The Valentine's Day Ball (16 page)

Jane had never felt more beautiful as she studied her image in the cheval glass. The dress was in the prevailing empire style, made of a deep-scarlet silk. The neckline and short puffed sleeves were edged with tiny ruches in white organdie trimmed with a row of delicate silver braid. A strand of pearls bound on either side by the silver braid separated the deeply cut bodice from the full skirt. The bottom of the skirt measured a full four yards around, another unfashionable detail, but Jane had insisted. She loved the way it flared as she twirled this way and that, imitating the movements of a waltz.

Only one detail was missing—the heart-shaped pendant. She had ceased asking if Mickey had returned yet. Finally her unfashionable but flattering snood decorated her brown hair, and Jane picked up her reticule and Norwich shawl. She heard a commotion at the bottom of the stairs, and picking up her skirt, she ran down the steps.

“Mickey! What happened? Pipkin?”

With the entrance of his mistress, Pipkin jumped up from his undignified position on the floor beside Mickey and began clearing the entrance hall. The hysterical maids vanished, leaving several footmen, Jane, Tucker, Pipkin, and the unfortunate Mickey.

“Take him to my quarters,” said the butler.

Pipkin’s rooms were nearby, being located on the first floor with a view of the front door. It took four stout footmen to lift the huge servant. Tucker brought the case of medicines and began to clean Mickey’s wounds. Jane waited patiently in the background.

“Now, Mickey, tell us what happened.”

His eyes glistening with tears, Mickey moaned repeatedly, “I lost ’t, Miss Jane. I lost ’t.”

“Lost what, Mickey?”

“Yer necklace. Please, Miss Jane, don’ send me away.”

“I should say not, Mickey! Tell me, how was it lost?”

“This man, a bad man in a mask and with a long cape, ’e made me give ’t to him. ’E ’ad a gun. I said no! But ’e said, ‘I’ll shoot yer horse.’ I couldn’ let ’im shoot Toby.”

Jane smiled. Mickey would have died before giving in to the highwayman, but he had to protect the old, broken-down horse Jane had given him.

“You did the right thing, Mickey. You and Toby are more important than a necklace.”

Even as she reassured him, Jane felt close to collapse. Her grandmother’s pendant, the one worn by all the Heartland women—gone!

She took a deep breath and asked; “How did you get hurt, Mickey?”

“I tried to chase the bad man, but I fell off. I hit my head. I didn’ wake up for hours.”

“How do you feel now?”

“My head hurts, but I’m all right. It was awfully bloody; it scared me.”

“I know; a head bleeds very badly. We’re all happy you’re better, Mickey.” She smiled into his childlike eyes and turned to go.

At the door, she paused when he asked tearfully, “Do you still like me, Miss Jane?”

“Yes, Mickey, I still like you very much.”

Wearily, Jane climbed the stairs. She looked through her remaining jewellery and selected a necklace of perfectly matched pearls. They would go with her new dress, too.

b

It was a subdued Jane who was ushered into the yellow salon in Laura Place. Drew crossed the room and led her to the sofa. His mother greeted her warmly. Jane replied suitably, but her manner was listless.

“I hope you like duck, Jane,” said Mrs. Peterson. “I hesitated to serve it. It seems to be one of those dishes one either loves or abhors.”

“Duck is fine, ma’am. I’m looking forward to it.”

“That is a beautiful gown, Jane,” said Drew.

Jane turned a weak smile on him, and her eyes filled with sudden tears. Drew sat down by her side and put a comforting arm around her. “What is it, Jane? What has happened?”

“I’ll go and get some brandy.” His mother rose and hurried from the room.

Jane fumbled with her reticule for her handkerchief. Drew thrust his own into her trembling hands and asked again, “What is wrong?”

“My necklace, my grandmother’s pendant…” She blew her nose.

“The one you wore to the Valentine Ball?”

She nodded without stopping to wonder why he would remember such a detail. “It’s gone, stolen, a highwayman—”

He grabbed both her arms and spun her around to face him. His black expression was frightening.

“Did he hurt you? Touch you?”

Jane frowned, then realized his mistake. “No, it wasn’t stolen from me! I had sent it to Bath with Mickey to have the clasp repaired.” Drew released her arms and relaxed against the back of the sofa. “A highwayman stopped him and demanded the necklace. He threatened to shoot Mickey’s old pony, so he gave it to the thief. Then Mickey tried to follow the scoundrel and fell off. He hit his head and was unconscious for several hours.”

“Is Mickey all right now?”

“Yes, for the most part. He was afraid I wouldn’t like him any more. He’s such a sweet boy.”

“Hardly a boy. He’s as old as you, my dear.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Tell me, when did the robbery occur? On the way to Bath or on the way home?”

“On the way home, I think. I didn’t ask. Why?”

“Think about it, Jane. A highwayman who stops servants on old horses? He would soon die of malnutrition. How could he know Mickey was carrying something of value? There are two possibilities: either the highwayman is connected to Heartland or he was in the jeweller’s shop. I assume you have notified the local magistrate?” She nodded. “Good. I will inquire tomorrow at the jeweller’s to see if there were any strange characters standing about when they returned the repaired pendant to your footman. Talk to Mickey to ascertain when the robbery took place. If it was on the way to Bath, that narrows the list of suspects considerably.”

“Oh, Drew, it couldn’t be one of our servants. They’re practically family.”

“No one new of late?”

“Well, there is Sims. He came to us from my cousin Roland. But he seems a decent fellow.” Jane paused. “Although Pipkin doesn’t trust him.”

“If your Pipkin doesn’t trust the man, I wouldn’t either.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him. But first I’ll ask Mickey if he ever made it to Bath.”

“Good. Feeling better?”

“Yes, it feels good to be doing something. I’m sorry for turning into a watering pot, Drew. I didn’t realize how upset I was about losing the pendant. I never cry—at least not in company.”

“You need never cover up your feelings from me, Jane.”

Drew’s voice was as soft as a caress, and Jane leaned forward expectantly.

“Here we are!” said Mrs. Peterson brightly as she entered carrying a tray with glasses and a decanter. Jane straightened up. “I thought wine would be more suitable. Are you feeling more the thing, my dear?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Jane, accepting the goblet.

“Good! Now, tell me what to expect at tonight’s assembly.”

“There will be dancing, of course, and some rather bland refreshments. As far as the company? I haven’t been to the assemblies in over a year, so I’m afraid I’m no help there.”

“Of course, I had forgotten. Drew told me you were in mourning. I’m so sorry, dear.”

“Thank you. The assemblies are not as rigidly controlled as they once were, as you may be aware. When Beau Nash ruled Bath’s social scene, all assemblies ended at eleven o’clock sharp. When the Princess Amelia asked Nash for just one more dance at eleven, she was refused. Back then, every assembly began with the minuet, one couple at a time. It took two hours!”

“How tedious, especially if one didn’t particularly care for one’s partner.”

“That’s what I thought, but no one dared to suggest that to Mr. Nash,” laughed Jane.

“Dinner, my lord, ladies,” said their very proper butler.

Jane grinned, wondering which scripture Pipkin would have chosen to elaborate on this announcement. She caught Drew’s eyes on her, twinkling as if he had guessed her thoughts.

After seating his mother at one end of the table, Drew escorted Jane to her chair. Leaning over, he whispered, “Perhaps, ‘For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.’”

Jane giggled; then she bit her lip in embarrassment. Drew’s mother, however, was smiling benignly on both of them. For the first time, Jane wondered why she was the only guest. It was almost as though Faith Peterson considered her one of the family.

Reinforcing this suspicion, Mrs. Peterson said, “I do hope you’ll forgive our being so casual, Jane. The formal dining room and table are so large we would have been reduced to shouting at one another. This had been a small sitting room, but I thought it ideal for a family dining room. It is close enough to the kitchens that our meals are even hot.”

“It is lovely, Mrs. Peterson. You have an eye for colours.”

Faith beamed and urged Jane to try the turtle soup.

“I haven’t asked you about your hand, Jane. How is it today? Ready for dancing?” teased Drew.

“Healing nicely, thank you.”

“Drew told me about the accident. It’s a wonder you weren’t hurt worse. And all those hours of work wasted!”

“Now that is exactly what I said,” agreed Jane. “You must make your own preserves, too.”

“Yes, my specialty is peach.”

“Do you know, I have never made peach. Mrs. Brown, our cook, makes it, but even she admits it isn’t exceptional.”

“I’ll write down my recipe for her, if you don’t think she would be insulted. I know how sensitive cooks can be, and the last thing one wants is an angry cook.”

“I think she would appreciate it.”

b

Through all this, Drew sipped his wine and observed. He felt very lucky to be in company with his two favourite ladies. And the fact that they enjoyed one another’s company only pleased him more.

He watched Jane over the top of his glass, studying her objectively as a work of art. She was so elegant in the deep-red gown. And that hair net—whatever it was called—added to her timeless beauty. His eyes strayed to her deep décolletage, and his thoughts lost their ethereal quality. He wanted her as he had never wanted any other woman. He wanted to be with her, to comfort her when she cried, to kiss her and hold her when she was weary. He wanted, quite plainly, to love her and to make her feel loved.

“Drew, have we put you to sleep with our domestic talk?”

“Certainly not, Mother. I was merely wool gathering.” He turned to Jane and smiled. “I was wondering if I might persuade Jane to ride with me tomorrow.”

Jane returned his warm smile and accepted.

“Good!” Drew looked toward the end of the table to find his mother’s fond gaze resting on him.

b

As they entered the Upper Assembly Rooms, a country-dance was in progress. It had been over a year since Jane had attended one of Bath’s assemblies, but it was as if the clock had been turned back. The last time, she had been with Cherry, surrounded by young men vying for Cherry’s next dance. And Jane had been forced to play duenna, an unenviable job.

But tonight was different. Jane on the arm of an eligible bachelor, in company with his mother, was an entirely different matter. She couldn’t help but be pleased by the looks of envy in other ladies’ eyes as they progressed around the ballroom, speaking to friends and acquaintances. It was not a common occurrence for Jane. Oh, she had been envied for her wealth, her poise, or her social position before, but tonight produced a different effect. She had a glimpse of the power women such as Cherry possessed. It was a heady sensation.

But the pleasure she gleaned from such envy was short-lived. Her old lack of confidence resumed, and she was left to wonder and doubt.

Why was she on the arm of Lord Devlin? Why had he singled her out? He was handsome, charming—when he wished to be—and appeared to be wealthy. His future held an earldom, so he certainly wasn’t trying to raise his social status.

Perhaps, whispered a frail, inner voice, he is in love with you. At this preposterous thought, she raised her eyes to his.

But his lordship’s attention was elsewhere. She followed his fixed stare to a silvery young matron of average height and a slim, girlish figure. Her décolletage was so low it seemed her ivory breasts would escape at any moment. Drew had stopped, as if too infatuated to take his eyes from the fairy-like vision before them.

And Jane found she couldn’t face the desire in his eyes, not when it was directed at someone else. She murmured something about the ladies’ withdrawing room and vanished in the opposite direction.

Jane stopped and looked across the dizzying array of colourful dancers. She could neither hear their words nor see the viscount’s face. She could only see the sensuous beauty, her long fingers resting on Drew’s shoulder. And that frail little voice within her cowered, promising never to raise such hopes again.

Jane lifted her chin and pasted a smile on her face. He would never know how close she had come to believing in him.

b

Drew turned to follow Jane, a frown wrinkling his brow.

“Drew! Dearest Drew! How are you?”

“Lady Cynthia, you are unchanged after all these years. What is it? Ten? Eleven?” Drew sneered at the lovely vision. He noted with grim satisfaction the brief flash of hardness in her eyes.

Then she giggled. It was the same tinkling sound that had so intrigued him at the tender age of nineteen. Now, the sound produced a cold chill.

He bowed and turned away but her delicate, ringed fingers touched his sleeve. He looked into her eyes—eyes that now glistened with unshed tears. She was a beautiful and accomplished actress.

“Perhaps we could talk, Drew? A dance?” she breathed.

A waltz was beginning. He scanned the room for Jane, but she was nowhere to be seen. So he nodded.

He took her in his arms, holding her very properly. They made a handsome couple with her silvery-blond hair and alabaster skin and his dark hair and tanned complexion.

“I have grown up, Drew, changed from that horrid debutante who treated you so cruelly.”

Her voice was so quiet he had to bend his head to catch her words. Across the room, he spied Jane smiling at Mr. Primrose as though he were a long lost beau.

“I have grieved so over the pain I caused you, dearest Drew.”

“Is that so? I understand you are on your second husband. Ah, no, I forgot. My condolences, Lady Cynthia, on your late husband’s death. Six months ago, wasn’t it?”

She stiffened in his arms; then she purred, “But it was you I dreamed of when the lights were out, my dearest.”

A false, merry smile lit his face, as Jane swept by in Mr. Primrose’s arms.

Drew was enjoying himself. He had known his return to England would stir the coals of old gossip. He had prepared to face this. And he had known he would one day come face to face with Cynthia, but he hadn’t been certain how he would react. His anger had long since died out, but would that youthful passion also be gone?