Page 59 of As the Earl Likes
Was that the only reason?
She was also perhaps seeking a respite from being in his presence. Particularly from the desire growing between them. The end to their ruse—or his departure from town—could not come soon enough.
Satisfied she’d been gone long enough, she started for the door. A woman in her forties stepped inside, her gaze falling on Jo. She pursed her lips and jerked her focus away, moving past Jo with alacrity.
Another cut direct. Or almost.
Jo caught the door before it closed, but before she could leave the room, she heard the woman say, “A title will not make you welcome. There are people in Society who will never accept you. Think about that before you saddle a highly respected family with your presence.”
Shock mingled with anger as Jo gripped the edge of the door. She ought to keep going and find her father to tell him that she was ready to leave. But she hadn’t yet finished looking at Sir Alfred’s objects.
Turning, she released the door and let it swing shut.
“Unrepentant strumpet,” the woman muttered as she gazed at her reflection in a mirror in the corner.
“I’m still here,” Jo said.
The woman turned around sharply, her jaw dropping.
Jo curled her lips into a malevolent smile. “A title doesn’t make anyone anything. Their character does. You and your ilk willingly accept rogues and rakes—men who are ‘highly respected’ but should not be. How dare you judge me when you don’t even know me?”
The woman sniffed. Her cheeks flooded dark pink. “You are not from our class. You should know better than to mingle with us.”
“So far, I have been most fortunate. Perhaps the best thing about being a countess—and a duchess someday—is that I will choose with whom I mingle. You may rest assured it will not be with you.” Jo returned to the door and opened it. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” she called before slipping from the room.
Her hands were shaking as she made her way back to the drawing room. She heard her father laugh and saw him standing to one side with a small group of people, a glass of wine dangling from his fingertips. Did anyone ever give him the cut direct? She’d never witnessed it. But then, he wasn’t welcomed everywhere. He hadn’t even received his own invitation to this rout.
What was Jo doing here?
It was a stupid, rhetorical question. She had a lucrative reason for being here, and she could suffer the ignorant and judgmental harpies of the ton. They’d be relieved when she cried off and didn’t marry one of their precious members. Part of Jo wanted to wed him out of spite.
Sheff joined her. “You’ll be happy to know I didn’t say anything to those horrible women. But I still plan to cut them at every opportunity. It’s the least I can do.”
“That seems fair,” she said, deciding she wouldn’t tell him about the woman in the retiring room. What would be the point? “Let’s finish our perusal of Sir Alfred’s items.”
“We still need to stroke the wood,” he said with a comical leer.
Jo giggled, glad for his humor. She shook off the lingering irritation from her encounter with the obnoxious woman in the retiring room and hoped she wouldn’t come face to face with her again.
“Lead the way,” Jo said.
“I thought we might promenade in the park tomorrow,” Sheff suggested. “I spoke with Somerton about it the other night, and he said that he and his wife would chaperone.”
Jo was always amused that a woman younger than her could serve as a chaperone—married or not. “All right. I’ll send Gwen a note in the morning. Then we have a ball to attend on Saturday.” She resisted the urge to make a face. How many more cuts would she have to endure?
“Yes, but we needn’t stay long. In fact, you can be back at the Siren’s Call to work just after midnight, I should think.”
His support of her obligations warmed her. Would he do the same if they were actually betrothed? Of course not. There was no way he could endorse such behavior from his future wife. He was able to do it now because it didn’t really matter.
Soon enough, she wouldn’t have to endure any of this. And it would all be worth the freedom she would earn.
The following evening, Sheff found himself at the Siren’s Call. He hadn’t had to escort his mother and sister anywhere, and there wasn’t anywhere else he wanted to be. He found himself increasingly seeking Jo’s company and missing her when he didn’t see her.
When he thought about what that could mean, he decided it was due to their unresolved mutual attraction. If they could put that behind them somehow, perhaps he would not feel as though something was absent. Something almost viscerally important.
Jo was not in the common room when he arrived. Becky said she was dealing vingt-et-un in the cardroom. Sheff made his way there, a tankard of ale in hand, and stood near the doorway to watch her work.
In the past, he would have joined the game, but now it would be odd, for she was his betrothed. Or perceived to be anyway.
