Page 43 of As the Earl Likes
Jo bristled. “I wouldn’t let him talk me into anything.”
“You went along with this ridiculous faux betrothal,” her mother noted, making Jo bristle even more. “You should also inform him that no one is going to believe this is a love match if he continues to visit the Rogue’s Den. He’s been there multiple times since your ‘betrothal.’”
“I don’t care if he goes there.” Except Jo felt a peculiar twist in her gut upon learning this information.
“Of course not, but if you were actually betrothed and in love with him, you sure as hell would.”
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Jo’s father asked pleasantly.
“Boring things that ladies discuss,” Jo’s mother replied.
Jo’s father smiled wickedly. “Now, you know I don’t find any of that boring. And I daresay my future son-in-law doesn’t either.” He clapped Sheff on the shoulder.
Sheff looked at Jo. “Shall we adjourn to the antechamber to the ballroom?” He moved to Jo and offered her his arm.
Placing her hand on his sleeve, Jo ignored the jolt of heat that shot through her, disrupting the knot that had formed with her mother’s mention of the Rogue’s Den. She glanced back at her mother just as her father offered her his arm, but she did not take it. Rather, she glowered at him and started after Jo and Sheff.
Jo did not mind if they didn’t appear to be happily together just so long as they were both here. Sheff’s parents wouldn’t appear to be happily together either. “Will your father be joining us in the receiving line?” Jo asked.
“I think so?” Sheff lifted a shoulder. “One can never know what my father will do. To be honest, I’m not even sure he’s here.”
But there he was, handsome and striking in his dark blue ensemble accented with an embroidered gold waistcoat. He didn’t look like a man whose son had to constantly rescue him from potentially embarrassing situations.
He stood next to the duchess, who rather looked as if she preferred to catch on fire than be in his proximity. Indeed, she directed everyone where to stand, and she put him at the start while positioning herself at the end of the line. Jo wanted to point out that her parents didn’t have to be separated, that they were mature enough to stand next to each other for a whole two hours.
The duchess had put Jo’s father next to the duke, then Jo’s mother, then Jo, and then Sheff who had the great pleasure of his mother’s direct company for the duration. Jo felt a little sorry for him. She would rather have stood next to his father than his mother. In that moment, she realized that both of Sheff’s parents were difficult, that he’d grown up with a very different sense of family than Jo had.
Though her parents had lived apart, they both loved her, and she never doubted that they wanted her happiness above all. Indeed, they’d come together to support her in this endeavor, and that alone showed how much they cared.
Guests began to arrive, and time passed quickly, for which Jo was most grateful. The best parts of the reception were when her friends showed up. She’d been thrilled to greet Gwen and her husband, Somerton, as well as Tamsin and her austere husband, Droxford. Jo went out of her way to coax a smile from him. Gwen’s brother, Evan, arrived with their parents, and Jo enjoyed speaking with them.
The awkward moments, however, far exceeded the pleasant, as there were many gentlemen whom Jo knew from the Siren’s Call. She’d seen a number of them roaringly drunk and even a few in tears as they’d lost great sums. A few others couldn’t meet her gaze as they’d once attempted a flirtation with her that she’d batted away with the efficiency of swatting a fly.
It wasn’t that she didn’t flirt—innocently—with gentlemen. Except, when she really thought about it, she didn’t behave with anyone the way she did with Sheff. It was clear she was battling an attraction to him. But had she always felt drawn to him, or was this a new sensation brought on by their fake betrothal? She hadn’t ever thought about it, and now she was consumed with trying to determine the origin.
Then she needed to squash it as she would a fly.
The receiving line dispersed, and the duchess directed Jo and Sheff to the dance floor, where they would lead the ball with a waltz. Jo knew her mother planned to leave as soon as the receiving line was finished. Their eyes met, and Jo gave her a nod. Her mother blew her a kiss and then departed.
Jo’s father planned to stay until the bitter end of the festivities. Or so he’d said with a gleeful cackle.
Taking Sheff’s arm, Jo walked with him into the ballroom, where the majordomo announced them. There was applause, and Jo felt the attention of every person in the massive space, which looked more like an oblong gallery than a ballroom, but what did she know?
The candles in the chandeliers had to number nearly a thousand, their light flickering in the mirrors that lined one wall. Windows cloaked with ivory damask lined the opposite wall, and there were two sets of doors that led out onto a balcony. Though the evening was cool, the doors were open to let in the air. Soon, the ballroom would be sweltering.
Sheff guided her to the center of the dance floor and took her into his arms for the waltz. “Are you ready?” he asked softly, a hint of mischief in his gaze.
Jo arched a brow at him. “Are you ready for your feet to be mangled?”
He laughed. “You learned the dance quite well by the time we finished last week. I have no concerns for the state of my feet this evening.”
“I hope you don’t overestimate my abilities. Give me a moment or two to settle into the rhythm.” The music started before she finished speaking, and he swept her into the dance.
Jo focused on counting and moving her feet and was surprised at how much easier it was this time. “This isn’t so bad.”
“Not at all. You are a natural.” His hand pressed into her back, sending a pleasant, dizzying sensation up her spine.
Other couples moved onto the dance floor, and they were no longer alone. This helped Jo relax even more. She was soon waltzing without counting.
