Free Season for Scandal by Theresa Romain

unintended offense.
    “A life in society can hold novelty indeed,” said the earl’s daughter. “If one knows where to find it. Or creates it.”
    “Do you create novelty, or do you find it?” Jane asked.
    A wicked smile spread across Audrina’s face. “The latter when I can; the former when I need to. And sometimes when I don’t need to.”
    “Ladies,” Bellamy said. “Might I get you some refreshment? Though you must have had any number of dedicated suitors retrieving dainties for you this evening.”
    “I’ve had as many suitors as I’ve had dainties,” Jane replied. “None at all. I could kill for a beefsteak.”
    Lady Audrina laughed. “If you killed a cow, that would serve the purpose perfectly.”
    “As neither cow nor weapon nor beefsteak is at hand, Lady Kirkpatrick, I fear your wishes are to be thwarted,” Bellamy said. “But I’ll see what else I can find.”
    With a shove of his shoulder, he broke the ranks around the table of refreshments. Jane’s fingers worked on the handle of her fan. A silly little ivory thing; she’d already cracked the sticks simply by holding it too hard.
    “Your gown is lovely,” said Lady Audrina, nodding at Jane’s dark-green silk. “I thought you preferred bright colors, but this suits you beautifully.”
    Jane hesitated, then explained, “My mother chose most of my gowns before I was married. Now my lady’s maid advises me. Their tastes aren’t much alike.”
    “They had a different purpose in mind, didn’t they? Your mother wanted you to catch the eyes of a handsome gentleman. Now that he’s already caught, well . . . the dress must show your triumph, yet keep up a bit of mystery.” The young woman gave such an extravagant waggle of her eyebrows that Jane had to laugh.
    “It’s not like that,” she said.
    “Right, right. I’m certain it’s not,” replied Lady Audrina. “Newly wed to Lord Kirkpatrick. You don’t have to tell me a thing, Lady Kirkpatrick. I can imagine all I need to.”
    Jane refused to blush. Especially over the truth of her marriage. So she simply said, “You may call me Jane if you like, Lady Audrina.”
    “Oh, I’d like it very well, Jane. And in return, you mustn’t bother with that ‘Lady’ before my name.”
    Bellamy returned just then with a plate of tiny, fussy foods. “Now, Lady Kirkpatrick, it will be supper before long. If you can manage not to commit murder for the next half hour, I think you’ll make it through the evening right enough.”
    Jane accepted the plate and began to eat. The offerings were the most delicious dainties she’d ever tasted, the lobster patties buttery and pleasantly rich. “Thank you,” she managed to say when the food had all but vanished. “For the plate. Thank you.”
    “Very welcome, my lady. It’s the least a gentleman can do.”
    Jane wondered whether he was taking a poke at Kirkpatrick’s absence from her side. She shrugged, then looked around for a place to set her plate. Laying it on the seat of a chair, she said, “I hope no one sits without looking at the chair first.”
    “I hope someone does,” Audrina replied. Before she could say more, her gaze caught on something over Bellamy’s shoulder. Her lips pressed together. “Would you please excuse me? I see some . . . novelty . . . I must attend to.”
    She disappeared into the crowd before they could see to what, or to whom, she was referring.
    Jane faltered, but only for an instant. She was a baroness. Married. With the soul of a traveler. She affixed a confident smile and turned back to Bellamy. “I’d still like to hear more about India. One day I might go there myself.”
    “Do you know much of it?” Bellamy plucked a flute of champagne from a passing footman’s tray, then handed it to Jane.
    “No, nothing. I’ve seen only the south of England and read about little more. Italy, France, Spain. I’m an ignorant but eager pupil.”
    “The best possible sort.”
    His tanned faced creased with