Utterly Devoted (3 page)

She took a deep breath and turned to see what might be keeping him. Moving inexorably toward her was her phantom. Her stomach jumped into her throat, but she stood her ground, willing him to vanish along with her other fears. He strode to her side but did not bother to bow again.

“Good evening, Miss Watkin,” he said. She could only stare stupidly as he took her hand in his very solid grip and brought it to his lips. The warmth of his breath touched her through the silk of her long gloves. The pressure of his lips sent her stomach crashing back down again.

He was real.

He was back in London.

He knew everything about her and had once shown himself black enough that he just might share it.

Faced with such dire circumstances, she did the only thing a lady could do. She let her eyes roll back in her head and collapsed toward the floor in a faint.

Chapter Three

Jareth caught her neatly, but not before cries of alarm rose on all sides. He quickly found himself the center of attention. He had hardly expected a welcome from Eloise, but he somehow hadn’t thought she’d be the one to faint from the encounter. He could think of nothing he had done to warrant such a reaction. Still, it was difficult to look like an innocent standing in the middle of Almack’s with a beautiful woman in his arms. By the expressions of the ladies around him, he was swiftly being painted the villain. He offered them his most winning smile as he shifted his grip on Eloise.

“Heat fatigue,” he assured them all. He loosened one hand to pat her cheek. “Miss Watkin, are you all right?”

He hadn’t expected a response and was surprised when her lips moved.

“Go away.”

He blinked and peered closer. Thick curling black lashes fanned out over alabaster cheeks. The only other spot of color was her soft, rose-toned lips. She always had been the most kissable female. That hadn’t changed. But now was hardly the time to find out if she still tasted as good as she looked.

“Miss Watkin?” he tried again.

She sighed and opened her eyes. Green as deep as a forest in summer nearly took his breath away. “Let go of me,” she said firmly.

Jareth did so, and she wobbled to her feet. The ladies around them began talking all at once. The sound was no doubt supposed to be soothing, but Eloise turned so pale that he put a hand on her elbow to support her. She stiffened at his touch.

“What happened?” someone cried, and Jareth looked up in time to see a pint-sized Amazon push her way through the crowd, a tall, dark-haired man at her heels. She had reddish-brown hair set in short curls around a pert face, and her well-molded bosom heaved with maidenly virtue. She didn’t fool him for a second. The last time he’d seen her, she’d had a pitchfork in her hand, and she hadn’t been afraid to use it. She seemed to have the same idea now.

“You!” she declared, evidently recognizing him as well. It was all he could do to hold his ground. “Release her this instant,” she demanded.

He would have been delighted to do so, but Eloise disengaged from him first. “Mr. Darby has no hold on me, Lady Hastings,” she said calmly.

“Nor should he,” the Amazon maintained hotly.

The tall gentleman, whom he took to be the Amazon’s husband, God have mercy on his soul, stepped forward and put a hand on his wife’s arm. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in private, dearest.”

She looked ready to protest, but evidently thought better of it. Perhaps it was the pointed look Eloise gave her. He could have kissed her for that. None of them needed another story circulating. Of course, he seemed to use kissing and Eloise in the same sentence far too easily.

They started to move away, and he knew he had to act quickly or lose any chance he had. “Forgive my interruption,” he tried, stepping to Eloise’s side. “I would like a moment of Miss Watkin’s time, when she is feeling better, of course.”

Eloise refused to meet his gaze. He could do nothing but bow and turn to leave. He found Lady Jersey blocking his way. She stood tall in her amethyst satin gown, her pomaded golden hair glinting in the candlelight. Her impressive bosom wasn’t heaving, but the fire in those blue eyes was enough to make him cringe.

“Are you disturbing my hall, Mr. Darby?” she said, though the simple words implied blasphemy worthy of hell fire.

He swept her a bow. “Certainly not, my lady. Miss Watkin evidently collapsed from the heat. I merely managed to cushion her fall.”

“A likely tale.” The young man who had been dancing so cloddishly with Eloise pushed his way to the front. The fingers of his gloves were stained from the punch that still trickled over the glasses he held in a trembling grip. “I have heard of you, Darby, and nothing good. I demand to know what you did to Miss Watkin.”

Jareth raised his glass and glared at the fellow through it. Before he could speak to put the upstart in his place, help came from an unexpected source.

“I am certain Mr. Darby was merely trying to help,” Eloise said quietly.

Jareth blinked at her sudden change of heart. Lady Jersey and the young lord frowned.

“If you would excuse us,” the Amazon’s husband said, “I think Miss Watkin needs to sit down.”

The young lord bowed, and Jareth had no choice but to do likewise. He watched as Eloise was led off to a sofa as far away from him as possible. The young lord followed. Deprived of drama, the crowd dispersed.

Lady Jersey clucked her tongue. “Bad ton, Mr. Darby. I shall keep an eye on you.”

“I can only try to earn your commendation, dear lady,” Jareth replied with another bow, this time to her.

She raised a saffron brow that said she very much doubted his abilities to please her in any proper manner, then sailed off to join another group. As he walked toward Eleanor and Justinian, he heard the murmurs begin afresh.

“He is unchanged ...”

“Just as scandalous as always ...”

“Did you hear how he came to be forced from good society last time?”

Jareth grit his teeth. He had only made things worse. Justinian and Eleanor apparently thought so as well, for they hastened to join him as if in support.

“What happened?” his sister-in-law asked, her silk gown whispering almost as loudly as she did.

Jareth shrugged. “I cannot say. The lady simply collapsed.”

“Odd,” Justinian said. His gray eyes were thoughtful as he gazed to where Eloise had been settled. The Amazon and her husband ministered to her as she accepted her glass of punch at last from her fawning escort. She certainly managed a smile for his sake.

As if she felt Jareth watching her, she glanced up. Their gazes locked. For a heated moment, he was back in the hayloft over the school stables. He could smell her lilac perfume merging with the scent of summer hay, feel the silk of her skin beneath his hands, hear the sweet gasp of her breath as he covered her with kisses. Eloise turned on the sofa and put her back to him.

The cut direct.

Justinian must have seen it as well, for he shook his leonine head. “How disappointing, Jareth. You are obviously far from forgiveness.”

“Indeed,” Jareth murmured. The fact ought to annoy him, but he found himself intrigued. He was the one who had been forced from the hayloft in disgrace. Supposedly, no one knew of the lady’s digression. They had never promised each other undying devotion. What grudge did she bear him?

“Who is that with her?” he asked Eleanor.

She peered across the room. “The young woman beside her is Lady Hastings. Her given name is Cleopatra, if memory serves. The handsome fellow with the jet black hair is her husband, Leslie Petersborough, Marquis of Hastings. They eloped to Gretna Green last Season.”

Still the impetuous one
, Jareth thought. “And the boy in brown?”

“Lord Peter Nathaniel,” she supplied.

“And he is hardly a boy,” Justinian added. “He inherited the title and estates from his father several years ago.”

“By the look of things,” Eleanor continued, “he has serious intentions toward Miss Watkin.”

Which made Lord Nathaniel even more of an upstart than Jareth had originally thought. He could not see Eloise with a fellow whose hands trembled. He could not imagine the man having the courage to make love to her. On the other hand, he could imagine himself doing so all too easily.

Before he could comment further, someone bumped him from behind. Turning, he found a slender girl with red-blond hair righting herself with a rueful smile. “Pardon me, please,” she said, giving him a glimpse of front teeth with an endearing gap between them.

He swept her a bow. “My mistake entirely, I assure you.”

Her smile deepened, and he caught a decided twinkle in her gray eyes. “Nonsense, sir. I distinctly remember bumping into you.”

He could feel Eleanor and Justinian watching him. Further, over the girl’s shoulder, he could see a tall major in dress regimentals glowering at him. It seemed the better part of valor to send her on her way.

He bowed reflexively. As she hurried away, he sighed. Another time he might have been willing to investigate the delightful young lady’s charms, but his hands were tied until he had dealt with Eloise. It would be impossible to convince her he had changed if he was known to be pursuing an assignation.

“That was boldly done,” Eleanor commented as he turned toward them once again. “Have you been introduced to Miss Sinclair?”

“No,” he replied. “Shocking what they teach young ladies these days.”

Justinian chuckled, but Eleanor shook her head. All of them returned their gazes to the unwilling Miss Watkin. Eloise sat on the sofa for a short while, then left on the arm of Lady Hastings. They did not return to the hall.

Deprived of his reason to visit Almack’s, Jareth took his leave of Eleanor and Justinian, as well as Lady Jersey, and collected his cane and cloak. Then he descended the stairs for the street to hail a hack and repair to the civilized confines of White’s.

He had favored Watier’s in his earlier days, for that gentleman’s club was known for its heavy play and high stakes. Very likely, the more conservative White’s would never have allowed him membership but for his brother’s intervention. As it was, he was welcomed by the doorman, offered a drink, and motioned to a comfortable chair. He did not realize that he had been followed until he wandered into the card room. Before he could decide whether to attempt Faro with only credit, he was accosted.

“Darby, I demand a word with you.”

He turned to find Eloise’s escort beside him. Lord Nathaniel appeared to have run all the way from Almack’s, as his curly brown hair was wild and his cravat in shambles. Jareth merely eyed him coolly.

“I am not in the habit of giving my time to fellows who refuse introductions,” he said, purposely turning away from the young lord. The gentlemen playing nearby raised brows or exchanged glances. One went so far as to chuckle. The rudesby at his elbow stalked around to face him again.

Jareth gave him no time for speech. He turned away again and strolled to settle himself in a chair near the bow window. Unfortunately, he had no sooner eyed the gas light beyond the window when Lord Nathaniel was once more in front of him and considerably redder.

“You will not evade me so easily,” he declared. “What I have to say requires no introductions. You, sir, are no gentleman, and I take offense that you expect to be treated like one.”

“You can take as much offense as you like,” Jareth told him, crossing one leg over the other, “so long as you take yourself off.”

“Not until you hear me out. You are unwelcome, sir. Your reputation precedes you. I demand that you refrain from tainting others with it.”

Jareth deliberately sipped his drink before answering. “If you dislike being tainted, why accost me in public?”

Nathaniel drew himself up. “
My
reputation is unassailable, sir. My concern is for a certain young lady.”

“Then I take it her reputation is less than savory.”

He wondered whether a fellow that young could die from apoplexy. His face certainly was a shade of red seldom found outside a house of ill repute.

“Not at all,” he sputtered. “And I intend to see that it stays that way. I do not know what you said to Miss Watkin at Almack’s, but she is so overset that Lady Hastings had to take her home immediately. Tongues will wag, sir.”

“Yours certainly is,” Jareth replied. “Since when is it appropriate to mention a lady’s name in this place? I should call you out for your impertinence, sir.”

It amazed him to see how quickly the crimson fled, leaving Nathaniel’s round face pale as blanc mange. But to do the fellow justice, he stood his ground. “I should be happy to have my seconds call on yours, sir.”

Jareth waved his free hand. “I have no interest in adding to my reputation with your sorry death. Allow me to assure you that you need not concern yourself. It is clear to me that I have offended the lady. I will not approach her again in public until she has forgiven me.”

His opponent had the audacity to smile, and a rather nasty grin it was on one so otherwise boyish. “Then my quest is accomplished. You will never approach her, Darby, for she will never forgive you.”

Jareth returned the smile with one of his own, and, he thought, not much more pleasant. “Oh, but she will, my dear sir, if I have to spend every moment of my existence assuring her that I am utterly devoted.”

Chapter Four

“I am doomed,” Eloise told Cleo as they rode home in the Hastings’ coach.

“Surely it isn’t that bad,” Cleo replied, but even in the dim light of the coach interior, Eloise saw her husband’s hand grip hers. More realistic than his wife, and more experienced, Leslie had to know what she was facing. Indeed, his dark thoughts were evidenced by the tight lines of his handsome face.

“Explain things to her, my lord,” Eloise said.

She saw him squeeze Cleo’s hand. “Sorry to burst your bubble of optimism, love, but Miss Watkin is correct. I doubt she shall have many offers if the truth becomes known.”

Even though she knew the gravity of the situation in her heart, hearing him say it sent a chill through her. She’d had five years to think about what she’d do if she met Jareth Darby again, five years to calculate to the last frown the amount of damage her liaison with him could do her. Even her friendship with the Marquis and Marchioness of Hastings could not save her.