Jaded Moon (Ransomed Jewels Book 2) (8 page)

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fairly confident she will.”

Lindville visibly relaxed. “I should have known you had everything under control. If you see Lady Clythebrook wavering, you can always use your charms to convince Rainforth to abandon his plan.”

“My charms?”

Lindville laughed. “Really, Miss Foley. You act as though you’ve never realized with your looks you could wrap any man around your finger. And you know what they say about catching flies with honey.”

Josie remembered the kiss she and the Marquess of Rainforth had shared and her cheeks blazed. “I have no intention of being any nicer to Rainforth than I must.”

His brows furrowed. “There’s a lot at stake here, Miss Foley. It might be worth removing that icy exterior of yours just this once to stop Rainforth. Perhaps you can force yourself to endure a man’s attentions for just a little while for the children’s sake.”

Josie knew what Lindville thought of her. She knew what everyone thought. Well, let them think she was a cold fish. Let them whisper behind her back that she thought she was better than everyone because she’d been raised by the Earl and Countess of Clythebrook. She knew most of their objections stemmed from the fact that she’d soundly rejected every attempt to court her.

But she’d never give in to a man like her mother had. Nor would she be fooled by the blatant efforts of the local gentry to pretend the circumstances surrounding her birth didn’t matter to them when she knew they did. She knew every attempt to court her had been for one purpose only—to gain the property they knew she would inherit when Lady Clythebrook died. Baron Lindville had been the only one who hadn’t offered her that lie. Not because her illegitimacy didn’t matter to him because it did. The fact that she was a bastard child offended him equally as much as it repulsed his mother. But he was forced to overlook her tainted birth because she played such a vital role in the smuggling operation.

“I have to go,” she said, shaking off the qualms of unease she suddenly felt.

“Don’t forget what I said. If you want to keep the orphanage open and the children fed and clothed, you’ll do whatever you must to stop Rainforth.”

Josie clutched her hands within the folds of her skirts and tried to ignore the threat she heard in Lindville’s voice. He was mistaken if he thought she would ever throw herself at any man, especially the Marquess of Rainforth. And even more mistaken if he thought it might do any good. She would never give in to any man. Especially a man with the Marquess of Rainforth’s reputation.

Her mother had done that and died regretting it.

Josie stood in the drawing room near the fireplace, waiting for the first of the guests to arrive. It was early yet—too early for Rainforth to make an appearance. He would be the last to come.

She didn’t know why she thought that, except she’d seen firsthand the reaction the marquess had received from Baron Lindville when they’d met the day before. This may not be London, and the guests Lady Clythebrook had invited tonight might not be the cream of Society, but she doubted his reception would be any different. Rainforth’s father had been accused of treason, after all, and the people of Clytheborough had been just as affected by what he’d done as the rest of England had.

Josie didn’t know why it was so easy for people to transfer the sins of a father to his children. Perhaps because it gave them someone to blame. But she thought she knew the Marquess of Rainforth well enough to know he wouldn’t back down from the assault. Nor would he take the easiest route. He would arrive late to face Lady Clythebrook’s guests en masse rather than coming early to dilute the unpleasant task into bite-sized pieces.

“Is something wrong, Josephine?”

Josie turned as Lady Clythebrook entered the room. The countess looked lovely tonight. The gown she wore was her very finest, a silver brocade with an overskirt of shimmering filigree netting. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes held a glow that Josie remembered from a time long ago. Tonight she did not seem nearly so fragile. She seemed…hopeful. And they had the Marquess of Rainforth to credit—or blame—for such optimism.

“You look stunning,” Josie said with a smile on her face. “Still the most elegant woman in England.”

“You’ve stolen Lord Clythebrook’s line.”

Lady Clythebrook smiled then lifted her chin slightly at the fond memory. “And you look…worried.”

Josie walked across the room to help Lady Clythebrook to the place of honor in the center of the room. She’d chosen not to use her cane tonight and walked a little unsteadily. But if she was in pain, she hid it well. “Are you sure this dinner party is a good idea?”

“Are you worried it isn’t?”

Josie hesitated, then voiced her concerns. “I saw the way Baron Lindville reacted to the Marquess of Rainforth yesterday. Tonight he’ll have to face Lindville’s mother and the other guests. You know as well as I that Squire Pearsons lost a nephew in the Crimea.”

“What would you suggest Rainforth do? Hide away for the rest of his life?”

“No, of course not, but…”

“If he intends for his venture to succeed, these are the people he’s going to have to convince of the worthiness of his plan. Don’t you think it’s better that he face them now while there’s still a chance they feel included in his final decision than after the cattle are already here and they feel as though they’ve been forced to go along with him?”

“Are you saying you’ve decided to allow Rainforth to put cattle on Clythebrook Estate?”

“I haven’t decided anything yet. I told you I’d consider your objections. Much will depend on what happens tonight.”

“And if he’s rejected out of hand?”

“Then my decision will be more difficult.”

“All I ask,” Josie said, carefully choosing her words, “is that you trust me enough to know I wouldn’t oppose Rainforth’s plan without good cause.”

Lady Clythebrook smiled. “And if I decide to agree to Lord Rainforth’s plan?”

“Then give me a month.”

A frown deepened on Lady Clythebrook’s forehead. “Is it Rainforth to whom you object, Josephine? Has he done something to offend you?”

Josie shook her head.

“I was hoping not. He’s an exceptional man. Quite your match.”

Josie jerked her head to face Lady Clythebrook. “He’s not my match. He’s a marquess. A nobleman.”

“And your match.” She smiled, then added, “It must be his plan, then. Why are you so opposed to it?”

“Because he cannot guarantee that it will work. And even if it does, it will be more than a year before we will see any profits. The children cannot wait a year.”

“Oh, Josephine. When will you give in just a little and trust someone else to shoulder some of the burden for the children?”

“Never. I’ll never give the children over to someone else’s care and that’s what would happen by encouraging Lord Rainforth.”

“It seems you aren’t the only one who feels this way.”

Josie put the small figurine she’d been holding back on the elegantly carved table. “What do you mean?”

“Lady Lindville paid me a call earlier today to suggest I use my dinner tonight to dissuade Lord Rainforth of continuing his plan.”

“What did you say?”

“That I intended to do just the opposite. That the reason for my dinner was to give Lord Rainforth the opportunity to answer any questions anyone might have.”

“Do you think that was wise?”

A frown deepened on Lady Clythebrook’s face. “And why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because…”

Because Lady Lindville and her son are the last people on earth you should alienate.

Because there’s so much more going on than you realize.

Because…

But Josie was spared having to answer. Before she could gather the right words, Banks announced the arrival of their first guests.

. . .

In attendance were Baroness Lindville and her son, Baron Lindville, Vicar Chadwick, and Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe, one of the wealthiest merchants in Clytheborough. Squire Pearsons, the local magistrate and his wife, had also been invited, along with the Pottsworth sisters, Miss Evangeline and Miss Eustacia—spinster sisters whose father had been the vicar before Vicar Chadwick. Their inclusion was mandatory at all functions of importance. And this was indeed important.

All of them had been specifically chosen because of the effect the Marquess of Rainforth’s venture would have on them. It was a known fact that any proposal would run smoother with their support. But if the wary undercurrent Josie sensed as the guests mingled remained, the evening promised to be anything but ordinary.

Josie walked around the room, making sure conversations flowed smoothly and that each guest had a glass of the special wine Lady Clythebrook had brought up for the occasion. Everything progressed perfectly, except for a halt now and then as one or another of them paused to check the doorway to see if he was here yet.

Josie knew the exact moment he arrived. And saw the impact of his presence.

He stood in the empty doorway for several seconds after Banks ushered him into the room, letting them all study him.

There was not a hint of reticence or self-consciousness, but a boldness in the way he faced them. His stature was tall and erect with his shoulders back and his head high. His demeanor contained an air of arrogance that he wore as casually as he wore his perfectly tailored clothing. Josie tried to pull her gaze away from him but couldn’t. He was dark and bronzed and magnificently handsome, and every ounce of his breeding rose to the forefront, from the proud lift of his sharply defined chin to his noble countenance.

The stony silence echoed in her ears as every eye in the room remained riveted on where he stood.

He didn’t lower his gaze but let them drink their fill, then walked through the room with long, confident strides that ate up the space between the doorway and the sofa where Lady Clythebrook sat. He was an imposing figure on the most ordinary of days, but tonight he was even more impressive as he crossed the room to lift Lady Clythebrook’s hand to his lips in greeting.

She’d told herself she wouldn’t be affected by him—by the warmth in his pewter-gray eyes or the inviting pull of his smile or how elegant he looked in his black evening clothes. But none of her lectures had done the least bit of good. A slow, tumultuous churning commenced inside her the moment she realized he was there.

From the smile on his face and elegant grace of his movements, no one would have guessed that he noticed the sudden stillness that swept through the room.

Josie watched him for as long as was considered polite, then forced her gaze to move to the other guests who stood in rigid stillness. How she survived the uncomfortable tension his arrival caused she didn’t know. How
he
survived it, she couldn’t imagine.

Josie would have liked to have continued her conversation with the Pottsworth sisters and Mrs. Sharpe, but didn’t want to give the impression she was avoiding him. No matter what tragedy happened tonight, she didn’t want any hint of blame placed at her feet. She excused herself and selected a glass from the tray Banks had just brought into the room.

“Lord Rainforth.”

“Miss Foley. How lovely you look tonight. If Lady Clythebrook were not in attendance, no one would compare to your beauty.”

“I’m sure Lady Clythebrook thanks you.”

“Indeed I do,” Lady Clythebrook said with a broad smile.

“But you do not?”

Josie met his gaze. “Let’s just say I’m much too realistic to believe such flattery.”

“Or perhaps you have just not heard a compliment often enough to believe its accuracy.”

She lifted her brows, hoping he would realize his accolades didn’t affect her. “Would you care for a glass of wine? The vintage was Lord Clythebrook’s favorite.”

He smiled a smile so natural and at ease she wondered how he managed, then he reached out to take the glass.

Their fingers touched. A spark ignited her flesh that stunned her and held her. She felt her cheeks warm and looked again at his fingers wrapped around the glass. How could just a touch cause such a reaction? Lady Clythebrook’s voice caught her attention.

“Josephine, come. We must introduce Lord Rainforth to our guests.”

Josie nodded, cast a glance at the intimidating gathering, then looked up. The expression on Rainforth’s face was unreadable, an impenetrable mask hiding any hint as to what he might really be feeling.

The room was deathly quiet, the lack of a smile on anyone’s face a grim indication of the reception the marquess was about to receive.

Had he known it would be this way? Had he gone through this before? So often he was immune to people’s reaction? His voice did not give away what he might be feeling.

“Yes, Lady Clythebrook. I’ve been quite anxious to meet the good people of Clytheborough.”

Josie stepped to the side as he held out his arm for Lady Clythebrook to take, then followed as the countess led him to the far side of the room where Lady Lindville stood with her son and Vicar Chadwick.

“Baroness Lindville. Baron Lindville. Vicar Chadwick. May I present the Marquess of Rainforth?”

“Yes, we’ve met,” Lady Lindville said in a tight voice that held no warmth.

“Wonderful,” Lady Clythebrook responded as if she hadn’t noticed the strain.

The marquess didn’t reach out to take Lady Lindville’s hand as he might have done, perhaps to avoid the embarrassment of her refusal to offer it. Instead, he returned the greeting with a polite bow to the baroness and a formal nod to both Baron Lindville and Vicar Chadwick.

The moment was uncomfortable enough but would have been worse if Lady Clythebrook had waited for Lady Lindville or her son to return the greeting. But she didn’t. Nor did she pause long enough to give Lady Lindville or her son the opportunity for a direct cut, but proceeded into a conversation about how pleased she was that the weather had cooperated and that even though the night was chilly, it was clear and the moon full, which made it so much brighter to see.

Both Baron Lindville and the vicar had no choice but to agree, which at least gave the impression of cordiality. Lady Lindville, however, took the first opportunity to separate herself from their small group and join the Pottsworth sisters, who were standing nearby, paying close attention to every word spoken.

Although there hadn’t been any open hostility in the meeting, the dye was cast the minute Baroness Lindville turned her back on the Marquess of Rainforth.

Taking their cue from the wealthiest and most influential landowners in the area, the other guests followed suite. Their actions were not perhaps as blatant, and some even carried on an enjoyable conversation with Lady Clythebrook and Josie, but it was impossible to miss the cold reception the Marquess of Rainforth received.

Josie had known this was a possibility but had prayed it wouldn’t be a reality. The uncomfortable tension that filled the room was so thick she could cut it with a knife. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment, yet the marquess acted as if nothing were amiss. As they made their way across the room, he even seemed eager to meet the next guest, knowing his reception would not be friendlier.

A knot formed just inside Josie’s ribcage and gnawed uncomfortably. She looked about, searching for a way to undo what was happening, but unable to find the answer. After nearly a quarter hour of stilted conversations and unfriendly encounters, Josie felt her nerves stretched to the breaking point. How did he do it? She felt as if she couldn’t endure the scrutiny another second and was never so glad of anything as when dinner was announced and they were able to escape the confines of the drawing room. At least at the table she could pretend to be enjoying her food.