Free The Desperate Love of a Lord by Jane Lark Page A

she’d existed in this world of illusion for over two weeks. It was Violet’s everyday life. Jane was still overawed by it. She wished for her friend’s air of confidence.

    For the past two weeks, Jane had studied Violet’s every movement, longing to gain both town polish and society’s approval. To date, they had eluded her. Of course, wearing black did not help. She should not even be on the social round. She ought to be at home, tucked up in bed and reading a book, acting out the role of deepest mourning. But if she obeyed that unwritten law, then she would be at the mercy of Joshua.
    Besides, Violet, the model on whom Jane was moulding her own image, did not give a whit for society’s conventions, and no one seemed to pay any attention to Violet’s blatant misdemeanours. Violet’s favourite saying was, “Society’s rules are only there to be broken.” She put no store at all by them and persistently urged Jane to just put off her blacks and face the indignation, weighting her argument by pointing out Jane was now a wealthy widow and she need not pander to the ton ’s condescension . Violet also said it was only the women who’d care. The men would not give a damn. They would be too busy being intrigued by another merry widow entering the fray.
    Jane was not that brave. Yet she did not doubt Violet’s perception. Everywhere they went, men glanced sideways, implying their interest.
    Jane had not come to town to become embroiled with another man though. She had come to town to escape one. At least that, to date, had been successful.
    “Jane, dear, I know you do not wish to dance while in mourning; would you care for cards?”
    Violet’s words stirred Jane from her reverie. She turned to her friend and smiled. “Truly, Violet, I do not mind at all if you wish to dance. I am quite happy to sit it out alone.”
    Violet’s sole purpose in life was bringing men to her heel; she kept them on an invisible leash. She’d had numerous affairs, and made no secret of them. Jane thought such things too risqué .
    Yet observing Violet’s intrigues had stirred new emotions in Jane. She noticed the muscular turn of a man’s calf and his broad shoulders and slender hips far more than she had before.

    “Lady Rimes, you will, of course, allow me to take your hand for the waltz.” Lord Sparks, a third son, a very attractive man, a little older than Jane, bowed over Violet’s hand.
    Jane turned to gaze at the gathering dancers, ignoring the caressing forefinger she had seen him slip inside her friend’s glove beneath her wrist. Jane knew Lord Sparks. He was one of Violet’s long-standing flirts and a man of excessive qualities according to her friend’s indiscreet descriptions.
    His attention turned to Jane.
    He had an unabashed beauty and an impressive figure. The dancing glimmer in his eyes made Jane blush. She dropped a slight curtsy. He took her hand, but his grip was formal, not testing any of convention’s boundaries. “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to see you again. I hope you do not mind if I steal your friend away for a while?”
    Matching his broad smile, Jane answered, “How could I possibly deny either of you? Of course I do not mind.”
    “You are very kind, Your Grace.” He bowed, then turned to Violet and extended his hand. “Lady Rimes?”
    Violet took it and let him draw her away, sending Jane a jovial smile over her shoulder, as if to say she would not be long.
    To give her fingers something to do, Jane applied her black lace fan in a swift sweep beneath her chin and looked up at the call of a new arrival. The footman positioned at the head of the stairs, rapped his staff on the wooden floor and announced the guest whose name was swept away by the tune of the Venetian waltz flooding the room. Yet when the imposing male stepped forward, Jane’s heart stopped, as did the movement of her fan.
    Lord Robert Marlow, the eleventh Earl of Barrington, was the last person on earth she wished to meet. Or