The Valentine's Day Ball (13 page)

She was passed from one partner to another after that. Jane had always been popular, but it had been her ability to put people at ease that accounted for this, not her prowess on the dance floor. Not that some miracle had made her graceful now. She was still too stiff, but she felt capable of following the dance creditably after her success with Lord Devlin. He was quite a teacher.

Surreptitiously, Jane watched the viscount with other ladies. He was certainly at ease, but she failed to see any of his other partners lose themselves in his arms the way she had. She stumbled and her partner had to catch her up to prevent a mishap.

Jane, pay attention to this dance, this partner, or you’ll soon find yourself a wallflower.

Before Jane knew it, supper was being served. It was a buffet, a sumptuous array of meats and vegetables poached, sautéed, stuffed, and braised to perfection. Fresh fruits were arranged artistically between platters of cheeses and delectable pastries. Servants made certain wine glasses were never empty.

Jane’s presence had been requested at several tables, but Mary Aubrey took her arm and guided her to a table of young people. Mary was sitting between her mother and Mr. Primrose, and it took little effort on her part to discover that Lady Pierce had approved Mr. Primrose as her future son-in-law. In such a merry group, Jane had only to lend half an ear to the conversation. There were no deep literary or philosophical discussions to ponder, so she was at leisure to observe other tables. She turned after agreeing that yes, the Prince Regent was the kindest of hosts, and encountered Lord Devlin’s lazy gaze. How long had he been watching her? He continued to stare, never smiling precisely, but with a pleasant expression. He didn’t nod or acknowledge her in any way. Finally, Jane turned back to her own table.

A few minutes later, she looked again, but Lord Devlin’s table was empty. Jane waited impatiently for her own group to return to the ballroom though she wasn’t certain why. Lord Devlin hadn’t even spoken to her since their first dance. He had very likely gone home without giving her another thought.

She didn’t care if he had though she looked this way and that to locate him among the many guests. She was becoming much too concerned with the viscount. She would simply ignore him for the remainder of the evening.

“Miss Lindsay, I have heard a rumour about your friend, Mary Aubrey. It is said that she is to marry Mr. Primrose.”

Jane pivoted and looked into Lord Devlin’s dark moody eyes. “Yes, I believe we may wish them happy.”

“We? So you wish them happy, also? I had thought—”

“Yes, Lord Devlin, what did you think?”

“It appeared this afternoon that you and Mr. Primrose were on intimate terms.”

“How dare you?”

“I said it
appeared
. Apparently, I was mistaken.”

“I should think so! I agreed to speak on his behalf—but I shouldn’t be telling you this. It is none of your concern, Lord Devlin.”

“Probably not, but I couldn’t help overhearing you speak of writing or some such thing.”

“That was a misunderstanding on my part.” The music began again, and Jane looked wistfully at the couples taking the floor. She longed to dance with him again. But it was only because he made her feel so graceful that she didn’t even have to mind her steps when she was in his arms. But Jane was only too aware of social conventions. She would never dream of asking the viscount to dance.

Lord Devlin’s eyes followed her gaze. “Might I have this dance, Miss Lindsay?”

“Certainly
,
Lord Devlin,” she answered eagerly then chided herself for sounding like a gauche schoolgirl. What was the matter with her lately?

It was impossible to think as Jane became lost in the heady steps of the waltz. There was some quality about this man, this Devilish Devlin that made her lose herself in his embrace. She had never felt so free.

Jane looked up and smiled dreamily.

He pulled her closer, but Jane didn’t have the will to protest.  His eyes drifted from her face to her chest.  Propriety nagged at her again, but her eyes fluttered shut, and she didn’t speak.  Now was not the time for worrying, not when she was enjoying herself so.

Jane bit her lower lip nervously as he continued to stare. She refused to be
embarrassed, though she had always abhorred the way men ogled her. But on this occasion, she was neither angry nor embarrassed, and she refused to question the reason for this. She did so want to thank him, to tell him…

“When you do that with your mouth,” he whispered, “I want very much to kiss you, Jane.”

Forgetting to be outraged by his remark, Jane asked, “Do what?”

“Nibble at your lip in that bewitching manner.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that, Lord Devlin. I wanted to tell you something, but now—”

“Tell me. I promise I’ll behave.”

“I wanted to thank you for making me feel at ease when we dance. And it’s not just when we dance—I feel more confident when I dance with anyone now.” She blushed, and Devlin watched as if interested in the way the colour spread downward from her cheeks.

“You can thank me by calling me Drew.”

“We have already discussed that, sir.”

“Ah, so the deed I have done, the wonder I have wrought for which you are eternally grateful, whatever it is, is not worth that one forfeit?”

“No…yes. Very well, but only when we are alone.”

“Such as now, Jane?”

“Such as now, Drew.”

And then he did pull her closer still, scandalizing the more starchy matrons that watched. Jane saw their faces out of the corner of her eye, and suddenly she didn’t care what they or anyone else thought. She gave over to the heady feeling of his thighs touching hers, his arm circling her waist. Boldly, she let her cheek rest against his chin and closed her eyes.

b

The music ended and the spell was broken. Drew led Jane to a chair beside his mother. Deliberately, he bowed and left her, seeking someone else—anyone else—for the next dance.

He wanted to laugh at himself. It was a new experience, protecting a lady’s virtue from gossiping tongues. In the past, he had associated with demireps or ladies with shady reputations, so there had been no need for discretion.

Even before his exile to the Indies, when he had thought himself passionately in love with Cynthia, it had been she who had kept him at a proper distance, much against his will.

He couldn’t understand Jane. She was all that was proper. When he had first met her, he had thought her a veritable prude. Since then, she had changed. Perhaps she had drunk too much champagne. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her drink to excess, and it was possible that an entire day spent socializing was more than she could handle.

This theory, however, was improbable as he watched his mother and Jane converse. Jane appeared to be completely at ease, having no difficulty keeping up her end of the conversation.

The intricate movements of the dance brought him back to his partner, and he forced himself to be agreeable to Miss Whatever-her-name-was.

b

Still dressed in her bedclothes the next morning, Jane went up the stairs to the nursery to tell Nana about the Ashmores’ picnic and ball. She described the dresses, the decorations, and the food.

Finally, the old nurse grew impatient. “What about Mr. Primrose? Did ye ask ’im about th’ notes?”

“Yes, Nana. That is, I nearly did, but fortunately I realized he hadn’t written any such notes to me. He’s in love with Mary Aubrey.”

“Miss Aubrey? Why, I never would ’a’ guessed it, Miss Jane. I’m that sorry, I am.”

Jane patted the gnarled hand. “Never mind, dear. You know very well I wasn’t interested in him. But I think I was able to help them. Mary’s mother was against it, but I believe I was able to persuade her otherwise. Perhaps they’ll name their first child after me?”

“’Tis yer own babes ye should be namin’. But never you mind, dear. Ye’ll find the man who’s been writing those notes. Mayhap ’twill be someone ye can love.”

Jane laughed. Her worries about the letters seemed trivial. She would no longer let them bother her.

“I’m going into town today, Nana. Is there anything I can bring you?” The nurse would say no as usual, and Jane would still bring her some of the sweetmeats the old woman dearly loved.

She was about to leave when she spied a straight pin on the floor. “You’ve dropped a pin, Nana.”

Jane was about to pick it up when the old woman said sharply, “No! I dropped ’t, and I must pick ’t up. Remember, ’twould be bad luck if I didn’t.”

“Of course, I forgot. I’ll come see you when I return.”

b

With her habit of shopping early, Jane was one of the first customers at the booksellers. While she no longer felt driven to discover who had sent the notes, she was still curious. She asked to speak to the senior clerk and was whisked to a tiny office in the rear of Duffield’s.

“How may I help you, Miss Lindsay?”

“I received a letter and a book yesterday. The book, a copy of
She Stoops To Conquer
, was from your establishment, and one of your messengers delivered it. The note was unsigned, and I was hoping you could tell me who purchased the book?”

“I remember the transaction. One of our new clerks helped this customer, and he required a little assistance. However, I’m afraid it would be impossible to tell you the name of the buyer. Whoever it was had merely sent a servant in with the note and asked that it be delivered with the book. Naturally, we didn’t ask the writer’s name.”

“Oh, dear.”

“I do hope this hasn’t hurt our relationship with you, Miss Lindsay. You know you are one of our most valued customers. It is just that we often are asked to send small gifts to beautiful women—and to handsome men, for that matter—and the sender is usually quite careful to guard his or her anonymity.”

“I quite understand, Mr. Fairfax. Do not distress yourself that I blame you in any way. I am glad to be considered one of your valued customers, and I must confess that I don’t know where I would turn without Duffield’s.”

“You are most kind. If you wish, I will call the clerk to my office, and you may question him.”

“I doubt it would be illuminating, but thank you anyhow. Now, I must see what you have that is new. Good day Mr. Fairfax.”

“Good day, Miss Lindsay.”

From the booksellers, Jane went to the boot maker. She had finally been forced to admit her favourite riding boots were past hope. Taking the well-worn pair with her in hopes of duplicating them, she placed her order. Both feet were carefully measured, the dimensions noted, and she was soon on her way again. Her next stop was at the milliner where she spent an hour trying on the latest bonnets.

“I shall take the straw one with me, and you may send the green velvet shako when it is ready.”

“Very good, Miss Lindsay.” The clerk handed the velvet cloth to a servant. “Will there be anything else?”

“Not today, thank you.”

“And thank you for your patronage, Miss Lindsay.”

“You’re welcome.” As Jane started through the door, she bumped into another customer just entering.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Jane said automatically.

“It was my fault. Why, Miss Lindsay, I didn’t expect to meet you again so soon.”

“Mrs. Peterson, how nice to see you.”

“My dear, I am so glad we met. I hate to impose, but if you have the time, that is—”

“I am at your disposal, ma’am. If I may be of service to you in any way, it would please me to stay.”

Mrs. Peterson smiled. “Would you please help me choose a new bonnet? I can never find one that suits me.”

Jane protested, but the older woman waved away her compliments on the hat she was wearing. “You see, in the shop they all look delightful, but once I get them home they are never quite right.”

“I’d be happy to, Mrs. Peterson, though I’m no expert on the latest fashion. I tend to wear whichever style pleases me the most.”

“And the results are very agreeable, I assure you. The hat you wore at the Ashmores’ breakfast was so becoming—light and frivolous, but eminently suitable. And today, that poke bonnet is also flattering. Perhaps I wasn’t meant to wear headdresses,” concluded the doleful matron, sitting in front of a mirror and untying the ribbons on her navy bonnet.

“I doubt that! Come, Mrs. Hill. Show Mrs. Peterson that lovely straw bonnet, the one with the cherry red ribbons.”

There is no more companionable activity than trying on a wide variety of hats. One gets the chance to giggle at the absurd, gasp at the frightful, and exclaim over the beautiful.

After an hour of such activity, Jane and Faith Peterson were well on their way to becoming fast friends. After this successful expedition into the world of fashion, it was only natural that one lady should invite the other to a hot cup of tea, and that the other should accept. Jane’s coach took them the short distance from Milsom Street and across the River Avon to Laura Place.

The bright salon looked out on the street, affording its occupants a pleasant view. The furniture was upholstered in pale yellow chintz; the draperies and thick carpets were a blue-grey. There were green potted plants and vases of fresh flowers everywhere.

“What a delightful room, Mrs. Peterson.”

“Thank you, Miss Lindsay. I’m a bit embarrassed by it every time I enter it.”

“Why would you be embarrassed?”

The older woman laughed, a light, girlish sound. “I’ve been here little more than a week, you know. It is a rented house, but when I first saw this room it was bright purple! I was horrified, and I’m afraid I let it show. Drew whisked me away to the furniture warehouses, drapery makers, rug dealers, and so on. Within one day’s time, he had the room transformed to what you now see.”

“But I fail to understand why you should feel embarrassed.”

“I made Drew feel dreadful that he had chosen this house. He did so want me to like it.”

“But you do, don’t you?”

“It is lovely now. But I felt like such a demanding mother, a veritable shrew.”

“And I have told you at least a dozen times that you are no such thing, Mother.”

“Drew!” Her face alit as she watched her son enter the parlour. “You’ll join us for tea, I hope.”

“I wouldn’t miss it, Mother. Hello, Jane. What brings you to Bath?”

“Shopping, Lord Devlin,” she said, stressing his title.

He laughed as he pulled his chair closer to the sofa where Jane and his mother were seated.

“Jane is reminding me, Mother, that she only promised to use my first name when we were alone together.”

“Quite right,” said Mrs. Peterson. “But we are alone. I promise I am every bit as discreet as my son.”

Jane glared at Devlin, and he returned it with a wide-eyed stare.

“Jane and I are quite the best of friends, Drew.”

“Are you?” He accepted the cup of tea Jane passed him.

“Yes. Jane very kindly helped me select three new bonnets this morning. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”