Page 55 of Adeline

Swinging his gaze back to the door behind him, Jasper noted the young woman who’d sought Adeline’s attention in the park before turning sharply and quickly scurrying away.

He smiled and nodded when he caught her eye. Despite his civility, the lady turned toward the couple she stood with—from the matching hair color and stature, her parents—and laughed as if she’d been part of their conversation the entire time.

The cut direct—or indirect, as it were.

His stomach clenched, and his breath froze in his chest as disbelief and disappointment coursed through him. Why had he thought London would be any different than Kent?

And bloody hell, why did it bother him? The villagers avoided him as if he carried the plague. It appeared those in the ton could spot a pariah as well as any country dweller.

Pivoting forward once more, Jasper took several steps and entered the ballroom.

Another servant stepped forward, relieving him of his flute.

He need only make it through the next hour or so, wish Adeline the best, greet her family and friends, and finally take his leave…from the ball and London altogether.

It should not be overly difficult.

Jasper had seen difficult, witnessed it firsthand, lived with it nearly his entire life.

A crowded London ballroom filled to bursting with the haughty beau monde was not enough to send him cowering and scurrying home, his proverbial tail between his legs.

“Lord Ailesbury,” Lady Melton called as he arrived at the front of the line. “We are pleased you came.”

Jasper bowed to his host and hostess. “Good evening Lady Melton, Lord Melton. I am honored to be present to celebrate Miss Adeline’s birthday.”

His attention remained on Lady Melton, not daring to glance farther down the line. Would Adeline be waiting to greet him, or had she already taken to the dance floor? Even the thought of her in another man’s arms had his cravat closing off his airway.

Next, he greeted a tall, stately woman with hair the same hue as Adeline’s but lacking the shine and luster of the younger woman’s curls.

“Lord Ailesbury.” His name was exhaled on a raspy sigh. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d become lost on the London streets.”

Jasper swung his stare farther down the line, past two young men and a girl who looked fresh from the schoolroom, until he spotted Adeline.

It took everything in his power not to push the couple in front of him out of the way to get to her, to take her proffered gloved hand and press his lips to the delicate spot at her wrist. If he closed his eyes, he could envision her as she’d been at Faversham: hair wild and loose from their breakneck ride across the meadow, her skin damp from the rain, and her eyes…alive from the thrill of it all.

This Adeline, the one standing several feet away, was nearly unrecognizable.

Her hair was loose and artfully arranged over her shoulder and down her back, but nothing else was the woman he’d come to love—love?—while in the country. This woman was everything a lady of the ton should be: poised, dignified, reserved, and shining in all her splendor.

For a moment, Jasper wondered how she hid the woman she truly was under all these grandiose adornments, but then the thought struck him, nearly knocking him back a step. Perhaps this was the true Adeline, and the woman he’d come to know in the country was merely the mask she wore to fool him.

He would not believe it, could not believe it.

There was no doubt in Jasper’s mind that Adeline belonged here. Not in this ballroom per se, but here in London, surrounded by the streaming light from the overhead chandeliers, dining in grand homes, dancing long into the night, attending the latest performance at Covent Garden, and, at the end of the night, returning to her home with a lord who loved her, cherished her, and gave his every waking thought to her happiness and well-being. Adeline would be the center of attention at every social gathering for years to come, and damn it all if Jasper would be the man to distract from her beauty, her wit, and her charm.

At the park—and in the receiving line—he’d garnered attention he didn’t want. With Adeline at his side, even for just this one night, would others look past his scars to the worthy woman on his arm?

The couple blocking his path to Adeline blessedly moved off and into the ballroom, clearing Jasper’s way to stand before Adeline.

His breath hitched at the sight of her, and a peculiar flutter assaulted his stomach.

The woman was dressed in a gown matching the exact hue of his neckcloth, and damn it if it did not shimmer in the light from above.

Jasper dared a glance over his shoulder, and Lady Melton’s innocent grin told him everything he needed to know.

His new tailor had been compromised. His loyalty purchased by a meddling viscountess.

It should irritate Jasper; however, confusion was the emotion that filled him. Why would Lady Melton seek to make it appear as if Adeline and he were a matched pair?