Page 8 of An Uncommon Earl

“The earl is greeting you.”

When she realized who stood behind her chair, Lady Millward’s face broke into a warm smile. “Good evening, Lord Bloxley.” Her voice sounded unnaturally loud, and before Jane had ascertained why, her aunt reached up and pulled the cotton out of her ears. “Ah, that’s better. Forgive me for not acknowledging you straight away.”

A deep chuckle sounded behind her, and Jane could not help herself; she started to giggle. Pressing her hand to her mouth, Jane closed her eyes, willing herself to draw on the many comportment lessons she’d suffered through for something—anything—that would help erase the vision of Aunt Millward guilelessly pulling out her self-crafted earplugs in front of Lord Bloxley.

“You came prepared, I see.” Humor coated his voice.

Aunt Millward grasped his meaning immediately. She lowered her voice further. “Not as prepared as you may believe, my lord. If I’d had my wits about me, I would have brought some extra fabric for my niece.”

For the first time, Lord Bloxley looked at Jane. “This is your niece?”

“Indeed.” Aunt Millward smiled, and Jane wanted to hug her for showing no reluctance to make the introduction. “This is Miss Jane Hadford. Her father is my younger brother, and the family is recently removed from Yorkshire. He has inherited a house not far from Bloxley Hall and will be relocating there next week.” She cleared her throat, masking her obvious regret at their leaving with another smile. “Jane, this is Lord Bloxley.”

Lord Bloxley inclined his head politely. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hadford.”

“And I, you, my lord.” Jane met his hazel eyes and was startled by the warmth she saw there.

“Lord Bloxley.” Lady Emma’s voice rang out. “You are come at last. I hope you have good reason for missing my performance.”

The light in Lord Bloxley’s eyes dimmed. A mask of formality slipped into place. A mask so natural it almost hid his current discomfort. Jane, however, was not so easily fooled. She did not need to know the details of the accident that had delayed the earl; she recognized the look of shock and pain all too well.

“Lady Emma.” Lord Bloxley turned to greet the young lady, the candlelight illuminating a large purple lump on his forehead.

Jane caught her breath at the sight, but Lady Emma seemed oblivious to his injury. Turning her back on Jane, the perfectly turned out young lady bestowed a coy smile upon the earl. Lord Bloxley raised a questioning eyebrow at the obvious snub, but Jane was virtually impervious to such behavior now. A cripple was no competitor in Society’s marriage mart and, therefore, was of little consequence to Lady Emma and her ilk.

“Perhaps we should join Father and Mother,” Jane said softly.

Lady Millward nodded. “I daresay you are right.” She rose to her feet, waiting until Jane had reclaimed her walking stick from the floor before offering her an arm. “Do this old lady a great service and help her out of this tangle of chair legs, would you, my dear.”

Jane smiled. They both knew which of them needed more assistance, but it would look less obvious to their new acquaintances if Jane’s arm were linked to Lady Millward’s.

“Thank you, Aunt Millward,” Jane said.

Her aunt’s only response was a comforting squeeze of her hand.

Grateful that she stumbled only once after leaving her chair, Jane and her aunt slowly made their way to the front of the room, where her parents and Phoebe were conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Pinnock.

“You must be very proud of your daughter,” Jane’s mother said as Jane and Aunt Millward joined them. “Her musical range is breathtaking.”

Mrs. Pinnock fanned her face and assumed a modest smile. “She is quite gifted, I must say. I am very glad that Lord Bloxley was here to watch her perform.” She glanced at Jane and then turned her attention to Phoebe. “Do either of your daughters sing?”

“Certainly,” their mother said. “Not so well as your Arabella, of course, but they tend to prefer other activities. Jane, here, is quite an artist; and Phoebe’s skill with a needle cannot be matched.”

Clinging to the vain hope that the barely veiled competition between the two matrons would soon end, Jane bobbed a curtsy at the indirect introduction. If she were fortunate, that would be all the attention she would receive. She looked for Aunt Millward, but the older lady had moved on to talk with Mr. Pinnock and her father. Jane was not sure that joining them would offer her any benefit over her current situation.

After her accident, when it became apparent that she would never walk properly again, Jane’s parents had reacted in diametrically opposite ways. Her mother had simply blocked out that chapter of their lives from her mind. She treated Jane as though nothing had ever happened, insisting that she attend every possible social function, seemingly convinced that the next gathering would be the one at which Jane would make her mark and her match.

By contrast, the memory of what had happened to Jane on that fateful day on the moors lingered in her father’s mind—along with a determination that nothing remotely similar would happen again. To that end, he had forbidden Jane from riding a horse or taking walks along the craggy Yorkshire coastline or climbing anything higher than a shallow step. Admittedly, most of those things were beyond her current capabilities anyway, but she sometimes yearned for the freedom to at least attempt them.

Tuning out the chattering around her, she focused instead on the carefully orchestrated socializing occurring in the room. Mr. Pinnock’s white-wigged head was bobbing up and down in apparent agreement with something Mr. Hadford was saying. Her father would be pleased to have garnered the gentleman’s approval. He took great pride in his business dealings and general acumen in the world of finance. It was a quality that had worked to Jane’s advantage since he harbored no illusions that his crippled daughter would marry well. He had been quite open regarding his decision to alter his will to make particular provisions for Jane should she remain a spinster. And as difficult as it was to contemplate a life spent alone, she was grateful to know that at least she would not be made destitute upon her parents’ deaths.

Pushing that discouraging thought behind her, she turned to watch Miss Arabella Pinnock approach Lord Bloxley. She was not so bold as Lady Emma, but she adeptly circumvented several others in the room to place herself shoulder to shoulder with her competitor. Jane watched with mild amusement as the two ladies exchanged glowering glances over the tops of their fans while attempting to engage their quarry in pleasant small talk.

It appeared that their hopes were dashed far sooner than either of them would have wished, however, because it was not long afterward that Lord Bloxley offered them each a polite bow and moved away to exchange a brief greeting with Lord Moorefield before joining Mr. Pinnock’s and her father’s conversation. Lady Emma retreated to join her mother, who had a great deal to say about something. Miss Pinnock crossed the room more slowly, garnering accolades for her performance along the way and finally stopping beside Phoebe and striking up a conversation with her.

Jane’s leg ached, and she wondered if she dared take a seat alone. She did not mind for herself, but she knew that her mother would be disappointed by such a pitiable social performance. She glanced at her father again only to find Lord Bloxley’s eyes upon her. He inclined his head slightly and offered her a small smile. It was a genuine smile rather than the ones she usually received that were motivated by politeness or to cover up shock or pity over her condition, and she could not help but reciprocate. His smile widened, but then Mr. Pinnock asked him a question. His attention was diverted, and the moment was gone.

With a small sigh, Jane limped to the nearest chair and took a seat. Moments later, her aunt joined her.