“Surely such a thing will offer nothing more than a short lived amusement for the downstairs servants,” Jac said. Daniel glanced sideways at her.
“Did you recognize the maid?” he asked, his voice stiff and derisive in a way she was not accustomed to hearing from him.
“No,” she answered, blinking. Surely Daniel did not know every servant’s particular propensity for gossip, she thought, confused.
“Precisely. That was not our maid,” Daniel answered. Jac felt her mouth fall open.
No, she thought, understanding, her eyes widening.
“Mrs. Clarence left her maid-” she started, scandalized.
“An accident, surely,” Daniel replied wryly, turning back to the window.
“Would you like to end the deception now, then?” Jac asked, dreading turning around to get undressed. Her mind railed against the idea. She needed this last night to say goodbye. She could not leave Aspen waiting for her while she returned home to put on the trappings of a refined spinster. However, she thought, watching Daniel lean his forehead against the glass of the coach window, stepping out into the world in the trousers of a stranger was rapidly beginning to feel selfishly incautious.
“Bugger it. I'm already openly sodomizing Mr. Jack Holcombe, we might as well reap the benefits of it. Go say goodbye. But next time we start something like this special brand of idiocy, you're sneaking yourself out of the house,” he stated, turning back to point at her accusingly. Jac felt herself smile, relieved at his returned humor, though she knew it was mostly feigned.
“Next time?” she joked, raising an eyebrow, and Daniel banged his forehead on the carriage window.
“Lord forbid, no. We’re finished,” he answered.
CHAPTER SIX
Daniel had been invited to the theater as well but had declined. For her sake, Jac guessed, absurdly grateful to the man.
The carriage pulled up to the curb far from the Royal Theater’s steps and crawled forward in line with the other carriages. Jac kept her nose pressed to the window, knowing for once that her foolishness would not harm her; anyone who saw would judge Mr. Jack Holcombe and he was soon to disappear.
Jac laughed under her breath, spotting the Duke of Aspen. He was standing on the theater's great steps blowing air into his hands. Two beautiful women chattered on either side of him. They wore splendid gowns, their arms bared to the cold. Aspen glanced back and forth between the two, his expression severe. He was horrendously uncomfortable, she thought sympathetically.
“Take care, Jac,” Daniel ordered. She glanced back at him and dropped the curtain from her fingertips, wondering what he’d seen in her expression.
“I know he is not courting me. I’m not a fool. For heaven’s sake, he thinks I’m a man,” she said and Daniel frowned, still looking concerned.
Harold opened the door for her, letting in a chill draft. Jac moved to pull her scarf tighter about her shoulders, only to pause at the touch of her cravat cloth tied about her neck. Harold stepped back, noticing nothing, as always. Jac smiled uncomfortably at him.
“I will return in two hours,” Daniel promised. That did not give much time for loitering about. Jac glanced at him wryly.
“I will survive my foray into independence,” she promised and Daniel sighed.“Go on, then,” Daniel said, his voice heavy.
Jac smiled, excitement building up in her chest and stepped out onto the dark street. Harold closed the door firmly behind her, already readying to depart. It’d been a cold winter this year, she thought, glancing at the coachman’s blue hands. For once, though, she was not looking forward to the spring and the end of the season.
Aspen’s face cleared into something like relief at the sight of her. Jac berated herself at the way her heart skipped a beat. He thought her a man, a friend, nothing more. The women with him turned, apparently noticing the change in his demeanor. It was the debutante of this season, Miss Faring and Miss Musgrave, the rather limp looking eldest daughter of the Musgrave family. The two women continued to glance through the crowd, apparently bored by him.
“You need not wait for me outside!” she called over the noise of the crowd as she approached him. Miss Faring frowned and Jacoline concentrated on working her way through the crowd, fear jolting through her that they'd somehow recognized her. For once Jac felt fortunate that society had not spent more than five seconds looking at her in the last three years together. Miss Musgrave smiled tightly at her and fluttered away from the Duke of Aspen as Jac grew closer. Miss Faring trailed after her, apparently forgetting to excuse herself from the duke’s company at all. Aspen stood, awkwardly alone on the steps again. Jac frowned, glancing at the two tittering young girls walking off together. Miss Musgrave made a disgusted face at Miss Faring before glancing pointedly at the duke.
Subtle, Jac thought, watching them. She'd always thought she was seeing women throwing themselves at the duke. He was right in his assessment, apparently. He was not so fawned upon at all. At least not by anyone who had the choice. Aspen smirked slightly and turned to face away from them, not looking surprised.
“We would never find each other inside. Shall we?” he replied, his voice deep and wonderful. Jac got halfway through holding an arm up for him to take and jerked her hand away. She coughed into her palm, trying to hide her mistake. Aspen glanced over at her, an eyebrow raised.
“I am the epitome of grace,” she stated, trying to get accustomed to climbing the overly tall steps without having to wrestle with a formal gown. She could see her own legs, which was endlessly helpful. Still she had to force herself to continue walking up the steps. The opening event was for sponsors and their guests only and Jac felt herself grow nervous at the sight of the grand open doors and the sounds of great chatter inside. Her ears strained for a shout from the crowd within the theater, an old matron or foolish young gentleman jabbing a finger at her and outcrying her fraud. She stayed a step behind Aspen, praying no one would look at her next to the bachelor heir to the Aspen estate.
Doing her best to pretend it was natural, she reached first for the building’s door. It was remarkably heavy, despite gliding easily on its oiled hinges. Jac had to hope the duke did not notice her difficulty. She thought she could understand why men were expected to open all external doors, now. Aspen chuckled at her, drawing the surprised glances of the society matrons making their way up the theater steps beside them.
Inside Jac waited for the crowd to shift away from the door, already enjoying the place immensely. It had always been her favorite part of London. The entrance room was lined in marble, everywhere but the painted, plaster ceiling. Now, the room was awash with light from hundreds of candles in the chandeliers above her. Footmen wandered about with trays of appetizers and glasses of drinks, doing their best to make their way through the churning crowd. The landed gentry mingled with the coal mine owners, merchants, and peers of the realm, outfitted in splendid style.
“Did you know that Mr. Beethoven is losing his hearing?” Aspen asked, pulling a champagne flute from a footman’s tray.
“Truly?” she asked, grabbing one for herself and the duke nodded somberly.
“It is said he has difficulty hearing voices and music and it is worsening. He is still to play a trio dedicated to His Royal Highness, Archduke Rudolph of Austria in March, according to the Earl of Blancard, but he is said to shout when he speaks now and his acquaintances are choosing to write things down, rather than speak to him.”
Jac took a sip of the champagne but didn’t appreciate it, lost in thought at the news.
“And still he writes music?” she asked, unsure how such a thing could be possible. Aspen gestured at the theater around them.
“I suppose tonight we shall find out,” he answered and Jac nodded seriously. The duke smiled down at her, looking for a moment like a very interested, perfect suitor. Jac wanted to turn away.
“That is such a tragedy,” she said instead and Aspen nodded.
“Of al
l men and all afflictions,” he replied, shaking his head and continuing forward, the crush of people parting reverently before him.
“Your Grace!” a balding man with thick spectacles popped up beside Jac's arm. Jac jerked in surprise and almost spilled her drink. The man backed up a step. “My apologies, sir. Your Grace, I am delighted to have you here. Absolutely delighted. What can we do to improve your visit?”
He is a sponsor, then, Jac thought, watching the duke scowl. Uncomfortable again, she thought, becoming more certain of his facial expressions.
“You have put on a wonderful event, sir,” Aspen answered instead and the man beamed at him.
“Thank you, sir, please let me know if there is anything you require,” he replied. Aspen nodded and the man worked his way back into the crush.
“That man is invigorating,” Jac commented, trying to regain her breath as she watched the theater director happily insert himself into another conversation. Aspen nodded, his eyebrows high.
“I’m certainly awake now,” he answered and Jac smiled, shaking her head. “Come, let us go find my box,” he offered, gesturing through the crowd toward the side door. Jac smiled. She had always envied Daniel’s invitations to such privileged seats. It would not be hard to hear this concert, she thought. Aspen led her upstairs but turned down a narrow, dark hallway, heading deeper into the theater than Jac had ever been. The ornate rugs ended abruptly at the end of the hall, where it turned out of sight of the main stairway. They walked into the much darker, smaller passageway beyond, one clearly meant for servants and theater staff. Jac felt a flash of fear hit her stomach and trailed behind the man, reminding herself that the duke did not know she was a woman. He clearly had no designs on her. Then Aspen turned, his scars twisting in a wide grin, and she felt herself relax and smile back, trust replacing her fear.
“Surely this is not a proper route,” she protested and Aspen chuckled, his good humor clear.
“Perhaps not, but it is certainly faster,” he answered. “I’d bring a lady the proper route but otherwise it’s frankly not worth it,” he said before he opened an unlabeled door. Jac blinked and followed the man back onto the ornate theater carpet, right outside of the arched entrances to the theater boxes. Aspen pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the third box down. He opened the door and disappeared without another word. Jac followed him quickly, not wanting to be found alone in the private box area. The duke’s theater box was lined with thick tapestries, making it look like a miniaturized drawing room. The seats were newly upholstered in a dark green pattern of Indian elephants and birds, but the furniture was made thick and sturdy, as if it came straight out of the colonies. Or the sixteenth century, Jac thought nervously, eyeing the furniture.
“My grandmother decorated. I’ve never cared to change it,” Aspen commented, sounding uncomfortable. Jac looked up to see him plucking a white thread off an elephant tusk.
“The fabric is lovely,” Jacoline reassured him. Aspen raised an eyebrow at her and chuckled.
“I think so too,” he agreed as he pulled his waistcoat tails out of the way and sat down. Jac sat beside the man, too conscious of the way her hands automatically clasped themselves primly in her lap. Aspen leaned back in his chair and kicked his legs out in front of him. Jac moved to copy the position, crossing her legs in front of her and yelped as she felt her chair start to tip back. Aspen slammed his hand down on her seat cushion and kept her upright. Jac closed her eyes and blushed deep into her shirt. That was clearly not a man’s screech.
“Well. You are the epitome of grace,” Aspen joked. Jac opened an eye to see the man chuckling between his teeth. She hid her face in her hands and Aspen barked out a laugh. Jac groaned helplessly, imagining the spectacle she’d made, and Aspen’s laugh rang out beside her. Jac was glad for a moment that ‘Mr. Jack Holcombe’ was soon to disappear and take all of his embarrassing moments with him. Then she glanced back at Aspen and saw him laughing and wished she could stay. He leaned over to grab a sheet of paper from the table beside him and read it quickly.
“Sir George Smart is conducting. It would be a wonder to see Mr. Beethoven in Austria. I wonder if he is still conducting as well,” he murmured before looking up, rubbing a thumb absently over the program. “Perhaps I shall join Blancard in March. It is sure to be one of Mr. Beethoven’s last performances, if the rumors of his hearing prove accurate,” he said, leaning forward and glancing along the theater wall, to the next box. Jac leaned forward to join him and saw the Earl of Blancard and his wife in what looked like a heated argument. “Or perhaps not,” Aspen added, leaning back. Jac sat back in her chair, trying to ignore the murmurs of verbal sparring occurring in the box next to them. “Have you ever been with a woman?” Aspen asked, breaking the silence, his voice casual as if merely asking her about her experience with music.
“You cannot ask me that!” she’d gasped before she’d thought and Aspen snorted at her. Jac could feel her blush up to her ears. She’d sounded like a prude.
“Why are you shamed? I told you many weeks ago that I have not. We live in a backwards country indeed if not fornicating is now considered shameful,” he said and Jac knew he assumed that “Jack Holcombe’, in all his awkwardness, was very much untouched. Jac blushed deeper at the thought.
“No, I’ve not,” she answered honestly, staring out at the empty chairs and music stands on the stage. Her face was bright red, she was sure.
“Why not?” Aspen asked easily, flicking a bit of lint off of his breeches. Jac watched him out of the corner of her eye, wishing she knew a way to end the conversation.
Have I ever been with a woman? How was she supposed to answer that?
“I’ve never thought about it,” she replied, wanting to laugh at the absurdity of the question and Aspen shot her a glance.
“Now I definitely don’t believe you,” he joked, grinning, and Jac glared at him. He laughed, turning back to face her, half of his face rippled beneath the scars, the other half open and beautiful, wrinkling with his smile. Jac held her breath, trying to memorize every detail of the moment.
“Why are you going to the Americas?” Aspen asked suddenly, dropping the program between his feet and turning to face her, breaking the moment. Jac stared at him, trying to get her mind to work.
Damn it I don’t want to lie again, she thought, staring at him.
“I want to make my fortune,” she said finally. She’d certainly heard of the motivation often enough. Aspen frowned.
“Why do you think it’ll be easier to do that there? If you have the money for the ship fare, you have enough for investment,” he stated. Jac saw the determination in his eyes and felt her shoulders fall. She did not want to deceive this man. “The war with the United States and the wars with France are soon to be over; that is clear. The trade restrictions with France will be ending. Now is the time to invest in all things French,” he continued, speaking rapidly. Jac shook her head.
“I shall do that from Boston,” she said unilaterally but the duke only shook his head at her.
“They will not welcome a London aristocrat in those circles,” he warned. “We are at war and business is never easy for a foreigner.”
“The war will end soon, as you said,” Jac replied, thinking she sounded like a fool.
“Let me help you with your investments or find you other help. There is no reason to leave your family and friends in Britain,” he insisted. Jac shook her head, mentally begging the orchestra to come on stage. Aspen was silent for too long and finally his gaze on her face sharpened, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “Are you running from something?” he asked quietly. “A debt, a crime, you’re not Anglican-” he listed. Jac wanted to groan and leave the building entirely.
“I am not running away,” she lied. “I wish only to explore more of the world, as I have London,” she stated.
“Then travel but maintain a home in London,” he replied but it sounded like an order. He turned back toward the s
tage looking rather embarrassed. Jac bit her lip, trying not to smile, warmed by the idea that he so wanted her to stay. They were friends.
Jac dug her thumb into her palm, massaging it roughly. She’d been hiding the entire time. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to turn her head and admit that she was not ‘Mr. Jack Holcombe’, a gentleman’s son or Daniel’s cousin, and she was not leaving. What would it be like to sit with him on this last night, the air between them cleared?
And then she just wanted the concert to start so she could tell herself she’d been at the cusp of telling him and had simply been interrupted at a bad time. Instead she sat in silence, trying not to listen to the rustle of the duke’s clothing as he shifted. She could not tell him she was a woman in a man’s attire. At least the lie was ending.
“I cannot stay,” she said over the sound of the orchestra finally making its way onstage, instruments in hand. The conductor walked out finally and Jacoline joined the audience in clapping. The conductor shook the hands of the first and second violinist and faced the audience. The orchestra stood as he bowed. Jac pulled herself forward on her seat to gaze out of the theater box, holding her breath as they all got in their seats again and began to tune their instruments together. This was a wonderful privilege indeed, she thought and the orchestra settled into silence again.
The music started with a long joyous note, followed by a quiet kind of ascension.
It’s like a dance, Jac thought, exhaling finally and resting her hands on the box railing, leaning over to see more of the music as it was performed. The music ascended and quieted, making her on edge for a burst of triumph. It came finally, ringing out loudly and Jac smiled, wanting to stand up and move with the joyous sounds. The symphony quieted again and Jac kept smiling as it slowly ascended again, waiting for the next loud burst of joy and triumph.
“I challenge anyone to doubt that Austria is free of Napoleon, hearing this,” Aspen whispered in her ear, his soft hair brushing against her cheek. Jac shivered, feeling his hair brush against her neck and ear, his lips too close. She nodded, trying to focus on the music and failing. The duke pulled away, his eyes glittering with good humor.
Spinster's Gambit Page 10
