The sound of voices downstairs intruded and Jenna rose from the vanity, her pulse racing slightly at what the noise meant. Hayden was here. It was time to go. “Quick, Edie, help me with my dress.”
The dress had taken up far more thought today than she’d intended to give it. It was ridiculous to care so much when it didn’t matter, not really. Tonight, they were enacting a fiction in order to gain him a brief place in her life and hopefully access to information. Whether or not he found her attractive mattered very little in the greater scheme. And yet, she’d mentally gone through her wardrobe at least five times throughout the day, selecting and discarding potential gowns and realizing she’d not had a new dress made in a while for the express purpose of attending a party.
Edie passed the gown over her head, careful to not disturb any of the delicate curls and settled it about her. “It’s perfect. The color brings out your eyes and you haven’t worn it for ever so long.” Edie beamed, her hands skimming lovingly over the folds of deep turquoise velvet.
Jenna thought she’d detected a scold in those words. She’d had plenty of day dresses made, all sorts of wool carriage ensembles for driving around town and conducting business, or serviceable gowns for visiting the workhouse, but nothing for a party. It simply hadn’t been a priority. After the business with Adam Grantham, she’d stopped going out and then her father had needed her more and more with the mill as his health faltered. Her nights were taken up with ledgers and desk work. There wasn’t time for assemblies.
Still, Jenna thought, taking in the gown in the full length pier glass, for a town like Kendal, the gown was fashionable enough and no one would care if the last time she’d worn it was two years ago, if anyone even remembered. The gown itself was in excellent condition. It had only been worn the once and showed no sign of wear; no faded fabric, no stains, no fraying hemline. It might have been entirely new with its tight satin bodice beaded with small turquoise colored glass beads and its tiny puffed sleeves.
Jenna fastened a strand of pearls about her neck and stepped into a delicate pair of matching slippers. Satin dancing slippers would never hold up in a Kendal winter. It was entirely vain, but she didn’t want Hayden’s first view of her to be at the top of the stairs with worn leather half boots peeping out from beneath the skirts of the lush gown. It would ruin the effect completely. She would at least wear the slippers downstairs before putting on sturdier footwear for the trip to the assembly.
Jenna stepped out onto the landing, took two steps downstairs and nearly halted. It took all of her concentration to keep her feet moving. If she’d dressed with the intent to please the eye, Hayden had dressed with the intent to dazzle. Or if one chose to be more cynical, it would be fair to say he was making no attempt to fit in. Instead, it seemed as if he’d done everything possible to stand out and had succeeded.
He’d chosen black trousers for the evening, a well-fitted black evening coat from beneath which peeped pristine white linen and a damask patterned waistcoat of pale blue. A diamond stick pin winked in the folds of his cravat and his efforts at his toilette were evident in the clean line of his jaw. His hair was styled back away from his face in sweeping waves. She would bet a substantial sum of money it would be tousled by the first dance. He didn’t have the benefit of Edie’s hair pins and that thick, wavy hair of his would be no competition for gravity. All the better for running one’s hands through it, came the naughty thought. She slapped it away. If there was any running of hands through hair, they wouldn’t be her hands at any rate. That thought was met with an unlooked for pang of jealousy irrational as it was. She had no real claim on him, why did she care who ran fingers through his hair?
“You’re making no concession to country life, I see.” As a result she could hardly take her eyes off him.
“I will assume that’s a compliment.” He took her hand as she reached the last step and pressed his lips to it. “You look singularly lovely this evening, Miss Priess.” His eyes lingered over her hand as he bowed, his gaze on her face and slightly lower, making her acutely aware of the tightness of her bodice, of how the tailoring lifted her breasts into high, rounded mounds that rose above the neckline offering a subtly provocative but not indecent invitation, just an attractive one.
He stepped back to collect her evening cloak from the butler while she switched her slippers for boots and waited to drape her cloak about her shoulders, to offer an arm to the carriage and to see her settled within. He played the gentleman quite nicely. The little attentions were dangerously intoxicating. She’d hadn’t realized she’d missed them so much or how isolated her life had become.
For surely, those were the reasons her pulse raced, for why she was so cognizant of the slightest move he made, the briefest glance he gave her. It might also have to do with the close confines of the carriage too. It was hard not to notice someone, anyone, sitting just a few feet away, facing you. By that logic, it stood to reason that it would be much harder to not notice a handsome someone. Thankfully, the drive was a short one down the slushy streets.
The King’s Arms shone with lights, a warm splash of gold against the dark winter night. Music, voices, and laughter spilled into the street, the front door in a constant state of opening as people sought a breath of fresh air against the heat of the crowded assembly rooms.
“Are you ready?” Hayden handed her down, his eyes going to where her other hand fiddled anxiously with her skirt. “You’re not nervous are you?” He flashed her a grin that made her stomach flip. This is all pretend, she reminded herself. Smiles and flirtation are like breathing to him. He doesn’t even realize he does it. But it was oh so hard to remember when he looked at her like that; like he cared, like they just might be in this together. Or when he tucked her hand through his arm and covered it with his own.
“Why would I be nervous?” she answered coolly.
His mouth bent near her ear. “Because this is our debut. By this time tomorrow, everyone will be talking about us.”
She gave him a half smile. “Well, that is the plan, isn’t it?” She hoped she sounded more unaffected than she felt. “It’s just that I’m looking forward to the dancing, is all.” Jenna stepped in front of him to pass through the door and let the crowd take them.
She was right. He did stand out. Some men wore dark coats, but most simply wore their best coats. The room was full of men in varying shades of brown, blue and gray just as it was full of people from varying economic backgrounds. Kendal was a working town and that was reflected here; factory managers, mill owners, merchants, shipping investors who made their money off plying the canal trade between Kendal and Lancashire; these were not men of noble birth or inheritance, but men of vision who had created their own wealth through ideas and no little risk.
They made the rounds of introductions, shaking hands with merchants and businessmen. Hayden knew many of them already from the ice festival, but it was important for their ruse that people associated them together, particularly her foreman, Allerton Davenport.
Davenport was easy to spot, standing next to the punch bowl and dressed fashionably in a well cut jacket and an expensive-looking waistcoat that sported elaborately embroidered roses in bright red thread. It had taken all of Jenna’s self-discipline to approach him and pretend she hadn’t seen him beat an employee or bully a young boy.
“Just look at him, preening like a peacock in that awful waistcoat.” Davenport was doctoring his punch with something from a flask and from the ruddiness of his cheeks, it wasn’t the first glass.
“Be nice. We need to know whatever he knows.” Hayden whispered a reminder. Jenna pasted on a smile and tried to remember.
Davenport was as boorish as ever; condescending and quite possibly drunk. “How is your father, Miss Priess? Will he be out of bed any time soon?” There was no veneer of civility behind the words. The man took a hefty swallow of punch, downing the cup in a gulp.
“My father is very ill at the moment.” Jenna held his gaze, her tone managing to c
onvey a scold of disapproval.
“A most convenient moment to be taken ill, I’d say.” The foreman opened his flask again and poured it straight into the cup without the benefit of the camouflaging punch.
“What are you insinuating?” Jenna replied sharply, forgetting Hayden’s admonition.
He gave her an exaggerated look of innocence as if he found her chagrin entirely unwarranted. “Nothing my dear, nothing at all, except that his workers are disappearing and he’s left it all to be managed by you.”
She felt Hayden tense beside her, his hand exerting a covert pressure on her arm in warning. It would not do to lose her temper. “I will gladly answer any of your questions. But I have made it clear that my father is not to be bothered. His physician will second me on that as well. Any undue disturbance could cause a setback.”
“Well, that would be most upsetting.”
If she’d been holding a punch cup she would have thrown it in his face for the insult. Perhaps her open hand against his cheek would suffice, but she was too late. Hayden intervened. “I believe this is our dance, Miss Priess. I have it on good authority they are only playing two waltzes tonight. It would be a shame to miss one of them.”
“I feel like a hypocrite.” she muttered to Hayden, letting him lead her towards the dance floor.
He answered silently with a squeeze of her hand, and the words whispered low at her ear just for her. “We’re done with our duties. We can dance.”
Something in the sentiment caused her to look at him. She wondered for the first time what his life was truly like versus the life she saw. Admittedly, she knew very little about him. Their acquaintance was no more than a few days old. But she knew the face he showed everyone; the glorious, reckless daredevil on the ice, his great coat flowing about him, his hair blown back by the wind, his horse prancing beneath him. She remembered the crowd surging around him, begging for his victorious attentions afterwards, the women pressing close, hoping for a smile or something more. It had not occurred to her that he hadn’t liked it, or that he hadn’t courted such adulation deliberately.
Here, amid the crush of the ballroom it was much the same for him. Men shook his hand and made brief requests for a chance to meet. Women, even women with husbands beside them, had flirted brazenly. He’d met each encounter with ease; a smile and a compliment for the ladies that had them blushing. More than a few tittered. Jenna had wanted to roll her eyes. For the men he’d conveyed a genuine interest in their requests which was always followed up with ‘you can arrange something with my business manager. I am sure Logan would be glad to set up a meeting while we’re in town.”
His skill was impressive and it also served as a reminder that she was nothing more than another duty to be discharged. He smiled at her because he smiled at women. He complimented her because he complimented all women. She, like these other businessmen, was a means to an end. He raced because he needed their money. He’d no doubt taken her job because there was a tempting sum of money at the end of it.
“Only two waltzes? Are you sure?” she teased rather meanly, her excitement over the evening diminished by the foreman’s comments, as they found a space on the floor.
“You doubt me?” Hayden arched a brow in playful challenge, ignoring the pointed nature of her comment. “It is true. I overheard talk about while I was doing errands in town this afternoon.” He settled a hand at her waist and drew her to him. “My arms aren’t quite that long, Princess. You’ll have to come closer.” He took her hand and placed it on his shoulder. “Jenna, don’t let the bastard ruin your night. We did our work, now we can have some fun.”
“He insulted my father.” Jenna insisted. Her father deserved more respect than that. She deserved more respect. Davenport had all but called her a liar.
Hayden leaned close. “Don’t let him win, Jenna. No one’s waltzing with him. He’s got a flask, but you’ve got something better tonight.”
She lifted her eyes to his, saw the little lights of mischief in them and felt her anger melt. She could not suppress the smile that hovered on her lips. “What would that be?” His grin went wide, his eyebrows waggling. “Me.” The opening measures of the waltz filled the room and he moved her into the steps of the dance. By the first turn, she’d given up the rest of her anger. Hating Davenport could wait. She did have something better for the moment, even if it was a fantasy. She wanted to waltz, to laugh, to look up into this handsome man’s face and see the laughter and the life that was etched into every feature, every line. She wanted to enjoy the feel of his hand at her waist, the strength of his body as he moved them effortlessly through the crush of dancers. How long had it been since she’d danced like this? Felt like this? Felt free?
“There, that’s much better.” Hayden grinned down at her. “You look happy, Jenna.”
“I am.” she confessed, knowing full well he would take all the credit for it, conceited man that he was. It was part of his charm after all, a rather large part of it. And she laughed, a breathless, gasping trill of joy as he spun her hard through the turn.
She was beautiful like this and it was a heady thing to see. He’d not seen her happy before. He’d seen her in a temper, seen her angry, seen her on the brink of desire even. He’d heard her sharp tones when she argued with him, tender, soothing tones when she spoke to her father. But he’d not seen her relaxed, given over to the glory of the moment, her guard abandoned, and that laugh was music of its own.
He’d been with countless women of all degrees of attractiveness; beautiful, stunning, pretty. But this was different. It did something warm and dangerous to know he was the one to have unlocked that laughter. He could have danced with her all night. Perhaps it was best that he couldn’t. Even a provincial assembly wouldn’t tolerate it. He had a duty to do. He would be expected to dance with others, to create memories for these ladies to take home and cherish in their dull, small lives in the hopes that they would lobby their husbands to have him back next year.
He did monitor her happiness at a distance, though, bringing her an occasional glass of punch and strolling her about the assembly rooms at intervals. No one would mistake his interest in her, but no one would be offended either. He arrived with her and shortly after the Roger de Coverley closed out the dancing, he left with her much to the disappointment of the unattached women present.
Inside the carriage, Jenna flopped against the seat. She kicked off her slippers and rubbed at her foot. “I think I may have a blister.”
Hayden chuckled. “Here, let me see.” He took her foot and settled it high on his lap, his hand manipulating it this way and that. “I don’t see one. Was your last partner that bad?” He kneaded the sole of her foot, pressing a knuckle hard into the arch.
“Oh!” a moan escaped her before she could stop it. “That felt good. And yes, Arthur Cartwright is the worst dancer in town.”
“Poor fellow.” Hayden reached for her other foot. “He seemed to enjoy it too.” That made her laugh.
“He is a rather, um, lively dancer.” Jenna stifled a yawn.
“Are you tired? Because I’m not.” Hayden paused. He should take her straight home. That was what a suitor would do. But he wasn’t her suitor, not really. He was Hayden Islington and he had other ideas. He was still primed with adrenaline, energized from dancing and the company of a beautiful woman. He’d be up for hours. “I was thinking we might go somewhere and talk.”
She gave him a sharp look. “At one in the morning? We can’t go strolling through town. It’s freezing out.”
Hayden shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking of walking through town. I know a place.” Out in the countryside where the winter stars pierced the winter sky in brilliant profusion.
“It’s freezing out.” she protested but she seemed more awake now. He was getting to her.
Hayden gave her his most charming smile. “You’ve your boots and your heavy cloak. I daresay I can contrive to keep you warm if all else fails. What do you say?”
Chapter Eight
‘Yes’ was a slippery slope to trouble and knowing it didn’t seem to be enough to stop Jenna from saying it. In this case quite literally a slippery slope, since ‘the place’ Hayden had in mind was the shore of Lake Kendal and could only be reached by slip-sliding down a small snowy decline to reach the frozen shore. Thank goodness for half boots and a firm hand. Between holding onto Hayden with one hand and her skirts with the other, Jenna made her way down to the shoreline; laughing, skidding, but never falling. Hayden’s grip on her kept her upright.
At the shore, Hayden threw his head back to the sky, stretched his arms wide and gave a howl of delight. “This was so worth it! Just look at those stars!”
The lantern light from the carriage reached far enough to making walking possible without blocking the view of the sky and the universe was on display in all its glory. “They are amazing indeed.” Jenna smiled, turning her gaze skyward to take in the view. “I’ve grown up with these skies and they never cease to dazzle me.” Although it had been a long time since she’d bothered to star gaze. She’d given up such fancy in lieu of more practical pursuits years ago.
“There’s the Plough.” Hayden’s hand reached from behind her, gesturing into the night sky.
“And Polaris at the tip, shining bright.” A wave of nostalgia swept her. She had memories of that star. “That’s my mother’s star.” The words spilled out before she could stop them.
“How so?” Hayden was close behind her, close enough to… she wasn’t aware of consciously choosing the action. She leaned into him, the strength of his chest molding to her back, his arms coming around her as if standing here beneath the stars after midnight was the most natural thing in the world for two people who had met three days ago.
“When she died, I pretended she went to the stars and looked down on me. This was her star, the brightest in the sky. I talked to that star every night for nearly three years. I would tell her all about my day, all the things baby Daniel had done, I would tell her how proud she’d be of him, how smart he was, how strong he was.” Jenna paused, suddenly horrified by how much she’d disclosed. She’d been babbling. “I don’t know why I told you that.” She could hear the disbelief in her own voice. Why had she indeed? She really should stop. Further explanation was just making it worse. “You must think I’m daft.”
Reckless Rakes - Hayden Islington Page 7
