A few years had passed since she’d last been invited to a Cranmore event. Lady Cranmore was a consummate hostess whose entertainment innovations were often copied, and her expertise was widely evident tonight. Tulle and ivy wrapped Ionic columns. Harp players filled every corner with music when the orchestra was quiet. Outside, the rear lawn was dotted with dramatically blazing torches. The result was one of Grecian decadence, and everyone in attendance appeared to be in high spirits.
Eliza, however, was feeling high-strung. She was filled with a mixture of exhilaration and apprehension such as she’d never known. Tomorrow, she would be wed. After so many years of making certain she did nothing as her mother would have, she was no longer allowing Georgina to rule her actions from the grave. Which made every aspect of the coming day momentous.
“I am so pleased,” Lady Collingsworth said, looking at Eliza with bright eyes. “I must confess, when you told me you would be married tomorrow, I doubted I could do justice to the occasion with such short notice.”
Personally, Eliza thought nothing more than family and close friends were necessary, but she guessed that saying so would only disappoint and hurt Regina. “Thank you,” she said instead. “You’re too kind to me.”
“Stuff.” Regina waved one gloved hand carelessly. “I had given up on your ever marrying. I’m so very happy you found someone precious to you after all.”
“Precious,” Eliza repeated, her head turning to find Jasper. He stood on the edge of the ballroom speaking with Montague. She’d previously taken note of Westfield’s absence.
“You are full of surprises lately,” Regina murmured. “To think…Secret proposals from two of the most eligible bachelors of the ton. Absolutely delicious. Does Mr. Bond know who his competition was?”
“Yes.”
“Lord Montague is being laudably gracious. Look at him speaking so civilly with your betrothed. And what a pair they make. From this distance, one could almost imagine them as brothers.”
“My understanding is that the similarities between the two exist only on the exterior.”
Regina leaned closer. “Your tone is intriguing.”
Eliza lowered her voice to a whisper. “Have you ever heard anything of a worrisome nature about Lord Montague?”
“Such as?”
“Never mind. There are some things it’s best not to know.”
“You cannot initiate such a topic, only to abandon it!”
When it became apparent Eliza would say no more, Regina snapped open her fan with a flourish. “Hmph…With your engagement, I’d hoped that poor Rothschild girl would finally capture Montague’s attention, but you have me wondering if he’s not such a prize after all.”
“Jane Rothschild?” Eliza frowned.
“Over there.” Regina gestured to where Miss Rothschild was hovering behind a column near Montague and Jasper. “See how she stares at him, looking so forlorn? I’ve noticed her lingering in his general vicinity, as if she hopes he’ll notice her. Her behavior is sadly untoward, but exception must be made for her common origins.”
Jane was a pretty girl with soft brown hair and eyes, and a rather curvaceous figure. An air of melancholy clung to her. Perhaps it was the way her mouth turned down at the corners, or how she shifted so restlessly, as if the disquiet inside her was so great it manifested itself physically.
“Montague told me he attempted to court Miss Rothschild,” Eliza said, “but she was unreceptive.”
“I cannot believe that,” Regina scoffed. “Her parents would pay a fortune for an earldom, and her actions speak for her.”
Eliza could argue with neither point. Curious, she excused herself and moved toward the other woman. Why would Montague say Miss Rothschild was averse to his suit, when it appeared she was in fact openly seeking his regard? It was a puzzle, especially considering how dire Montague’s financial situation was reported to be and how wealthy the Rothschilds were.
As she drew closer, Montague parted from Jasper and moved toward the open doors leading to the moonlit garden. Jane prepared to follow the earl outside, but Eliza spoke out.
“Miss Rothschild. How are you this evening?”
Jane cast an almost frantic glance at Montague’s back, then faced Eliza with a weak smile. “I’m well, Miss Martin. Thank you for inquiring. Congratulations on your betrothal.”
With proximity, Eliza noted Jane’s wan complexion and the dark circles under her eyes. “Thank you. Would you care for something to drink? A lemonade, perhaps?”
“No.” Jane looked out the door again. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Miss Martin.”
Jasper’s voice drew Eliza’s attention. His gaze was blatantly inquisitive.
Jane bolted. “Excuse me, Miss Martin. I wish you a good evening.”
Eliza gaped as the woman hurried out to the garden.
Drawing abreast of her, Jasper queried, “Is everything all right?”
“I doubt it.”
He leaned over her, his proximity far too close to be seemly, but she couldn’t complain. The thrill she felt at his nearness was worth any censure.
“What do you know of your stepfather’s relations?” he asked.
“Extremely little. I avoided speaking with him whenever possible.”
Jasper’s gaze moved over her face, searching. “What was it about him you disliked so intensely?”
“You would have had to know my mother to understand. She was…erratic. Impulsive. What she needed was a firm hand, such as my father’s, but Mr. Chilcott was overly indulgent. He encouraged her wild notions and sudden changes of agenda. His enabling of her behavior led to their deaths. She decided they absolutely had to travel north to celebrate the passing of six months of marriage. She ignored warnings of muddy roads due to torrential downpours, and he didn’t have the sense or will to stay her.”
“I see.”
Eliza looked out to the rear lawn, but could no longer see Jane Rothschild or Lord Montague. The Cranmores had a heterogeneous garden featuring a hedgerow maze, a pagoda, various-sized obelisks, a recreation of a Grecian temple ruin, and a gazebo covered in climbing roses. It was an expansive outdoor space that could not be seen fully while standing in the ballroom.
“What are you looking for?” Jasper asked.
“Escort me outside.”
With one brow arched in a silent show of curiosity, he offered his arm and led her to the garden.
They reached the gravel-lined path beyond the terrace and began to stroll. There were several groups of guests enjoying the many sights, but the distance between parties was sufficient to keep the conversations private.
“What, precisely, are we doing?” he inquired.
Although she was focused on finding Jane Rothschild, Eliza was taken by Jasper’s warm tone. She glanced at him. “We’re searching for a quiet corner.”
“Are you attempting to compromise me, Miss Martin?”
“I confess, the notion is tempting. If you were of a mind to steal a few moments of my time away from prying eyes and ears, where in this garden would you go?”
He raked their surroundings with a considering glance. “Not the maze. Nor the gazebo. The temple might have promise, if you could restrain those sweet whimpers of yours that drive me to distraction.”
“You are not quiet in your pleasures either.”
“Because of you, love. Only with you.”
Her breath hitched at his endearment. Embarrassed by the depth of her reaction, she looked away…and noted footprints moving off the pathway onto the adjacent lawn. She tugged Jasper’s arm to stay him, then pointed at the ground.
His lips pursed, contemplatively.
Only two prints were visible before the rest became hidden by low-lying ferns. A large Italian alder spread its branches above them, providing a slightly shadowy cover from the moonlight.