“I do not have many friends in Parliament. The slavery movement-” he started, before cutting himself off, seeing Henry press his lips together, understanding clear in his eyes. “My reputation is already forfeit,” Daniel stated, patting the back of his chair uselessly. Henry’s hard, pained expression did not yield and Daniel patted the chair again and turned to go, glad Henry did not ask for a last embrace before he left.
~~//~~
There was something bothering Daniel, Jac thought when she got home and found the man sitting in the dining room, not touching the bowl of soup in front of him. Jac caught the eye of the waiting footman to request her own dinner and sat down beside her brother. Daniel glanced up to acknowledge her but did not speak.
“The deception is over, at least,” she said, smoothing her hands down her skirt. Daniel’s mouth twitched in a wry smile and he nodded, fiddling with his spoon.
“Yes, that much is very true,” he said heavily and Jac frowned.
“What has you so bothered? Are you so concerned by that maid?” she asked. Daniel glanced up and his usually laughing eyes looked hollow. He ran a hand over his hair.
“Damn Mrs. John Clarence,” he bit out and Jac inhaled sharply, surprised by his vehemence.
“At worst there will be a trial and you will be found innocent. Say Jack Holcombe was a city bloke you decided to pass off as a relative on a mad whim and be done with it. There is certainly no evidence against you,” she replied and Daniel grimaced. He tossed his spoon to the table and pushed his chair back, snarling.
“No evidence, certainly. Not anymore.”
Jac blinked and stared at him as he strode out of the room. The front door slammed shut too loudly and Jac leaned back to let the footman place her bowl of soup in front of her. She took up her spoon and stared at the thick liquid, thinking she’d likely just assigned herself to take her brother’s place, staring sightlessly over her soup bowl.
She was a spinster now, and she was running out of time. She could either pursue Lord Candrow’s suit or let it pass, and she needed to decide. Her heart clenched and Jac lowered her spoon to the table and buried her face in her hands. She wanted neither. She wanted Aspen and she was a fool.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Aspen house party took place at the duke's country estate only seventy miles from London, but it still meant a two day carriage ride with no one but Daniel for company. Daniel was uncharacteristically silent. Usually he’d be complaining about the coach’s springs and the badly tended roads before they were even out of town. She had a trunk full of books, embroidery and drawing sheets traveling behind the carriage, but she couldn't get up enthusiasm for any of it. Daniel stared at the window, his expression harsh and unyielding. The rumors were truly worrying him, Jac thought, quietly agreeing to pass the travel in silence.
By the time she finally stepped out of the carriage, Daniel seemed to be in slightly better spirits. He glanced up at the house they'd visited every year since he’d returned from the continent, his expression brightening. It should have been an imposing home, four stories tall in parts and all of imported stone, but ivy had been allowed to grow over the front of it, softening its edges and making it appear like an old hunting lodge that had somehow bloomed monstrously out of proportion. She'd always been surprised that the Duchess of Aspen had not ordered all the ivy cut down at the base but every year that she returned for the house party the ivy remained unaltered.
The Duchess of Aspen was the epitome of prim and proper nobility. She didn't seem the type not to notice the front ivy or to accept defeat if a pruning had not killed the plant in the first attempt. Jac thought she must have come to like it. Jacoline was inclined to agree with the sentiment. It was friendly, albeit in an unconventional style. Jac started up the front steps and Daniel trotted past her to knock on the door. He grinned at her with some secret joke and Jac glanced back at the carriage, blushing as she realized that she must have gotten out without the coachman's hand. Harold was standing by the carriage door, his back straight and his face blank.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered. Daniel’s eyebrows rose sharply at the curse.
“Oh splendid. I have a sailor for a sister,” he joked, offering her his arm. Jac took it, glad only Daniel and Harold had seen her foolishness and climbed the steps, preparing to greet the very imposingly proper duchess.
~~//~~
Aspen tried not to smile at Daniel's sister's very awkward carriage exit. Oddly enough she performed the feat gracefully, seemingly not even thinking about needing assistance, leaving the red-haired footman in her wake. She bit her lip and whispered something to her brother that made the man break out in a grin. The two siblings disappeared onto his front stoop, out of sight of the window. Jack had not joined them, then.
A knock came moments later and Aspen turned away to face the room full of chattering women. It was hardly difficult to see why his mother had started arranging these house parties six years before. Miss Holcombe would be the only spinster there. The rest of the invited women were either carefully vetted debutantes or the necessary mothers, companions and chaperones brought with them.
“The Viscount Holcombe and the honorable Miss Jacoline Holcombe,” the butler announced and the two walked into the room behind him. For the life of him Aspen could not say if the woman had joined Daniel every year for the last decade or if this was the first time she’d entered his home.
Miss Holcombe was known only for her reticence. She did not hold great rank and she was too thin for great beauty, so she was mostly left on the sidelines. She entered the room with her head held high, a politely bland expression on her face, but Aspen did not miss her disbelief when two young women barely out of the school room came careening over to insist on how happy they were to see her. The girls' eyes barely met her face before they were curtsying to the viscount. Miss Holcombe returned the curtsy and exchanged a quiet glance with her brother who grinned back in what seemed like a very practiced exchange.
Oddly enough, no more women rose to greet the pair. Daniel frowned, scanning the room. Aspen followed his gaze toward where Lady Musgrave and the widowed Mrs. Clarence were whispering by the fireplace. He turned back to see Miss Holcombe take her brother’s arm and lead him forward. She glanced around the room, looking equally uncertain until she found where his mother was perched in a throne-like chair at the back of the room, holding court.
~~//~~
Jac curtsied to the Duchess of Aspen, doing her best to figure out why she always felt like an oaf in front of the woman. It was hard even when she wasn't actively pretending not to know the woman's son more than by a passing acquaintance. The duchess smiled as if Jac was the woman she'd most wanted to welcome to her house party.
Unlikely, Jac thought.
Daniel was glancing about the room, obviously tense. Still, Jac didn't see a single person paying undue attention to her and the Worthing sisters were both drooling over Daniel as always, but there was a certain tension in the air that she couldn’t shake off.
“Welcome, Miss Holcombe; please sit. I hope your travels were not too grueling?” she asked, gesturing to an open chair beside her.
“Not at all,” Jac replied, trying to smile gracefully as she sat. She'd failed apparently, she thought, when the duchess smiled back, her mouth pinched, apparently covering some awkward silence. The duchess had obviously been a stunning beauty in her day. She had swooping, high eyebrows and flawless skin and had aged gracefully, turning into an intimidatingly composed matron.
“Thank you so much for inviting us here,” Jac added.
“Not at all,” the woman replied, smiling again.
“Your Grace,” Daniel greeted, stepping away from the chattering women on either side of him and filling the building silence with an elegant bow. “Thank you for inviting us to your lovely home.”
“Of course,” the duchess replied, smiling back and presenting her hand for him to take. Daniel kissed it lightly, looking up at her fa
ce for a moment. “I do hope you will join us for the cricket game we have planned,” she added and Daniel smiled.
“I would love to,” he replied.
How does he find this so damned easy? Jac wondered, watching as the Duchess' face lit up again and she replied to the man, leaving Jac with absolutely no idea what to do.
~~//~~
Miss Jacoline Holcombe was perhaps in her own way as awkward as her cousin, Aspen thought as he watched the woman sit stiffly, obviously unsure how to continue a conversation with his mother. Granted, few people did, but most were at least less obvious about it. Truly, she looked just like Mr. Jack Holcombe, sitting at the edge of his chair, glancing up and smiling at seemingly random intervals and otherwise focusing on something vaguely across the room. Aspen followed her gaze and felt his eyebrows rise. She was staring at the chessboard he'd left out from playing with the Earl of Kimberley, before they’d been interrupted.
Perhaps an interest in chess runs in the family, he thought, his gaze returning to the spinster. He could see why Miss Holcombe had been left unmarried. She seemed entirely uncertain how to function in a polite conversation. She got up from her chair as soon as the Countess of Longbourne engaged his mother and covered her escape. She settled by the smallest window in the room with her embroidery, looking perfectly happy to be left alone.That was one distinction, then. Mr. Jack Holcombe had none of that reticence. Aspen remembered seeing Jack at the Earl of Blancard’s political soiree, discussing slavery without a hint of Miss Holcombe’s apparent shyness.
Aspen strode firmly across the room to join his mother, not ready to spend his time flitting from one eligible woman to another. The duchess finished her sentence about tax reform with the countess and turned to face him, her eyebrows lifted pointedly. Aspen forced himself not to squirm in his seat and smiled back at her blandly. He refused to mingle during every moment of this house party, regardless of her wishes. His mother smiled back, her face lifting beautifully, and went back to her conversation as if he hadn't charged to her side and thrown himself down beside her.
Still, he could feel the room watching him, waiting for any tiny gesture of preference to pounce on and gossip about until he was ready to throw it all away and wait until the next year to attempt to meet a woman who would meet his eyes and speak. Aspen stretched his neck and tried to focus on the building conversation between the countess and his mother, doing his best to block out the sounds of the chattering women around him. He envied the Earl of Longbourne quite sincerely, hearing the countess rant about the tax system’s undesirable effects. He needed to find a way to keep in touch with Mr. Jack Holcombe, Boston or no. He did not want that acquaintance to die. Daniel met his gaze from across the room and managed to look sympathetic toward him without halting in his conversation with Miss Musgrave.
Aspen blew out a breath and stood up.
Stand by a girl’s mother and wait for her to accost you, he told himself, forcing himself to swallow his reticence and try.
Aspen didn't last an hour before he wanted to curse the whole project and return to London. There, at least, he had museums and theaters to entertain him. However, if he was honest with himself, the idea of a wife and children appealed to him. He wanted the louder household, the woman waiting for him to come home, the children bearing his name and blood, young people he could guide into the world. He was not a bad option as a husband. He was a fully realized duke, he was still young, and he did not drink or gamble excessively. But he'd returned to this problem season after season and nothing had changed. Perhaps, over the course of a marriage, his wife's opinions might alter. She would grow older and perhaps come to trust him, come to meet his eyes and see him as more than his money. Surely an entire marriage could not proceed like this.
“And have you ever been to Bath?” he asked and Miss Longbourne gazed at her feet miserably.
“Oh, yes, Your Grace, I loved it,” she answered politely without looking up from her shoe buckles.
Right.
“It's a lovely area,” he said meaninglessly. She nodded, her eyes sliding toward where Daniel was sitting with Miss Holcombe by the hearth.
“You've been there?” she asked without looking away from the other man.
“Obviously,” he answered, his voice coming out too sharp, too annoyed. She glanced at him, looking alarmed.
Damn it. He was not skilled with women. Aspen glanced over Miss Longbourne, deciding to take Jack's advice. He couldn't imagine this going well.
“Miss Longbourne,” he asked and the girl raised her eyes to stare at the scars on his neck, as if he wouldn't notice. “Meet my eyes,” he ordered.
Her eyebrows furrowed, but for once she looked interested. She blinked and lifted her gaze to his. She had light hazel eyes and a kind, somewhat anxious-looking expression. She smiled slightly and he nodded at her.
“Thank you,” he stated and her eyes fell back to his chest.
Thrilling, he thought, struggling not to roll his eyes and feeling like a fool.
“Did you enjoy your time in Bath?” she asked. Aspen wanted to groan.
Finally, his mother stood to invite them all to dinner. Aspen took the excuse to escape gratefully, moving to take his mother's arm and lead them into the grand dining hall.
~~//~~
“You should talk to him,” Daniel pressed, sitting down beside her. Jac glanced around the loud room to ensure no one could hear them. Aspen was ensconced in conversation with Miss Longbourne, who was in turn looking at them. At Daniel anyway. Jac caught her gaze for a moment and the girl blushed and tore her eyes back to the duke, looking alarmed.
“No, thank you,” Jac stated, trying to imagine walking over to the man and striking up some conversation. She'd look like a besotted fool. It was over, she told herself firmly.
“Truly, Jac. You know and like this man. He does not think he knows you; he will not make the first approach. What would you do for the rest of your life if you did not give Aspen a chance now?” Daniel pressed. Jac rubbed her thumb into her palm. She did not want to be alone and she did not want to spend a lifetime thinking it was her own fault.
“I have no conception of how to do that,” she hissed. Daniel shrugged slightly and rubbed a hand over his chin.
“No one really does. Some people just fake it long enough that it becomes easier to pretend that they know what they're doing,” he answered, winking at her.
“Oh, lovely,” Jac replied, wanting to hide her face in her hands.
“If you can pretend to be male you can pretend to be friendly,” Daniel whispered, his eyebrows rising comically.
“Mr. Henry Charington and his daughter, Miss Laura Charington,” the butler intoned. Daniel froze in his chair, his expression tight. Jac glanced at where the foppish man was striding into the room with his thin slip of a daughter, moving to greet the duchess. Daniel angled himself away from the newcomers, shifting in his seat to face Jacoline more fully. Jac frowned, suddenly wondering why Daniel was sitting with her. Usually he was fully ensconced in flirting women by midday.
“The rumors are worsening,” she mentioned, catching the gaze of Miss Musgrave. The girl glanced at Daniel, her lip curling slightly, and quickly looked away.
Daniel nodded.
“Very true,” he said. “Forgive me, I’ve forgotten my book in my room,” he said, standing up and moving swiftly toward the hallway. Jac glanced over at where the duke was sitting. He was scowling at the carefully woven rug beneath his feet. Miss Longbourne was staring at the bust of St. Anslem behind him, tapping her foot. She looked remarkably bored. And boring, frankly, Jac thought less charitably. Perhaps there was a way for her to talk to the man.
As soon as the thought occurred she felt practically glued to her seat. Jac dropped her gaze back down to the embroidery in her lap, hiding her face and trying to figure out how in the world she was going to attempt to speak to the Duke of Aspen, a peer she’d barely been introduced to.
The
duchess called for dinner finally, ending her misery. Aspen stood up from his conversation with Miss Musgrave, looking grateful, and Jac joined the procession at the end of the line, glad for once for the low rank which allowed her to escape from the duke's company. She was under no obligation to shout down the table at the man.
~~//~~
The duchess's house party was always easier after the first night. Presumably after letting Jac settle in it became socially acceptable to ask her to play, which usually meant she spent the rest of the party in what felt like an extended concert. In the horrid boredom of her youth she'd somehow become quite accomplished at the pianoforte, only to improve drastically when she realized how it allowed her to escape from social situations. It had saved her from every social occasion since she'd come of age and hardly failed her now.
Jac had barely finished a stitch in her morning embroidery before the duchess was asking her if she'd be kind enough to play for them. With no limit on her relief, Jac moved to obey.
~~//~~
I do not want His Grace to marry someone else, Jac accepted, walking away from the pianoforte to return to her dratted embroidery. The armchair beside Aspen’s was empty, and she lowered herself into it, feeling quite out of place. He was sitting with a letter held open in front of him, his scarred fingers struggling to keep the paper unfolded. She could not simply turn and speak with him in the middle of the crowded room. Jac picked at her embroidery, staring at the attractive pattern without ever truly seeing it. How else would the duke ever notice her if she did not speak to him? She wanted him desperately, even if they were only to be friends. She could be quite happy as a spinster, she thought, if only she could go to the coffeehouse with him again.
“How long have you been playing chess?” Jac forced out, realizing she didn't know. Her voice came out in an unhealthy squeak. Aspen glanced at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Have I ever seen him play chess when I was not disguised? Jac wondered belatedly, desperately trying to think of an instance. She felt herself color but kept her gaze on him. She needed to try this.
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