Without a Summer (16 page)

The lady worked her fan, as though to dismiss Jane, before turning back to her set. Still blushing from her mistake, Jane retreated to Vincent. “My love, do you see anyone you know?”

“A few, yes.”

She waited, then applied to him again. “Do you think any of them might be willing to ask Melody to dance?”

“Hm?” He frowned first at her, then Melody in confusion before recalling himself. Wincing, he said, “I am out of practice at this.”

“I will remind you that this was your idea.”

“And it should give you a fair idea as to the state of my mind that it was.” Vincent peered down at her. “I jest, lest that is uncertain.”

“It is quite clear.” It was also not fully a jest, she was certain of that. “May I impose, then?”

Vincent nodded with a tight jaw and offered Melody his arm. “I have an acquaintance to whom I should like to make you acquainted.”

Jane stifled a laugh at the redundancy in his language. Her poor grumbling bear always retreated into taciturn silence or exaggerated formality when distressed. Tonight, he appeared to be doing both. There was little she could do for him now, but she hoped that once he had a task he would relax somewhat. Jane followed behind them as Vincent led Melody through the crowd, around a cluster of young gentlemen of the Corinthian model.

As they made their way, a man called, “Lady Vincent!”

She stopped, turning in the throng to spy Major Curry. Of all things, this was the best of fortunes. She had been wishing to make Melody better acquainted with him, but had not yet had time to arrange the promised tea. “What brings you here?”

“The Duke of Wellington.” He rolled his eyes, but only a little. “His Grace says it is necessary to make social calls when in town, and this allows him to make them all at once. Everyone who is anyone, you know. However, he has left me at loose ends.”

“His loss, then, is our gain. Vincent and I were just searching for a dance partner for Melody. May I presume upon your kindness?”

“A privilege.” He bowed, and she thought he stood a little taller afterwards.

Together they caught up with Vincent and Melody, who had paused in their quest. Vincent was glaring over the heads of the crowd. “The people I knew have moved.” His expression of displeasure brightened when he saw who was with Jane.

For a few moments they talked of the usual things: the press of the crowd, the lemonade, and the quality of the cake. As soon as the pleasantries concluded, Major Curry turned to Melody and offered her a bow. “May I have the honour of a dance?”

She accepted his offer with her hand. “I should be delighted.”

Satisfied that her sister had been provided with the best partner Jane could wish for, she turned to Vincent. He glowered at the room, and she raised her eyebrows in expectation.

For a moment, he did not notice her questioning look, then he started. “I told you we would dance.”

She nodded. Waiting.

With the noise surrounding them, she could not hear him hold his breath, but she could see his chest expand and his jaw set. Vincent rolled his shoulders as though he were preparing to work. He expelled the breath in a sigh.

As though a glamour had passed over him, Vincent’s posture changed, becoming more erect, and Jane saw the man his father had wanted him to be. Extending his leg, Vincent offered her a full court bow with all the grace of a formal courtier. “Lady Vincent. Would you do me the honour?”

“I—I would be delighted.” Astonished beyond measure, Jane placed her hand in his as he stood.

Keeping his eye on hers, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you, madam.”

All in wonder, Jane let him escort her to the floor. His carriage was smooth and elegant, but beneath her hand, his arm trembled with tension.

She pressed his arm. “We do not have to dance.”

“I made a promise.” Vincent did not meet her gaze, but smiled—smiled!—and nodded at someone across the floor.

They reached the bottom of the set and took their places opposite each other. Beside all the fine ladies in their fashion, Jane felt all her old anxieties come back. Her carriage was poor. Her features too sharp. Her hair was all wrong. And across from her, Vincent played the part of the nobleman’s son he had been born to. Had she met him then, would he have even noticed her?

He held out his hand and they progressed up the set, casting off in an arc around the next couple. The effort that had been put into his deportment showed in the way he glided over the floor, and the easy grace in his figures.

Jane was at once captivated by the sight of him dancing, and resolved never to ask him to dance again. When she thought about how each perfect movement had been purchased, of the privations and beatings that Vincent had endured for his failure, she could not rest easy with the result.

They danced through the set. Jane wanted to pull him off the floor, but she would not draw attention to either of them by creating a spectacle. Not with Melody and Major Curry four couples above them in the dance.

As they progressed, Melody and Major Curry reached the top of the set and began the turn back to the bottom. As a matter of course, they were soon in a group with Jane and Vincent.

Melody’s eyes widened as she turned from their previous group to see Vincent offer his hand for the balance forward and back. “Sir David! You astonish me. I did not know that you danced.”

“Only rarely, Miss Ellsworth.” He inclined his head to the perfect degree as they exchanged places, and offered a smile calculated to charm. “It requires the greatest of temptations.”

Jane balanced forward and back with Major Curry. “How are you enjoying the dance, Major?”

“Quite nicely.” He exchanged places with her smoothly. “Your sister is an elegant dancer.”

He did not have time for more before Jane took hands and turned twice around with Melody. As the sisters swung each other in a tight circle, Melody said, “What has come over Vincent? He is all elegance tonight.”

Jane shook her head. “I hardly know him.”

Melody let go of Jane’s hands and turned to change places again with Vincent. “Indeed, I am not certain I would know him either.”

“I hardly know myself.” Vincent retreated to the corner of their set as Jane and Major Curry did a two-hand turn.

Passing her, the Major said, “Have you enjoyed your stay in London?”

“It has been edifying, as always.” Jane dipped her head and retreated to her corner, turning to face Vincent again as he completed his two-hand turn with Melody.

He smiled at her with a degree of charm, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes seemed to her to be cracks of tension. He held his hand out, and the four of them joined hands to circle to the left.

Melody laughed as they spun. “La! Vincent, I should think that it would be easier if you acted like this always.”

“But less true.” He gave her a short bow of his head as they all circled back to the right and turned to their new set.

Jane and Vincent’s new partners were not known to them, and Jane was only too glad to allow anonymity to protect them from conversation. Without being forced to speak, Vincent glided through the steps with a grace that nearly stopped Jane’s breath. She felt as though she danced with a stranger, which might almost be true.
Here
was Mr. Vincent Hamilton, third son of the Earl of Verbury. She did not want him. She wanted her husband.

When that dance was finished, Jane put her hand to her chest and affected to be too winded to continue. Vincent guided her off the floor to a chair by the wall. “Shall I get you some lemonade?”

“No.” Jane took his hand and ran her thumb over the back of it. “I am sorry. I will not ask you to do that again.”

“It is not as bad as I make it out to be. It is only that I feel I am lying.” He looked across the floor with his head tilted to the side. “Major Curry appears to be introducing Melody to some others.”

“I should not leave her alone.” Jane started to rise, but Vincent put his hand on her shoulder.

“Curry will not lead her astray. We can watch from here.” He raised a hand in a wave. “There, she knows where we are now.”

“You are very good, you know.”

“That is because I have a lot of wickedness to atone for.”

“Vincent—”

“I shall get some lemonade for us.” He squeezed her shoulder and stepped away.

Jane caught his hand, and pulled him to a stop. “Wait. Please. I am not thirsty, and you seem to be avoiding me too often.”

His brows rose in confusion. “Avoiding? Oh, no, Muse…” He paused and studied the floor. “No. I suppose that is fair. I will endeavour not to do so again.”

She tried to tease the disquiet out of him. “Am I so alarming?”

“Losing you is.” Vincent’s voice was so hushed that, had she been any farther from him, she would not have heard it. He continued to stare at the floor as though counting the scratches there.

Engrossed as they were, the next voice caught both Vincents unaware. “What a surprise!”

Vincent visibly started. A fine lady stood next to them dressed in a white crape frock over a satin slip; French Lama work in silver ornamented the hem, and delicate satin slippers peeked out from beneath the dress.

At her wrists and long, white throat, she wore a matched set of rubies, which brought out the warm tones in her cheeks. The shape of her brow beneath her abundance of brunette curls was like Vincent’s, refined into a feminine ideal.

“Are you not going to say good evening?” She patted him on the arm with her fan. “I told Papa that he was approaching you all wrong.”

Clearing his throat, Vincent straightened and slipped that mask of civility over his features, but his eyes had no sparkle to them. “This is Lady Penelope Essex. May I present my wife, Lady Vincent?”

“Oh, you are not still using that name, are you?” Lady Penelope wrinkled her nose at him. “I suppose I cannot blame him, but I do wish that he would stop pretending that he is not my brother. I should wish you to be Lady Hamilton so that you and I might be properly sisters. Still, I do understand. Papa was always hardest on him.”

This charming lady was the one who had caused Vincent so much dread? Recalling Vincent pulling the mask over his features, Jane wondered if she could trust the lady’s seemingly open manner. “Vincent has spoken of you. I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Spoken of me, only? Dear boy … not ‘with fondness’?” Leaning her head back, Lady Essex laughed as though it were a great joke. “No. I suppose not. Though that is not my fault. You were always the wicked one. Oh, Lady Vincent, you would not believe the troubles he got my sister and myself into. Always undoing glamours, and making it appear as though it were our fault.”

“He has told me this story.”

“Has he! Oh, I am so glad. I was afraid that he would say nothing about us at all.”

During this conversation, Vincent had been staring fixedly at Jane. Wetting his lips, he took a half-step forward. “The music is about to recommence. Will you excuse us? I promised Lady Vincent that we would dance this evening.”

Jane kept her surprise hidden behind a mask of smooth pleasure. If he needed to beat a retreat, she would do all she could to help him. “And a waltz! It is still something of a scandal in my parents’ neighbourhood, so I have not had the opportunity.”

Lady Penelope flirted her fan open, not at all deceived, though she answered with graciousness. “Of course. Only say that you will come to dinner on Monday and bring your sister. I do so want you to meet my husband and my little boy. A small family affair, I promise.” Leaning toward Jane, she said, “Vincent does so despise crowds.”

“I have had ample opportunity to observe that myself.”

Again, Lady Penelope favoured her with a laugh. “I am certain you have, my dear. To come here must be a sign that he loves you very much.”

Vincent took Jane’s hand. “I do. And so I would like to fulfil my promise to her.”

“Go. By all means, go.” She laid a hand on Vincent’s arm, and for a moment dropped her air of playfulness. “Only say you will come to dinner. Please?”

The simplicity of her request was deeply becoming. Vincent’s chest set for a moment, then he exhaled. “Yes. Thank you.”

With an exclamation of delight, Lady Penelope stood on her toes to kiss her brother on the cheek. “I am so glad. Now, go and lead your good lady to dance.”

Taking their leave, Jane and Vincent walked to the floor. Jane waited until they were a good twenty paces from Lady Penelope. “Are you all right?”

He chuckled. “You were saying something about me avoiding people?”

“As long as you escape with me, I shall not object.”

Vincent raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “As long as you will have me.”

Melody was still in the set preparing to dance, which pleased Jane, but she had exchanged partners for the new song. Standing at her side, ready to begin the shockingly wanton waltz, was Mr. O’Brien. The couple chatted with great animation.

“Is his hand on her torso?” Beyond the intimacy of the dance, it was clear from the blush on his cheeks and the gentleness of his manner that Mr. O’Brien had joined the ranks of young men smitten with her sister. More disturbingly, Melody appeared to be equally taken with the young Irishman.

“It appears so, yes.”

Since the waltz was not danced in a line, Jane led Vincent to where her sister stood. “Are you going to waltz?”

“Oh!” Melody put her hand familiarly on her partner’s arm. “Yes. Mr. O’Brien has offered to teach me how.”

“Has he, indeed?” Jane raised her eyebrows.

The young man flushed further and cleared his throat. “I had occasion to learn while I was in Vienna. With my parents.”

Beside Jane, Vincent made a small humph of discovery. “I have not, but I promised Ja—Lady Vincent a dance.”

“It is excessively simple. I can show you before we begin, if you like. There is a basic step, like so.” He sketched out a simple figure on the floor. “Then one turns while dancing. Miss Ellsworth—would you assist?”

He held out his left hand and she placed her right in it. Melody’s left went on his shoulder, but
his
left … Jane cleared her throat. “It appears to involve being held rather close.”