“I happen to have a dance free at the moment,” she said, completely unabashed.
He raised a brow at her. “I wasn’t aware there were dance cards at this gathering. What foresight the Bramers have.”
Miss Sheffield tittered a tinny laugh that irked him. “Oh, Deb, how silly you are!”
He was nothing of the sort, and never had been, especially not with her. He returned his attention to Miss Perkins, then wrenched his gaze away to avoid raising any ire on the part of Miss Sheffield. Not that he was so very cognizant of her feelings on the matter, but to prevent any further maliciousness on her part towards Miss Perkins.
“You could ask me to dance, you know, Deb,” Miss Sheffield prodded without shame.
“No, I could not,” he replied without thinking.
He heard her stiffen beside him. “No?”
He shook his head and glanced down at her with as much politeness as he could muster. “I am already engaged for the next dance, I’m afraid.”
Her eyes widened, her mouth gaping just enough to satisfy him. He bowed quickly then strode across the room, skirting the end of the current dancing without issue. He prayed this gamble would pay off, or he would be answering for a great deal more than he would like.
Miss Perkins saw him coming and her eyes widened in the sort of terror he would not have expected from her.
He bowed, smiling without effort. “Miss Perkins, would you care to dance the next with me?”
Her slender throat worked on a swallow. “I fear I am a poor dancer, Mr. Debenham,” she murmured, her lips barely moving.
“So am I,” he admitted freely. “I’ll trod your toes in the first few steps.”
A hint of a smile graced her lips. “Perhaps we should spare ourselves. I hardly know which of us would escape less injured.”
Will could have outright grinned at her show of spirit and wit, uncomfortable as she clearly was. “But then you would be sitting here still and not partaking in the entertainment at hand. That’s not acceptable.”
“It ought to be,” came her quiet reply, her eyes darting about quickly. “No one else seems bothered.”
“If you would not care for dancing,” Will murmured, wondering about the discomfort she felt and the distant note he heard in her voice as she spoke of others, “I will not insist upon it. I simply did not wish to see you sitting here alone.”
Miss Perkins looked up at him, almost smiling for him, which did unspeakable things to his heart. “You are very kind, Mr. Debenham. In truth, I could not say if I care for it or not. My experience is limited at best.”
Was that all? He could remedy that, especially if she would continue to think him kind. “Then perhaps this is the opportunity best capitalized upon, as the gathering is small and informal. Grand events undoubtedly await you, and if dancing is not to your taste, testing the waters here would allow you time to create whatever excuse necessary to prevent it happening again in the future.”
He hadn’t meant to sound teasing; it was simply not in his nature. He usually envied those that could tease and play with ease, unable to do the same. But with Miss Perkins, he found it less problematic and more a natural thing.
And what was more, she smiled at it.
Glorious creature.
“I think you might be right,” came the equally glorious reply.
With bated breath, Will extended a hand to her, and when she took it, his heart evaporated into thin air. Somehow, he led her to the open space with other couples, and her terrified expression matched the horrified one Miss Sheffield wore behind her.
“Miss Perkins,” Will murmured when she began to look down the line of ladies uncertainly.
Her dark eyes lifted to his, the edge of panic hovering there.
Will gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s a country dance. Watch the lead couple, and the ones following. You’ll know the way by the time it is our turn. No one is watching you.”
Miss Perkins dipped her chin in a nod, her fingers rubbing against each other by her sides. “Are you so certain of that?”
The words took him by surprise, and he glanced about as surreptitiously as he could.
Blast it, she was right. Several eyes were upon her, despite the small number of guests. He should have gathered as much. She was an exceptional beauty, and, dressed as she was in a fine but simple gown of cream and gold, her natural beauty was on display. She would attract attention wherever she went, high standing or low, and at a grander event than this, when she was even more elegantly arrayed…
He would not get within five yards of her then.
Now it was he who seemed to have the difficulty swallowing. “Ignore them all,” he managed as the music struck up. “Follow my lead. I’ll keep you safe.”
Something he said apparently amused her, for she gave him a true smile, small and delicate as it was. “That was never in question, sir.”
He would find himself on bended knee before her by the night’s end if she kept this up, and he still knew no more of her character and nature than what a handful of moments could allow.
He didn’t care. It seemed enough for now.
Marriages were entered into for far less.
But perhaps Miss Perkins had her own mind for her future, including that of marriage and family. She was a unique woman and he could hardly expect her to think of suitors in the same way that a woman like Miss Sheffield would.
What did Miss Perkins want? How did one go about discovering such things without appearing forward or crass?
A less gentlemanly man would have come out and asked. Would have found a clever way to work a flirtation and suggestion into conversation, making the object of his affections blush prettily and offer an honest if daring reply to satisfy his curiosity.
Will hadn’t managed to become such a man as yet. He would not know the way to do the thing any more than he would know how to lead her in a waltz worthy of her.
He was still a perfect gentleman, for his limited sins, and perfect gentlemen did not inquire about such things.
So, he would stew in his anxiety and feel the queries crawl within his chest until they would expel themselves in a perfectly horrid manner at the most inopportune time, which would prompt his excessive apologizing, and even a creature as patient and kind as Miss Perkins would find him tiresome.
He would not win her then.
But for now, he could fight those questions, and, for the moment, he could dance with her.
He watched her as she watched the other dancers, smiling to himself as he observed how her mind worked on the blessed planes of her face, a crease of diminutive nature creating a faint shadow on her fair brow.
A quick mind she had, that much he already knew, but he could see now the intensity of it as well.
Would her body follow the pattern of her thoughts with as much skill and efficiency?
The motions of the dance rippled their way down to them, and from the very moment she moved, Will felt himself soaring a bit above the company.
Her body followed better than her mind, grace and elegance exuding from even her smallest finger, and the smile she wore, uncertain as it was, captured everything he had seen in her within it.
Dancing was a grand entertainment, Will thought as he took her hand and led her to follow the other couples down the line.
A grand entertainment, indeed.
Chapter 6
Your father is struggling financially, Miss Perkins, and there is no polite way of saying so. Between his drinking, gambling, and the poor market of late, he may not be able to keep all of his ships. We’ve already had to cut down the fleet, you remember, and to reduce it even more would lessen profits in the future, most likely, but we cannot afford to keep the ships we have now, nor to pay the crew adequately. Since the death of your uncle, your father has invested unwisely with men at gambling tables, so there have been significant losses to the savings of the business. Be assured that your fortune is safe, not being tied to the business at all, and
it actually nearer to twenty-five thousand pounds now. I would strongly suggest that you make some more permanent and very strong alliances very soon, as things are likely to only get worse.
I shall write again when I have news.
Your humble servant,
James T. Coolidge
Caroline stared at the letter in horror. The news of her fortune being greater than previously estimated gave her no pleasure at all, considering the rest of the contents.
She had been receiving regular notes from her father requesting funds, and she had responded to each just as she had the first. She had no funds to spare, and a polite reminder that she did not earn a regular salary, as she was not a true employee. She would only receive pin money, and none of that had come into her hand as yet. She had not added that she would turn none of it over to her father, as it would have raised his ire, which could only create more trouble.
What could she possibly do with this? Mr. Coolidge was very kind to keep her informed, but she had no stake in the business itself. Her father would never have trusted a woman, no matter how capable, to have a hand in any of that. She could only presume that he was well aware of the requests she was receiving, and of the danger her father’s declining behavior could bring about.
She rubbed at her brow, sighing in irritation and folding the letter again. There was nothing she could do from here. She would not breathe a word of this to Lady Ashby, and would do her best to remove her own emotions from it as well. During Lady Ashby’s prolonged rest tomorrow, she would take a hack down to the docks. Her father would be at the warehouses during the day, so she would be able to move about freely without his interference. Their old landlady, Mrs. Briggs, would undoubtedly know the truth of matters. She had always liked Caroline, and she would not protect her from the ugliness of the situation.
It was a reckless idea, travelling down to the docks unaccompanied and being unchaperoned about London, but she was a dockyard girl. Dangers in the city had been her childhood companions, while finery was a stranger still. A short visit would do no harm, and she had no enemies to fear.
“Miss Perkins.”
Caroline turned, slipping the letter into the pocket of her morning dress. “Yes, Millie?”
The upstairs maid curtseyed quickly, giving her an apologetic smile. “Miss Sheffield and her friends request that you join them in the drawing room.”
Caroline raised a brow, making Millie laugh. Miss Sheffield had recently ceased her torment of Caroline, for torment it was, but only because Caroline was suddenly useful to her. The ladies were invited to a house party hosted by some woman of consequence, for which they would depart on the morrow. Caroline was not to attend, which relieved her, and it was expected that the women invited were to participate in riddles or cleverness.
Miss Sheffield was not at all clever and had no wit. Thus, Caroline was a convenient asset.
“I presume they are practicing riddles once more,” Caroline murmured.
“I cannot say, miss,” Millie replied. “I was not present prior to her request for you. But that kind Mr. Debenham has just joined the party, so it might not be all bad.”
Caroline could only nod to that and proceed as she was bid. Lady Ashby was lying in this morning with a headache, but she would ring for Caroline if she was needed. There was nothing to do except indulge Miss Sheffield, lest she spread rumors or cause trouble before her departure.
The drawing room was filled with all the usual friends, though Caroline thought the hour still too early for many callers. Such things didn’t seem to affect this particular group, aside from perhaps Mr. Debenham, but he was there too, though without the same jovial air as the rest.
He was always somehow apart from the rest, even when he was among them.
Caroline averted her eyes from his compelling gaze and focused instead on those that had sent for her.
“My dear Miss Perkins!” Miss Sheffield said, sounding far too polite as she came forward to take Caroline’s hands. “You are just the person I need!”
It was a feat indeed that Caroline kept her expression blank. “Oh?”
“Indeed!” Miss Sheffield nodded excessively. “I require your assistance. This party at Lady Lawson’s estate is to be filled with cleverness and riddles. You are so adept at them; I simply must beg you to assist me in preparing for the event.”
“Pardon me, Miss Sheffield,” Caroline responded with all due deference, “but I thought it was not seemly for a woman to be clever. I believe you told me as much only last week.”
Mr. Debenham, who was still all politeness and reserve, stifled a laugh at that, and Caroline barely managed to keep her attention from drifting to him.
Miss Sheffield only smiled. “You are so bright, Miss Perkins. Too bright and too clever, and you remember so well. Yes, my dear, that is true. But in this case, it is a gathering of clever, witty creatures, and so one must participate and put forth a good show, or else embarrass the rest. You would not wish me to embarrass myself for all to see, would you?”
Truth be told, Caroline would like that very much, but she could hardly say so.
“Very well,” Caroline demurred with a dip of her chin. “If you will permit me, I will write down some riddles for you, and you may work at them. Then we might be able to discuss them and see if there are any tricks with determining an answer.”
Miss Sheffield’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Oh, you clever thing, tricks to getting the answers would be the perfect thing.” She gestured to the writing desk nearby. “You will find paper at your disposal there. Is there any riddle you might give me now? While you prepare the rest?”
Did she expect Caroline to create a riddle out of thin air? Miss Sheffield was as ignorant and slow as any woman Caroline had ever met, and likely more so. Anything she attempted before company without practicing would have to be of the simplest kind, and if her friends had even a little wit, they would find Miss Sheffield entirely without it.
Caroline’s mind raced, and she seized upon one riddle she recalled from childhood that a ship captain had given her once. “The more there is,” she recited carefully, “the less you see. What is it?”
Creases appeared in Miss Sheffield’s typically clear brow, and her mouth tightened. “Very good,” she quipped without enthusiasm. “I shall think it over.” She turned back to her friends to confer, leaving Caroline’s path to the writing desk unencumbered.
Caroline moved there and took a sheet of paper, thinking for a moment before beginning to compose the next riddle she could recall.
“Rhoades,” Mr. Jacobs suddenly said from his relaxed position on his chair. “Do you think we might have a chance of getting Miss Perkins to laugh today?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Jacobs,” Mr. Rhoades drawled in his usual languid way. “She does not do so on normal circumstances, and I do not believe either of us are particularly amusing.”
That was a true statement, and Caroline ignored their teasing. They had attempted such other teasings before, and Caroline never rose to it.
It only encouraged them, she found, but there was nothing to be done about that.
“She is a reserved creature, is she not?” Mr. Rhoades went on. “I wonder if she is capable of laughter.”
“Surely she is,” Mr. Jacobs scoffed. “All women laugh, you know. It is part of their nature. I’d venture Miss Perkins’ laugh is only more musical than one might think, and thus she is saving us all from being swept away on its melody.”
“Come, Miss Perkins,” Mr. Rhoads prodded once more. “Tell us true.”
“I can assure you, gentlemen,” Caroline said with some clarity as she continued to write, “I can laugh, little though I do so. It is quite the same as anyone else’s laugh, only softer.”
“Oh ho!” Mr. Rhoades chortled. “Such a sound does exist! We must draw it out of her, Jacobs, indeed we must. Sheffield, have you heard her laugh?”
Caroline took no notice of what Mr. Sheffield replied, or any of the others. She only focus
ed all the more on her task at hand. The sooner it was completed, the sooner she could vanish from their midst.
“Miss Perkins, I beg you not to laugh for them.”
Caroline glanced up in surprise to find Mr. Debenham standing rather close, though his attention was fixed on the others in the room, his back to the wall. She glanced over her shoulder at the rest, still discussing her and teasing without her notice.
“Please,” Mr. Debenham said in a low voice. “Do not laugh.”
She gave him an odd look and said, “I have no intention of doing so. I am not being coy, Mr. Debenham. It is true that I rarely laugh.”
His bright eyes slid to hers. “They think you are playing a game,” he said, almost scolding.
“I never play games,” Caroline replied calmly with a shake of her head. “I have no taste or talent for such things. Truth be told, Mr. Debenham, I am the plainest, most boring girl that ever attempted to breach Society’s boundaries. And that is no false modesty, that is pure and simple truth.” She glanced over at the other men again, who were now attempting to listen in.
Caroline cleared her throat and returned her attention to her riddles. “And there is nothing anyone ought to wish to hear in my laugh,” she told him in a much lower tone. “They would be sorely disappointed by it, if it should happen.”
“I think there could not be a more precious sound in the world than your laugh,” he murmured, his voice very soft.
Her breath caught at the earnest note in his voice, and she raised her eyes to him once more.
His gaze was fixed on her, intensity radiating from his very being. “Not least because it is so infrequently heard. I only beg you not to share it with them because they would not know to treasure it. And you deserve nothing less.”
Several heartbeats passed before Caroline remembered that one ought to breathe on occasion, and even more passed before she recollected that she ought not to stare at a man so blatantly. But he was staring back, and there was no course but to return the favor.
In doing so, Caroline found the opportunity to study the man as she never had yet, and what a study he made. Mr. Debenham had a bit of a rough look about him, though without the accompanying grime she had learned to expect from it. For all his finery, he was broad of chest and chiseled of features. He could have very easily pass as a worker of the docks, if he dressed as such. His eyes, so vibrant in their shade, were never hard, but so full of life and light, a captivating energy that the rest of him never seemed to portray.
The Beauty Page 6
