APretenseofLove Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Sweets. At least a dozen of them. More than enough for
everyone.” She supervised the distribution of bowls while a servant went for
spoons.
    As Agnes licked a drip from her finger, she asked, “Who sent
them?”
    Jean looked for a note in the basket, and finding none,
queried the footman. He replied simply, “I am to say they are from a friend.”
    Since Lord Milford was not present, she supposed he might be
included in a list of whom she should thank for the treats, but she was fairly
certain he was not the responsible party. She spooned a bite of the maple
glacée and let it melt on her tongue, the sweetness and cold spreading through
her mouth.
    Mama called to her from the seating area near the unlit
fireplace. “Your friend is quite thoughtful, sending so many of these.”
    “Isn’t he, though?” Jean responded. The look in Mrs.
Granderson’s eye said she knew something she wasn’t letting on, which confirmed
Jean’s suspicions. Mr. Tilbury was also notably absent, and a more obvious
benefactor.
    Jean leaned close to Agnes and whispered, “I believe the
culprit is the nephew of the house.”
    “Culprit? Why do you call him such? I would be delighted if
a gentleman sent me a basket filled with ices and glacées.”
    “I am a little surprised he is not here to witness his prank
himself.”
    “Prank? I do not follow. You make this gesture sound so
malicious.”
    “There are four gentlemen here, Agnes, each of whom is now
knowingly eating an ice sent to me by another man. What must they be thinking?”
    Agnes laughed softly and looked about the room. “I hadn’t
thought of it that way. You are quite right. The Smythe sisters are smiling,
obviously enjoying theirs, but Mr. Portwine and Mr. Chambers appear to be
sucking lemons. What a lark.”
    Glancing again at Mrs. Granderson, Jean found the woman
studying her. Would she report to her nephew how the gift was received? Jean
simply smiled and took another bite. She credited the man with originality, if
not a measure of spite that she continued to receive calls from other men. Yet
the maple’s sweetness soured slightly the more she thought on it. Here was
another example of Mr. Tilbury’s flaunting his sudden wealth. Did he think her
so poor she could be enticed into accepting his betrothal simply by buying her
gifts?
     
    Two nights later, she had the opportunity to ask him this.
Mrs. Granderson had invited Jean and Mrs. Seton to attend the theater and sit
in the box belonging to her particular friend, Lord Everton. Jean was not at
all surprised when Mr. Tilbury arrived, alone, just before the curtain went up.
    Jean sat between him and her mother without speaking a word
through the entire first act. When intermission came, he offered to allow her
to stretch her legs. Needing some way to disperse the displeasure simmering
inside her, she accepted his arm and stepped into the crowded passageway.
    It was the wrong place to speak to him, but she had little
choice when he said, “My aunt tells me you received a basket of ices recently.
What an odd gift for anyone to send.”
    “Do not play coy with me, Mr. Tilbury. I am not so naïve as
to not know who sent the gift.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the tight
inflection from her voice. “It was very presumptuous of you. A gentleman
wouldn’t send gifts to a lady knowing how it might reflect on her character.”
    He smiled and was pushed against her by the crowd. “Forgive
me. This is a bad spot to hold a conversation. Shall we keep moving? I hadn’t
meant to presume anything, but merely thought you would enjoy the sweets.”
    “And so you sent them during your aunt’s at home hour, making certain there were enough that even the gentlemen callers must
partake of them.”
    His lips pulled down in a mock frown. “I couldn’t send just
one…”
    “But why send any?” Jean whispered loudly, wanting to be
heard by him, but only him. “I do not wish you to spend any more money on me
than you