Tilde’s breath caught when she glimpsed the back of a gentleman wearing a similar hat to Jasper’s. When the figure turned to reveal himself a considerably younger man, relief swept through her.
As well as disappointment.
She’d known it would be possible he’d be in attendance, but assured herself that, if he was indeed, a peer, he’d mingle with other titled ladies and gentlemen and would have no cause to peruse the faces of ladies seated against the wall. After alighting from their own carriage, Aunt Nellie, Betsy and Tilde waited in the long receiving line before making their curtsies to their host and hostess, and the young woman being presented to society.
Barely seventeen, Lady Elaine, the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Marvelle, caused all other ladies to fade into near obscurity. And by the look in her eyes, she knew it.
The girl wore an impressive tiara and a gown which might as well have been threaded together with golden strands. Her debut ball was grand, but her beauty was Hellenic. And she would surely smile to see a thousand ships sail out to war over her favors.
Tilde and Betsy had glanced sideways at one another, in a knowing sisterly way, and then dropped into curtseys before the girl. After the very brief introduction, they, along with Aunt Nellie, moved along to be announced and then await the beginning of the music in an ornately decorated ballroom. Hundreds of candles flickered above in enormous chandeliers illuminating the ubiquitous gold ribbons and white flowers strategically placed within.
Tilde had difficulty imagining going to such great expense for a seventeen-year-old girl. It was the way of this world though. Likely, the young woman would go on to become a duchess herself. At the very least, a countess.
It felt like almost no time had passed since the brief period all those years ago, when they’d mingled amongst the ton. Tilde and Betsy escorted their aunt to where a cluster of her cronies were seated, and then crept around the edge of the room to the long line of chairs backed up against the wall.
“But we must remain standing,” Betsy insisted, “in order to show my gowns to their best advantage.”
Tilde laughed. She appreciated that they were to have a purpose for attending. They were not debutantes, nor married ladies. They were the least envied of all in attendance: spinsters.
Betsy’s gaze roved around the room and then grimaced. And then, as though she’d read Tilde’s mind, “We’re spinsters now, Tilde.”
“Indeed.” But Tilde smiled. “Why couldn’t the word for an unmarried woman be something a little less harsh sounding? Spin–ster. Like a Bannister. Or a Spectator.”
“Tincture.” Betsy added. And it soon became a game.
“Ladies who elect not to marry ought to be called something else… Like…”
“Satin. Or twilight. Or Destiny.” Betsy offered, a grin dancing on her mouth.
“Twilight implies aged. What about Amnesty?”
“Amnesty?”
“The implication that all is forgiven, and we chose to go forward as single ladies.”
Betsy nodded. “I like it. From this day forward we shall refer to ourselves as amnesties. Oh, yes. Much better.”
A hush fell on the room just then, as the guest of honor stepped through the raised entrance and paused at the top of the wide staircase. On one arm, an older man stood, the Duke her father. On the other, her mother.
The major domo announced them, and applause broke out in the room.
Upon witnessing such a ceremonial spectacle, Tilde had to stifle the urge to giggle. When she covered her grin with her fan, Betsy narrowed her eyes at her in admonishment.
“I suppose I’ve been dwelling in the country too long.” She leaned forward and whispered.
“You’re incorrigible.” But then the musicians took up their instruments and another, younger gentleman stepped forward to offer Lady Elaine his arm. Dressed mostly in black, the man moved with a casual elegance. When he tilted his head to hear something his partner had said, a shiver ran down Tilde’s spine. Did her eyes deceive her?
As the music struck up and he turned so that she caught a glimpse of his profile, she could see that indeed it was.
It was Jasper!
Her Jasper!
He was, indeed, the girl’s father, and also the man she’d met eleven years before. She had not been mistaken.
“Isn’t he handsome?” Betsy asked with a sigh. “And such a tragic figure. His wife passed away last year. She was the daughter of a duke as well. I suppose that, if first you don’t succeed––”
“Try and try again.” Tilde finished without thought. She ought not to be stunned.
All of the pieces began falling into place. When she’d known him, he’d begged her to call him Jasper. If he’d gone on to marry the daughter of a duke…
She shook her head. Of course, he was a peer.
She’d never stood a chance.
She swallowed hard. Althea and Eloise had lost their mother last year. Had they been close to her? Tilde, as a governess, knew more than anyone that some aristocratic families left the raising of their children to servants.
Her previous employers had not. They’d always made time for their daughters.
“They do make a lovely pair,” Betsy whispered.
All eyes remained on the couple leading off the dance. Lady Elaine, so fresh and lovely… and so very young. Jasper, elegantly dressed, tall and oh so very handsome. Except he was far too old for the girl. Performing some mental math, she surmised he was practically twice the age of his dance partner.
He’d been twenty-four on the night he’d kissed her. She’d been seventeen. The same age Lady Elaine was now. So, yes, indeed. “He’s more than twice her age!” Tilde could not help but exclaim to her sister.
“How do you know that? Besides, he’s a man. Don’t you remember when Lord Pemberton married Horatia Smythe? He was almost four times her age. He was a bent-over old man. The earl is most definitely not a bent-over old man.”
“No.” Tilde pinched her lips together. What was the matter with her?
“It would be quite scandalous if it were the other way around, though, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes.” This wasn’t the first time Tilde had considered the disparities between gentlemen and ladies.
By now the dance was well underway and Jasper and Lady Elaine led the other couples with elegance and grace.
“He’s an earl?” Tilde asked faintly.
“The Earl of… Worsby? Whorly? Oh, I can never remember them all. But I believe it starts with a ‘W.’ Or perhaps a ‘V’.”
Tilde hadn’t really known the man at all. One night. They’d spent fewer than three hours in one another’s company. His attentions had never been serious. She’d thought it was magic whereas to him, she could not have been anything more than a handy bit of muslin for him to have some fun with.
She turned her back toward the dance floor. “I’m parched. Do you think there’s some warm lemonade around here somewhere?”
Betsy seemed reluctant to lose their place.
“If we remain in this corner all night, no one will see your beautiful gowns.”
Seeing the practicality in Tilde’s reasoning, Betsy relented, and the girls picked their way around the edge of the dance floor. If no lemonade could be found, perhaps they could locate a few glasses of champagne.
She might as well enjoy herself tonight. If it was to be her last ball than she wasn’t about to spend the evening fixating upon Lord Whateverhisnamewas.
An earl!
She removed two glasses from a passing waiter and handed one to Betsy.
“To us.” She lifted the drink in mock salute.
And then, feeling more than a little reckless, threw back her head and swallowed the drink in one swallow.
An Earl, for heaven’s sake!
Chapter 5
He Remembered
Hell and damnation, Jasper thought as he led the child onto the parquet dance floor. He would take his mother in hand tomorrow. She needed
to know she could not organize his life. So many times, he’d given into her manipulations and demands so as not to embarrass her, but he could do so no longer.
Lady Elaine was lovely and graceful but oh, so very young.
Too young.
He faced her as the couples queued up. Judging by the length of the line behind them, he prepared to endure a dance that would surely last close to an hour. He’d much preferred to spend the evening at home. He already felt as though he’d abandoned his daughters for far too long.
Althea had cried when he stopped into the nursery to wish her goodnight. Eloise explained. “The nurse is mean. She makes Thea sit in the corner for not speaking up when addressed.” Eloise had sounded so grown up. “And she takes away her doll.”
Jasper clenched his teeth at the memory. He’d taken the woman aside and demanded she not punish Lady Althea for keeping quiet. He’d threatened to sack her if it happened again.
He was in no mood for a ball. Especially one so ridiculously extravagant. Grand for the sake of being grand, excessive and overstated merely because they could do so. The flowers clawed at him. The heat from the chandeliers already made the room stifling. God help him, they’d left the doors and windows closed in the hope that Prinny would stop by.
Prinny never stopped by.
Tomorrow, if the agency failed to present an acceptable candidate, perhaps he would advertise the post himself. Offer some incentive…
The girls needed a governess, and not just any governess.
He spun his partner and sauntered to the opposite end of the line almost without thinking. He’d probably performed this dance one hundred times.
Before Estelle had taken ill.
One tended to lose enthusiasm for any sort of celebration after watching a loved one die. He spun his neighbor’s partner and then took Lady Elaine’s gloved hand once again. The top of her head didn’t quite meet his shoulders and her fingers felt thin and fragile in his hand.
Matilda Fortune’s hand had not felt fragile. It had felt feminine, yes, but also strong and capable. And when she’d stood, she’d not had to tilt her head back far to meet his eyes.
Miss Fortune.
He wished he’d recognized her earlier. He’d have liked to ask her…
What? What would he have asked her?
Reaching up and leaning forward as other couples ducked under the long bridge of arms, the thought plagued him.
She had not married. She’d remained Miss Fortune. Nor had she had any child. Presumably.
What did she do with her time? Did she live in that small hamlet of a village? Perhaps she was a school teacher. She’d handled the girls with considerable ease. He suppressed a grin. She’d handled him firmly as well.
A spinster.
Or perhaps she had a paramour tucked away somewhere. Perhaps he’d not remembered her face, or her name immediately, but he’d always remembered the occasion of meeting her. As sad as the thought was, no other lady had affected him the same. Not his wife, and none of the ladies before her.
He and Miss Fortune, that night.
He’d not gone to Vauxhall looking for anything, or anyone. He’d simply found himself at loose ends when Lord Pike had mentioned the outing. Sitting in the tent, she’d not struck him as a beauty, by any means.
But she’d struck him, nonetheless.
And since no one had really known him there, he’d asked Pike to introduce him as Mr. Jasper Talbot. It had been refreshing to leave off the title for once.
He’d taken her walking and curiously wanted to know everything about her. Before no time at all, he’d ached to take her in his arms.
None of it had been based on logic or reason. It has simply been… attraction. The same as lightening to a tree––or to water. Had that been a once in a lifetime phenomenon? Would it be the same, if he were to touch her again? He shook his head, admonishing himself. He’d missed his opportunity to explore that attraction. Twice now.
He turned one last time and faced his partner as the music finally came to a halt.
As Lady Elaine stared up at him with stars in her eyes, he knew one thing for certain. No interest in this chit existed. If he were truly going to look for a wife, perhaps he’d best look amongst the adult ladies.
Bubbles of laughter rose up from a pair of women standing along the wall.
Familiar laughter.
Well, I’ll be damned.
* * *
Standing alone while Betsy danced with one of Aunt Nellies’ friends’ nephews, Tilde stared unseeing at other guests who seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Despite the champagne, and the lovely gown and the beautiful flowers all around her, Tilde wanted only to go home. Hopefully, Betsy and her aunt didn’t intend staying for the duration of the evening. Tilde could laugh all night long, smile and make inane conversation, but none of it would take away the ironic sense of loss that had settled in her heart.
“You didn’t mention you were travelling to London.”
Tilde straightened her back at the masculine voice behind her. Gathering her wits, she slowly turned around.
Jasper.
“I didn’t think you would be interested, my lord.”
When she’d left him last, he’d been overheated, irritated and worried about his two offspring. Tonight, he appeared cool and formal, dressed in almost all black, but for lace at his wrists and neck, both a pristine white.
His dark eyes flared with awareness.
He’d remembered.
Taking her hand in his, he bowed low as he chuckled. “Have you promised the next set to another already?”
Of course, she had not. And for the moment, her mind went blank. She’d been aware of him all evening but had honestly not expected him to offer even a nod, let alone ask for a dance.
“But it’s a waltz,” she finally managed.
“Do you not waltz? Or is it that you disapprove of the dance in particular?” A challenging glint lit his gaze. Despite their first meeting having occurred nearly eleven years earlier, she supposed it would have been quite hypocritical of her to disapprove.
“I can perform the dance adequately.” As a governess, one tended to participate in more dance lessons than one’s actual students. She lifted her chin, “and I find no fault in it whatsoever.”
But she found fault in him. It annoyed her that his appeal was not diminished even though she’d come to learn he’d only been toying with her on that night long ago.
Did he intend to toy with her again?
Or was he simply being courteous?
“Do you not wish to dance? Would you prefer to take a turn about the room with me instead?”
So, he intended to talk.
“The next set has not been reserved.” At his raised brows, she added, “I wish to dance.”
A grin tugged at Jasper’s lips, but he held out his arm. “Then dance, you shall.”
And then he led Tilde to the middle of the floor. As they passed a cluster of more well-to-do guests, Tilde thought she saw somebody point her out, and then whisper something uncharitable.
They were not admiring her dress.
She straightened her back and did her best to ignore them.
And then things became awkward.
Standing in the middle of the floor, she turned to face him. Based upon what the other couples were doing, they would be expected to hold one another.
It was quite apparent that Jasper experienced none of the unease that she was.
Nonplussed, he took hold of her right hand and placed his other at her waist.
She’d been kissed several times over the past decade… well… four times, to be exact. And she’d danced the waltz with at least six different instructors.
So why did she feel like a clumsy girl of ten and seven again?
“I apologize for not remembering you last week.” His gaze settled on her intently. “You felt familiar––you looked familiar to me. I can only beg forgiveness. And offer that my mind was quite befudd
led by my daughters’ antics.”
Thank Heavens an immediate response was not required just then, as the quartet lifted their bows and began playing.
She’d learned how to use the balls of her feet and rise and fall with the steps, to move her shoulders smoothly and parallel with the floor. She knew to allow her partner to steer her. The dance itself came almost effortlessly.
But… She stared into eyes as black as the sea at night and fought the sensations rising up from her past.
“Will you?” His voice was the same, only deeper, more cultured.
Would she? “There’s nothing to forgive.” She forced her lips into a cool smile.
The music flowed like water while she floated on air. Your first kiss holds the answer to all that you desire.
“Are your parents here in London as well?” His question, such an innocent one.
“They passed some time ago.” But the loss is always in my heart, she wanted to say to him. Again, she felt that she’d known him forever. That he’d understand who she was without her having to explain…
The look he sent her was sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”
Or perhaps he did not understand. He didn’t even know her. He never had.
“Their carriage turned over on the road to Brighton.” She would tell him something of it. “The day after I met you, as a matter of fact.”
He missed a step and they both stumbled to recover.
Enough Tilde! Leave it in the past.
“And not that it matters,” she added, ignoring her own inclination. “But I would have told you, had you come.”
“May I call upon you tomorrow?” He’d whispered the words when they had broken apart from one another in order to catch their breath. She had nodded, unable to speak.
“It was a long time ago.” She’d make the excuse for him. “And you were young. As was I.” But at the time she’d believed in magic.
Miss Fortune’s First Kiss Page 4
