Three Weeks with a Princess by Vanessa Kelly (13)

“It’s about time you showed up,” the Duke of Leverton said to Jack as he passed the previous guest over to his wife. “The evening is half over.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Besides, I got here ages ago. It took me forever to get into the house and up the blasted stairs.” He glanced down at the front door of Leverton House, where the butler and three footmen were taking wraps and directing eager guests. “I thought this was supposed to be a private ball, but it’s more crowded than Vauxhall Gardens.”

He’d decided to walk over from his club after spending a gloomy hour brooding over the potential disasters looming before them. When he’d reached Grosvenor Square, he’d been dismayed to see the long line of carriages. Given the time of year, the event should have been of fairly modest proportions, not a mad crush that rivaled some of the largest public balls held during the Season.

“Wait until you see the ballroom,” Leverton said. “It’ll be a miracle if the floor doesn’t collapse and send us crashing down into the kitchen.”

Faint strains of music drifted out over the din of loud conversation, but there were too many guests blocking the hall to see into the ballroom. “This was a bad idea, Charles. It puts too much pressure on Lia to be introduced in such an environment. Not to mention you seem to have lost control of the guest list.”

His host snorted. “Lost control? I suspect half the people currently trampling my carpets and bolting down my best champagne weren’t even invited.”

“Splendid,” Jack said sardonically. “What a disaster in the making.”

“Stop worrying. We’ve got everyone out in force tonight. Sir Dominic is watching over Lia with a hawklike regard that even you would approve and Gillian has promised to stab anyone who gets too familiar with her cousin or insults her.”

“Yes, murdering guests will certainly help keep gossip in check.”

His friend grinned. “I recall you laughing at my predicament when I was trying to introduce Gillian into society. I can’t tell you how delighted I am to see you in this position.”

Jack could vaguely remember a time when he’d been a happy man—even a cheerful one. Now, as problems piled up with alarming regularity, he could feel his sense of humor and charitable view of the world fading away.

“Gillian didn’t have near as many obstacles to overcome as Lia,” he said.

“No? My wife punched an earl in the middle of a ball, which even you will admit was a steep challenge to my skills. Lia certainly will not engage in that sort of behavior.”

“Really, Charles,” Gillian said, turning to her husband. “When will you stop holding that silly little incident over my head?”

“My love, the sheer horror of that moment will remain engraved in my memory for all eternity.”

The duchess laughed. “What nonsense. Now, you and Jack have been complaining and holding up the line for long enough. Poor Lady Cardwell will end up with bunions if you keep her standing there any longer.”

Jack turned to see the lady in question regarding him with a scowl, her gray ringlets and mauve turban all but quivering with displeasure. He murmured an apology even as he mentally frowned. Lady Cardwell was both an intolerable gossip and a starched-up, disapproving biddy. Her presence tonight signaled nothing good.

“What in God’s name is she doing here?” he murmured to Gillian. “She’s a dragon.”

“Believe me, I know. She gives me the cut direct every chance she gets. But she’s a dear friend of Charles’s mother, who insisted on inviting her.” She cast a disgusted look toward the ballroom. “Along with half the other people who are here tonight.”

“I didn’t know your mother-in-law was in Town.” He couldn’t hide his dismay.

“She arrived at the beginning of the week, and with only a few days’ notice,” Gillian said in a gloomy tone. “It was too late to cancel the ball because most of the invitations had already gone out. And then she insisted on inviting even more people.”

That was not a positive development in more ways than he could count.

Though the Dowager Duchess of Leverton was a genuinely good woman, she was remarkably high in the instep. And while she’d apparently accepted her son’s marriage to Gillian Dryden, her support for Lia was likely to be much less robust.

“I suppose it could be worse,” he said cautiously. “If Leverton’s mother has agreed to lend her countenance this evening, she must approve of Lia’s presentation to the Ton.”

“Yes, let’s all pretend that, shall we?” Gillian said brightly.

“And where is your sainted mother-in-law? I thought she’d be in the receiving line.”

“She’s right behind you, unfortunately,” Gillian muttered.

Jack had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing as he turned to greet Leverton’s mother.

“Lord Lendale, how nice of you to finally grace us with your presence,” said the dowager, a short, stout woman who, despite the fact that she walked with a cane, carried herself with great dignity and a ramrod posture. “I began to think you would never arrive.”

“Your Grace, it’s a great pleasure to see you,” he said, bowing over her hand. “You’re looking in fine trim, as always.”

“None of that frippery, young man. It’s something I especially abhor.”

Jack saw a twinkle in the old girl’s eye. She might not always approve of him—which she’d told him any number of times over the years—but she’d grown used to him, almost seeing him as a second son.

“You look very nice tonight, Mother,” Gillian said politely. “That color is most becoming on you.”

Even Jack had trouble swallowing that one; the dowager was dressed in a particularly violent shade of purple.

The dowager duchess ignored the compliment. “Gillian, stand up straight. Your posture is simply ghastly.”

Gillian’s posture was anything but ghastly, but she rolled her eyes and pulled her shoulders up as her mother-in-law inserted herself into the receiving line next to her son.

“She loves to boss me around,” she said in a stage whisper to Jack. “It gives her something to do.”

“And cease that whispering, both of you,” the dowager added. “It is most unseemly.”

“Ears like a bat, too,” Gillian added.

“You’re incorrigible,” Jack said.

“So my dear mother-in-law tells me on an hourly basis. Now, stop holding up the receiving line and go find Lia.”

“I suppose I can’t put it off any longer, can I? I just hope to God we don’t get in another fight.”

She patted his arm. “Nonsense. She’s very eager to see you, I’m sure.”

“When did she get here?”

“About a half hour ago, with very little fanfare and only a minimum of gossip. That should please you.”

She knew he was still chafing that he hadn’t been part of Lia’s escort. He’d naturally assumed he would be, charged with warding off any rakes or bounders who might have the nerve to approach her. Given her insane plan to start looking for a protector, it had seemed an essential and sensible precaution. After all, if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was keep an eye out for Lia Kincaid.

Sir Dominic had not agreed with him, nor had Lia, saying it would only draw attention to his unusual connection with her family. In fact, Jack and Lia had exchanged a few choice words on the matter, which led to her storming out of the Hunters’ drawing room and leaving him with his mouth hanging open—again.

All he could do at this point was get as close as she would allow and do his best to protect her.

“All right, I’m going,” he said. “By the way, I do generally understand things once they’re explained to me a few times—preferably in one-syllable words.”

Gillian laughed. “I think you’re quite trainable, my lord. In fact, I’m sure we’ll be advancing to two- and even three-syllable words in no time.”

“That was an insult worthy of your husband, Your Grace.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“I wouldn’t.”

She gave him a cheeky smile before turning to speak with Lady Cardwell, who’d finally moved on from the dowager.

It took Jack several minutes to elbow his way into the ballroom, as he ran into friends and answered inquiries after his mother. A few older ladies archly expressed surprise at her absence, even though they knew Lady John would rather shoot herself than come within a hundred feet of a Kincaid. Their veiled remarks were another warning of the dangers that lurked right there in the ballroom.

He paused by one of the Corinthian columns inside the entrance and scanned the room. There was hardly a spare inch around the perimeter of the dance floor, where a crowded swirl of colorful gowns and glittering jewels was offset by dark, masculine garb. Fortunately, he was taller than most of the men, so he was able to locate his target quickly.

Good to his word, Dominic Hunter loomed right behind Lia and Chloe, looking his most forbidding. Unfortunately, even Sir Dominic’s frightening scowl didn’t seem to be doing the trick of keeping an enthusiastic group of young and not-so-young bucks away from Lia.

While most of them, thank God, were entirely respectable, others were not. Jack recognized the members of that second group, both by name and by type. Despite their impeccable manners and polished regard, he knew their purpose as well as he knew the distressing state of his purse. They were trolling for a new conquest and they’d set their sights on Lia.

The competition to win her favor—and complete her ruin—had already begun.

Impatient to reach her, he started to push his way through the crowd. He was still several feet away and had yet to get a good look at her when the crowd suddenly parted as a new set began on the dance floor. Several of the gentlemen moved away, presumably to find their partners. Jack all but tripped over his feet, stumbling to a halt as his mind grappled with the vision before him.

He’d always realized Lia was a pretty girl. Her sweet, generous smile won her allies wherever she went. She was a veritable pattern card of the English country lass—fresh-faced, unadorned, and dressed in a way that befitted a quiet life revolving around the work and seasons of an out-of-the-way estate in Yorkshire.

The simple, fresh-faced girl was tonight replaced by a sophisticated young goddess, one garbed in a cream and gold-spangled gown that made her skin glow and clung to curves that seemed considerably more ample when displayed by a low-cut bodice. Glossy chestnut hair was piled in intricate curls on her head, with delicate strands drifting enticingly down her long, graceful neck. Her smooth, straight shoulders were mostly bare and her dainty cap sleeves gave the impression that they might slip down her arms any second, exposing all the bounties inadequately hidden by her clinging gown.

He breathed heavily through his nostrils—rather like an enraged bull, he couldn’t help thinking. He had to fight the urge to rip the scarf off the shoulders of the matron next to him and fling it over Lia’s naked shoulders. The blasted girl had put herself on display as the next Notorious Kincaid. If she’d placed an advertisement in the papers, she couldn’t have made a better job of it.

As he started forward, a restraining hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Jack, hold up,” Charles said, tugging him behind a marble column. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t have time,” he snapped. “I’ve got to get to Lia before she does something foolish.”

“She’s fine. Sir Dominic and Lady Hunter are keeping an eye on her.”

“Have you seen the way she’s dressed?”

Charles frowned. “Of course. She looks lovely.”

“She looks like a blasted courtesan putting her wares on display.”

His friend’s eyebrows shot up at the description. “Hardly. Her dress is entirely appropriate for a young woman not in her first or even second season. Gillian helped her pick it out.”

“Has every woman in this family lost her bloody mind?” Jack asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. But that’s not important right now because we’ve got a problem. Or, I should say, you’ve got a problem, and so does Lia. I’m afraid it’s a rather big one, too.”

Jack sighed. “What now?”

Charles glanced over his shoulder toward the ballroom door. Then he looked back at Jack, his features set and grim. “Your mother and sister just arrived and they’re headed this way.”

* * *

“There, Miss Kincaid, now you can catch your breath,” said Sebastian Sinclair. “That was quite the mob milling about you.” He flashed a charming smile, his teeth gleaming white in his tan face. “Fortunately for me, all your would-be swains were engaged for the next set of dances. I now have you all to myself.”

Lia politely smiled as she resisted the urge to swipe at the perspiration that trickled down the back of her neck. What she wouldn’t give for a breath of Stonefell’s crisp country air.

She glanced around the room, still surprised by how many men seemed eager to meet her. But it was obvious from a few veiled references that at least some of the gentlemen had seen her performance at the Pan. That made her an object of interest—and, she suspected, a challenge.

“It’s very close, isn’t it?” she replied. “You, however, don’t seem at all discomposed, Mr. Sinclair.”

A few minutes ago she’d felt positively woozy from the heat and the odors of perfume, bay rum, candle wax, floral arrangements—heavy on the lilies and roses—and at least three hundred bodies packed into the confined space of a few rooms. She swore she could almost see a scented miasma floating over the dance floor.

“I spent most of the last ten years in India,” Sinclair answered. “As bad as it is, this ballroom cannot begin to compare to Bombay during the monsoon season. There it’s hard to draw a fresh breath for months at a time.”

“I’d love to hear about your adventures in India,” Lia said. “It seems like such a fascinating country, albeit one with challenging weather.”

Of all the men she’d met tonight, she liked Sinclair the best. According to Aunt Chloe, he was the youngest son of an impecunious baronet. He had been shipped off to India when all but a boy and had made his fortune there. He was tall and handsome, with wheat-colored hair, startling green eyes, and a friendly manner that seemed entirely natural. Unlike some of the other men, he didn’t appear to regard her as a tempting morsel just waiting to be gobbled up. He spoke like a sensible, well-educated man, and listened with interest whenever she ventured an opinion.

He shrugged. “One gets used to it.” Something in his tone suggested he hadn’t had much choice in the matter.

“I envy your fortitude, Mr. Sinclair,” Chloe said, vigorously fanning her face. “I’m all but ready to expire. I’m amazed Gillian found so many people left in Town, given that the Season is long over. Perhaps too many, to tell the truth.”

“I suspect not all of them are actually on the guest list,” Dominic said sarcastically.

Lia frowned. “You mean people came without an invitation? Why would they do that?”

Chloe and Dominic exchanged glances.

“I suppose they came to gawk at the latest Notorious Kincaid.” Lia grimaced. “How very rude to inflict themselves on the Levertons with such annoying disregard.”

“One can never go wrong in anticipating bad behavior in the Ton,” Dominic said. “In fact, it’s generally better to expect it, so one can be pleasantly surprised when the opposite occasionally occurs.”

“That’s certainly squares with my experience,” Sinclair said. “Since my return to London a few months ago, I’ve been treated to the most impertinent questions about everything from my encounters with the exotic women of India to the size of my fortune.”

“That’s awful,” Lia said. “How do you stand it?”

He winked at her. “By inventing the biggest whoppers I can think of, especially regarding the state of my wallet.”

Lia and Chloe laughed, and even Dominic cracked a smile.

It was the first sign of good humor he’d displayed all evening. Her uncle-in-law had thus far spent his time scowling at the men who’d spoken with her, doing his best to frighten them off. Chloe finally had to remind him that the entire point of the exercise was for Lia to meet eligible suitors. Dominic had replied rather tartly that he was only scaring away the ineligible ones, of which there seemed to be an inordinate number.

That such was the case illustrated Lia’s belief that it was a fool’s errand to introduce her into society. Only a few respectable bachelors had asked her to dance, and that probably had more to do with the mothers than the gentlemen themselves. She’d been introduced to a number of aristocratic ladies, and although none had snubbed her outright, they’d made no attempt to converse with her beyond a few coolly polite words. To expect that they would wish their sons to court someone like her was too much to ask.

“That’s an excellent tactic, Mr. Sinclair, but I don’t think telling whoppers will work in my case,” Lia said. “My background is shocking enough as it is.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Chloe said. “You are a kind, beautifully mannered girl with a great deal of common sense. There is nothing at all shocking about you.”

“Tell that to the guests,” Lia said wryly. “I don’t think most of them would agree with you.”

“Is that because you appeared on the stage last week or because your mother and grandmother were courtesans?” Sinclair asked.

Lia blinked, surprised by his forthright manner.

Sinclair gave them all an apologetic smile. “Forgive me for speaking so bluntly. Living rather roughly these last ten years has obviously had a deleterious effect on my manners.”

Lia smiled at him. “It’s so much easier when people speak plainly instead of twisting their meaning up with pretty, flowery phrases—especially the snubs.”

Chloe nodded. “How true. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been insulted at a social event and didn’t even realize it until some hours later.”

“The next time that happens, I want you to tell me,” Dominic all but snarled. “I won’t have anyone insulting my wife and getting away with it.”

She patted his arm. “You’re a darling, but I can’t have you frightening people half to death over a little snub every now and again.”

“I don’t see why not,” Dominic said. “What’s the use of having influence if you can’t use it to scare people into good behavior?”

“Or bad behavior, as the case may be,” said Sinclair with a grin.

“According to my family, I’ve engaged in quite enough bad behavior,” Lia said. “I’m to be a pattern card of rectitude from now on.”

“That would be a nice change,” Dominic said with a wry smile.

“Miss Kincaid’s stage appearance didn’t sound all that scandalous,” Sinclair said. “But rather more like a fun adventure. And it was your stepfather’s company, was it not? Truly, it sounds quite tame when one knows the details.”

Lia wrinkled her nose. “I suppose you didn’t hear about my breeches role.”

He shook his head, looking slightly mystified.

“We don’t need to discuss that now,” Dominic said in a firm tone. “Or ever, in fact.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Mr. Sinclair, forget I even mentioned it.”

“Well, that’s no fun,” he said with mock complaint. “Because I am a gentleman, however, I will manfully wrestle my curiosity under control—but only if you agree to allow me to call on you one day soon, Miss Kincaid. And Lady Hunter, of course.”

Lia caught the quick glance her aunt flicked at Dominic, who gave an almost imperceptible nod back. Apparently, Mr. Sinclair had passed muster.

“I am sure both Lia and I would be delighted to see you, sir,” Chloe said. She gave Lia an encouraging smile.

“Yes, that would be very nice,” added Lia politely.

Because Sinclair seemed like a genuinely nice man, she couldn’t imagine why he’d waste his time on her. With his looks, background, and wealth, he would be considered a prime catch on the marriage mart. She suspected he was simply being polite, likely because his father was friendly with Dominic.

His eyes glittered with emerald sparks of amusement. “You are too kind, Miss Kincaid. I will do my best to entertain you and Lady Hunter with appropriately thrilling stories of my travels through India.”

Many of the gentlemen Lia had met tonight had struck her as little better than strutting peacocks, preening in front of the females, waiting for—and expecting—their full approval. Sinclair, while obviously a confident man, didn’t appear to take himself too seriously.

Perhaps she wouldn’t mind spending time with him, after all. If nothing else, he might take her mind off Jack. She’d had yet another fight with him only a few days before and it had left her feeling gloomy and hollowed out. They’d once been the best of friends, but now they’d somehow lost the ability to talk to each other, much less understand how the other felt.

If Jack truly was in love with her, as Chloe had suggested, that shouldn’t be the case, as far as Lia was concerned. If anything, their relationship seemed to be fracturing under the weight of disagreements and misunderstandings, driving them further apart every day.

She was afraid it was feeling rather hopeless.

“That would be simply splendid,” she said, giving Sinclair a bright smile. “I will look forward to your call.”

His eyebrows ticked up at her marked increase in enthusiasm. Socially adept she was not, as she’d tried to tell Aunt Chloe and Gillian a thousand times. Jack had agreed with her on that point, which, while honest, wasn’t very flattering.

Sinclair briefly bowed over her gloved hand. “Thank you, Miss Kincaid. I will be sure to—”

Suddenly appearing out of the crowd, Gillian ruthlessly elbowed Sinclair in the ribs to move him aside. “Lia, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you, but this bloody ballroom—er, this ridiculous ballroom is so crowded that one can barely find one’s hand.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Sinclair said in a dry tone. “I didn’t realize I was in your way.”

Gillian gave an exaggerated start as she met his gaze. “Mr. Sinclair, is that you? I do apologize. I didn’t notice you.”

He was well over six feet tall and Gillian was an exceedingly observant person, so that didn’t seem likely. “I hope I didn’t step on your foot and injure you,” the duchess added, almost as an afterthought.

“No indeed, madam, my foot was not injured in the least.”

Gillian gave him a reluctant smile. “You’re very nice. Under other circumstances, I would quite like you.”

That threw him for a few seconds, but he recovered with a quick smile. “Thank you—I think.”

“Your Grace, is there something you need from Lia?” Dominic prompted, sounding a bit long-suffering. Gillian tended to elicit that response in her family and friends. The duchess was even more unconventional than she was and had immediately taken Lia under her wing with a fierce and unquestioning loyalty. Lia had already come to adore her.

“Yes. It’s very important that I speak with Lia, you, and Aunt Chloe.” Gillian slid an impatient glance at Sinclair. “Now.”

He took the hint, excusing himself with a quiet murmur before slipping into the crowd. For such a large man, he moved with a prowling grace that was quite entrancing. If not for Jack . . .

She clamped down on that thought. “Is something wrong, Gillian?”

“You have no idea.” Gillian glanced over her shoulder, then moved closer and lowered her voice. “Jack’s mother and sister just entered the ballroom. He and Leverton are trying to keep them to that side of the room, but I don’t think they can manage it for very long.”

Chloe gasped and put a hand to her lips. Dominic let out a salty oath.

“My feelings exactly, Sir Dominic,” Gillian said. “There’s nothing to be done, however, except manage it as best we can. Keep Lia under wraps, as it were.”

“That poses a challenge,” he replied with some asperity, “because this is Lia’s introduction to society. It would hardly be appropriate for the guest of honor to suddenly disappear.”

“Lia, dear, are you all right?” Chloe asked, placing a hand on her arm.

Lia forced her muddled brain back into some semblance of rational thought. “I don’t understand. Lady John and Lady Anne were not invited, were they?”

“Good God, no,” Gillian said. “Normally, we would be happy to invite any member of Jack’s family to a party, but under the circumstances, it would be a disaster if the three of you were to meet.”

That was putting it mildly. Lady John had always resented Granny’s presence at Stonefell with every particle of her being, and she loathed her son’s friendship with Lia. About four years earlier, on one of the rare occasions when the entire Easton family had come to visit, Lia had overhead Jack and his mother having a crashing row out in the gardens. Lia had been the subject of their argument, and she could recall with perfect clarity the humiliating names Lady John had called her. Even now, the memory made her stomach tighten into a painful knot.

“I was under the impression that Lady John made a point of avoiding the Kincaids,” Chloe said. “So this makes no sense.”

“Normally she avoids us like the plague,” Lia said, trying not to sound as miserable as she felt.

Despite Dominic’s assertion, retreat seemed the best way to avoid an ugly confrontation. As distressing as such a scene would be for her, it would be worse for Jack. He was devoted to his mother and sister. To have his loyalty split in such a way, and so publicly, was something she couldn’t bear.

“Charles says she’s taking a stand,” Gillian said. “Whatever that means.”

“I know exactly what it means,” Lia said. Lady John had spent decades believing she and her daughter had been shunted aside from their proper places in the family, displaced by the Kincaids. “I do think I should leave, Sir Dominic. I suspect she wants to make a scene, and that will devastate Jack.”

“It won’t help you very much either,” Chloe said grimly.

Gillian slipped her arm around Lia’s waist. “I won’t have Lia driven away,” she said in a challenging voice to Dominic.

He glanced around, distaste marking his features. Although they were speaking in low tones, people nearby were starting to take note of their intense conversation. Some of the other guests were bound to have seen the new arrivals and were no doubt already gleefully spreading gossip—and anticipating an explosion.

“It’s fine, Gillian,” Lia said. “I’m ready to go.”

Dominic shook his head. “No, sneaking away like a thief isn’t the answer.” He glanced at his wife. “My dear, please take Lia to the supper room and find a quiet corner. I’ll join you there shortly.”

“What are you going to do?” his wife asked.

“I’m going to intercept Lady John and see if I can talk some sense into her.”

“Oh blast,” muttered Gillian. “It’s too late.”

The crowd in front of them rippled like the tops of wheat stalks in a late summer breeze and then parted. Into the gap sailed Lady John, followed by her daughter. Jack and Leverton were right behind them, both looking utterly frustrated.

Actually, Jack looked ready to murder someone—probably even Lia for pitching everyone into the middle of such a disaster.

Gillian gave Lia’s waist another quick squeeze and then stepped forward. “Lady John, what a surprise. We hadn’t expected to see you at our little affair.”

Lia blinked. Her cousin, the most natural and unaffected person she’d ever met, had instantly transformed into the epitome of a duchess—and a very regal one at that.

Jack’s mother was not to be intimidated. “I expect not,” she said in a haughty voice, “because we were not invited.” Her hostile glance slid over Gillian.

Dominic moved forward and gave her ladyship a clipped bow. “Lady John, may I escort you and your daughter to the supper room for some refreshment? It’s much quieter and cooler there, so we can have a comfortable chat.”

If a curtsy could be labeled begrudging, Lady John’s certainly was. “Thank you, Sir Dominic, but neither my daughter nor I are in the mood for refreshments. I have business to attend to that will not wait.”

An anticipatory murmur whispered through the gathering throng. Even though the orchestra still played and some of the sets continued to dance, the people closest to the tawdry drama had stopped pretending they were doing anything but watching with avid attention.

Jack moved up to join his mother, his expression frozen into a stonelike mask. Still, his touch on her arm was so gentle, his demeanor so protective, that Lia’s heart broke for him.

“Mother, please go with Sir Dominic,” he said quietly. “You will simply cause yourself more anguish if you insist on doing this.”

When she angrily jerked her arm away from him, Jack made an impatient noise and glanced at his sister. “Anne, this is madness.”

His sister cut a quick, troubled look between them, then lifted her shoulders in a shrug that indicated she wouldn’t interfere.

“Lady John,” the Duke of Leverton began.

She flung up an imperious hand, cutting him off. Her gaze finally skated past Gillian to Lia. Jack had gotten his dark, laughing eyes from his mother, but there was no laughter or kindness or love in her ladyship’s gaze as it latched onto Lia now. There was only loathing and contempt.

“You,” she said in a throbbing voice, pointing a dramatic finger. “Why must you bedevil my family? Why can you not leave my son alone? Your family is like a blight we cannot be rid of no matter how hard we try.”

A collective gasp, at once both delighted and appalled, went up from the assembled guests.

“Good God,” Gillian said with disgust.

Lia had to repress a wildly inappropriate impulse to laugh at Lady John’s melodramatic language and pose. Under other circumstances, Mama might even have offered her ladyship a position in the troupe.

“My lady, it is neither my desire nor my intention to trouble you or your family,” Lia said, forcing a calm tone. “And I barely see Jack these days, so you needn’t worry about that either. There is nothing between us but a childhood friendship.”

As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she knew she’d made a fatal mistake.

Lady John seemed to grow inches taller in her righteous indignation. “How dare you speak of my son with such casual regard, as if you were equals! Do not think for a moment that I will allow you to drive a wedge between us, or drive me away from my rightful place in society. You are the one who doesn’t belong here.”

The woman would be surprised to know how much Lia agreed with her.

Jack’s hand landed on his mother’s shoulder. “That’s enough, Mother. You’ve said your piece and now we’re leaving.”

She ignored him, once again jabbing her finger at Lia’s nose. “I know you to be a whore, Lia Kincaid, just like your mother. And if you don’t stay away from my family, I will make you regret it for the rest of your life.”

As everyone absorbed that exploding squib, Gillian shoved her ladyship’s arm out of the way and stepped in front of Lia. “Right, that’s enough out of you,” she snapped.

Lia tried to pull her back. “Gillian, it’s all right. She can’t hurt me.” Not anymore than she already had anyway. A lifetime of hatred had seen to that.

“I won’t allow her to insult you,” Gillian replied, keeping her gaze squarely on Lady John. “Madam, allow me to tell you that you are nothing but a nasty, crabbed-up old biddy. And if you don’t get out of my house this instant, I’ll toss you out on your backside myself.”

Lady John’s eyes went wide with shock. A moment later she hauled back and slapped Gillian across the face.