Her lips were swollen, as pink as her gown, and a ridiculous surge of masculine possessiveness joined the other emotions rioting through him. “Yes. I wouldn’t have it otherwise.” He clasped her elbow, noting the way she trembled with his touch, and guided her to the nearest display, a collection of rare egrets within a silver-barred enclosure. When at last she spoke, it was as innocuous as he expected.
“Such a large bird. I doubt it appears very graceful in flight.” Miss Shaw examined the small plaque at the side and he approved of her genuine interest.
“It manages, despite its gangly neck and awkward motion. It gets where it needs to go.” He shadowed her from behind, all too aware of the damp heat which continued to radiate between them. “You wish to fly, don’t you, Miss Shaw?”
Her expression stilled, her smile vanished, as if he’d uncovered a surreptitious confession never meant to be shared and he immediately wished the words back if they caused her undue distress. Yet at the same time he craved to know more of her, to peer into her heart and learn all her clandestine longings, to discover ever wish and desire so he could make them all come true. He watched her closely as she deliberated her answer.
“At times.” She shook her head slightly, as if dismissing reservation. “Flight would be freedom, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes. I believe we both yearn for that, a chance to spread our wings.” He traced a silky tress that flirted near her shoulder, unable to keep his hands to himself. “But now we’ve collided in air, haven’t we?” Her eyes examined his expression for several beats of his heart and then she stepped to the next cage where he followed to view an assortment of petite ibis speckling the floor and iron perch. “What is it that urges you to catch the wind? That causes you to strive for independence in a society where women are meant to be seen and not heard?”
She hesitated again, watching a scarlet fowl peck at the food tray and perhaps ordering her response. “My mother hasn’t been well for some time.” Her voice trailed off. She pushed away from the railing and walked to an adjoining cage where two parrots objected to her approach with high-pitched squawks. “I’m sorry. I never meant to bring a lugubrious tone to our visit.”
“I’m happy to know you. You haven’t saddened me in any other way than the awareness you have this unrest.” He wouldn’t share that it broke his heart a bit to see such despair in her eyes, an emotion that mirrored his own desire to be free of convention to prove his worth. “Come, let’s look at the hummingbirds. It’s difficult to remain disconsolate with the adorable creatures flittering to and fro.”
He angled his elbow and she accepted his escort, placing her hand on his forearm, the fabric of his shirt useless to protect from the delicacy of her touch. They approached the hummingbird coop and true to his suggestion, an ease graced her face, delight found in the antics of the tiny frenetic birds and their expeditious activity.
“That one there.” She indicated a little fellow grasping the wire near where they stood. “His plumage is the exact color of your eyes.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” But he smiled, pleased she had. “As a child, I would race around the perimeter of this enclosure thinking I could run faster than their flight. I always lost.”
“They are caged, Jasper. You haven’t lost.”
“Yes, that is a truth I’ve never considered.” He eyed her, determined to cast off the ties that held him too tight. “I enjoy kissing you, Miss Shaw.”
Her attention whipped to his, surprise displayed in her newly flushed features. “All my conventional training has not prepared me how to respond to your confession.”
“I merely state a fact.” He sidled up to her. “There is no response necessary.”
She offered one regardless. “It can never be anything more.”
She didn’t attend him with the cryptic statement, and so he dismissed the words, accustomed to insurmountable odds and unlikely challenges, the core of his expertise and ingenuity.
“Allow me to escort you to a dinner party this evening. The best sort of quality comprises the guest list. Earls, barons, viscounts, galore.”
She stiffened. Apparently he’d taken another misstep. Two steps forward, one step back. What could possibly cause her hesitation?
“Will Kellaway be there?” Her eyes lit and she searched his face in wait of an answer.
Her discordant question caused him to reformulate his reply. “Kell blurs the line of polite society too often, although he may attend. I do not know.” Some unnamed emotion stabbed at his confidence. He could reveal Kell for the libertine he was, but the words died in his throat. Kellaway perpetuated a carefree lifestyle, but while it appeared his activities exhibited nothing more than reckless abandon, he guarded his private goals well and posed the poorest candidate for a relationship. In contrast, Miss Shaw had asserted she wasn’t looking for romance, hadn’t she? Still the question needed to be asked. “Do you have an interest in the viscount?” Her dislike of peers seemed to clash indisputably with her ever-present curiosity in this case.
“Not in the way you assume.”
A straightening of her shoulders declared she’d overridden her reservations. She looked him in the eye and the first thought he had was that she wanted to say more, reveal something important, but at the last moment discarded the idea.
Mayhaps he wouldn’t like the words.
“We should leave if I’m to return you home and reclaim you later.” He wiggled his brows in an effort to inject cheerfulness to their discussion.
“Yes.” She stole a glance at the hummingbirds, then to the other cages filled with gulls, toucans, and doves. “But I hope someday we may return.
Chapter 16
Emily stood before the cheval glass in her bedchamber and fretted over the evening gown and matching slippers she’d donned for the evening affair. She’d neglected her wardrobe in deference to the monies left by her father but now regretted the rash and somewhat immature decision. She mentally ticked off her reasons in an effort to justify the loss. Not having the proper come-out she’d expected, not experiencing her anticipated place in society, lack of support by her father and guidance by her mother, but the list only added to her conflicted disposition.
She turned to the side and examined the silk gauze skirt and high-waist detail, hoping she didn’t appear too last season. A layer of flossed silk trimmed with cerulean blue satin gathered in the back, completed with a sash and button detail. At least the gown fitted well. She’d have to take solace in that.
Faced with this evening’s unexpected invitation and attempting to see herself through Jasper’s eyes, she wondered why she hadn’t shopped for something more fashionable. Her mother’s condition, yes, but her lack of desire and withheld anger concerning her father, played too much a role. It wasn’t healthy. She needed to stop harboring resentment for circumstances she could not change. She needed to find happiness, pursue it, lock it into place and make it her own. Yet the only way to let someone in was to open up and reveal her fears, her innermost worries. She had too many things to confess.
Still, earlier at the aviary, the words had wanted out. Badly.
My mother hasn’t been well for some time. My father’s absence has destroyed her desire to live. He left us everything we’ll every need. A lovely town house and fortified accounts, but my mother’s heart has broken and now her mind has followed suit. I am trapped between my duties as a daughter and desire to separate from the misery she perpetuates. She mourns a man who doesn’t deserve her loyalty. A man who made choices that will forever haunt my heart, the pain so deep it will never be soothed, so his wealth is useless, my future a prison. Meanwhile my heart aches for my mother and mourns for my father. With so much sadness within, is there any room for honest emotion?
But she hadn’t let the confession out. Hadn’t given the words power to destroy the fleeting happiness she’d grasped in that moment. She slipped on her pearl slippers and faced the mirror in an attempt to feel satisfied with her appearance. Not that it should matter over m
uch. She’d shared a kiss or two with Jasper, nothing more. It wasn’t as though they were courting. He wouldn’t consider her marriageable. Why would he? And from where were these ridiculous thoughts bombarding her now? Ideas like these challenged every belief she’d adopted these past years and contradicted the core of her purpose, to ensure women had power over their future. Equality in all things.
She shook her head with vigor, the decorative flowers her maid had woven between a coronet of braids, threatening to fall loose with the motion. These were all the wrong conclusions, pitfalls on a path that led to her mother’s desperation and her father’s blind perpetration meant to shield his privilege and title. She would not succumb to the same vanities.
Lest she forget, Jasper was brother to the sixth Earl of Dashwood, possibly the next in line for the title if tragedy occurred. Although the likelihood of that circumstance seemed unlikely; the earl had recently married and would surely pursue heir-making with zeal. That was the way of the aristocracy, wasn’t it? To keep perpetuating their own. To keep all others neatly locked out as if they didn’t matter at all. As if she didn’t exist.
Exhaling with effort to banish the fusillade of woeful regret, Emily selected diamond earbobs and a strand of white pearls from her jewel box, at the last minute swirling the silver bracelet in her palm. Five fanciful charms linked to the chain; a heart, crown, key, teardrop and dove. Whoever lost it must have mourned the mistake and missed the fragile beauty of the design, more delightful than any expensive trinket purchased by her father. She touched the silver heart and allowed a rueful grin to arch her mouth. Truly, what good were hearts anyway? So easily broken and impossible to mend. Dependent. Not at all self-reliant. Her life was better signified by the dove, its wings outstretched as if it soared through the freedom of the skies unhindered. How would it feel to be unfettered and completely free?
With a resigning breath, she fastened the clasp around her wrist, chastising how she was past due for a visit to the Foundling Hospital. She would remedy the oversight tomorrow. Satisfied with her appearance, she slipped from her bedchamber and down to the drawing room to await the carriage, although the tergiversation of her thoughts stayed with her no matter she changed her surroundings.
If only Jasper wasn’t such a handsome man. Sometimes when he looked at her, the intensity in his eyes bored straight into her soul as if he wished to uncover all her secrets and she’d kept secrets for so long, she desperately needed to confide in someone. She truly did. If only for one night.
“You look lovely. Where are you going this evening?”
Lost in reflection, Emily startled as her mother entered. A broad smile lit Bianca’s face as soon as she laid eyes on Emily.
“Mother, I didn’t know you were awake. How wonderful. Are you feeling well this evening? Have you eaten dinner?” Emily struggled to collect herself.
“So many questions.” Her mother laughed.
Emily hadn’t heard her mother express happiness in months and the sound evoked an onslaught of emotion. “I’m so pleased you’ve come downstairs.”
“Now where are you off to dressed in your finest gown? I remember spending hours readying for your father, wanting to look my finest and make him proud. He always preferred me in sage green. I must have two dozen gowns in that color.”
Cautious and alerted to the hysterical note in her mother’s voice, Emily’s hopes plummeted. No, her mother wasn’t feeling better. This was the beginning of another delusional episode. As weeks passed, Emily had foolishly believed she might never see her mother behave irrationally distracted, but just as the last few days had been filled with depression and solemnity, now the opposing part of the cycle began. She couldn’t possibly leave the house with her mother on the verge of an emotional crisis. She set her reticule on the side table and exhaled a long breath that echoed in the tremble of her hands.
“Would you like me to sit with you near the fire? We can talk about anything you’d like.”
“Do not treat me as a child, Emily. Remember your place. Your father doted on you too much.” Her mother settled on a chair and then rose just as quickly, walking to the bell pull to summon the housekeeper. “Tea would be nice. Do you have time before you leave?”
“I have changed my mind, Mother. I don’t think I’m well.” How could she leave when each moment she spent away would be consumed with worry?
“Oh yes, you’ll go. This may be the chance you need to secure your future. The opportunity to meet someone who will love you and keep you as your father cherishes me.” Her mother drew closer with a determined expression that pinched her face, a keen light in her eyes. “One doesn’t throw away an occasion to meet gentlemen of quality.”
“I have changed my mind.” Tears threatened, causing Emily’s voice to crack. “I’d like to stay home this evening, Mother. That’s what I’d like to do.”
“Absolutely not. I won’t hear of it. You’re to go to your event and dazzle every dance partner. Your father would expect no less. I won’t live forever.”
The last sentence brought with it a rush of emotions Emily feared she’d never sort. “There will be other gatherings, other times when I feel more—”
“This discussion is over.”
If only Emily could return to the past, somehow help her mother, refuse to allow her to unravel and prevent the illness that ate away at her peace of mind bit by bit.
A knock on the door drew her attention to the present.
“You have a gentleman caller, Miss Shaw.” Mary entered, the look on her face expressing quick perception of the situation in the drawing room. “A very handsome young man.” The housekeeper offered her a gentle smile. “You mustn’t keep him waiting. I’m sure your mother and I will have a pleasant evening.”
“Yes, I have letters to write. You must post them in the morning, Mary. We should begin as soon as Emily departs.”
Her mother eyed her with a severe expression and Emily swallowed her rebuttal. How could she leave knowing her mother was on the verge of an emotional crisis? She’d always regret the decision if something happened tonight, something that couldn’t be corrected. Yet refusal would raise her mother’s temper, provoke her agitation. There seemed no right choice despite Mary was an excellent companion, familiar with her mother’s moods and temperament.
As if her mother read her mind, she waved her hand, a determined gleam in her eye. “I insist you go. Don’t worry about me. Mary and I have things to do and you’ve left your gentleman waiting in the hall. You’ll not want him to presume you possess poor manners. Do you need me to speak to him on your behalf?”
“No!” Emily stepped backward, anxious to curtail any idea her mother instigated, mortified were Jasper to witness her mother in disarray. This very moment is what made relationships near impossible. The devastating embarrassment of someone, anyone, discovering her mother’s broken state of mind. If only her mother would see a doctor, find counsel with someone somewhere to ease her burden and perhaps mend the emotional turmoil that caused these unrelenting and erratic episodes. Whatever Emily endeavored ultimately proved the wrong choice.
Mary approached while Emily battled through her thoughts. “Go ahead now. I’ll mind your mother’s company under close watch. Everything will be fine. There’s no need for you to forego your plans.”
Tormented by fear and divided by the desire to see Jasper or fulfill obligation, Emily headed toward the door with hesitant steps. She made it all the way to the hall before she took a cleansing breath, falling back against the wall to settle her nerves. Then she rounded the corner and pasted on the calmest smile she could muster.
She’d already kept him waiting, but when she entered the foyer and saw Jasper standing beside the chiffonier, his profile reflected in the sidelong mirror, she stilled, wishing to soak in the scene, burn it into her memory to remember for always. Future opportunities to share his handsome escort to any affair of the ton seemed doubtable.
Tonight he wore a cutaway coat in a wonderf
ul shade of aubergine over a white linen shirt, coffee-colored trousers and a crisp cravat that brushed against his throat in the same spot she’d kissed with wanton abandon while the rain drummed against the carriage roof in tune to her heart. His boots where polished to an impossible shine and when he turned, at once aware she watched from afar, one side of his mouth hitched in a disarming smile of pure masculine handsomeness.
Her pulse gave an anxious little flutter and she wondered not for the first time, how she would enjoy this evening, her mind divided at home, while her heart lay in his hands.
“Miss Shaw, I am purchasing you a pocket watch come morning.”
Surely he meant to tease, though he had no idea how closely he’d come to being turned away. She went to him, accepting his assistance with her wrap, slipping on her gloves and walking to his fancy carriage, while simultaneously reordering her emotions, determined to have an enjoyable evening and leave all emotion at home, as it was likely one of the few chances fate would offer her respite.
Chapter 17
Peculiar, how a minute feels like an hour in some circumstances and yet at other instances, the longest day passes in a flash of experience. Anticipation, mixed with happiness and sexual frustration, stretched the time spent waiting in Miss Shaw’s town house foyer into everlasting torture. Was she having second thoughts? Formulating an excuse the housekeeper would carry to him with sincere regrets?
He released a breath he didn’t know he held when at last their eyes met. She looked exquisite; this headstrong, delicate flower who’d somehow twined her way around his heart. He wasn’t looking for love, focused on building a reputation based on financial acuity and prophetic insight. Still love wasn’t a bad thing. Love promised to make a rich life richer in ways no bank could measure.
They settled in his carriage and he couldn’t take his eyes from her, the graceful arch of her cheek, the lissome curve of her neck, every beautiful attribute fueled the constant desire that throbbed with urgency whenever she was near. Tonight she dazzled, more so than he’d ever seen her. And she would be on his arm at Oliver’s gathering. Damn Kellaway, if the viscount chose to attend.
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