Page 109 of An Affair with the Viscount (Necessary Arrangements 5)

“Yes, and I am certain the Clydesdales would join us,” Isabel added. “Their household is still in mourning, but they would travel to London for this. They know more than anyone else what it’s like to have society turn away from them.”

“And they weathered it quite well, didn’t they?” Richard asked, although the question was obviously rhetorical, and his voice brooked no argument. “Yes, it would be nice to have more people lend Jo their support, but if we do not show up now, people will assume I am ashamed of her.Her. And that will only fuel the gossip and make it worse in the end. I am not going to hide in the shadows. I am going to dance with my bride at the ball. Even if we are going to do it alone and in silence.”

The party exchanged silent gazes, and then Lord Vane placed his wineglass onto the sideboard. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go.”

* * *

Jo was frightened out of her wits and the nerves forced her to block out anything and everything in her path. As a result, she didn’t remember the journey to the Supes’ townhouse. She didn’t notice what it looked like, and she could not tell the color of the carpet at which she’d stared the moment before the majordomo announced her and Richard as the Viscount and Viscountess Gage.

The first thing that cut into her subconscious was the deafening silence after the announcement.

Hundreds of faces whirled around to look at them as the orchestra ceased playing.

The Marquess and Marchioness of Vane and the Baron and Baroness of Ashbury were announced next, but no one paid them any heed. All the attention was on Richard and Jo.

Jo curled her fingers into Richard’s sleeve, her feet shaky and weak. But a smile was firmly set on her face. She was an actress. Stage fright was not new to her, and she’d learned how to face people through her turmoil.

But her audience had never been this cold and disdainful before. Young women watched her with contempt but also jealousy evident in their eyes. Because how dare she, a nobody, marry a young and powerful viscount?

Men, both young and old, threw lascivious glances her way. While older women watched her, no doubt trying to guess whether Jo’s mother was one of their husbands’ former mistresses.

That question also crossed Jo’s mind. How many men in this ballroom, who now pretended disgust, had associated themselves with her mother before?

Was her father present in this room? What was he thinking now? Was he afraid that she would announce to all the world her parentage?

Not that she knew, nor did she care. She knew he was a marquess, twice her mother’s age, and that was all.

Was he still alive and in good health while her mother lay in the ground after years of sickness and poverty?

Jo raised her chin while ire boiled in her blood.

Richard covered her hand with his and smiled down at her. He felt her ire, and he tried to soothe her pain. With just one look, one touch. But that was enough to calm her spirits.

And then the hostess of the ball, the countess, pointedly turned away from them. Everyone else followed suit and soon the chatter of the ballroom returned and the music resumed playing, leaving Richard, Jo, and their allies standing at the foot of the stairs, a lone, forgotten island.

* * *

Richard had learned by now the subtle cues of Jo’s face to understand when she was about to fly into fits of rage. For the people on the outside, she was smiling sweetly, her bearing perfect, her head held high. But her eyes were icy-cold, her nostrils flared just a little, and her hand tensed even more on his arm.

He didn’t know why she was suddenly angry—at least he doubted he knew all the reasons—but the crowd below them inspired rage in his new bride.

Richard covered her hand with his and squeezed. Then he looked down at her with a soft smile.

I am here;he wanted to communicate with that smile.I am right beside you. And we are going to get through this together.

Her fingers relaxed on his sleeve, and her gaze gentled.Here. That was better.

Then the hostess turned away and the rest of the ballroom followed suit. Which was rather ironic, considering the hostess was Justine Thornton, Lady Supe. A notorious light skirt, the woman he’d had a short tryst with at the beginning of the house party.

Somehow it was fine for her to act like a courtesan. But the daughter of a harlot was too much for her delicate sensibilities. One would have thought that the brazen widows would be the ones standing by the outliers of society. They had nothing to lose.

Alas, that was not the case.

Some people still stared at them curiously, perhaps those who were not abreast of the news. A couple of Richard’s old acquaintances bowed their heads in greeting, but a vast majority were pointedly avoiding eye contact with them.

The season hadn’t fully started yet. Most people present were early arrivals to the scene or the old crones who stayed in London year-round. So it wasn’t surprising to Richard that nobody actually stepped up to greet the ruined family, except for his brothers, who met them at the base of the stairs.

Perhaps his siblings were right. They should have waited for more of their friends to return to London. At least it would have made Jo feel less awkward and out of place. She probably already dreaded joining the London scene, even before the scandal. And now?

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