by Suzi Love
“At last,” Aunt Aggie announced, breaking the tense silence. “It’s our turn to descend.”
Laura sighed with relief to be spared from having to explain her sister’s feeling to the Earl. Thankfully, their aunt was happy to do the talking for all of them.
“The carriage queues for balls these days extend from one square to the next.”
Laura smiled. “Yes, Auntie. Soon it will be more convenient to walk from our home.”
“Walk?”
The shock on their aunt’s face sent both Laura and Lottie into peals of laughter. Winchester’s lips twitched, but he refrained for laughing aloud.
“We could never walk to Lady Brentwood’s ball,” their aunt said, a hand to her heart. “She’d imagine us very ill mannered.”
The girls wisely refrained from any more teasing when a footman opened the door and assisted their aunt to descend.
When they joined her, the older Lady Jamison lifted her nose another half inch and murmured, “Remember, my dears, we are Jamisons. Never let anyone intimidate you.”
Laura sighed, before giving her well-meaning aunt a quick kiss on her wrinkled cheek. She gathered her skirts, and her courage, as they ascended the front staircase to begin the long tedious process of greeting their host and hostess. She only needed to endure a half hour of social formalities, or as she called them tiresome trivialities, before she would be free to join her friends.
Winchester’s cologne wafted from behind her, teasing her nostrils and relaxing her with his strong presence at her back. Glittering ballrooms were more his world than hers so, in these settings, she accepted his assistance as willingly as he received the lotions and colognes she mixed for him, deferring to his expertise without argument. Why, then, did she find it so hard to reconcile herself to him in other parts of their entwined lives?
Working with so many distressed and battered women had clouded her judgment of all men and their motives, until the only men she trusted were her brothers, her new brother-in-law, and ….
She forgot to concentrate and tottered on the lip of next step, but was saved from toppling by the warm spread of Winchester’s hand across her back, his reassurance stirring her emotions and body through layers of clothing. Supporting, comforting, and dare she even think it—exciting. She stilled and savored the moment. Allowed her spine to relax into his supporting hand, and imagined her life if Winchester had proved to be the one; the perfect mate whose aroma compelled her to his side.
She half turned on her higher step, for once able to meet him eye to eye. For a fleeting second, she glimpsed his unguarded expression. Open, before he closed it off to the impersonal one he generally assumed around people. A look of kindness, concern and, yes, perhaps in that moment, a tiny glimpse of the deeper emotions she knew him capable of. The kind of devotion she’d observed him showing to his four sisters on numerous occasions.
She swallowed down the lump clogging her throat. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s nice to know you’re behind me tonight.”
His eyes widened. He stared at her for a moment, before rubbing his palm in a small unseen motion over her back. “You really do worry about events such as these, don’t you? I thought your aunt exaggerated the situation, as I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”
“I’m not afraid. More disheartened. In the last few months, we’ve attended so many similar events. Stood in so many queues. Been introduced to countless gentlemen. And yet, I’ve not found a single man who comes close to meeting the requirements on my list.”
His mouth turned up in a slight sneer. “Huh! Has is occurred to you, my sweet, that you chase the impossible? There’s no such thing as a perfect man. Especially amongst the ton.”
“Tut-tut, Winchester. How cynical you sound. But does that assessment include you?”
“As you’ve pointed out on numerous occasions, minx, I’m far from perfect.”
He touched a finger to her nose. “The fact that you’re not perfect isn’t the problem, as I’m sure you realize.”
“Ah, so you’re agreeable to accepting a husband who isn’t perfect?”
“Yes, I mean…no.” She moaned. “Bother you, Winchester. You’re tying me in knots again.”
He peered up the stairs. “Tying you in knots is the most fun I’m likely to have all evening, if this line doesn’t start moving soon.”
“Don’t fret, my lord,” she said, with a sweet smile. “We’ll be through the greeting process shortly, and then you can resume your normal activities.” She leaned closer to his ear. “Prowling the ballrooms for your latest conquest.”
He waggled his brows. “I’m gratified you take such a keen interest in my love life.” His words, spoken so close to her own ear, lifted the ringlet her dresser had artfully arranged and sent a shiver rippling down her neck. “Most young ladies of your station would never dare mention the word conquest. And few would understand the implications.”
“I understand the implications perfectly. How could I not after the Countess’s last display at the music recital yesterday. What I cannot fathom is how that woman knows exactly where you will be at any given moment.”
“If you’re implying I send the information to her ahead of time, you couldn’t be more wrong. I do my best to avoid contact with her.”
She raised a brow and tilted her head to the side. “Perhaps she has a spy amongst your servants. A footman who is the jealous suitor of one of your maids. One who is smitten with your good looks.”
His lips twitched but he didn’t smile. “Once again, I’m gratified you’ve taken the time to notice my appearance, and to remark upon it in a favorable manner.” She rolled her eyes. “But I never dally with my maids. Bad form, don’t you know? Although, on the other hand, I have noticed the blue-eyed Irish one you keep on your staff at Grosvenor House. Do you think the rules of gentlemanly behavior governing dallying with servants applies to one’s own exclusively, or to those working in the establishments of one’s friends as well?”
“Humph.” She glared at the man’s complacent attitude. “I know you’re teasing me. You may do many things that stretch the bounds of society’s approval, Winchester, but your gentlemanly instincts are too deeply entrenched for you to do anything to completely embarrass your sisters. And dallying with my servants would not only earn you their wrath, it would earn you my bullet between your eyes. Then your pretty face would no longer be able to attract any female.”
He clasped his hand to his chest in a theatrical manner and leaned closer. “Harsh words, lovely Laura, coming from one who uses her own beauty and winning wiles to twist men around her little finger. Including your own footmen.”
She scowled at him. “What do you know of my dealings with my footmen?”
“Only that when I tried to bribe one of them to send me information on your daily movements–”
“You what?”
He grinned at her, totally unrepentant. “For your own safety, my sweet. I knew you’d never agree voluntarily to sending me a list each day of your gadding, so I wanted to ensure that I knew where you were at all times. Unfortunately, your staff are ridiculously loyal to you.”
She patted his hand, and gave him a smug smile. “As are yours, my lord.”
When he froze between taking one step and the next, and his mouth dropped open in shock, Laura couldn’t help but let out a peal of laughter. Oh, yes, she did so enjoy getting the better of him whenever possible.
“You mean…you mean you’ve bribed my staff?”
“Tried to bribe one of them, actually, but alas with little success. Like ours, yours are loyal to their master. Or at least to the one who pays their wages. But our cook’s second cousin is married to your second footman, so we felt he should also owe some loyalty to the Jamison household.”
“Because my footman has a distant relationship with someone from your household, you assumed that he should spy on me? His master?”
“You assumed you could spy someone to spy on me, so I see litt
le difference. Except that you’re wealthier than I, therefore your first thought is to use coin to pave your way to anything you need.”
“Good grief. I always knew you were devious and cunning, but I had no idea that you’d also resort to using underhanded tricks to defeat me in our ongoing battle of wits.”
She shrugged. “Why not? You do, and you cannot deny it.”
“I’m allowed to use every means possible to protect the women under my guardianship.”
“If you say that you’re allowed be heavy-handed in your dealings, and I’m not, simply because I’m female and you’re male–”
She sucked in a deep breath, praying for the fortitude to not punch the aristocratic nose that was unfortunately wavering far too close to her clenched fist. Luckily for Winchester’s much admired facial features, at that moment, they were required to greet their hosts in an amicable manner. As soon as they had cleared the greeting queue, Aunt Aggie rushed off to greet her cronies and settle in for a good gossip.
Soon, both she and Lottie were surrounded by a large group of avid admirers. Laura was cynical enough to understand that part of their new popularity had to do with their newfound wealth, which, despite their best efforts to keep the news quiet, had become a topic of gossip. Everyone had discussed the arrest of the Consortium members three months earlier, and the part the Jamison family had played in their capture.
Cayle had tried his hardest to damp down rumors of their enormous profits from Becca’s railway investments, and he and Michael had thrown out enough threats to would-be fortune hunters that men trod warily around the Jamison women. Knowing the girls had the backing of not just their brothers, but the Duke of Sherwyn and the Earl of Winchester, two renowned men of power around town, forced many men to retreat.
And Laura thanked the Lord for it every day. As it was, the respectable gentlemen who crowded to be included in her inner circle of friends exhausted her some days.
“May I request this dance, my lady,” Winchester asked from in front of her.
She opened her weary eyes and rubbed a hand across her brow. “I am afraid I am already promised for this dance, my lord.”
“Perhaps the next then.”
She shook her head. “No, I am promised for the next several dances.”
Winchester bowed acknowledgement and backed away, but not before she’d caught a look of disappointment on his face. He always danced one or two dances with her, yet she’d assumed he did it as a mark of respect to his cousin. Part of his duties as stand-in guardian.
Perhaps she wronged him, and he really did enjoy twirling the room with her as much as she enjoyed her time spent in his arms. Winchester danced the same way he did everything: expertly, with grace and ease.
Finally escaping the dance floor and the clamor of more eager would-be partners, Laura crept behind the branches of a large palm in a corner of the room. From here, she had a clear view of her aunt, now twirling down the center of the floor in a reel, partnered by another of her ardent admirers. It seemed Aunt Aggie was the only one of them who truly enjoyed the dancing for entertainment’s sake.
Lottie danced with men only to examine their minds, to dig deeper into their innermost thoughts and uncover their secrets. And to try to see the bumps on the heads. That was her main objective: to enhance her knowledge of the science of phrenology.
The younger Jamison sister vowed Laura must wed before she had any intention of even considering marrying. A delaying tactic on Lottie’s part, as she knew of Laura’s vow to wed only the right man; the perfect man.
And for herself, partnering a gentleman in a giddy whirl of turns, dips and bows, was a way of catching hints of the man’s scent close up. As he swung past her nose she’d inhale deeply, sucking into her senses the essence of the man for closer examination and evaluation. Tonight however, she felt only despondency that after weeks, even months, of such sniffing, her nose was as weary as her feet in her new slippers.
“Hiding again?” Lottie’s whisper sounded loud in her ear.
“Yes. Retiring for a breather away from tedious conversations about the weather. And even more boring ones about their latest hound’s hunting achievements.”
“Isn’t it ridiculous that these gentlemen, ones who have reportedly attended university, cannot converse about anything more than how over-heated the ballroom is tonight, or their latest prowess in a horse race.”
“I never felt under pressure before, but now that Becca is married, I feel pushed to find a husband so that you too may start thinking about marrying. We’re not getting any younger, as the tabbies delight in reminding us at every opportunity.”
“There is absolutely no need to rush on my account, Laura. If the gentlemen I meet at these dreary social functions are typical examples of a good husband, I’m in no hurry to secure one as a husband. Can you imagine trying to hold a conversation over the dinner table each night?”
“What did you do today, my lord?” Laura said, imitating what could only be Lord Hutton’s dreadful nasal drawl. “Terribly exciting day, what, as I looked at another horse, what, at Tattersall’s, and read the paper, what, at my club.”
The Earl of Winchester, in his concealed position several feet away, covered his mouth with his hand in a quick effort to smother his chortle of laughter. Laura’s imitation of that pompous and boring gentleman had been exact. It worried him that Lord Hutton’s age was exactly the same as his own, as they had been at Eton together.
Laura had also considered him pompous when he’d lectured her about her safety, which had become the topic of high concern in recent days. Still, better that she remained safe from harm and thought him an arrogant stuffed-shirt, than he allowed any one to hurt her. Over that, he’d never forgive himself.
He leaned forward to catch her next words to Lottie, knowing he should feel guilty at listening, but prepared to do anything—even underhanded tricks as she called them—to
protect her.
“My plan to sniff out a husband didn’t seem so difficult when I devised it, Lottie, but now I’m beginning to despair that the perfect man will ever present himself to me. I must revise my experiment somehow. Perhaps I am being too fussy in my criteria. Perhaps I need to bring forward the next step.”
“Laura, think carefully before you do anything so rash. If you are found out, your reputation will be ruined. Then you’ll never make a good match.”
“I don’t want a good match as society knows it. I simply want a man who will know me as I am. And respect me that way. Not continually seek to change me. I’d go mad married to a man who lectured me on the rights and wrongs of life every single day, from breakfast to dinner, like many men feel entitled to do with their wives. I need some freedom.”
“I admit, the way we were brought up made it difficult for any of us to settle for an arranged marriage, a comfortable fit. We’re all searching for that elusive rainbow.”
“Settling for second best is not what either of us want.” She grasped her sister’s hands. “Lottie, I need your help. If you combine your skills with mine and find me a husband, first, then we can both concentrate on finding you a husband later. By using the same combination of scientific methods. I’ll record all our findings. Test all the men, and then write it down so we can compare their characteristics. That way, we can sort out which ones are a perfect match for both of us.”
“You’re forgetting, Becca didn’t need either of our skills in the end. She didn’t get a chance to test her theories on lovemaking with any gentlemen. Sherwyn forbade her the instant he heard of her intentions.”
“Yes.” Laura gave a little giggle. “The look on his face was worth framing. While he acted the gentleman and refused to assist her bedroom experiments, Becca flaunted her list of men who would happily help. She walked out and left the Duke with his mouth open, catching flies.”
“Ah! But it did push Sherwyn into revealing his own feelings. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching Becca. And as he’d once given Bec
ca her first kiss, he wanted to be the one to also teach her about lovemaking. ”
In his hiding place, Richard couldn’t contain his shock. As Sherwyn’s closest confident, he’d known that his cousin and Becca had anticipated their wedding night. The grinning glee on the Duke’s face in the weeks prior to their marriage had told the story, though Richard hadn’t known of Becca’s ultimatum. No wonder his cousin had almost turned gray overnight.
For a duke and a gentleman who’d vowed to avoid all close relationships with women while he’d repaired the family fortunes, Sherwyn’s position had been untenable. He’d bedded Becca long before deciding to marry her, or he would have risked the stubborn woman calling his bluff and asking some other rake to deflower her.
Good Lord! Sherwyn hadn’t stood a chance against one of the strong Jamison women. And what would he do if Laura confronted him with the same situation? He prayed he’d never need to choose, because he already knew how his body would react and he had no idea if his mind would be strong enough to turn her down. Watching other idiots make fools of themselves by clamoring for Laura’s attention had turned his stomach until, several times, he’d almost marched onto the dance floor to remove some letch’s hand.
Those rogues made themselves far too familiar with her perfectly-rounded posterior for him to stay detached. If Laura copied her older sister’s example and wanted to take one of them to her bed, to experiment with sex, he’d be quicker than her brothers to challenge the recipient to a duel. Despite knowing he was the last person she’d want interfering in her life, and knowing he’d never be the one to take Laura’s virginity.
Through his own choosing, he backed away every time any mention from the family’s hovered around the topic of a union between them. Deep down, he recognized that he wasn’t good enough for someone like Laura, someone whose presence on this earth made every day better.
