Page 13 of As the Earl Likes
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re dull?” Sheff asked with a laugh.
“Often. And I’m quite content with that description.”
Sheff recalled when he hadn’t been. They’d been at Oxford together, and though they’d been in different colleges, Sheff had known him. More accurately, he’d known of him. Keele was an excellent horseman and a cunning pugilist. He’d also possessed a rakish reputation, just like Sheff and his friends. Rather, his friends before they’d traded roguery for matrimony.
Evan Price approached their table as if Sheff’s thoughts of horsemanship and pugilism had summoned him. Sheff knew no greater sportsman than Price, whose younger sister had married their friend, the now formerly infamous rake, the Viscount Somerton last month.
Since there wasn’t a third chair, Evan dragged one over from another table. “New whisky tonight?” he asked eagerly.
“Yes.” Sheff slid his glass across the table toward Price. “Finish mine. I need to go downstairs.”
Price was a couple of years younger than Sheff and possessed incredibly dark eyes and a nearly tan complexion due to his Welsh heritage. He blinked at Sheff. “Why? Don’t you know the assembly tonight is an ill-conceived matchmaking scheme?”
“We all know you’ve no interest in that,” Keele said to Sheff with a chuckle.
Sheff wanted to agree, but he had a role to play. Instead, he forced a closed-mouthed smile. “Sometimes duty cannot be ignored.”
“Very glad I don’t have to produce an heir for a title,” Price said as a shudder twitched his shoulders. He picked up Sheff’s whisky and took a drink. “Ah, marvelous.”
Standing, Sheff looked down his nose at them. “I’m off to the ball. Have a good evening, cowards.” He departed to the sound of their laughter.
Feeling disgruntled, he made his way downstairs. Why was he so bothered? Because he was about to surrender to expectation and take a wife. Even though it was pretend, everyone would believe it was real, and they’d jeer at the rogue who’d finally fallen. Just like his friends.
The disease was spreading.
No, Sheff wasn’t going to let that happen. This was a faux betrothal.
Music met his ears along with the buzz of conversation before he stepped through the curtains from the men’s side of the Phoenix Club into the ballroom. Spanning the width of the building, the ballroom sat at the back, with multiple doors to the divided garden—there were men’s and ladies’ sides just as with the interior. On Tuesday nights, the women were invited to join the men on the men’s side; however the men were never invited to the ladies’ side. On Fridays, when there were assemblies, the entire ballroom and both gardens were open to all.
Sheff scanned the bustling ballroom to see if Jo had arrived. As an unmarried woman, she was not a member, but her mother was, and Jo was allowed to attend the Friday night assemblies if a family member belonged to the club. Typically, they arrived in the company of that family member, though Sheff didn’t think he’d ever seen Jewel Harker at one of the club balls. He had, however, run into her on the occasional Tuesday when she drank whisky with Lord Lucien—probably—in the men’s library.
So, in whose company would Jo arrive tonight?
The dance floor was on the men’s side of the ballroom. Sheff moved closer to see if she was, perchance, dancing. And there she was.
Gowned in dark coral, her sable hair dressed with coral-encrusted combs, she danced in a square with Edwin Cleveland, who, at the moment, was laughing. Indeed, he looked most engaged with his partner. Jo was smiling, her demeanor somehow more feminine than he was used to when he saw her at the Siren’s Call. He supposed that made sense because that was her place of work while this ball was a social occasion.
It occurred to him then that he could cause a massive stir in the social order by taking a wife with an occupation. Except he wasn’t taking a wife, he was only pretending to. Still, the effect of their betrothal, fake or not, would be significant.
Lord Lucien had mentioned the manager of the Phoenix Club, Lady Evangeline. She’d been employed when she’d married Lord Gregory Blakemore, who was currently heir apparent to the Marquessate of Witley because his older brother had not yet produced an heir. Yes, there’d been a stir when they’d wed, but that was perhaps more due to Lady Evangeline’s prior life as a courtesan than the fact that she had a job.
Sheff watched Jo laugh at something Cleveland said and felt a shocking stab of jealousy. She was quite stunning when she laughed. And though Sheff had provoked her to do so on many occasions, it hadn’t been in this environment. He shook the thought from his head. Why should that matter? They were business partners at this point. He was paying her to complete an assignment.
The dance concluded, and there was to be a brief respite in the dancing. Good, for then he could speak with Jo before they were paired off again for the next set. Sheff made his way to where she was leaving the dance floor with Cleveland.
Jo’s gaze met Sheff’s as she took her hand from Cleveland’s arm. “Good evening, Lord Shefford.” She dipped into a curtsey.
“Good evening, Miss Harker.” Sheff felt strange not calling her Jo.
“Evening, Shefford,” Cleveland said. He was a friendly sort but sometimes reserved. Perhaps that was why Sheff had been jolted by watching them laugh together while they danced.
“Evening, Cleveland. You were fortunate to be paired with Miss Harker for this set.”
“I was indeed.” Cleveland chuckled. “Not sure if this scheme will last the entire ball. I already witnessed people trying to avoid their assigned partners—mutually, I will add.”
“How does the assignment of partners work?” Sheff asked.
Jo’s lips pressed together, and one brow arched in a wry expression. “It’s not a very smooth scheme. A footwoman or footman gives you a piece of paper with the name of your partner for the next set. I think it’s proving difficult because, in some cases, they are assigning people who aren’t yet here. Or perhaps they have no intention of even coming. So, they’re having to make adjustments, and there are delays between sets, which is why I think they’ve inserted a ‘brief respite’ between this and the next.” Jo laughed. “They need to reorganize.”
