Maude’s schemes to raise money for this cause is to hold a subscription ball, but as she is an unmarried girl the hostess issuing the invitations will be Bel, now Lady Dereham. Everyone who is anyone will be there, for they plan to make it one of the grand opening events of the Season—and that will include Lord Pangbourne.’
‘And how, exactly, am I going to prevail upon the respectable Lady Dereham to invite me?’
‘She would do it as a favour to me, but for the public explanation of the acquaintance we depend upon another cousin of mine, Bel’s brother, Lord Sebastian Ravenhurst. He is married to Eva, the Grand Duchess of Maubourg.’
‘But I read about that in the newspapers—it was a most romantic affair by all accounts!’ The dashing Lord Sebastian had snatched the Grand Duchess from the claws of French agents and had smuggled her across France to arrive in Brussels on the day of the Battle of Waterloo. The Grand Duchess had been reunited with her son in London and returned to Maubourg with the young Grand Duke and the man she had fallen in love with on their perilous journey.
‘It was, and there was considerably more romance to it than you would guess, even reading between the lines. However, for now I think we can agree that your late husband was employed in some manner by the Duchy. As an economic adviser perhaps? I will ask Eva’s advice.’
‘She is in England?’ A few days ago Jessica had been attempting to instil the basics of Italian conversation and Mozart sonatas into the daughter of a baronet. Since then she had been kidnapped, flung herself naked into the arms of a man, escaped from a brothel and been kissed for the first time. Now, it appeared, she was to be thrust into proximity with minor royalty.
‘She and Sebastian divide their time between his estates here—where she is Lady Sebastian Ravenhurst, a private citizen—and Maubourg where she is the Grand Duchess and Sebastian seems to have taken over as Minister for Agriculture, although I am not sure I entirely believe that. Fréderic, her son, is at school at Eton. Eva has decided she would like to do the London Season for a change, so they arrived last week and the Duke of Allington, Sebastian’s brother, has loaned them the town house.’
And now dukes, Jessica thought faintly, then pulled herself together. She was never going to be the sultry temptress Gareth was deluded enough to imagine, but at least she could continue to apply common sense to this madcap scheme.
‘And where am I going to live whilst I am scandalising London?’
‘In Bel’s house in Half Moon Street, which is currently empty while she decides whether to sell it, keep it or lease it out. You will appear to have purchased it.’
‘Or perhaps the Grand Duchess has done so in recognition of my late husband’s contribution to the Duchy?’ She had meant to be faintly sarcastic, but Gareth nodded.
‘Good idea.’
Jessica sat and regarded him, trying to convince herself she was not dreaming. Although whether this was a dream or a nightmare was debatable. ‘I arrive, transformed by some miracle into a femme fatale. We conduct a very public, flagrant liaison, Lady Maude goes into a shocked decline, Lord Pangbourne cuts your acquaintance—and then what?’
‘We keep it up for the Season.’ Three months of flirting—or worse—with Gareth? Oh, my God…’ And then you vanish off to Maubourg, seduced by one of Eva’s court, perhaps, and I am left a sadder and wiser man. One who is, most obviously, unworthy of Templeton’s ewe lamb.’
‘And I return to seeking work as a governess, with no doubt some good explanation of what I have been doing for three months?’
Gareth dropped his hands and clasped them together, his eyes on her, searching, it seemed, for some insight into her thoughts. Jessica felt they should be more than obvious.
‘Do you enjoy being a governess? No, let me rephrase that—do you have a dedication to education?’ She shrugged. ‘Why then do you seek employment in that way?’
‘Because I wish to eat! And I find I am a good teacher.’
‘You have no relatives?’ he asked, frowning at her snappish tone.
‘Yes—an aunt, cousins.’ Jessica began to see the drift of his questions and produced her usual prevarication—it was not so very far from the truth in some ways. ‘You wonder why I do not live with them? I do not chose to be beholden to anyone and dwindle into an unpaid companion, dependent on family charity for my very existence. I wish to be independent and to provide for my old age. I have no aptitude as a milliner or a dressmaker. There is very little money or security as a paid companion. But I do have skills that I can teach and I have chosen my employers with great care to enhance my references and my reputation.’
Gareth nodded as though she was confirming his own thoughts. ‘So your long-term aim is for financial security and respectable independence?’
‘Exactly.’ It seemed she was getting through to him at last. ‘And I can think of few things more damaging to that ambition than flaunting myself in London society as your mistress!’
‘Certainly if you wish for further employment, I can quite see that.’ He appeared unconscious of Jessica’s frowning regard. ‘Would I be accurate if I said that you would hope to reach the point one day where you could afford a small house in a charming village or market town with adequate funds to employ a small staff and perhaps own a gig? To be in the position where you had no need to work, but might, if you wished, take the occasional pupil for individual tuition in an instrument or a language?’
‘You have painted a picture of my exact ambition.’ The image of roses round the door, a cheerful maidservant bringing in a tea tray, an earnest child happily learning the piano, flickered before Jessica’s gaze. ‘And to achieve the half of that I need to work. Work hard for years,’ she added.
‘I am offering you work.’ Gareth stood up and walked round the chair to lean his folded arms on its padded back while he watched her. ‘I am asking you to take on an onerous acting job for three months and then I will give you the house and an annuity that will allow you to do just as you please.’
‘But—’
‘You think I am offering too high a price? I can assure you—’
‘I think you are offering a very fair price for such an outrageous request,’ she retorted robustly. ‘Gareth—look at me. Do I look like a seductress? Do I seem to you to have any wiles, any aptitude for casting out lures? I have never flirted in my life, not even mildly. How do you expect me to learn?’
‘I will teach you,’ he said and the smile he sent her was pure, wicked, promise. ‘I will teach you so well, Miss Gifford, that half the men in London will be at your feet and every lady in society will wish to scratch your eyes out.’
‘No…I could not.’ She had to be strong. It was impossible, she could never do this.
Gareth walked round and picked up her hand as it clasped the arm of her chair. His fingers were warm and his thumb brushed gently against the soft mound of flesh at the base of her thumb.
‘What colour are the roses round the door in your dream house?’ he asked her, his eyes intent and dark onher face.
‘Red,’ she murmured. And was lost.
‘How do you intend teaching me these arts of fascination?’ Jessica rescued her hand from Gareth’s grip and tried to make her voice as businesslike and brisk as possible. He sank back in his chair, recognising her capitulation and, she could only hope, not seeing the churning mix of terror and anticipation behind her question.
‘It will be easier for you once you have your new hairstyle and your new clothes, I imagine. I will send a note around to my cousin Bel and ask her to call tomorrow and take you under her wing.’
‘Will she agree?’ Jessica wondered. ‘It is a scandalous