Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The gown Lady Tabitha sent over to Jilly to wear to the ball was of expensive cut but almost austere, a gray muslin with a modest neckline and only the smallest ruffle at the hem. Lady Tabitha had judged her size well, at least. In addition to the gown, she’d sent over a simple shawl in pale gray and a pair of serviceable French slippers in the same color.

“They may be too practical for a night of dancing, but they’re a very soft kid leather, Miss Jilly,” said Otis. “You won’t trip in them. I believe the whole outfit shrieks understated wealth.”

Jilly observed herself in the looking glass in her sitting room. “Oh, Otis. This outfit is perfectly proper but dull as dishwater. I look like someone’s chaperone. Or a very well-dressed lady’s maid. Admit it.”

“Well—” He winced, unable to disagree.

“Do you think Lady Tabitha did this on purpose?”

He bit his lip. “How can we even think such a thing? She’s enabling you to go to a fine ball. She didn’t have to show you such attention at all.”

“I know.” Jilly was positively flummoxed by the lady’s attention. “But it’s a shame I can’t wear one of my old gowns.”

“But you made a pretty sum selling them.”

“I know.” Jilly sighed. “But I know just the gown I’d have worn tonight.” It was a deep green silk creation that went well with her eyes. Captain Arrow would have admired it, she was sure.

But she must stop thinking about what gowns he would like to see on her. It was a futile pastime, and she was beginning to question her own judgment. She was married, and he was a rake. Even if she were unattached, she should steer clear of him.

She fingered her neckline. “I need something to offset the spare look of this gown.”

“It’s a shame you can’t wear your diamond pendant,” said Otis. “It was quite distinctive. Some harpy probably owns it now.”

“It’s no use lamenting,” Jilly said. “My old wardrobe helped us purchase Hodgepodge.”

“That’s true.”

Her observation appeared to have the intended effect—Otis seemed happy again. He helped her dress her hair in a simple, elegant style, à la Sappho, and handed her a lovely fan.

She was ready.

He gave her a hug. “Your mother’s fan will distinguish you—that and your beautiful eyes. They are your jewels. You need no others.”

She almost teared up at his sentimental foolishness. It wasn’t until he opened the front door of Hodgepodge to escort her across the street that she became nervous.

She was going out and would be seen by the finest of London society. Every step she took across the street reminded her she was leaving a relatively safe haven and venturing into dangerous, unknown territory.

She must stay calm.

Otis dropped her at the front door of Lady Duchamp’s house and kissed her cheek. “You’ll do splendidly,” he said with a proud smile.

“Thank you. I wish you could come.” She waved good-bye to him a bit wistfully.

When the butler allowed her admittance into the house, she immediately sensed a cold atmosphere that the lavish furnishings did nothing to erase. She followed him to the drawing room and sat there alone for a good ten minutes. Finally, she got up and peeked out into the hall.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“I was simply wondering … did I arrive too early?”

“No,” he said. “The young ladies should be down momentarily.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a brief smile, sat back down on a hard sofa, and waited another five minutes.

Finally, the ladies arrived, and without any sort of welcome or apology, Lady Tabitha told her it was time to go. The other three women clutched their fans, shawls, and reticules and followed behind Lady Tabitha. Jilly took up the rear.

At the carriage, she was also last to enter and squeezed in next to a young lady with a half-smile on her lips that faded when Jilly sat next to her.

The atmosphere was quite strained, so Jilly tried to soften it with a smile and an innocuous compliment. “All of you look lovely tonight.”

No one responded—instead, they began speaking of a picnic to take place the next day near Hampstead Heath—and the carriage lurched forward.

Jilly felt her face turn red.

During the rest of the ride, she sat silent and listened to their fast-paced conversation about eligible gentlemen, other women they despised (they never mentioned a one that they liked), and even talk about their experiences kissing.

“I’d like to get Captain Arrow alone in the garden,” tittered one of the ladies.

Lady Tabitha glowered at her. “He’s mine, Serena.”

Serena sat up. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Who couldn’t want him?” Lady Tabitha said, and for the first time, she looked at Jilly. “Miss Jones, tell us what you know of him.”

Her heart sped up as all of them turned to stare at her. “Well,” she began, “he’s a captain who found the peacetime navy a bit dull, so—”

“Do you have a tendre for him?” Lady Tabitha asked, her mouth curved in a sly smile.

Jilly sat up higher. “Of course not,” she lied.

“Why not?” asked Serena with a disbelieving chuckle. “Who else on Dreare Street is handsome and eligible?”

Jilly considered her words. “I’m not in the market for marriage. My business takes all my time.”

“You’re wise to know your limits,” said Lady Tabitha, a half-smile pasted on her lips.

The other women giggled.

Obviously, they knew as well as Jilly that Lady Tabitha’s remark wasn’t meant to be complimentary.

“Actually,” she said coolly, “owning Hodgepodge allows me to go well beyond the limits imposed on most women. I’m not forced to marry where I don’t want to. I can pick and choose my companions based solely upon whether I enjoy their company.”

The other women’s faces dropped a little at that, and she couldn’t help being satisfied at dampening their condescending attitudes, even if only for a moment.

She was glad when the carriage stopped a moment later in front of a brightly lit mansion. Despite the sour company, her palms dampened with nerves and a bit of excitement. She didn’t belong at the ball and shouldn’t be at the ball.

But I’m here, she thought, and felt herself buoyed by a burst of courage. And I dare anyone to tell me I don’t belong.

This time the ladies allowed her to be the first to disembark. She stood outside the carriage, looking up at the house, and wondered if the captain were there yet. The realization left her slightly breathless.

Then she wondered if Prinny had arrived. What would she say to him? How would she convince him to come to the street fair on Dreare Street?

“Here,” said Serena, and placed her reticule and shawl in Jilly’s arms.

Then the next two young ladies laid their shawls and reticules on top of Serena’s.

Jilly was so stunned, she simply stood and watched Lady Tabitha put her things on top of the pile. “Leave them in a safe place,” she said, and looked at Jilly with a gleam of malice in her eye. “Or better yet, sit with them in some corner.”

And then the four of them strode off, laughing.

So. That’s why Lady Tabitha had asked her to the ball.

To humiliate her.

But why? What had Jilly ever done to her?

The lights radiating from the house became large, blurry circles, but Jilly blinked forcefully until they returned to normal.

She would love to dump the women’s precious shawls and reticules on the ground, but she wouldn’t stoop so low. Slowly, she marched into the house, ignoring everything to the right and left of her.

“Excuse me,” said one older woman. “Are you one of Lady Langley’s maids? I need someone to repair my hem.”

Lady Langley was giving the ball with her husband, the Earl of Langley.

“No, madam,” whispered Jilly.

She didn’t belong here.

She shouldn’t be here.

The woman looked at her curiously but not unkindly. “Then who are you?” She swept a casual eye over Jilly’s gown. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t take you for a guest.”

Jilly raised her chin. “Au contraire, madam, I am a guest. My name is Miss Jones. But I’m happy to help you with your hem.”

She was so humiliated, she could barely speak.

The woman’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, my dear. I saw you with all those shawls and reticules…” She trailed off, her cheeks pinkening.

Jilly swallowed. “It’s all right. If you don’t mind leading me to the ladies’ retiring room, I can assist you there.”

“Very well. And on the way, you can tell me about yourself. I’m Lady Courtney. I’m a widow.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jilly replied.

“Don’t be.” Her eyes twinkled when she looked at Jilly. “He was the most unpleasant man I’ve ever met. But at least he left me a great fortune.”

Jilly almost winced at the woman’s bluntness. “D-did you have children?”

Lady Courtney sighed. “No. I think it’s why he hated me so. I suppose I can’t bear children.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jilly. “And sorry to say sorry again. I—”

Lady Courtney waved her hand. “It’s quite all right, dear. I didn’t want his children.”

Jilly was astonished at how closely the woman’s feelings about her husband resembled her own about Hector. She had an impulsive desire to confide the truth to her, but of course, she knew she couldn’t.

She spent a few minutes helping Lady Courtney and was grateful to find enough conversation that she’d had to reveal nothing about herself beyond her name. Lady Courtney seemed to have forgotten her earlier interest in her. The ladies’ retiring room was filled with many of her friends, some of whom asked after her health. Others queried her about her travel plans for the summer months.

Pinning the countess’s hem gave Jilly a few solitary minutes to think. A great yearning coursed through her to have a friend who really knew her, who could accept her—despite her failings.

She’d failed very badly at marriage, hadn’t she?

She’d left.

No matter how much Hector deserved to be deserted, a tiny part of her believed that perhaps it was somehow her fault that he was so … so bad.

It was stupid, really. But it was still there, that little, niggling voice that told her other women might have been able to turn him into a sterling husband.

Where had such a voice come from? She’d grown up perfectly happy, loved and approved of by her parents. She’d liked herself on the whole—and still did—save for a few flaws in her character that she’d never been able to stamp out. Stubbornness was one. So was her quick temper. And a tendency not to think before she acted. Impulsivity had landed her in a number of scrapes.

Such as kissing the captain.

She’d made mistakes. Many of them. One was going along with Lady Tabitha when her instincts had warned her to be wary of the woman. She blinked back more tears. Tonight she mustn’t be broken and dispirited. She must be brave, strong, and somehow in her gray muslin gown … enchanting.

The Prince Regent wouldn’t notice her, otherwise. He might be drunk much of the time, but she’d heard he was a perceptive man who appreciated beauty, wit, and charm.

“Thank you very much,” Lady Courtney said when she was finished.

Jilly looked up from smoothing out the lady’s hem and smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

Lady Courtney held out a hand and helped her up. “I hope I see you about Town in the coming weeks, Miss Jones. You’re an amiable young lady.”

“Thank you.”

And then Lady Courtney turned her back on her and left with another friend.

Jilly took a deep breath and forced herself to leave the haven of the ladies’ retiring room, as well, but alone.

She decided to skip the receiving line and slip into the crowd. Perhaps she’d find Captain Arrow.

But the first person she saw that she knew was Sir Ned, who was at the punch bowl. When he looked up and saw her, he raised a brow in recognition. “Miss Jones, I need you to take this to Lady Hartley. She’s on the wall next to the gallery. I’m off to the card room and it’s out of my way to return in that direction.”

Heavens. Did she exude a servile attitude? Or was she simply too kind for her own good?

She chose to think the latter.

“I’m sorry, Sir Ned,” she said. “I’m off to the game room myself. Shall I see you there?”

The look of shock he gave her was most gratifying. She moved away, unable to resist a small, private grin, and almost ran into Captain Arrow and Miss Hartley.

Miss Hartley clung to his arm and had such a glow of happiness about her, she looked almost pretty.

“Why, Miss Joneth!” Miss Hartley’s lisp became more pronounced when she was terribly excited. “Isn’t this the most beautiful ballroom you’ve ever seen?”

Jilly met Captain Arrow’s eyes. His gleamed with good humor and seeming delight that he’d encountered her.

It warmed her heart to know someone was happy to see her.

She returned her gaze to Miss Hartley. “Indeed, it is a beautiful ballroom. And you look lovely.”

Miss Hartley smiled broadly. “So do”—she hesitated, her eyes widening as if she were seeing Jilly’s gown for the first time—“ah, you. You look very nice.”

Nice. It was hardly a compliment, but she knew Miss Hartley meant well. “Thank you,” she replied with a forced smile.

Would her humiliation never end?

“I must say you’re a breath of fresh air, the two of you,” said Captain Arrow. “I’ve had enough feathers in my face to keep me sneezing for years. At least you two know better than to dress like giant birds.”

Miss Hartley looked at Jilly and giggled. “He’s so silly, isn’t he?”

Jilly had to laugh back. “Yes, he is.”

She was glad he’d taken the attention off her plain gown.

Captain Arrow slanted her a glance. “We’re on our way to introduce Miss Hartley to several of my acquaintances. I told her I don’t dance, but my friends do. Would you care to join us?”

He held out his free arm, and she took it. “Thank you,” she said, “I’d love to.”

All the while they walked through the crowd, she noticed other women looking avidly at her consort. Yes, she was sharing him with Miss Hartley, but he was the handsomest man in the room, without a doubt. And she—

She’d lain with him, and allowed him to kiss her in most inappropriate places, and he’d made her—

She couldn’t say what he’d done. But the memory brought heat to her cheeks.

“Are you all right, Miss Jones?” Captain Arrow whispered in her ear.

She felt a thrill down to her toes. “Perfectly,” she said, feeling very happy. She wouldn’t examine why.

At one point, they brushed by Lady Tabitha and her friends, who were surrounded by young bucks. Even so, Jilly saw Lady Tabitha and Serena pause in their conversation and watch them walk by. Jilly liked to think that perhaps they were miffed that she was with Captain Arrow and not they.

But it doesn’t matter, she told herself. I can’t have him. Who am I to act so proud?

Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but be gratified to know she might have unsettled Lady Tabitha.

A moment later, she and Captain Arrow dropped off Miss Hartley with the captain’s gentleman friends, one of whom escorted her onto the dance floor.

Lumley winked at Jilly. “We must dance. It’s dangerous to linger long with Captain Arrow.”

“Later,” the captain said, conveniently ignoring his friend’s teasing. “We’re in the midst of an interesting discussion.”

And then he led her away—but not before Lumley managed to get her to agree to dance with him in the next hour.

“Of course,” she called back to him over her shoulder.

A moment later, she and the captain were finally alone in the crowd.

“You look stunning tonight.” His tone was intimate.

“Thank you.” She couldn’t help it—she was gratified by his attention. Opening her fan, she looked over it in a teasing manner. “You’re an adept flatterer, sir.”

“I’m not joking.” His golden eyes smoldered into hers. “No matter what you wear, you’re beautiful, even if it’s an ordinary blue-sprigged muslin gown … with a simple fringe of lace at the neckline.”

She could hardly breathe. He was referring to the gown she’d worn that morning, the one he’d partially removed to pleasure her.

“You’re very kind.” And he was, but she felt a strong need to keep their conversation as plain and unromantic as possible.

He seemed to sense her reticence. “I see you’re no longer with Lady Tabitha and her cohorts.”

It was a convenient change of subject.

“Yes,” she replied. “We parted ways soon after we arrived.”

“Any problems there?”

“No.” She had no desire to let him know of her humiliation. “At least I gained entrance to the ballroom, thanks to her invitation.”

Captain Arrow looked at her with an inscrutable expression. “I’m not sure I believe things were easy between you.”

“It’s no concern of yours,” she said smoothly. “I can take care of myself. Meanwhile, we have to devise a plan to catch the Prince Regent’s attention.”

“There is no plan. I’ll simply introduce you, and then you shall charm him into coming to Dreare Street.”

“Captain,” Jilly remonstrated. “We need a better arrangement than that. I’m not the charming type.”

“Which is actually why I find you so charming,” he said low.

She swallowed and looked up at him. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

She bit her lip and looked away. “Despite what happened earlier today, I’m not in the market for flirtation.”

“Be that as it may, I find it hard to resist flirting with you.” His tone was quite sincere.

She looked back at him, so handsome and impressive in evening dress. “I’m a substantial person, Captain. I—I can’t play about as if life were a mere game. It’s serious business to me. I must make my living at the bookstore. I’m a woman alone, and I … I want to stay that way.”

“Why?” He came closer. “Why, Miss Jones, should someone as warm and lovely as you want to stay alone?”

She stared up at him. “Because there’s no pain.”

Around them the crowd grew thicker and louder. He stared at her a moment. “I knew there was something you weren’t telling me,” he said, and pulled her by the hand to the garden doors flung open at the back of the ballroom. “Come with me.”

She dug in her heels, which was impossible, really, on the marble floor, but she managed to stop their forward progression. “Please. Don’t. You mustn’t listen so closely to everything I say. I only meant, I prefer my simple life to the complications that must come with having a … a larger life.”

He looked at her with a grave expression. “Simple life? That’s an interesting way to describe hiding.” He dropped her hand.

She froze for a moment, flustered at his choice of words.

Hiding.

He couldn’t know. And as far as she was concerned, he never would. It really wasn’t fair that she must keep her guard up at all times. But it was the price she must pay for her freedom.

“Remember our purpose,” she said, striving to keep her tone light. “We’re going to have a street fair to end all street fairs. Dreare Street will wake up. People will notice it again but in a good way. You’ll be able to sell your house. I’ll get more customers. We’ll move forward with our lives.”

“You’re right.” His tone was dry.

Now their aloneness in the middle of a vast crowd of merrymakers no longer felt cozy and warm. Something felt sad. Off.

“Shall we go see Prinny?” she suggested in a festive manner, but her heart was heavy.

“I suppose so,” the captain answered testily.

He was angry she wouldn’t go to the garden with him, but didn’t he know why?

She’d surrender. And that was where her greatest danger lay.