“Besides Mother dearest.”
He wanted to laugh at the way she’d said it, but did not. She made an endearing term almost an epithet.
“You remember what to do if anyone becomes drunk or too intimate?”
A smile played around her lips. “I remember everything about the day you gave me the ‘rogue’ talk.”
She would, the minx. He still wondered how he’d thought he could provide instruction on how to deal with a too-forward gentleman while keeping his sanity. As her lips formed a pout, he also recalled how kissable they were, soft and yielding and so very sweet. The longing in his gut surprised him. It was lust. No, it was more. He was tired of deluding himself.
When he tightened his fingers around hers, she looked into his eyes, and his breath caught. When had he begun caring for her? Had it been when her eyes met his in the pub on the morning of her arrival? Or had it been during her explanation about worry beads in the coach the next day, when she’d seemed so matter-of-fact that he’d wanted to laugh. No, it was the day on the sea cliff when she’d chased her bonnet to the edge and he’d wrenched her back into his arms. The kiss he’d given her had been real.
He swallowed at her expression. She looked as if she wanted another passionate kiss, perhaps to remind her that here in this household there was someone who cared for her—perhaps even loved her—although admitting such a thing out loud would be against all the vows he’d made to himself.
Instead, he got up and opened the door. “I will take my leave now. I shall call on you and your mother prior to the arrival of the first guest. She decided I should be in the receiving line with you between us, so both of us can help with the names.
She nodded, her eyes gazing into his, her demeanor changing. “I-I’m afraid.”
This was unexpected.
“You said you were looking forward to the party.”
“I am, but when I think of certain parts of it, I wonder if I can succeed.”
He glanced at the door, and closed it again. “Come here.” He drew her into his arms and held her tight. She was stiff at first, then began to relax as he rubbed her back. “The die is cast, as Shakespeare would say. Now you must give yourself an uplifting talk. Stand in front of a looking glass and convince yourself you can do this. You said you were doing it for Jocelyn. Then think of her. You have all day tomorrow to spend with her, to study her speech, her walk, her attitude. You look like her. You will be her. I won’t let you fail.” He tightened his hold, aware that a part of his body was responding to her soft breasts pressed into his chest. Heat rose in his body, and his cock hardened.
She pulled back. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now get some sleep. You need to be less somber. Your sister is known to be full of gaiety.”
She smiled broadly. “I know.”
He opened the door, and she walked him into the hall. A footman sitting nearby jumped to attention.
“Please fetch my hat and coat.”
“Yes, milord.” He scurried off.
“I will remember everything you said tonight, and I shall not repeat it to my sister. I want her to think the evening will be as she hoped. If it turns out not to be, I shall tell her, and I promise, I shall speak gently so not all of her hopes are dashed.”
“I appreciate your discretion and your kindness to a total stranger.”
“It’s odd. She’s not entirely a stranger, even though we’ve just met. It is almost like we have an invisible connection. ’Tis hard to explain. But it is there. She feels it, too.”
“I’ve heard of that between twins. I admit you and Jocelyn are the only twins I know.” They stopped talking when the footman returned and helped him into his outerwear. “I shall see you tomorrow, er, Jocelyn, and I wish you a very happy birthday in advance.”
“Thank you, milord. Have a safe journey home.”
Ralston left the house and hurried along the street. His townhouse wasn’t far so he had walked, knowing he would need time for reflection on the day’s events. He sincerely hoped everything would go as planned.
Why do I have a feeling it will not?
Chapter 27
“It’s time to get dressed.”
Jane peered over the rim of her tub to see Matilda, Jocelyn’s maid, standing near the door with a towel wrapped around her arm. The water had soothed and calmed when she’d first slipped in. Now it had cooled, and she feared her fingers and toes had shriveled into wrinkles she’d stayed in so long.
She brought her index finger to her mouth and chewed on a hangnail, then thrust it back into the water. Why wasn’t Mary here to help her dress? She rose slowly, darted a glance at her sister’s maid, and wrapped the material around her body. Stepping out, she dried herself unaided and slipped into a warmed wrapper.
“Sit in front of the fire. I have pins and brushes laid out to style your hair.”
She obeyed, noting how chilly the room had become despite the fresh coals in the grate.
“Here.” A plain shawl brushed her shoulders, and she tugged it around her. “Now sit still, milady. Lady Jocelyn favors an elaborate style with lengths of pearls woven through a mass of tiny braids that form the chignon. Curls will frame your face, giving it a softer look.”
“Must it be so elaborate?” The maid tugged and twisted as if she did this every day.
“This is your birthday ball. Of course you must outshine everyone there.”
Her birthday. Indeed it was.
She’d celebrated her last birthday with Papa and Maddie. After a special meal of all her favorite foods, Papa had refused to go back to bed and had taken her to the barn, bidding her to close her eyes. When she’d opened them, her horse stood there with a beautiful new English sidesaddle. That was when she’d learned to ride “like a lady,” in Papa’s words. Before, she’d ridden astride with thick pantaloons under a long skirt that spread over the horse’s back for modesty.
He’d failed to tell her that she actually was an English lady.
Too late to think about that now.
When her hair was properly styled, she donned new undergarments that had been destined for her twin and stepped into the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen. The gown was a clingy pale-blue silk with a low bodice, and puffed sleeves with Brussels lace lining them. Silver lace adorned the gauzy overskirt with seed pearl trim. The maid handed her a flat box that contained a necklace of pearls and diamonds.
“I cannot wear this.”
“’Tis a birthday present.”
“But . . .”
“For Lady Jocelyn.”
“I see.” She bit back a sudden sting of tears, followed by seething anger.
A precious gift for my precious sister. What had she expected? A gift for her?
“There.” The maid stood back and admired her work. “Lady Jocelyn wishes to see you before you go.”
Jane swished her way to the other room and stood at the end of the bed.
“Oh! I look wonderful, if I do say so myself. How do you like my birthday gift? Isn’t it wonderful?”
“It is.”
“And the combs studded with pearls in your hair? Those are my gift to you.” Jocelyn sighed as she walked around Jane, touching the folds of the gown. “I loved this dress. Now I shall never wear it.”
Jane widened her eyes. “Of course you will. I will only have it on a few hours. You can claim it when you are well.”
“It’s not done. I shall not wear the gown once everyone has seen it.” She bit her finger and then twirled it in the air. “Turn slowly. Pretend I’m a guest, and you’re in the receiving line.”
She turned and struck a pose, using the fan the maid had handed her as she left the room. “How nice to see you. I hope you enjoy the ball.” She tilted her head slightly the way her sister did when speaki
ng and stared at her with a half-smile.
Jocelyn clapped her hands. “’Tis perfect.
“I promise to have a full report. If I can, I’ll sneak in to repair some imaginary tear in my hem and tell you how things are faring.”
“Would you? It would make me happy. I thought I might sneak to the top of the stairs and watch for Aubrey.”
“No, someone might see you. Nor can you use the backstairs. Too risky.”
“I know.” She put her fists to her eyes. “I am so miserable. I cannot attend my own ball.”
“On the positive side, your welts are fading. How do you feel?”
“Depressed, but it isn’t the spots. I cannot believe I won’t be the one accepting my own proposal of marriage.”
“The proposal could come after your Aubrey returns from his shooting trip. Do you want me to avoid him, perhaps not give him any time alone?”
“No. Please do not. This is so important to me.”
Jane wondered where such an event would occur. Certainly not in a public place. She would have to be wary and careful of Jocelyn’s reputation.
If there really is a proposal.
“There you are.” Mother glided into the room, standing in front of Jane. She tugged at the curls that framed Jane’s face and lowered the bodice. “There. Now you look positively ravishing.”
An odd thing for a mother to say. Jane let it drop. Her mother was not addressing her—the American twin. She was thinking as if Jocelyn stood in front of her.
“Is Lord Ralston here?”
“You can greet him while I have a word with this poor darling.”
Dismissed and discarded, like a pail of dirty bathwater.
She much preferred to spend her time with her guardian anyway.
Ralston stood at the far end of the family parlor overlooking the street. He was dressed in black, and when he turned, he gasped.
“Jane?”
“No Jocelyn. At least for tonight.” She sauntered in and joined him at the window, admiring the elaborate fall of his cravat and the silver waistcoat under his tailored jacket.
“You could have fooled me, so I am sure you will fool everyone else. You look—stunning. I have to admit, I like the simple Jane I’ve grown accustomed to, the one with a flyaway braid, mud on her boots, and a stubborn lift to her chin. Happy birthday, by the way.”
Her heart thumped in her chest as she gazed into his eyes. They held for a moment before he swallowed and looked away, his hands clenching at his sides. Did he—could he—feel something for her, just as her heart banged in her chest every time she was in his presence? One more year and perhaps she could find out.
She followed him to the settee where he indicated she should sit. Standing in front of her, he placed his hands behind his back. “I have a gift for you.”
“You do?” Why did that please her so much? She’d never been much for gifts. She found she would cherish something from Ralston forever.
“It’s not here. In fact, it isn’t even on English soil. I wanted you to know and decided tonight might be the time to tell you.”
“What is it? You have me curious now.”
“I’m going to have your mare sent here from Baltimore. As soon as you mentioned how much you missed her, I sent a letter and funds to Mr. Hornsby, asking him to make the necessary arrangements. The mare won’t arrive until summer, but when she does, she will be taken to my estate near Chelmsford, and then I’ll bring her to you.”
Elation made her jump up and squeal. “I cannot believe it! You did this for me? You are wonderful.” She put her arms around his waist and hugged tight.
He drew back, and a hunger filled his eyes. She touched his cheek, and he quickly placed his hand on top of hers. He dropped it and strode back to the window. “Are you prepared for tonight?”
Jane caught her breath and tucked away the good news he’d given her. Having her mare would be better than any necklace. It would be a piece of home. The only thing better would be having Maddie, but that would be selfish. Maddie was with her real family.
She calmed herself and thought about his question. “I have one concern.”
He turned toward her. “What is that?”
“If the Marquis of Leisterbridge proposes, as my sister expects, where will that happen? Surely not in the ballroom.”
He frowned. “He might ask you to stroll in the garden, or whisk you away to one of the empty rooms off the main hall. Do not be concerned. I shall watch you carefully and make sure you are not alone with him very long.”
“Will he . . . try to kiss me?”
“He may. Or he may not. Kisses come during a courtship, and Jocelyn will be well soon enough to receive that kind of attention. Remember our conversation about rakes and their behavior. You should be able to control him if he becomes too friendly.”
She hoped he was right. For now she thought she could handle anything. It was her birthday, and Ralston had given her a wonderful gift. She would hug that knowledge to her long after the ball and would quiz him daily about the horse’s arrival.
Would she be returning to Painswick? She couldn’t imagine living here with Mother dearest and Jocelyn. Their life seemed so shallow, but she had to admit she hadn’t known either one very long. Her conversations about recent activities with Jocelyn seemed to point to endless rounds of social gatherings. When they weren’t engaged in visits or parties, they shopped or rode in an open conveyance through a place called Rotten Row. Did they read or study? Did they attend lectures or visit art galleries? Lady Amelia had told her about several places she wanted to visit. Perhaps Ralston would escort her.
Mother entered the room. “It is time to take our places in the ballroom. The orchestra is tuning, and the champagne has been poured.” She studied Ralston. “You seem tense. Is anything amiss?”
“Not at all.” He extended his arms to both women. “Ladies? Are you ready?”
Jane took his arm, and when she did, he winked at her.
She felt ten times better.
Chapter 28
Floral arrangements filled the air with scent, and candlelight leant an air of opulence in the well-appointed ballroom. One would think the prince regent was expected, not ordinary guests celebrating a young girl’s twentieth birthday.
Jane’s feet ached, and for the hundredth time, she wished her footwear to Hades. As the guest of honor, she’d nodded and smiled and repeated names until she was sure they would all run together like words spoken in a foreign language.
When the orchestra announced the first dance, Ralston took her hand, and they opened the ball. “Remember to smile, Lady Jocelyn. No one has even given you a second look except to tell you how beautiful you are tonight.”
She wanted to ask him if he thought so, too. That would sound like she was begging for a compliment, so she did as he asked and pasted a smile on her face. Her jaw would ache from all the smiling. So far the ball was a complete crush, and she was sure she must go unnoticed among all the bejeweled ladies.
This was a country dance, and she knew the steps. When it ended, her guardian led her back to Lady Siltsbury where her next partner waited. By the end of two hours, her feet ached all the more, and her throat was parched. She’d danced every dance and needed air. She searched the room for Ralston and saw him deep in conversation with an elderly gentleman wearing a bright red waistcoat. Baron something or other.
A scrawny young man stood in front of her. She asked if he’d mind sitting with her instead. He seemed flustered by her request, so she raised her fan and begged as prettily as Jocelyn might for a glass of champagne. He hastened away, and she studied the guests. The marquis, described to her by Ralston, was nowhere in sight. He had not yet made an appearance, and she was sure he was not coming. Jocelyn would be devastated.
“Here you are, Lady
Jocelyn.” The scrawny lad—Mr. Robinette—sat next to her, sipping from his own glass. “Your birthday ball is a smashing success. I haven’t seen a crush like this for quite a long time. I’m sure it’s because of your popularity.”
“You are so kind to say so.” She tapped him with her closed fan, and his face turned as red as her sister’s welts. “Do you attend many balls?”
He turned to her in astonishment. “What an odd thing to say, since I’ve danced at least once with you at every ball you’ve attended this season.”
Oh dear, she’d done it now. She swallowed a gulp of the bubbly liquid and tilted her head. “I was teasing you, sir. You’re most likely the man I’ve danced with most this year. Alas, I was drawing your attention. I wanted to know how you would respond to my feeble attempt at mirth.”
If anyone could blush even more furiously, this gentleman was practically on fire. Soon he’d be the one making a proposal. Her next partner was the gentleman she’d met in Painswick. As he approached and bowed, she bade him sit on her other side, figuring that was what her sister might do. In the receiving line, she’d paid close attention to his name. James Margrave, the Earl of Seaton.
“I believe this is the first waltz, and I have come to claim my dance.”
Jane gulped down the rest of her champagne, feeling giddy when she rose. He led her out to the dance floor. “I feel a bit wobbly after that last glass, so please forgive me if I trod on your toes.”
“You won’t. I shall not let you.” He tugged her closer than was proper, but she allowed it. He was a marvelous dancer, almost as skilled as Ralston. “Now tell me again why you hid yourself away in Painswick. You usually favor more society than there is in a village that small.”
“I told you at the time. Has your memory failed?”
“My memory always fails when I am around you.”
Warning bells clanged in her head. She couldn’t walk off in the middle of the dance, but this was the kind of speech she expected from Leisterbridge. Was Lord Seaton one of the rogues she should be concerned about?
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