Jane Lark - The Passionate Love of a Rake

Violet laughed. “And does catching up remove a gentleman’s cravat?”

Jane felt a blush rise in her cheeks.

“Well, it is of no concern to me if you were catching up or not, just guard your heart, Jane. Your friend or not, he is not reliable.”

That hardly mattered. Jane knew she had no heart to break. He’d shattered it years ago. Then why was there a deep ache lodged in her chest this morning?

“See.” Violet pointed her knife again, and her voice rose in pitch, but she smiled. “You are already affected. You cannot take your mind from him. Beware .”

Jane smiled too, and wondered where she would be without Violet. But she still denied the truth with a blatant lie. “I am not affected. He has simply reminded me of the past, that is all.”

Violet’s eyebrows lifted.

Jane blushed, but she did not let Violet speak. “We were very young, nothing happened, and please, do not say anything to anyone else, or to him. It would mortify me if it became common knowledge, especially with his reputation as it stands. I would rather keep our former friendship between ourselves.”

Violet’s colour suddenly heightened, too.

Jane assumed she had caused offence.

“I am not a gossip, Jane. You are my friend. But if you wish to keep it secret, then disappearing with him from an event the size of the Duchess of Weldon’s was not the way to do it.”

“I know, it was foolish.” Jane felt a blush again. “I was just surprised to see him, and when he suggested it, I did not think.”

“A symptom which is common for women in Barrington’s company, I believe.”

“You do not like him?” A memory of the scene in his bedchamber spun through Jane’s head. Had Violet?

“I only know him by reputation. But he is not for me, and I have not, Jane, if that is what you are asking.” Jane felt her skin turn crimson as Violet continued. “He is polite and indecently good-looking. But just keep your head over the man, Jane. I do not wish to see you hurt.”

The thought gave Jane pause. The man who’d apologised before he’d left had been the Robert she remembered and had loved, and the one who’d kissed her palm … But Violet implied he treated women callously and last night, it had seemed he could. The room had been dressed so carefully, and they’d shared such intimacies, yet he’d shared the same with numerous women. It appeared it was the act of sex he was attracted to, not the woman, if he could swap his attentions from Lady Baxter to her so easily.

She’d known he’d changed though. It was no surprise. “I did not have to come to London to hear his reputation. The gossip sheets have been full of tales about him for years, Violet. I know what he’s become. You do not need to warn me. But he was like a brother to me as a child.” She could not think him callous.

“A brother?” Violet challenged with another laugh.

“And later, a good friend,” Jane redefined at Violet’s dismissive hand gesture.

“A good friend who is a good kisser, no? You did not look at all like brother and sister from my bedroom window last night. You looked thoroughly kissed, and he looked—”

“I—” Jane again sought to deny it, but Violet stopped her, lifting her hand.

“Never mind, Jane. I am only teasing you. You do not need to justify yourself to me.” Then with a smile she asked, “Well, then, what shall we do today? Lord Sparks has invited us to the horse races, if you would like to go?”

Jane smiled and nodded. Most of their days had been spent visiting or shopping. Watching the races would be a novelty. It might even stimulate her mind to think of something other than Robert.

~

Jane wished she’d found an excuse to cry off and stay at Violet’s as she walked beside her friend and Lord Sparks. Lord Sparks was naming the horses as they passed them, while Jane’s eyes were drawn forward for the umpteenth time to the couple strolling some distance ahead. The Earl of Barrington’s broad, muscular back dominated her view, and his arm embraced Lady Baxter, his fingers gripping the woman’s waist.

It was torture, watching them. Jane felt a fool.

Robert had not once turned back as they progressed, but Jane would swear he knew she was there.

He leaned and whispered something to his companion.

Jane felt herself blush and looked at Lord Sparks, trying to focus on his explanation. She felt as if she was intruding on Violet and her lover, though. Violet’s hands were wrapped about Lord Sparks's forearm as they walked, and her attention was all for her beau.

Jane tipped her head back to see beyond the rim of her black bonnet, and looked up at the blue sky.

A single, wispy, white cloud hung above her. The rest of the sky was clear.

She really did not wish to watch Robert pawing the blonde woman in front of her.

Taking a deep breath, she shut her eyes for a moment, begging for patience and sanity, or, at least, a little common sense. She could not allow Robert to unsettle her. She had enough things to worry about without adding to her woes.

So, last night, he had chosen her over Lady Baxter, and now, he was merely gathering up loose ends. No doubt he was angry because Jane had walked away. Well, she had not come to town for an affair. She’d come to escape Joshua, and certainly not to find Robert.

Her heart clenched. She’d thought she’d conquered this pain long ago. She stubbornly thrust it aside and opened her eyes.

She was a long way behind Violet and Lord Sparks. Instead of following, she turned towards the horses. If she must feel alone in a crowded place, she may as well be alone.

A black mare whinnied in Jane’s direction, pitching up her muzzle for attention. A young groom stood beside the horse. Jane walked over, answering the mare’s call, and touched its muzzle.

It was a beautiful animal. She kissed its velvet cheek, and the mare’s nostrils flared. “You’re a beauty, aren’t you?” she whispered.

The horse whickered, pushing its head gently against Jane. She gripped the loop of the bit at the edge of the horse’s mouth and looked into the animal’s large, dark eye. “Now, what did Lord Sparks say they called you?”

“Her name is Minstrel, Ma’am,” the young groom acknowledged, bowing briefly. Then he smiled. “I helped to train her.”

“And is she a good runner?” Jane’s hand fell on the animal’s flank.

“Oh aye, Ma’am, she’s a real fine, fast runner.”

“Then you would recommend I put my stake on her?”

“My Lord said she’ll win us a fortune, Ma’am.”

Jane smiled, but the boy’s gaze had passed across her shoulder.

“Billy, get Minstrel walking.”

Jane’s hands fell, and she turned to face Robert. He looked surprised at first, but then there was pleasure on his face. His hand lifted and removed his hat, and he bowed. Jane looked beyond him for Lady Baxter. She was nowhere near.

“Your Grace,” Robert said, straightening up again. “Are you interested in my horse?”

“ Your horse? ” Jane felt the rush of gaucheness, again.

She was no Lady Baxter. Jane was unpolished in comparison and drab in her blacks, like a sparrow to a peacock, and yet, last night, he had chosen to take her home.

“Yes.” He reached across her and stroked the mare. “Minstrel. We’ve high hopes for her. Have we not, Billy?”

“Oh aye, my Lord.” The young groom glowed, clearly thrilled by Robert’s attention. “Her Grace was going to put down a stake. I said Minstrel’s a safe bet.”

“As safe as ever a bet can be,” Robert expanded with a smile, but his brow furrowed then. “How did you get here?”

He had not known she was here then. She was unsure if it made observing his flirtation better or worse. If he had not been lavishing his attention on Lady Baxter to rile Jane, then his attentions had been genuinely bestowed. Which was worse?