build to Kimberley—Lady Huntingfield now. Céline is visiting her this morning to explain the situation.”

Jessamine looked at her in dismay. “That’s awful. To have someone lend us her gowns out of pity. What if someone recognizes them on us?”

“We can alter them. Besides, I doubt if anyone would remember them from two seasons ago.” When she saw Jessamine’s lips firm and her head begin to shake, she took her hands in hers. “Please, say yes. Céline is bringing her best modiste to see the gowns after we’ve tried them on. She will suggest all kinds of ways to change them. We can do most of the work ourselves. Céline says we are doing her a favor by keeping her mind on this. She’s very worried about Rees returning to Brussels. The latest word is Napoleon has left Paris.”

Jessamine scanned her friend’s face, her objections appearing petty. “Must Rees return?”

Meg nodded sadly. “Yes, he is needed. He leaves tomorrow. I promised him I’d do everything I could to keep Céline occupied—
without tiring her out, of course. And he truly doesn’t mind having Céline plan a ball for me. He has left me money for a new ball gown, as a matter of fact. He feels he’s neglected me since he left for France. Of course I told him that was absurd, but he truly wished to give me this.”

Jessamine squeezed her friend’s hands. “Of course he did. Will this dressmaker design it?”

She nodded.

“How exciting. Have you met anyone you fancy at any of the events we’ve attended thus far?” She’d been too caught up in her own affairs to notice if anyone had begun to pursue her friend.

“Not yet.” She laughed. “I may spend my entire season not meeting anyone and go back home and marry one of the gentlemen I’ve danced with at the local assemblies. Wouldn’t that be ironic?” She tilted her head, pursing her lips. “Although Mr. Seymour is very nice and Mr. Crofton has a pleasing manner,” she said, mentioning some of her dance partners. She focused back on Jessamine. “What about you? Mr. St. Leger continues attentive?”

Jessamine looked away. “He is . . . charming.” And made her feel beautiful and worthy of notice, she added to herself. “He is coming to take me for another ride in his phaeton this afternoon.”

“Hmm.”

Jessamine was thankful her friend didn’t bring up Mr. Marfleet’s name again. Perhaps she finally understood that Jessamine was completely indifferent to him.

A few afternoons later she accompanied Megan and Céline—reluctantly—to Lady Huntingfield’s house. She was Céline’s great-niece from Céline’s first marriage to the late Earl of Wexham. The earl’s nephew had inherited the title upon his death, and this was his daughter.

Lady Huntingfield’s residence was a large town house on Curzon Street. After they were admitted by a dignified butler, they were shown into a small parlor.

The room was richly appointed with plush French carpets, gilded furniture, and sumptuous oil paintings against striped wallpaper. Céline didn’t notice her surroundings at all. She and Megan were chatting like old friends—or older and younger sister now.

They had tried to include Jessamine in their lively conversation during the carriage ride, but when Jessamine limited her responses to friendly but brief ones, they had finally left her alone.

In a few moments, a maid appeared and led them up a carpeted staircase to an even more lavish lady’s dressing room, where a young blonde woman came to greet them, hugging and kissing Céline. “Hello, Aunt Ceci, how lovely to see you. You look beautiful—glowing, in fact.”

The two women laughed and eyed each other with obvious affection. Jessamine then noticed that Lady Huntingfield was also expecting. It gave her a pang to see two mothers-to-be. Lady Huntingfield looked to be Jessamine’s age, perhaps even younger, and she’d already been married a year.

Céline explained that she had helped her niece with her coming-out a couple of years ago. She was now happy to see the fruits of her labor in the brilliant match Lady Huntingfield had made.

Two years ago. That would have been when Rees had met Céline in London.

The two ladies discussed briefly their conditions, but even from the little they said, Jessamine could tell that their coming motherhood was foremost in their minds.

That was where she should be, Jessamine thought to herself. Married and awaiting a child, not trying on an array of past season ball gowns and pretending she was a lady of the ton on the market for a titled gentleman.

But she was not allowed to wallow in her morose thoughts. A couple of maids soon brought out the ball gowns. Another maid served tea and cakes, and the other women were so enthusiastic
that Jessamine could not demonstrate any ill humor when they were doing her this favor.

So, she dutifully tried on a half dozen or more ball gowns in a variety of soft colors and silks and fine muslins. They all fit very well with little need for alterations. The maids were armed with pins and took in what needed to be taken in.

“They are so beautiful,” Megan said with awe, running a hand down an ice-blue half-dress of sheerest taffeta over a cream satin underskirt.

“I’m so glad you are able to use them,” Lady Huntingfield said from a velvet settee, where she sat sipping her tea and admiring both Megan and Jessamine as they came out from behind the screen where a maid had helped them into the gowns. “I can’t wear any of them anymore, and I don’t foresee too many London balls for me in the near future. We are planning to go to our country seat as the time draws near for my confinement, and then we shall stay there for the winter, perhaps longer.” She smiled at Céline. “We shall be retiring to the country as if we were already in our middle years.”

“Having a child doesn’t mean you must retire from society,” Céline said, “although I certainly understand your wish to lead a quieter life.”

“I have never enjoyed society much, you know that.” She addressed Jessamine and Megan. “Thanks to Aunt Ceci, I am able to navigate the waters of society. I was such a shy young thing, and my mother was determined to arrange a marriage for me. It was Aunt Ceci who hosted my coming-out ball and made sure to introduce me to several eligible gentlemen. That’s how I met Lord Huntingfield and am happily married today.”

Jessamine looked at each of the women. Lady Huntingfield seemed to dote on Céline, the way Megan was coming to. What was it about this Frenchwoman that attracted everyone? Jessamine gritted her teeth, her smile wearing thin, and turned to the mirror to see herself in a pale-yellow silk.

“It’s beautiful on you,” Megan said at her side.

“Yes, it looks adorable,” Céline agreed from her place in a comfortable armchair.

Adorable. Like a puppy.

Jessamine studied her reflection. She looked almost beautiful. She was tempted to pull her spectacles out of her reticule, but she was able to see well enough to appreciate the color and cut of the gown on her.

As the afternoon wore on, it became harder for her to maintain her anger against Céline, who seemed genuinely pleased to help her and Megan enter society. Jessamine could not detect by either look or word any mockery in Rees’s wife. The brief interchange she’d overheard between her and Rees still rankled, but she could not say that Céline seemed to look at her any differently than she did Megan. Certainly not with any jealousy. Jessamine was beneath her consideration in that, she realized, remembering Rees’s words.

Nor was Céline lording it over Jessamine that she’d won Rees’s heart.

They dropped Jessamine home late that afternoon, extracting promises from her that she would accompany them on the morrow to shop for ribbons and other decorations to begin the task of altering and modifying the gowns.

It was hard to hate someone who seemed to harbor no ill feelings toward her and was doing everything to help her.

12

D
uring the fortnight before the grand ball at Céline’s house, Jessamine found herself more and more in the Frenchwoman’s company. After Rees’s return to Brussels, Céline chaperoned Megan at all her social engagements, of which there were many, thanks to Céline’s many acquaintances. They insisted on collecting Jessamine in their carriage, which was more convenient than having Lady Bess obliged to hire a carriage. Lady Bess seemed content to leave the social whirl and return to her quiet card parties with her own circle of friends, although she always wanted to hear about Jessamine’s evening the following day.

It would have seemed more practical to move to Céline’s town house altogether. They invited her, but Jessamine was firm in her refusal, and was brought back to Lady Bess’s each evening. Although many times this was in the wee hours of the morning and she knew she was being inconsiderate to Lady Bess’s household, she couldn’t bring herself to be more beholden to Céline than she already was.

She had not seen Mr. Marfleet at all and wondered at his absence at the assemblies, soirees, and theatrical events she attended. Did he travel in different social circles? Or was he avoiding her as much as she dreaded seeing him again?