Talk of the Ton (Free Fellows League 5)

Cassandra preened.

“Tell me, Miss Benedict, does Miss Alt enjoy dancing?” he inquired. “I saw her leave the ballroom a moment ago.”

Cassandra’s smile froze in place. Her friends looked scandalized.

“Oh, Jenny hates these affairs. She does not dance.”

The giggles started again, as if this was a spectacular joke.

“I do not understand,” he said.

“Miss Alt does not like things normal girls do,” one of the friends said. The other hissed, “Hush!”

“What Elizabeth means,” Cassandra supplied, “is that Jenny does not care to dance.”

“She is a bluestocking!” the forward girl said, and this time was jostled quite sharply by her companion. “She doesn’t like men.”

“Elizabeth,” Cassandra purred patiently, as if she was scolding her, but Miles could see she was amused, even pleased, “you mustn’t repeat those dreadful rumors about Jenny.”

“Well, she is. She never likes any man who shows an interest in her. If one tries to speak to her, he gets the most severe cut. Cassandra, everyone knows it. The only reason anyone is kind to her is because she is your cousin.”

Cassandra seemed to grow cross, but there was no true threat to her scowl. “Just because she . . . well, she is just different, that is all. That is no reason to gossip.” Turning to Miles, she explained, “Jenny is just not interested in finding a husband, you see. I already mentioned that she has other interests. She likes staying to herself. She is sweet, though, and I love her just the way she is.”

Elizabeth murmured an apology, but she did not appear sorry at all. It was all a great game to these types.

Miles wondered why he felt as if he’d just witnessed a clever play. “Enjoy your evening. I will see you at the quadrille, Miss Benedict.”

Moving away, he could not stop thinking about what he had heard. How was it that such talk got started?

Jenny was retiring to a fault, but every instinct in him told him that behind her facade was a warm-blooded, fascinating woman filled with love and affection. Could no other man see what was so obvious to him?

Spying Jenny just then, he watched her as she sat with a friend, oblivious to him. She was relaxed, laughing freely and talking rapidly.

He smiled, watching her. There was something inside him that reacted to the sight of her. It was strong, compelling.

He should find Iris, for it was she who would arrange the introductions he sought. It was, after all, the principal reason why he was here. Or it had been when he’d started this whole affair.

When he began to move, however, it was not to seek out his cousin.

Jenny was seated with Amy, sipping punch, when she saw Miles approaching.

“Oh, my . . .” Amy said in a low voice, raising her cup to her lips to hide her smile.

Miles executed a crisp bow. “Miss Alt, are you having a fine time?”

“Indeed, Lord Hatherleigh, I am passing the evening most pleasurably with my friend.”

Miles greeted Amy, who appeared as if she were about to swoon.

Turning back to Jenny, he said. “I would like to request the honor of a dance. Might I write my name upon your card?”

She smiled. “But, my lord, I do not have a card. I—”

He produced a blank dance card and held it up for her to see. “How lucky, then, that I have one here.” He flipped it over and examined it. “You appear to be available. Would you care to dance now? They are just starting up a promenade I know particularly well.”

Her protest was cut off by Amy’s exclamation. “Oh, Jenny, do!”

People were watching, making it impossible to refuse without seeming gauche. Jenny knew when she’d been beaten. Rising, she replied, “I would enjoy a promenade, my lord.”