The Valentine's Day Ball (25 page)

She lowered her shining eyes.

“I know you’re bound and determined to find Cherry, so I won’t suggest we return home right now. But while we’re together on this journey we must be very careful of one another. Agreed?”

Jane nodded, and Drew solemnly shook her hand, sealing their agreement. Then he said firmly, “It’s late. We both need to get some sleep if we’re to leave early in the morning. Goodnight.” Then he vanished into his own room.

b

Upon entering his room, Drew sank against the closed door. It was going to be a long, painful journey. All his decisions to take things slowly had backfired. They might have been betrothed by now, perhaps even married. This trip could have been their honeymoon. Instead, it had become an exercise in self-control, and he felt certain Jane had very little self-control over her passions. He would need to be strong for them both.

Suddenly it hit him—he hadn’t even asked Jane to be his wife!

He pivoted. With hand on the door handle, Drew paused. Slowly, he walked back toward the empty bed. He couldn’t risk returning to her. He’d resisted temptation once; he didn’t dare tempt nature again tonight.

He looked at the bed again. With little effort, his fertile imagination conjured up the vision of Jane, lovely, ripe Jane, waiting there for him, impatient for him to join her.

Groaning, Drew hurried to the other doorway, the one that led to the corridor. He would find his old friend and share a bottle. There would be little rest that night.

Jean-Francois had a sympathetic ear, aided by an excellent bottle of wine. The bottle became two before Drew felt numb enough to be able to sleep.

“So, my old friend, how did it happen?”

Drew looked at Jean-Francois in surprise. “What?”

One of the landlord’s beady eyes winked. “How did you win such a beautiful lady? She is the type of woman makes a man…eh?”

“Be careful, my friend. You speak of my wife.”

“Ah, you English, always so proper. Am I not a man? Can I not see with my own eyes how desirable
Madame
is?”

Drew’s laugh was hollow. “Anyone who is a man could see. That’s the problem. I am a man, and I see all too clearly.”

“But she is your wife.”

Drew felt the effects of his wine. He was not past hope, but his natural caution had relaxed. He needed to tell someone—someone who would understand the nobility of sitting up all night drinking instead of seducing the woman he loved. He needed someone who would sympathize with the terrible longing, the aching in his loins.

“She is not.”

The sly grin that appeared on Jean-Francois’s face sobered Drew. “Don’t misunderstand. She will be—soon, I hope. It was like this…”

Over the second bottle, his story was told, and the Frenchman was sworn to secrecy.

To repay Drew for these shared confidences, Jean-Francois stood up, raised his glass, and toasted the beautiful, stubborn
Anglaise
. Then he pledged his willingness to aid Drew and his cause. Misty-eyed, Jean-Francois grasped Drew by the shoulder with his one arm and kissed his friend’s cheeks before bidding him good night.

His tread a trifle unsteady, Drew negotiated the staircase and found his way down the darkened corridor to his room. He stumbled to the bed, managing to throw off his clothes before crawling between the sheets.

Chapter Eight

J
ane hummed to herself as she watched Tucker lay out a fresh carriage dress. She sipped the steaming tea and sighed. She had slept peacefully untroubled even by the worry of her cousin’s shocking flight.

“Madam, the maid has brought up breakfast for you and Mr. Davies.”

“Very well, Tucker. I suppose I should dress first. I hope my husband—” Jane savoured the word “—will forgive me for being late.”

“I don’t think Mr. Davies is awake yet.”

“Not awake? That’s odd. He doesn’t strike me as—” Jane stopped as Tucker delivered a warning look toward the sitting room where an inn servant was setting a table. “That is, he’s not usually such a slugabed.”

“Mayhap ye should wake ’im, madam.”

Jane’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. Tucker shrugged her shoulders. Jane frowned, taking her lip between her teeth as she waged an inner debate. Being sensible won out.

“Tucker, I’ll dress after breakfast. Do you go downstairs and eat now.”

“Yes, madam.”

Jane stood up and slipped on her wrapper. It was not the sensible covering she had worn when supping with Drew at the Ship’s Inn in Brighton. It was pale yellow, of gossamer silk with touches of lace across the bodice. Resolutely, she marched through the parlour, past the maid and tapped gently on her
husband’s
door.

“Drew, dear. Are you awake?”

Silence.

She opened the door and peered into the gloomy room. To her mind, the bed with its rumpled occupant dominated the room.

“Drew,” she whispered, closing the door against the servant’s rattle of cups and saucers.

She hesitated on the threshold. If she startled him, he might leap out of bed. What would he look like in a nightshirt? Jane’s face flushed at this indelicate thought, and she chided herself for acting so missish. Still, she approached the bed cautiously.

Her heart beating rapidly, she stretched out her hand to touch his shoulder.
Please, let it be his shoulder.

She touched him gently.

No response. Again, she put out her hand.

It was closed in a vicelike grip. She was jerked forward and stared into the barrel of a silver pistol.

“What the…” The gun disappeared, but Drew retained her wrist. They stared at each other, panting from what might have happened.

“Jane, never, ever do that again. Call my name. Something!”

“I did,” she sobbed, tears beginning to fall.

“Jane!” He relaxed his hold on her wrist, sat up and pulled her onto the bed, cradling her in his arms until her sniffling subsided.

Jane slowly grew aware of being held against a naked chest. The realization had an alarming effect on her. She ran her fingers through the springy mat of black hair, so soft to the touch against the hardness of his chest.

Drew’s arms tightened about her, and Jane lifted her damp face. He smoothed the tears from her cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be in here at all.”

She ignored his comment and rubbed her cheek against his stubbly chin.

“You are a heartless wench,” he groaned, trying to push her away, but Jane’s arms encircled his neck and she refused to be moved. Not that Drew tried too hard.

“My mouth tastes like cotton,” he protested weakly, turning his head as she tried to kiss his lips. Jane smiled and kissed his ear instead. Drew lay back against the pillow, pulling her on top of him. Jane continued to tease him, raining kisses on his cheeks, his neck, his ears.

Suddenly, Drew rolled over, and Jane was trapped beneath him, his body dividing her legs. Holding her hands on either side of her head, he raised up, looking down at her white breasts, confined by the sheer material.

Jane followed his eyes. Her taut nipples strained against the fabric, screaming for his mouth. He slid farther down in the bed, and the pressure of his body against hers sent a thrill coursing downward. Through the thin silk, he kissed her breasts, teasing her erect nipples. Jane felt ready to explode with desire as he released one hand and freed a breast, taking the dark nipple in his mouth and pulling on it. The sensation travelled elsewhere. She moved her hands, both free now, across his naked back, pressing his hard body against her stomach as his mouth teased her breasts, awakening heightened waves of ecstasy. He moved against her rhythmically, and Jane’s breathing quickened. Then the world stopped. She emitted a small cry, and Drew’s movements became slower, harder, until she whimpered in exhaustion.

b

Giving pleasure to one’s beloved provided one an incredible sense of satisfaction.

Drew raised up and gazed down at Jane’s Mona Lisa-like smile.

And an incredible amount of discomfort.

He rolled off of her, willing himself to achieve a patience of almost superhuman magnitude. How he wanted her!

“Drew?”

“Yes, love,” he said, one arm tucked behind his head as his free hand replaced the damp material across her breasts. She shivered at his touch.

“What does this mean?”

He grinned, his sense of humour aroused. “It means you are too trusting and too passionate for your own good, and I had best marry you before we consummate our wedding prematurely.”

“Then we didn’t just—”

“Consummate our wedding?”

She nodded.

“Not in the strictest sense. But then, I have never been that strict.” He ran his hand lightly up her arm, and Jane shut her eyes. “We must get up before Tucker comes looking for you.”

This possibility sent Jane scrambling to her feet. Drew remained discreetly in bed.

“Hurry,” she called, “or your breakfast will be cold.”

“Won’t be a moment,” he said, waiting until the door had shut behind her before crawling out of bed and gathering up his breeches and dressing gown.

b

Jean-Francois sent them off in his best coach-and-four, his eldest son proudly serving as their coachman. They travelled by back roads to Paris to avoid any acquaintances. The largest vehicle they passed all morning was a dogcart filled with fruit. Drew halted the carriage and jumped out. He bargained with the farmer a moment and returned with a dozen peaches and some strawberries.

At the next tiny village, he purchased a bottle of wine, some mellow cheese, and a loaf of bread. They were halfway to Paris when they stopped beside a meadow blooming with wildflowers. Drew and Jane insisted Tucker join them as he spread carriage rugs for their picnic. The maid finally consented, but she refused to drink wine with them, allowing that only good English stout agreed with her English constitution.

“Tell me, Tucker. Honestly, mind. Have you ever tried French wine?”

“No, sir.”

“Do try a little, Tucker,” urged Jane.

“Nay, miss, ye’ll not tempt me.”

“Very well, but when we marry, Tucker, I shall expect you to join in a toast with French champagne,” said Drew.

“Oh, champagne, sir! That’s different!”

Drew was still chuckling as he rolled up the rugs and returned to the carriage.

“How much longer, Drew?” asked Jane as they set off once again.

“These roads, these animals? Another five hours, at the very least. But you must admit, we haven’t met a soul.”

“That’s true. The day is so beautiful, I could almost forget why I’m here.”

Tucker’s gentle snore caused Jane to smile, and Drew leaned close to her ear.

“Perhaps you could make believe we are on our wedding trip. Do you remember the night we met?”

“How could I forget? Your behaviour was shocking!” Jane’s teasing tone robbed her words of offence.

“And your behaviour was not? What a paradox you were. Prim and proper, cool as ice one minute then leaping off the terrace and kissing a total stranger with wild abandon the next.”

“I had no choice; I was taken by surprise!” she whispered fiercely.

“So you would react the same if any man took you by surprise?”

“No!”

“Only me?”

“Yes, wretch,” she admitted. “Only you.”

Drew stole a quick glance at the sleeping maid before pulling Jane against his chest and kissing her lips. He released her, declaring his intention to sleep away the last part of their journey.

Jane, however, remained alert, staring out the window building a fairy tale future in her mind.

b

“Jane, I have decided it would be best if I stay somewhere else in Paris and resume my true identity.”

Drew’s announcement was at odds with Jane’s daydream, and she turned with raised brows in question.

“Then,” continued Drew, “I can go about in society freely and locate Cherry. As Mr. and Mrs. Davies, we wouldn’t have the entree into high circles. And neither of us wants to risk meeting acquaintances accidentally.”

“True, but how will you convince Cherry of the error of her ways?”

Drew was blissfully unaware of the tartness of her tones as he considered her query. As far as he was concerned, everything had been settled between them, and he no longer needed to tread warily as Jane had agreed to be his wife. She would naturally look to him for guidance in any important decision.

“I suppose I will invite her to join me for a drive and bring her to you.”

“As simply as that, hmm? Don’t you think Lord Pierce will have something to say about you stealing her away?”

“I daresay I can convince her; that’s all that matters.”

“And what am I to do while you are conducting your search?”

“I suppose you may do as you wish. With Tucker along, I see no reason why you shouldn’t shop and visit museums. You will, after all, be wearing your mourning garb. No one could recognize you beneath that hideous veil.”

“You have thought of everything.”

Now he noticed the biting edge to her voice, and he frowned. “Is something bothering you, Jane?”

“Why, what could possibly be the matter? I am visiting Paris for the first time. I am accompanied by the man I am going to wed, and before we even reach our destination, he has decided to rid himself of me.”

“Jane, you are acting childishly.”

“You must forgive me, Lord Devlin, for troubling you with my childish views.”

“Jane, my dear, be reasonable.”

Responding in a manner she would normally have derided, Jane turned her back on Drew and refused to say another word.

Drew’s patience snapped. Had he not ridden to her side,
ventre à terre
, so that she wouldn’t have to endure this insane journey alone? Had he not taken care of all the arrangements, down to a place for her to stay in Paris with Jean-Francois’s aunt? Was he not prepared to search throughout the city for her silly chit of a cousin?

Devil take her and all women—let her sulk! He turned and gazed out the window as they entered the gates of the city.

b

Drew remained at the home of Madame DuClaire only long enough to satisfy himself as to the comfort and suitability of the dwelling. Jane remained silent during his quick conference with their hostess. Bidding Drew a chilly farewell, Jane and Tucker followed
Madame
upstairs to the second floor.

“What has happened between you and his lordship, Miss Jane?” asked Tucker as soon as the Frenchwoman had left them alone.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Now then, Miss Jane, I’ve been with your family since I was but a child myself. There’s no need to act the haughty mistress with me.”

Jane shook her head. “I really don’t see why I bother to try and have a private life. It is impossible with old family retainers about.”

“Never you mind, miss. I’ve followed ye all the way to this godforsaken country where no one understands me and I understand no one. I’ve not uttered a single complaint, and I have thought it all worthwhile since it seemed you and his lordship were coming to a point. So, Miss Jane, I’ll not pry, but if I can be of help, ye’ve only t’ ask.”

Tucker turned her back on Jane and began unpacking one hideous black gown after another. Jane nibbled at her lip a moment before coming up behind the maid and putting her arms around Tucker, saying, “Please forgive me. I can’t explain what happened between me and his lordship. I don’t understand it myself.”

“So ye’ve had yerselves a little spat.”

“I suppose so, but I can’t say why I get upset and lose my temper over the least little thing. It’s so unlike me. But he’s so very overbearing, Tucker. Are all men like that?”

“Most of them, Miss Jane. My Henry, rest his soul, was forever telling me what t’ do. It bothered me at first. Then I learned to just smile and go about my own way.”

“Didn’t that make him angry?”

“Sometimes, but it was better than trying to change him. And you can always make up later.”

Jane digested the older woman’s sensible advice. She wasn’t certain she could even pretend to agree with Drew when she didn’t. It seemed dishonest, but there was no denying she was unhappy as things now stood between them.

“I’m going to go downstairs and take a turn about that lovely courtyard. Would you have tea sent to me there?”

“Yes, Miss Jane. Best take yer shawl; it’ll be cool in the shadows.”

b

Jane woke to a rainy day. With her morning tea, Tucker delivered a letter from Drew. Jane set it aside as she sipped the hot liquid; she was in no hurry to read any missive from him. She watched Tucker pull out yet another repulsive black gown. Idly, her eyes fell on the letter again.

There was something oddly familiar about the handwriting. Jane shrugged and picked it up. She supposed she had seen numerous other notes written in Drew’s hand, but she hadn’t noticed what a scrawl he had. She tore open the paper.

Dearest Jane,

I have found lodgings at the Hotel St. Jacques in the Rue d
’
Honore. If you need me, you may send for me there. I had the misfortune of meeting Mr. Tuttle once again; he is staying here, also.

I have been invited to a breakfast al fresco at Versailles today, so I will not have the time to come to you at Madame DuClaire
’
s. Hopefully, I will meet the missing cousin at the breakfast and can restore her to you this evening.

I trust you slept well and are rested from our arduous journey. I am told that a Madame Arnot is the best couturiere in Paris. On my way out of the city, I will stop by her shop and arrange for her to visit you this afternoon. Perhaps you would wish to order a Parisian wedding gown.

Ever Yours,

D.

Jane pitched the offending paper onto the rumpled sheets and proceeded to drink up her tepid tea. Parisian wedding gown, indeed. While he is out having the time of his life dancing with French beauties and English tourists, he expected her to sit in the house with only a visit from the dressmaker to enliven her day? She would just see about that!

“Tucker, we’re going out! Lord Devlin has written to tell me the name of the best dressmaker in Paris, and I intend to visit her posthaste.”

“Yes, Miss Jane.”

Jane paused outside the shop of Madame Arnot, gazing in the window at the enticing display of rich silks and satins.