Beneath Spring's Rain (Ashton Brides Book 1)

by Rebecca J. Greenwood

  The later the evening became, the more the bubble of space around Eliza and Daniel widened. They were being avoided by the other guests.

  They hadn’t yet been given the cut direct—that would be too rude to the host’s brother—but discomfort was evident.

  “I should leave. I’m making everyone uncomfortable.”

  “No. We have two more sets at least, my love. We are here to prove everything is normal, and we have nothing to hide or fear.”

  But fear clenched her stomach. No, not fear. She would not call it fear. Nervousness. She was only nervous.

  “Here, the next set is a quadrille. And Thomas is stepping out with Florentia. We’ll make a foursome. That will be perfect for us.”

  She agreed.

  He led her onto the floor and took his place across from her. Her back itched from disapproving stares. She could feel them, like ticks crawling up her skin. She straightened her spine and angled up her chin. She was here, and she was engaged to the very honorable and wonderful Lord Daniel. She would hold herself together, as he asked her to.

  Daniel’s friend Major Yarrow positioned Florentia next to Eliza with a smile, and the musicians began to play.

  She dipped into a curtsey at the opening flourish. Daniel smiled at her. He seemed genuinely happy to dance with her. Happy to be with her, though she knew she was poor company.

  And he helped her feel safe. Remarkably safe. How vital, how important, was that? It was essential.

  Daniel was wonderful and beyond belief. Too good to be true. But she would take it—as long as he was willing to give her himself, she would accept.

  When it fell apart, how much further she would have to fall, having climbed so high under his adoration?

  What would she do when he discovered she truly was not worthy of his sacrifices? Though she warned him, he disregarded her words.

  Daniel drew near in the dance, and their gloved hands clasped. His eyes were trained on hers, and he kept them, pulled her in, until all her attention was only on him.

  How did he do that? How did he start her heart pounding? Cause tingles to go up her arm where their gloved hands touched?

  The music faded, she lost the rhythm, and scuffed her slipper on the chalked parquet floor.

  She corrected herself immediately and fell back into step, feeling her cheeks heat. She willed the blush down as fast as she could and forced herself to look at the other dancers, to be aware.

  “How are you doing, Eliza?” Daniel asked.

  “I am quite well, I thank you.”

  The dance was long, but she didn’t let herself get lost in him again. That was too dangerous a path to allow herself to go down in her precarious position. To lose herself in any way was to court disaster.

  They next danced a Scottish reel, too lively for her to not feel lightened by it. Daniel’s grin pulled a smile out of her.

  Then she would catch a disapproving look from a matron, or two girls giving her sidelong looks from behind their fans.

  She didn’t know if she would make it to supper.

  Eliza pushed aside the disapprobation she felt directed at her. The important thing was that Florentia was enjoying herself. A sweet blush wreathed the young lady’s cheeks, and her bright, girlish laughter lightened the air around her. She slipped into giggles easily, looking the light-hearted child. She had yet to sit out a set, the young men gallantly stepping up to dance with her at her coming-out ball.

  The marquess even danced, looking pale, grave, and sardonic over the heads of his guests.

  It seemed quite crowded, almost a crush, though the marchioness had said they hadn’t planned a crush.

  Eliza danced a set with Daniel’s friend Major Yarrow, who was charming and intent on pulling a smile from her. But her smiles were buried deep, the tension of the stares from the crowd, and the whispers behind fans giving her a headache at the back of her head, and making her feel unwell.

  The room spun for a moment, and she breathed rapidly to keep herself vertical.

  He returned her to Daniel with a smile and gallant words she scarcely heard.

  Was it enough? Could she retire? How she hated this.

  One of Daniel’s officer friends asked for a dance, and she stepped out again.

  * * *

  Daniel stood with Thomas and watched as Eliza danced a cotillion with Major Nelson. He patted the inside pocket of his waistcoat where the special license burned an eager hole. He could marry Eliza at any time. Excitement rose in him at the thought. But he must wait. Eliza needed to get more accustomed to the idea. A few days of engagement should do no harm.

  He caught several looks directed at him, and whispers behind fans.

  He forced his hands away from the pocket and tugged on his waistcoat. Frederick joined them, a pale eyebrow lifted in inquiry as to Daniel’s restlessness.

  Daniel gave a sigh. “It seems that here we are, yet again the Scandalous Ashtons, setting the Ton on its ears. I apologize, Frederick.”

  His brother narrowed his eyes. For him, when in company, such a gesture was the equivalent of a grimace.

  “One of you needs to do something outrageous every few years or you grow restless, do you not?” Thomas said. “It was high time.”

  “I do not appreciate that statement, Thomas.” Frederick flicked his eyes in Thomas’s direction.

  “But think about it. It was Daniel’s turn, I say. Cassandra’s jilt of her fiance was the first, then the troubles in Frederick’s marriage that set society’s tongues wagging. Yes, it’s high time Daniel did something shocking. Then Florentia can have her round.”

  Daniel’s mouth pulled up. “I give her a few years.”

  “I give her a few months.” Thomas grinned. “Or a few days. She seems to be one to take initiative.”

  “Bite your tongue, Thomas,” Frederick said through gritted teeth. “Heaven forbid Florentia’s ever involved in a scandal.”

  “I’m more worried that my scandal will harm Florentia’s prospects.” Daniel’s eyebrows lowered.

  Thomas waved a dismissive hand. “She’s young. She doesn’t need to marry this year. If her swains are so squeamish, you wouldn’t want them in the family. I know you Ashtons don’t like to follow society’s dictates to the letter.”

  “I hope she’ll gain some town bronze, but scrape by without any egregious faux pas,” Frederick said through barely moving lips. “Your commentary does not help, Thomas.”

  “I entertain you, you entertain the Ton . . .all is in balance.” Thomas gave a toothy grin. “If you will excuse me, I see a lady in need of a dance.” He flicked his forelock, clicked his heels in a mocking bow, and sauntered away.

  * * *

  Eliza stood next to Daniel as a country dance ended. The company clapped politely.

  “Next is the supper dance. We’ve made it halfway through,” he said.

  “At the very least.” Only halfway. She felt wrung out already.

  “You’ll join me?” He looked down at her, and she risked looking back. Warmth and kindness were in his eyes again.

  Her breath caught. What would she do with him? He was too kind.

  He lifted her gloved hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. She found herself standing even closer to him. She had to pull herself away before she exposed herself too fully.

  She looked down and willed her heart to calm.

  Eliza nodded her assent, and he led her to the dance floor.

  The music started, and Florentia and the blushing youth she had chosen to be on her arm for the supper dance entered the floor.

  The music had a 3/4 beat.

  Eliza looked up in confusion. The couples around them did as well. The master of ceremonies had announced a quadrille. But the music was decidedly 3/4.

  A waltz.

  Florentia let out a giggle, and her youth blushed as she came up to him, and put her hands in both of his. Eliza and Daniel were standing close enough to hear her say, “You said you could waltz, Mr. Tims?”

>   The young man gulped, his eyes wide, his face red, but he began the steps of the dance.

  Daniel gave a groan. He looked down at Eliza, his face stricken.

  “How did she arrange this?” Eliza asked him.

  “I spotted Florentia talking to the conductor of the orchestra earlier, but I never imagined she’d flout our stepmother so blatantly.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know whether to support her by dancing, or to show solidarity with our stepmother and refuse.”

  Some couples moved into position, joining the waltz. But a few young ladies with red faces left the floor. They weren’t cleared to dance it either.

  “You do waltz, you said?”

  “I do.” She did not say she had rarely danced the lady’s part, being more useful to her cousins as a male stand-in during their turns with the dancing master in preparation for this Season.

  “Then let’s.”

  He took her up in his arms.

  They whirled and turned in the dance. She felt dizzy with the music. He led her with confidence and command. They twisted and skipped. She felt breathless, and her head spun.

  It was wonderful.

  He smiled, and she could not help it—didn’t want to help it—she smiled back. A giggle rose up in her throat like the bubbles of champagne, and she caught and swallowed them down before they could burst out and destroy her dignity.

  This would never do. She wasn’t a giggly girl fresh from the schoolroom. But a strange feeling of fun—of happiness—was coming up in her. She enjoyed dancing the waltz with Daniel.

  His crooked smile on his expressive mouth drew her to him.

  * * *

  Daniel was breathless and his head spun. She was beautiful and she smiled up at him. All his dreams were coming true. He was dancing with his true love, the woman he had pined over like a schoolboy for years, and she was to marry him. He was going to have a lifetime of her in his arms. He tightened his hold on her and brought her closer to him than might be proper.

  A shoulder bumped into them, and they stumbled off beat.

  “Sorry about that, old chap.” A gentleman Daniel didn’t know showed his teeth to them and kept going. The circle was close and couples were in danger of hitting each other. He’d best pay attention to the other dancers around them.

  Eliza’s cheeks were red, but she looked up expectantly, keeping time by nodding her head. “One two three, two two three.”

  He caught the rhythm.

  “Back in, my dear!” They moved back into the whirling circle of couples.

  He spotted Frederick, also twirling in the dance. He was surprised to see his stepmother the marchioness in Frederick’s arms.

  He raised his brows at Frederick, and his brother gave him a narrow-eyed look. Daniel grinned.

  They had banded together to protect Florentia. His brother and stepmother were good people, though plagued with foolish and foolhardy family members, himself included.

  The waltz ended, and he pulled Eliza’s hands into the crook of his arm, and smiled his contentment down at her. Her smile was shy in return. Her cheeks were flushed by the dance, and her breathing heavy. He drank her in, savoring this moment. He wanted to keep it in his heart, alive and full of happiness.

  He’d been able to dance the waltz with his fiancée.

  “Bless Florentia.”

  Eliza raised an eyebrow.

  “She arranged this, however sneaky she was. And I’ve been able to waltz with the most beautiful and wonderful woman at the ball.”

  She looked away from him. “You shouldn’t talk so.”

  Did the blush on her cheeks deepen?

  “I should. My heart is bursting, and I don’t want to keep all my emotions in.”

  “I’d prefer decorum. This night has been trying, and enough words have been whispered about us as it is.”

  “Very well, I will bow to your wishes. I’ll only whisper my happiness to you, and not shout it to the room.”

  “You are incorrigible.”

  Chapter 20

  They came to the supper tables, where a light repast was spread. To accommodate all the guests, the doors between the dining room and the drawing room had been thrown open, and multiple long tables set up, filled with sumptuous-looking foods. Florentia had told Eliza that they were on a tight budget, but that the marchioness had done all she could to not make that obvious.

  The supper crowd was rowdy. Young men sparred and rough-housed. The punch might be flowing too freely. She bent her head over her white soup and endeavored not to hear them.

  “Eh! Miss Eliza!” a young man with blond hair called. “After you’re done with him, you can spend time with me!”

  Daniel leapt up from beside her and stalked toward the young man. The blond’s flushed face went pale.

  “Drink is making you forget yourself. Apologize to my fiancée.” Daniel towered over him.

  The young man stammered out an apology.

  “Leave. The whole group of you. You’ve outstayed your welcome.”

  “But I’ve dances lined up,” the young man whined.

  “Make your apologies.”

  The young man’s face went dark with anger, but he backed away and gave a shallow bow. “Come, my men.”

  One of the others, a dark-haired young man with bloodshot eyes and a rough face, gave Daniel a baleful glare but allowed himself to be pulled away with his friends. As he went, the dark-haired young man turned his gaze towards Eliza and gave her a leer.

  Cold ice shot through her spine. She focused on her plate, her face burning with furious mortification. She clenched her hands in her lap.

  Daniel followed the young men as they departed, and stood across the supper room from her. Thomas went up to him, and they conversed in low tones.

  Someone sat down in the seat beside her. She stiffened, then looked up into the dark eyes of a familiar man. He had wavy dark hair pomaded into the wild style popular with young men, but the heavy bags under his eyes showed his true age and his habitual dissipation. He gave her a wicked smile and spoke with a low voice.

  “I hear you are quite wonderful and willing in bed. And in back rooms.”

  She gritted her teeth. “You have heard lies.”

  He squeezed her leg under the table.

  She leapt up and scurried back. Her chair fell back with a loud clatter. Conversations stopped and eyes turned her direction.

  The man’s grin grew even wider. He was a crony of Crewkerne’s, she knew it.

  Revulsion swept through her, prickling her skin like mites, roiling her stomach.

  She breathed heavily and clutched her arms around herself. Too many eyes were on her: ladies with glares and suspicion, men expectant and interested. She might be sick.

  Daniel strode toward her from across the room, skirting tables and chairs, alarm showing in his features.

  A hand touched her arm, and she started back. It was Florentia, looking concerned. A group of girls her age stood behind her, looking uncomfortable.

  “I was hoping, Eliza, that you could play for us. You are so exquisite on the pianoforte.” Florentia gave a strained, hopeful smile, and gestured to the drawing room’s pianoforte, which had been moved to a corner to make room for all the tables.

  Eliza stilled, unsure of drawing even further attention to herself.

  Another young woman stepped up, with two others hanging back behind her. “Yes, perhaps you can play one of the favorites from the Magdalen Hospital. What is one that is popular? ‘Oh, Forgive us, Lord, our many sins’, perhaps?” Her expression was catty.

  Florentia gave the other girl a fierce frown but turned back to Eliza. “If you would play? Whatever piece you wish?”

  Daniel reached her, his mouth tight. “Eliza, what happened?” He glared at the man who had taken his seat. The wavy-haired man acted as if nothing was amiss.

  Eliza couldn’t meet Daniel’s eyes. She shook her head.

  Florentia still awaited an answer. Eliza corrected her posture and fi
lled herself with determination. She nodded to Florentia. “I would be happy to play.”

  She strode across the room to the pianoforte. She sat on the bench, lifted the lid, rested her fingers on the keys, then laid into them with full intensity.

  She played the fast, cascading cords of the 3rd movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 14. She took the Presto Agitato designation to its full force.

  It was thunder and rain, a storm crashing over the company.

  The room quieted. She pounded the lower cords, and on the high, she made the struck strings sing. The storm rolled in and out, softened, and then she brought the thunder again for a crashing conclusion.

  She lifted her hands from the keys, and the room murmured. She stood, curtsied, and applause came—not resounding, but at a level that perhaps indicated some appreciation. She kept her eyes from focusing on any in the crowd, but returned to where Daniel stood clapping.

  His eyes were intense, his jaw tight with strain. She drew near with caution. His temper crackled off of him—lightning to the rolling thunder she had provided in the music.

  Florentia intercepted her again. “That was wonderful, Eliza. Thank you for honoring us.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Daniel stepped close and extended his arm. “Miss Moore, will you accompany me?”

  The hairs on the backs of her arms stood on end at the energy he held leashed inside him.

  “Of course.” She put her fingers gingerly on his arm. Was he finally escorting her away? Allowing her to retire from this nightmare of an evening?

  His gloves were still removed from supper and when he laid his bare hand over hers, a shock of electricity went through her. He pulled her away from the supper tables. She had to almost skip to match his too-rapid stride. They exited the supper room, and she soon found herself in a dimly lit corridor.

  Alone with him and his looming intensity, his height and breadth blocked the light.

  “Those scoundrels. Are you alright?”

  Of what she could make out of his face in the darkness, his eyes searched hers. She looked away.

  “I am fine.” She swallowed. “But taking me to a dark corridor—is that the best thing for my tattered reputation?”