by Karen Lynne
Lillian startled. “Mr. Dalton.” How untimely for him to find her such. Just my luck. “No, I was just talking to this naughty kitten I rescued from the tree.” Lillian smiled straightening as best she could. “It seems the underbrush is determined to keep me here, for I am unable to free myself without damaging my clothing.”
Mr. Dalton dismounted stepping forward, he began to break sticks until he stood by her side. The kitten meowed at their feet. “So this is the little culprit?”
“Yes, she is the reason I find myself in this situation. After retrieving her from the tree, I found myself stuck as well.” The kitten wrapped herself around Mr. Dalton’s leg, purring happily.
“She seems very thankful. But I believe you are in need of rescuing now.” Mr. Dalton reached his hand toward her bonnet. “May?”
“It seems you are to rescue me once again, Mr. Dalton.” Lillian tried to keep her voice light as she died of mortification inside. He moved into her private circle of comfort, unnerving her. What must he think?
Mr. Dalton chuckled as he brushed her shoulder, reaching to untangle the bonnet. He was too close, smelling of soap and wood-smoke. Lillian's pulse jumped. It took all her restraint to stay still, keeping her eyes on his crisply tied cravat, determined not to notice his clean-shaven face. Determined not to notice the warmth of his body or the hair that stood up on her arms every time he was near. The mare’s whinny caused her to jump, his hand brushing her cheek, the air crackled as if alive. She turned her head away as best she could. Finally, daring to lift her eyes only to find him gazing at her intently, all smiles gone, his face focused and intent, as his eyes fell to her mouth. Taking a deep breath, Mr. Dalton suddenly stepped back. “There, your bonnet is free, Miss Lillian.”
Lillian was able to move her head once again. “I am afraid my skirt is tangled as well.” She hesitated to move but reached down to retrieve the kitten as a distraction to Mr. Dalton's closeness and wandering eyes.
Very fine eyes, they were too, a soft blue with a sprinkling of gray like the storm-tossed Bristol sea in summer.
Stroking the cat, she stole a glance as Mr. Dalton worked untangling the hem of her dress. His golden locks had become deliciously disheveled in his effort to assist her.
Benjamin stepped behind Miss Lillian, breaking the brambles and releasing her skirt, he handed the bottom skirt loop to her, helping her drape the skirt over her arm once again. Miss Lillian stepped out of the thicket, moving toward the mare who seemed happy to graze during her ordeal. At least her mount was trained well and stayed near. Benjamin noticed Miss Lillian hadn’t secured the reins before her adventure in rescuing the kitten, which she held tight in her grip.
“Now that you have rescued the little mite, what do you plan to do with it?” The kitten was half-grown but small with scraggly fir and dirty. It hadn’t been feeding itself very well, he surmised.
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I only thought to rescue the kitten.” Miss Lillian lifted the cat checking its gender.
“It is a female, I take it?” Benjamin tried to hide the amusement in his voice. Miss Lillian quickly lowered the cat and tucked it into her arms. A warm glow infused her cheeks, and she tossed her head as if annoyed.
“Yes, Mr. Dalton, she is a girl. Maybe we can bring her to your sister’s stables.” Miss Lillian walked to the mare, keeping her attention on the cat. When she reached her horse, she hesitated.
“Here, let me.” Benjamin relieved her of the cat, tucking it into the large pocket of his greatcoat. The small kitten curled deep inside seemingly content. Miss Lillian giggled, a sweet sound.
“She seems at home in your pocket.”
“I have found most cats like close dark spaces.” Benjamin noticed a mahogany curl still tangled in a twig under her bonnet. He retracted the offending stick from her hair, brushing his gloved hand against her porcelain skin. Her eyes grew wide, but she didn’t pull away, and he extracted the branch, handing it to her. “The underbrush still clings to you.” He reached into his breast coat pocket and gave her his handkerchief. “You have a smudge of dirt on your cheek.”
She smiled, taking his offering, then tucked her head and wiped her cheek. “Is that better?” She raised her face to him.
Her sparkling green eyes gazed into his own. A desire to kiss her engulfed him. Reaching, he took the handkerchief and finished the job.
“Now, it is.”
She blushed and moved toward her mount. “Let me help.” Benjamin cupped his hand, waiting till she lifted her booted foot, her hand rested on his shoulder a moment while she steadied herself. A spark of fire ran through him at her touch, distracting him for just a moment as he enjoyed her closeness. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, then the minute she sprang, he lifted in the same moment, careful not to fling her over the other side of her mount. She settled onto the saddle and adjusted her skirt, gripping the riding cane in her right hand. He mounted and followed her toward his sisters, which was just over the hill. He tried to dismiss the searing touch of her hand on his shoulder. She was so young, her first introduction to country society. He was the reason she was here. He had been her champion and would need to be mindful and not take advantage of her situation. Why did he feel like he wanted to protect her?
Chapter Eleven
Heather was excited when Lillian and Mr. Dalton returned to the stables. Thankfully, he left her in the care of the groomsmen as Heather happily described her riding lessons. Mr. Dalton had gone to the tack room to find food for the cat leaving her to listen to her friend.
“Lady Isabella’s nieces said I did very well and that I should soon be able to ride out with you this week.”
“That would be wonderful, Heather, I should like to ride a little further. I only went down to the brook today.” Lillian lifted her skirt to see if she could assess the damage. A small tear near the hem, not too bad. She was sure Beatrix could mend it. Lillian had never been good with a needle, preferring to be outside, she hadn’t taken to her sewing lessons, always making a mess of the threads, and her stitches were uneven no matter how hard she tried. Her cousin Chloe had loved sewing and was happy to sew Lillian’s essentials for her.
“You have torn your new riding habit.” Heather clicked her tongue.
“Yes, I am afraid the underbrush got caught on the hem when I rescued a kitten from a small tree. I hope Beatrix can repair it.” Lillian didn’t mention Mr. Dalton’s part in the rescue. It was bad enough that he had seen her in such a tangle, which was humiliating. He had been a gentleman and hadn’t mentioned it on the ride home, for which she was thankful. The memory of his closeness, still unsettled her.
“That is a simple enough repair, I can mend it this evening.” Heather offered.
“You are a seamstress?”
“Oh, yes, I have been making gowns for my sisters for years. It comes in useful. I always thought I might apprentice with Mrs. Ross, who has a shop in town. I know I am not pretty, but my mother hoped I would marry.”
Lilian turned. “Why would you say that? You are pretty.”
Heather’s red hair frizzed around her bonnet with curls bouncing out the back, freckles sprinkled across her button nose. Her heart-shaped face glowed with a unique prettiness, unlike the classical beauty admired by painters, which was accented by her buoyant personality.
“That is kind of you, Miss Lillian, but I know I am not a real beauty, and that’s fine, I will find someone to appreciate me. My mother says it takes all kinds to make up a world.”
“Sounds like your mother is very wise.” Lillian tucked her arm into Heathers.
They found Aunt Mary in the parlor. Cyrus lay lazily at her feet. He didn’t even open his eyes, a sign he no longer thought them a threat as if we’d become part of the furniture.
“Did you enjoy your outing?” Aunt Mary looked up from her book.
“It was lovely, Heather may soon join me in a ride outside the corral.” Lillian gave Heather a nudge, causing her to giggle.
/> “Excellent, you two may change for luncheon, we have an appointment at Lady Eliza’s for dancing lessons at two o’clock. It will give you time to rest.”
“Ooh, Lillian, you will meet Mr. Finch, the dance master. He is an excellent instructor, but exacting, and tolerant when I misstep during a formation. I think you will like him.” Heather took her arm as they ascended the stairs.
Heather had Lillian’s hem repaired within half an hour after their midday meal. Examining the tiny stitches, she could hardly tell where it had torn. Lillian had chosen a purple day dress with a fuller skirt to give her room to move around. It was one of the things she loved about her riding habit and its full skirt. It gave her more freedom to move. Lillian tucked her dancing slippers into her bag and followed Heather down the stairs.
Aunt Mary was waiting at the bottom of the landing for them when the carriage arrived. Lillian’s heart rate increased when she heard Benjamin’s voice below.
Mr. Dalton, to you, her inner voice reminded her.
“Isabella is not ill, is she?” Aunt Mary sounded concerned.
“No, she is just tired, and her husband wanted her to rest.”
“It is good of you to accompany us.” Aunt Mary looked up as they came into view.
How long had he been here talking to Aunt Mary?
She hoped he hadn’t mentioned her incident with the underbrush. Mr. Dalton turned, bowing to Heather and her as they hit the landing.
“ladies.” He offered his arm to Aunt Mary and preceded them to the carriage, helping her to step up. Turning, he continued to assist Heather. He was a perfect gentleman. Too perfect.
“You will be happy to know your cat has adapted very nicely to its new home.” He whispered as she stepped into the carriage, his breath tickling her ear.
Lillian’s stomach tensed while taking her seat. Would he elaborate and spill the beans? She stiffened as Mr. Dalton joined her in the same seat, opposite Heather and Aunt Mary. She had been so preoccupied with her thoughts she hadn’t noticed Aunt Mary taking her place next to Heather. Her eyes widened questioning as she caught Aunt Mary’s, but she only nodded a slight smile on her face as Aunt Mary started a polite conversation with Mr. Dalton, which continued without any mention of her embarrassment.
Thank Heavens.
Mr. Dalton is just a friend, Lillian's voice recited.
Just a friend, Just a friend. She could admire a friend, couldn’t she?
Aunt Mary’s head had begun to droop at the swaying of the carriage. Really, she should be paying more attention to her charge. Lillian shifted a little towards the side of the carriage, avoiding the heat of Mr. Dalton’s leg, which bumped her occasionally, sending warmth through her.
“Mr. Dalton, do you dance?” Heather’s bright eyes watched in anticipation.
“A little, Miss Stringham. I hope to get some practice before the Christmas Ball.”
Heather bounced excitedly on the seat. “Are you joining us for the lessons?”
Mr. Dalton nodded. “Lady Eliza has graciously invited me to join you today.”
Lillian snuck a sidelong glance at Mr. Dalton, surprised at the admittance of his lack of dancing skills. She remembered the hours and hours spent learning the dance steps to the popular dances as a young girl. Dancing with her cousins, Lillian had little real experience dancing with gentlemen, only a few local dances with tradesmen's sons and that horrible bounder, who she still refused to mention, her almost betrothed.
Aunt Mary startled next to Heather. “Miss Heather, you are like a jack-in-the-box, all wound up, popping all over the seat. You must show some decorum.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Heather tried to settle quietly next to Aunt Mary.
“Mr. Dalton is staying to join us for our lessons. Mr. Dalton, you must know we usually only have Sir William and Mr. Finch, which means we dance with each other. It can be confusing to remember which part you are playing, lady or gentlemen.” Heather giggled. “I have been known to step on toes, and it is dreadful to step on gentlemen's toes.”
“In that case, I shall watch my feet when we are dancing, Miss Stringham.” Benjamin offered. His smooth deep voice had a teasing edge causing Heather to giggle some more.
Aunt Mary gave Mr. Dalton a benevolent smile or was it. What was she up to?
The carriage slowed to a stop in the graveled courtyard of Lady Eliza’s home. The footman opened the door, and they all assembled into the house, Mr. Dalton leading with Aunt Mary, ever the proper gentleman.
The class had gathered in the great room where a piano had been brought in, chairs, and furniture pushed to the walls creating space in the middle for dancing.
Miss Hathaway and Miss Brimley sat against the wall conversing with two gentlemen Lillian didn’t know. Sir William stood at the piano, sheet music in his hand talking to a Lady who looked similar to him, sitting on the piano bench.
Lady Eliza greeted them as they came into the room. “We are glad you could join us, Mr. Dalton and Lillian.” Aunt Mary had mumbled something about joining the Dowager Countess of Malmesbury in the parlor who must have escorted Miss Hathaway and Miss Brimley. “Today, you will be happy to know we will have enough gentleman to make up our sets.”
Lady Eliza introduced them around to the rest of the company. Sir William’s sister, Lady Abigale, sat at the piano, she was visiting from Bath for the Holiday and would be playing the music. Mr. Finch was a tall thin man, a monocle held in his left eye with a neatly manicured graying goatee. He held a cane with a mother-of-pearl handle. Which Lillian found out later, was used to tap on the floor, echoing the beat to the dance steps across the room.
The Fitzhugh brothers were introduced last. Red wavy hair and matching outfits, they were identical in every way. They towered above any other gentleman in the room, with their booming thick drawl, they filled the room with their confidence.
“Gentlemen, if you will ask a lady to dance, we will begin.” Mr. Finch’s nasally voice commanded their attention as Heather giggled beside Lillian.
“Would you care to dance, Miss Dalton?” The smooth voice of Benjamin caught her by surprise. Lillian looked up to find Mr. Dalton standing close by, a half-smile on his lips as he reached out to take her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm, he led her to a spot on the dance floor.
Lillian spent the next two hours dancing the steps to the familiar dances she had been taught in her youth. All her lessons soon came back to her, and she actually enjoyed herself giggling when Benjamin missed a step as Mr. Finch kept up his tapping of the cane.
“Miss Lillian, I think you enjoy my little mistakes.” Benjamin gave her a mischievous smile, laughing with her.
“Mr. Dalton, you dance better than you profess.”
The charge in the room waned and increased depending on how close Benjamin came within her private space. She could call him Benjamin, right? At least in her mind, her inner voice agreed.
Benjamin could dance, better than he professed as he followed the steps in his elegant attire. Golden waves had come loose curling across his forehead.
A gentleman shouldn’t look so delicious.
You shall not become attached. Lillian repeated to herself. As Benjamin twirled her through the last dance, a waltz, causing her breath to catch as she felt the pressure of his hand on her back, guiding her in the turns. Disappointment settled as the last strains of the music ended, and Benjamin stepped away.
Aunt Mary was back in the room as if on cue, ready to chaperone them home.
Chapter Twelve
The Ball-Room was a kaleidoscope of color and glittered under the hundreds of candles lit in the chandeliers. Evergreen boughs and colorful bows and holly decorated the room. Lady Susan had created a fairyland of winter for the Christmas Ball. “Isn’t it magical, Lillian?” Heather breathed as she and Lillian entered the room. “It’s so much more than I imagined.” Her friend's eyes misted as if in a dreamy state.
“Yes, it is.” Lillian took in the whole room, glad that they had take
n extra care with their dress that evening sharing in the work, Lillian even gave Heather some new ribbons to brighten her gown, Heather was a marvel with a needle.
Beatrix had even managed to tame Heather’s unruly frizzy hair into a neat upturn with ribbons woven throughout. Heather was adorned in a soft yellow confection highlighting her light red locks.
Lillian’s gown had arrived a few days before. A ruby crape draped over a white satin skirt trimmed with a deep blond lace around the bodice showing off her porcelain skin and sable locks that were finished with three small white plumes of feathers.
Aunt Mary said they were just the thing, so Lillian didn’t make a fuss, although Beatrice had arranged them as not to be so obvious, she still felt like a peacock. They had left their boots in the retiring room and slipped on their silk slippers, now Aunt Mary was promenading them around the room, introducing them to matrons, ladies, and young gentlemen each, in turn, signing the dance cards. With only a few slots left on their cards, Aunt Mary guided them to a row of chairs where a view of the dance floor could be seen.
“Now, Lillian, Heather, we shall rest here while we wait for your gentlemen to come for their dances. I will be able to see you from here, and you are not to leave this room without my knowledge. Remember your dance steps, and you shall have a grand time.” Aunt Mary flipped her fan open and began to wave it in front of her face.
The strains of the orchestra began a tune, and Lady Susan and the Earl started the dance with a galop joined by other couples. Two gentlemen arrived and greeted Aunt Mary, claiming Lillian and Heather’s first dance. Lillian concentrated as she kept up with the fast-paced dance remembering the steps she had learned from the dance master. Rounding the ballroom, Lillian noticed Lady Isabella sitting with Aunt Mary. Her heart rate increased as she looked for Benjamin. The music slowed, and her partner bowed. “Thank you, Miss Lillian.”
