And once more, Jane was as she’d always been—an interloper on life. She touched her hand to the Scamozzi column and stood, a voyeur to the happy exchange. For years she believed all she wanted, all she needed was her school, a place to give her purpose. Yet, a witness to Gabriel’s world, she craved more. She longed for something she’d never, ever believed or would have dared to believe—companionship.
She closed her eyes a moment and fought to suppress a panicky giggle, the irony not lost on her. The hired companion longed for companionship.
“Tsk, tsk, why, it is Jane Munroe. Never tell me you don a pair of spectacles and think you could remain hidden?”
Her eyes flew open as that loathsome voice slapped into her consciousness. Shivers of loathing ran along her spine as she confronted the grinning, unrelenting visage of the Earl of Montclair.
“What nothing to say?” he taunted, when she remained silent.
Panic consumed her and she registered the curious and disapproving stares trained on her by the other companions.
Jane shot her gaze about the crowded ballroom and found herself invisible to all those lords and ladies present, a feat she was never more grateful for. She located Gabriel still locked in conversation with that unfamiliar pair.
The earl angled his body in a way that cut the marquess off from her line of focus. “Ah, you are looking for someone? Your latest protector perhaps?”
An unholy rage to plant him another facer, here in the midst of the ballroom filled her so strongly she had to fist her hands to keep from burying her fist in his nose. “You were never my protector,” she said on an angry whisper. He was merely the demon who’d haunted her.
“Ahh,” he dipped his head closer and the familiar tinge of heavy spirits that clung to him slapped at her senses, offensive and overpowering.
“There you are, Jane.”
At the unexpected arrival of Chloe, Lord Montclair straightened.
And coward that she was, she sent a silent prayer skyward as Chloe appeared before her, a five foot five inch savior. The young woman glared at the Earl of Montclair and then presented him with her back.
Montclair schooled his features and inclined his head. For a moment, dread ran a rampant course through Jane’s being at the idea he’d shame her before this woman who called her friend, and with his admission, proving her unworthy of the role she’d stolen into. For all his brazenness this night and the night she’d been dismissed from his father’s household, he maintained a proper gentlemanly façade for the ton. “Lady Chloe Edgerton,” he murmured. “If you’ll excuse me?” he said quietly with a deep bow. Then, with a slight bow and a final glance for Jane that promised this was not the last of their meetings, he took his leave.
As his loathsome form disappeared into the crowd, Jane’s shoulders sank with a quiet relief. Her relief was short-lived.
“Do you know Lord Montclair?” A muscle ticked at the corner of the young lady’s right eye.
“No,” she said quickly.
Too quickly by the narrowing of the other woman’s intelligent eyes. “Was he bothering you?” She didn’t allow Jane to respond. “If he was,” Chloe said in hushed tones, “you need just say something to my brother. Gabriel would—”
“No,” she said loudly, once again attracting those curious stares. She drew in a calming breath and lowered her voice. “No.” Suddenly, the deception she practiced upon Gabriel and coupled with Montclair’s reappearance in her life, was too much. Her feet twitched with an involuntary need to take flight. “Will you pardon me, Chloe?” she pleaded. She was the veriest coward, but the din of the ballroom, combined with the high heat threatened her senses. “I require a moment.”
Concern flared in Chloe’s eyes. “May I come with you? I—”
Jane gave her head a shake. “I’ll be but a moment.” Then, in a bid of attempted humor, she forced a smile. “I daresay your brother would be none too pleased with me if I stole you away from the evening’s festivities.” She waggled her eyebrows. “What manner of companion would that make me?”