by Jenna Jaxon
Tea had been laid and Aunt Arabella had begun to pour when Jenny entered the drawing room and headed straight for her friend.
“There you are.” Celinda grabbed her hand and pulled her toward their corner. “Lord, it’s been an age since I saw you.”
“I know.” They exchanged an embrace. “Why weren’t you in the receiving room before dinner? I waited until they made me go in.”
Celinda rolled her eyes. “Because Mama was later than usual coming down. Papa and I were standing around the hallway waiting and waiting. Apparently her coiffure could not be completed without one particular comb and Hobbs, the maid, couldn’t find it anywhere.” Celinda glanced at her mother, laughing and talking with the other ladies. “I do so hate to be late. Especially when we need to catch up so badly. Come, tell me if you have made any progress this week.”
They picked up cups of tea and hurried to the two cream and pink striped chairs in their cozy corner before anyone else could claim them. “I did manage to meet Lord Kentwroth when my aunt and I called on Lady Fallow.”
“What did you think of him?” Celinda put her tea down untasted.
“He seemed nice enough, although rather reserved.” Jenny recalled her polite if disinterested conversation with the tall, narrow-faced man. “He might improve upon closer acquaintance.”
Celinda shook her head. “I somehow doubt it. Kentwroth is too stodgy to be a young man. He should be fifty instead of thirty-two. I’ve known him since before my come out and he’s always been like that. Did you meet anyone else?”
“Aunt Arabella and I have been gone for most of the week, to Bath and Frome. We just arrived back here yesterday afternoon.” Jenny settled in the comfortable chair, trying to relax, but found it impossible. Despite the fatigue of all her travels, her excitement about tonight’s dancing wouldn’t allow her a moment to rest. She leaned forward again and sipped her tea, hoping it would calm her. “I was introduced to several of my cousins’ friends just before dinner, but had no chance of conversation with them. They will be staying here until after Christmas.”
“Well, I daresay there are quite a few more gentlemen for you to meet this evening. Mama said Lady Marbury had turned out the neighborhood for the party tonight. And the Christmas Eve Ball is just four days away. It’s always the grandest event of the season.”
“Oh, yes.” Jenny’s stomach trembled at the thought. “I’ve got a special gown and ensemble for that. I simply can’t wait.”
The door opened and gentlemen began to enter, fresh from their brandy.
“Ladies.” Aunt Arabella had risen and gestured to the doorway. “The evening’s dancing will begin in the ballroom shortly. Those of you who would prefer to remain here for cards, please choose your partners.”
“Come on.” Celinda grabbed Jenny’s hand and led her down the hallway toward the screeches and squawks of the orchestra tuning their instruments. “Thank goodness we have enough men here that we shouldn’t lack for partners tonight.”
“That’s just what I’m worried about. That I’ll have no partners.” Jenny gripped her fan. To be unpartnered, even for a set or two, would be not only an embarrassment, but a disaster considering what she was attempting to do.
“Nonsense.” Celinda stopped and looked her up and down with a critical eye. “That cream silk with the rose overlay makes your skin glow and brings out the highlights in your hair. Your hair is simple, yet elegant and your cheeks are pleasantly pink. The gentlemen would be fools not to request a dance.” Celinda propelled her once more toward the ballroom, where the squeal of instruments continued.
Trembling in turns from fear and excitement at the prospect of her first formal party, Jenny entered the ballroom and stopped, her heart beat fluttering like a bird against the bars of a cage. Candles lined the walls, their glow reflected from silver and gold sconces. Above, crystal chandeliers flickered with myriad little lights, the sweet fragrance of beeswax pervading the air. At one end of the room the six musicians had just finished their preparation. Dozens of people milled around, forming clusters here and there, their finery bright in the muted light.
A subtle poke in her back from Celinda, and Jenny continued into the room, glancing around wildly. “Where do we go? I told you I’ve never been to such an entertainment before.”
“Smile and follow me.” Her friend headed toward a small knot of young ladies to the right of the entrance, and Jenny recognized Lady Mary Cope and Miss Newel, their familiar faces a welcome sight despite their short acquaintance.
“Good evening, Mary, Anna. You remember Miss Crowley?” Celinda spoke to the young ladies even as her gaze skimmed the crowd.
“Indeed, it is a pleasure to meet you again, Miss Crowley,” Lady Mary replied, looking down her nose at Jenny. “I understand you are the guest of honor at these festivities.”
Startled by the cold hostility in the young woman’s voice, Jenny stuttered, “I…I suppose I am, my lady. My aunt invited me to the entertainments this week as a kind of birthday present.” Best leave it at that.
“Well, I should think—”
“Good evening, ladies.” A masculine voice silenced Lady Mary.
Jenny looked up at her dark-haired cousin, Eric, his handsome friend Lord Somersby at his side. Eric had introduced Somersby, a childhood companion from a neighboring estate, to her while they had waited for dinner to be announced. Son and heir to the Marquess of Meare, the most powerful peer in the county according to Eric, Lord Somersby nevertheless had been most gracious to her, laughing and talking to her easily as they awaited the gong.
So tall she had to tilt her head back to look into his face, Somersby seemed like a prince out of one of the fairy tales she’d read as a child. His broad shoulders appeared barely confined by his well-cut black evening coat. His elaborately tied cravat gave an almost too stark contrast to the lean, chiseled planes of his face. Wavy blonde hair and dark blue eyes completed the features of one of the most handsome men she had ever met.
“Lady Celinda, would you do me the honor of dancing the first set with me?” Eric’s grave face belied his merry eyes.
Celinda gave him a keen look. “Have I ever danced the first with you, Mr. Conroy?”
“Why no, I do not believe you have, my lady.” His eyes were twinkling now. “Apparently I have never been the first in line to ask.”
Celinda smiled at him and gave him her hand. “I am happy to see you are now fleeter of foot, sir.” She moved off on his arm, her blue satin dress swishing as they headed toward the dance floor where the set was making up.
“I would also beg to claim the first set from you,” Lord Somersby began.
Lady Mary stepped forward eagerly, an arch smile on her lips.
Jenny moved to the side, twitching her skirt out of the girl’s way. She didn’t want Lady Mary to trip on it in her haste to claim her partner.
“Miss Crowley,” Somersby finished a beat later.
Lady Mary gasped and stumbled back.
Jenny’s attention snapped back to his face. “I beg pardon, my lord?” The words came out as a squeak. Had he actually asked her to dance?
He smiled, his deep blue eyes amused, and offered his arm. “Would you honor me with the first set, Miss Crowley?”
Vaguely aware of Lady Mary’s hasty retreat, Jenny smiled and nodded. “Yes, thank you, my lord. I would be pleased.” She lay her hand on his, her heartbeat thudding like a drum. Lord, help her, she couldn’t faint now. In a daze she glided across the floor as he led her out to the very first dance of her Season.
Chapter 6
“Are you to stay in Somerset throughout the Christmas season, Miss Crowley?” Lord Somersby grasped her hand as they prepared for the first figure of the Scottish reel.
“I am, my lord. My aunt has insisted I stay at least until twelfth night, so as to enjoy all Chrismastide here.” Jenny found it hard to both mind the steps and converse with the imposing gentleman. His towering presence sent tremblings all through her.
&nb
sp; “Ah, I am pleased then. I am to stay here until Christmas Day before returning home to spend the rest of the holiday with my family. We should be well acquainted by that time.” Somersby squeezed her hand.
A streak of heat shot up her arm. Her face flamed and she almost lost her balance.
He grasped both her arms. “Careful, Miss Crowley. You wouldn’t want to take a nasty fall.” He steadied her and they continued into the next set of steps. “I intend to ask for many more dances during the festivities. I should hate to be disappointed because of a turned ankle.” His dark eyes deepened, glinting almost black in the candlelight.
Jenny’s heart gave a huge throb. The man was flirting with her and they’d scarcely been introduced. This was the most exciting thing to happen in her life. She couldn’t wait to tell Celinda. With an effort she managed to keep on the correct foot and continue the dance. If her very first partner affected her this much, how on earth would she feel by the end of the night?
* * * *
“So what did you think of Lord Somersby?”
She and Celinda had elected to sit out the third set in order to confer in the card room. Jenny had finished her set with Lord Somersby and had quickly been claimed for the second by Lord Buttram.
“And that puts paid to your question of whether you would be asked to dance. Buttram charged up to you almost before you left the dance floor.” Celinda laughed and patted her arm. “I think the pattern is set. You will not lack for partners the entire time you are here. They will be lined up come the night of the Christmas Ball.” She sipped her tea and gave her friend a speaking look. “So how did you find Lord Somersby and Lord Buttram? They are very different, are they not?”
Jenny laughed, and raised her cup. “Vive le difference.”
“Oh, tell, tell.” Celinda set her cup down and leaned closer. “Somersby is quite the Corinthian. I met him last year, in London, and he talks racing and horses constantly. Wants to own his own racing stable. Did he bore you with all the details?”
Jenny shook her head, remembering his deep blue eyes and that rush of heat when he squeezed her hand. Not something she wanted to tell her friend quite yet. “He didn’t speak a word about horses.”
“Really? Not one?” Celinda frowned. “Then what did you talk of? The few times I caught sight of you, you seemed to be deep in conversation.”
“We were. He chiefly seemed to want to know about me.” His questions had ranged from the length of her stay, to her family, to her favorite pastimes. They had talked of a variety of things, but always about her.
“And Lord Buttram?”
Jenny laughed and rolled her eyes. “Now, he was the boring one. He wished to speak of nothing but himself.” At least the set had gone smoothly, for she had needed to contribute little to the conversation.
“Well, I warned you about that.” Celinda scanned the room, as if looking for someone, then turned back to Jenny. “He’s over there, playing cards with Lady Mary. They might make a match of it. They are both so unpleasant they might suit.”
“Oh, Celinda, that is so naughty.” Jenny smiled in spite of herself.
“Well, are you ready to face them once more?” Celinda rose, straightening her skirts.
With a contented sigh, Jenny rose as well. “Yes, I am. Who do you have your eye on?”
Her friend shrugged. “I’m here to flirt and have a good time. I know almost all of these gentlemen and they hold few charms for me. I’m determined to find my future husband in the spring.”
“When I’ll likely be married.” Jenny fought the overwhelming sense of hopelessness. She could never find a man she could love, or who could love her, on such short notice. So what was the use of trying?
“Then you had better get back out there and find your Prince Charming. Marriage is our ultimate goal.”
“No, happiness is, Celinda.”
“Well, you may have something there.” Her friend nodded, her laughing eyes suddenly grave. “And it may not be as easy to come by.”
* * * *
As the dancing continued, Jenny was relieved that she secured partners for each set. She danced with Stephen’s friend Lord Claremont, Mr. Pace, a Lord Beaumont, and Sir Richard MacKenzie. Lord Somersby was as good as his word, stealing in front of Lord Beaumont to claim her a second time. His charming manners and easy wit as they talked about Bath, which he had also visited, sent a tide of warm feelings through her. They seemed to get on well together, even on such short acquaintance. She hadn’t fallen in love certainly, but with each word or gesture, Lord Somersby rose higher in her estimation. By the end of the house party, who knew where they might stand?
At ten o’clock, the orchestra laid down their instruments for a well-deserved break. Somersby, who had begun chatting with Jenny after her partner returned her to her aunt, cocked his head, a gleam in his eyes. “Lady Marbury, would you object to an impromptu game of Blindman’s Bluff while we wait for the orchestra to return?”
Aunt Arabella shook her head and clasped her hands, a wide smile breaking out on her face. “That sounds like a wonderful way to pass the time, don’t you think so, Jenny?”
Jenny peeped at Somersby, whose gaze rested directly on her. As though he awaited her approval of his suggestion. “I think it a splendid idea, aunt. Shall I go fetch a scarf to use as the blindfold?”
Aunt Arabella shook her head. “No, I’ll send a footman.” She headed over to the refreshment table and spoke briefly with the servant who had been ladling wassail.
Jenny turned back to Lord Somersby, whose gaze still lingered on her face. Was it more particularly on her mouth? “You have played Blindman’s Bluff before I take it, my lord?”
His blue eyes darkened and he chuckled. “I have had occasion to play it since childhood. We are often so fond of the chase, but rarely allow ourselves the pleasure of being caught. Prey are sometimes luckier than the hunter.”
“And you deem yourself an expert huntsman, my lord?”
“Indeed, my lady, an excellent one. Which I am about to prove.” His keen gaze rested on her for what seemed and age.
Shivers cascaded down Jenny’s spine. Her hands tingled with cold and excitement.
He held out his hand as the footman approached, never taking his eyes from Jenny.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Somersby stepped into the center of the ballroom floor. “I propose a game of Blindman’s Bluff until the orchestra returns. As I deem myself a superior huntsman, I will take the first turn as ‘It.’” With easy dexterity, he wound the lacy white French scarf around his eyes and tied it at the back. “The rules are simple. First, you may not stray off the dance floor as it has been designated by Lady Marbury.”
A hum of excitement ran around the room, accompanied by squeals and an occasional shriek as ladies pressed back to the edges of the floor and were pushed forward by enthusiastic partners.
“The other one is that whomever I catch and identify, pays a forfeit, and becomes ‘It.’”
“What’s the forfeit, Somersby?” Stephen called from the end of the floor.
He grinned wickedly. “Each person chooses his own forfeit for his ‘victim.’”
The crowd burst into a low rumble of comment.
“Now I will turn myself in a circle three times.” He held his arms straight out and made a slow, dance-like circle in the middle of the empty floor. “When I stop, whoever is on the floor is fair game.”
Jenny skipped back, almost bumping into Lord Claremont. She giggled and made a dash across the floor to Celinda who stood behind several young men.
“This seems much more wicked than the game I played as a child,” she whispered to her friend.
“I daresay it will be for you, my dear.” Celinda leaned toward her. “I believe Somersby aims on catching only one person.”
Jenny’s head went up, her gaze drawn back to Somersby who stood like a beagle sniffing the air, turning his head from side to side.
“I think you’re going to be it.” Celinda
laughed and scooted away as Lord Somersby made a rush toward them.
Jenny squealed and dodged around his outstretched arms, barely escaping the fingers that stretched toward her. She inched around the side of the ballroom, trying to slip behind some of the other players. They, however, kept constantly pushing her and the other girls into Somersby’s path. She held her breath, her back pressed against the onlookers at the side of the room as the young lord made his way toward her.
What would his forfeit be if he caught her? It couldn’t be but so scandalous. They were in front of dozens of people, and in the home of her aunt and uncle. Surely nothing…
Somersby stopped in front of her and the air whooshed out of her lungs. He stood still, and again the image of a hunting hound scenting the air arose in her mind.
“Now who might this be?” He stretched out his arms.
About to duck, Jenny took a step backward when a sudden push propelled her straight into Somersby’s waiting arms. She twisted her neck around and caught her cousin Eric sniggering. The dirty dish had pushed her.
Somersby bent his head down, sniffing her hair. “Ah, Miss Crowley. How lovely to see you again.” He released her and pulled the scarf from his eyes, a roguish grin spreading across his face.
“How…how did you know it was me?” Jenny gazed into the handsome face and her stomach clenched.
“The smell of jasmine will forever be linked to you in my mind, my dear,” he whispered in her ear.
Drat it. Her new perfume had betrayed her. Not that she truly minded being caught by him, but her body froze with dread at the thought of paying his forfeit. Oh, what would he ask of her?
“And for your forfeit, Miss Crowley, I claim…”
Another dance. Please, let him ask for another dance.
