“If he had actually wanted to marry her, he would have done it already,” Jack added. “The earl is not indecisive. After all there is no impediment, except that he does not want to set the banns.”
Jane shook her head. She doubted it was as simple as all that. Surely there was some feeling between them. One had only to look at Lady Margret and see that she was stunning, tall and willowy with golden hair and an air of a queen.
She was everything Jane was not. Her father might call her Lady Jane, but the truth was she was just plain Miss Bellevue. Lord Keegain could never be hers, could he? No. She could not allow herself to hope. It was too painful. It was best she put him out of her mind. As she had said, society marriages were rarely based upon love. For a woman, marriage meant comfort and security. It was time she sought those things with more fervor.
The others went back to their work and suddenly Jane felt uncomfortable. “I think I shall have my tea in my room,” she said. “If it is not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all, Miss,” said Mrs. Muir and at a gesture from her, one of the maids poured boiling water into a pot with leaves to steep.
“I will be up directly with your tray,” the maid said and Jane smiled.
“Thank you.” She turned to leave the kitchen with her recipe book in hand, but her heart was confused.
21
Lord Keegain thought he should be happy. Margret’s behavior aside, his house was full of guests and Christmas cheer. Everyone who was going to arrive was here safe and sound in spite of the storm and for that he was thankful. The snow was quite beautiful as long as one could admire it from the warmth of the parlor. The day had mellowed into evening and he was with his friends.
He loved this time of year more than any other, but his heart was heavy. He knew at the center of that was one Miss Jane Bellevue. He tried to put the thought of her from his mind. He had other things to worry about, namely the villain that had invaded his home, but there was nothing he could do about that at the moment. He should enjoy his guests and the holiday season.
Fitz was waxing poetic about his lady, telling anyone who would listen of her virtues while gesturing wildly and sloshing his drink. Was that his third or fourth? Keegain had no idea. The drink had been flowing freely for some time now.
Fitzwilliam, an energetic sort of man at the best of times became positively animated as he spoke of his love. Despite his outrageously flirtatious nature, it was plain to see that no one else would hold the keys to Fitzwilliam’s heart as did his Miss Mary Wadsworth.
He was even now spilling more of his drink than he was actually drinking. He was animated and restless, unable to settle in one place and he had only just gotten from the hair on her head to his new fiancée’s eyes.
“I tell you, old boy, they are the brightest, deepest eyes I have ever seen. Like cut jewels.”
The earl’s mind went invariably to Jane’s eyes. They were brown, but so dark it was like looking into a mysterious night.
“Rubies” Reynolds said dryly. Keegain nearly choked on his drink at the jest.
Fitzwilliam went on expounding on Miss Mary’s beauty. “Emeralds, by God. They sparkle at the best of times, but I swear they glow when she is up to mischief.”
“And have you been?” Reynolds shot a wink at Fitz. “Up to mischief I mean.”
Fitzwilliam laid his index finger astride his nose, still holding his drink. “I do not kiss and tell!” He announced with mock affront. “Such would dishonor the lady.”
He should have kissed Miss Bellevue in the library, Keegain thought. He should have pulled Jane into his arms and kissed her; well and thoroughly. Then perhaps he would not feel so restless now. The very thought of her moved him.
Fitz seemed to take sudden notice of the glass in his hand as it lay directly under his nose. He grinned and took a healthy sip before continuing. “I tell you gentlemen, I never knew there could exist one so beautiful in this world. She is an angel. With skin like alabaster and the dulcet tones of a nightingale.”
“I have to admit, old friend, I would never have pegged you for falling for the charms of Miss Wadsworth.” Reynolds said.
“She is quite the quiet one.” Keegain added, pouring himself another and holding the decanter aloft. Reynolds looked at it askance for a moment and nodded, taking it from him.
The other gentlemen, unfamiliar with the object of discussion or familiar enough to have heard this many times already, clustered in the corner among a game of cards or searched through the library for some distraction. Fitz, Reynolds and Keegain were left to their own devices around the fire.
The discussion of the kidnapping and Napoleon was still fresh in their minds; however, they did not mention the plot. It was a secret shared between the three of them, and whichever gentlemen were King’s Men.
Keegain glanced at the card players. Were any the villain? He did not know. Somewhere in that grouping were likely others like Reynolds and the earl wondered which ones they were. Reynolds had a partner among them.
Keegain shook his head. This was not something he had wanted to think about just now. The greatest danger would come during the ball. Now, they were just passing time: waiting for something to happen. In order to distract his friend, he had started the conversation regarding Miss Wadsworth and now had begun to regret it as Fitz waxed poetic.
Fitzwilliam snagged the bottle from Reynolds and began refilling his glass, but in his animation began gesturing with both glass and bottle. Reynolds leapt from his seat, to rescue either the scotch or the carpet. Either way it was appreciated. Keegain thought of his own dash to save the candle that Miss Bellevue held.
“At first, yes, she was quite shy,” Fitzwilliam continued. “In fact, at the ball in Northwick, she was so quiet I had to lean close just to hear her. I think now that it was an affectation designed so that I would whisper in her ear.”
“Affectation?” Lord Keegain asked. “And yet you call her sweet?”
“Oh yes,” Fitzwilliam waved that off with a slosh of scotch that rose in a magnificent wave and landed directly back in the glass without losing a drop. “I knew her as a child, and she was ever the adventurous thing, but as a woman, she was uncommonly shy. It was as if we had only first met, once again. Twice met,” he said, “and yet both times new. But as we became better acquainted, she became more warm and comely.”
“Warm was she?” Keegain teased his old friend.
“And comely,” Reynolds repeated.
“Oh get on with the both of you.” Fitzwilliam snorted. “I refer to the warmth of friendship; something I find lacking in the present circumstance.” He took another drink and shook his head slowly.
“She soon became more welcoming,” Fitzwilliam said as from a great distance. “We spoke about everything. We danced. Oh, how we danced. To hold her in my arms is heaven, but to speak my heart, that is a pleasure that defies even heaven’s place of grandeur. You cannot know, old boy.”
“I see.” Keegain had no clever retort for his friend. Fitz was right. He did not know and likely never would if he married Lady Margret, as he must. He had given his word.
Lord Keegain thought for a moment of speaking his heart to Margret? Was such frank discussion too much to ask of a woman? Perhaps it was the fact that she was a lady. Fitzwilliam seemed content with his bride although she was a simple miss. Perhaps it was just Margret herself. He could not imagine sharing the inner workings of his mind with her. Could he speak his mind to Miss Bellevue? Keegain wondered suddenly.
“The more visits I paid to her…” Fitz added quickly, “to her family, that is…I knew her family from way back.” He sloshed his drink again. “We were almost like brothers.”
“Brothers?” Reynolds scoffed aloud.
“I mean her brother is like my brother. Oh, you know what I mean.”
Reynolds laughed. Fitz was well and truly within his cups now.
“Oh, gentlemen, she may be without a title in her family, but I have never met one with mo
re poise or graciousness than my Mary. Not among the Ton, nor among the finest diamonds of the first water; not within all of England.” Fitzwilliam took a slow drink staring at the fire, his eyes focused on his love who even now was miles away.
And Miss Bellevue, Lord Keegain thought. Was she not as poised as any true born lady? Had he ever met her like? He could not say that he had. She was as singular a woman as Fitz’s lady love.
“Your Mary sounds lovely, Fitz.” Keegain said into his drink. “It is a shame she could not be here. I cannot wait to meet the lady who has so charmed you, my old friend.”
“Charmed is right enough.” Fitz sighed. “Bespelled more like. I know that a storm approaches, but I tell you true, I would brave any storm to see her; to hold her again. I would ride to her house, now, this very minute to feel her in my arms, and muss her hair.”
Lord Keegain’s mind conjured an image of Jane as she had been last night. Her night clothes were rumpled as if she had only just tumbled from her bed. Her deep eyes shined in the soft light of the candle. Her curls had escaped her braid; he imagined freeing them entirely and burying his hands in her sweet smelling locks.
Fitz blushed suddenly and glanced over at his oldest friend with a wry smile. “I believe she perfumes it,” he explained, “or perhaps the heavenly scent is the lady herself.”
Keegain’s thoughts were inundated with the scent of lavender, and heat suffused him.
“I want to hide her in a tower as in one of those fairy stories, and keep her all to myself. But, listen to me, going on,” Fitzwilliam chided himself. “Of course you know how I feel!” He clapped Keegain upon the back. “You are engaged to Lady Margret! You have been for nearly as long as I have known you. I do not understand why you’ve waited so long to take the plunge, old boy.”
Why indeed? Keegain thought. He found he did understand his friend’s longing. Thoughts of Jane would not leave his mind. He longed to touch her. Every moment he was apart from her felt like a unique form of torture. He knew if it were Miss Bellevue he was to marry, he would not have waited so. But it was not Miss Bellevue. The thought chilled him.
Lord Keegain took a long pull of the scotch and let it burn his mouth and throat. “I am simply in no hurry to marry,” he said flatly, standing to poke at the fire which had gone to embers. He was reminded of the soft glow of the fire in the library when Jane had woken him. He threw another log on the fire and the sparks danced and caught warming the room, although Keegain thought his blood already thoroughly heated.
Lord Keegain was truly happy for his friend, but he couldn’t fight off a wave of jealousy. Margret had some good features. Certainly she was beautiful; her breeding and vast fortunes were considerable assets, but the woman herself was cold perfection.
One did not muss perfection. Or hold it in one’s arms expecting warmth.
“Time enough, Fitz.” Keegain said with a forced laugh. “Enjoy these dwindling few days of freedom before you are leg shackled.”
22
Jane walked back to her room feeling somewhat cheered by her conversation with the servants, but the truth was, she had nothing to compare with Lady Margret’s beautiful wardrobe. Her gowns were fashionable and pretty, but not of the quality of the other young ladies in the house. Still, she thought, she did not need such things. She would be herself, and she would not let Lady Margret’s comments upset her.
When Jane returned to her room, she found her friends waiting for her.
“Where have you been?” Lady Charlotte scolded. “We have been looking all over for you.”
“I went to the kitchens,” Jane said.
“The kitchens? Whatever for?” Lady Amelia asked.
Lady Charlotte and Jane exchanged glances. “Biscuits and scones,” they said together, laughing.
“We have come to cheer you,” Lady Patience said. “But it is good to hear you laugh.”
“I cannot believe how rude Lady Margret was to you,” Amelia said. “No true lady would act so.”
Lady Patience was nodding her head in agreement. “Now come,” she said taking Jane’s arm. “We have a surprise, and we shall not be denied.” Lady Charlotte fairly bounced and Jane could not bear to stifle her excitement.
“What is it?” Jane asked curiously.
“Come along, Jane.” Lady Amelia ordered.
The girls led Jane to Lady Amelia’s room which was down the hall and around the corner from her own.
While they were walking, they met Molly in the corridor with Jane’s tea.
“Bring the tea along to Lady Amelia’s room,” Lady Charlotte said. “In fact, bring a few more cups and sandwiches. None of us ate much at breakfast.”
They reached Lady Amelia’s room and on the bed and dresser were an abundance of gowns.
“Oh,” Jane said in surprise.
Her friends were all grinning ear to ear.
A lady’s maid that Jane did not know was waiting for them. She curtseyed to Lady Amelia who said, “Thank you, Gabby.”
“We have decided to outfit you,” Lady Charlotte said to Jane.
Jane bristled. This was about Lady Margret’s comment. “I do not want to be someone I am not,” she said.
“But my dear, a masquerade is exactly the time to be someone you are not,” Lady Amelia said.
That brought Jane up short. “I don’t know.”
“If you want to wear the swan, you can wear my white gown,” Lady Patience said laying a hand on a crème and white gown, which had a layer of golden lace descending down from a bodice of intricate design. One look told her that the golden threads were actually made of that precious metal. The sleeves were short and the neckline low.
Lady Patience held it up to Jane, but she shook her head. She was quite a bit curvier than the thin redhead. “It is lovely, but I am afraid I would be exposing too much of my décolletage,” Jane said.
“Oh pooh,” Lady Charlotte said. “I am sure we can find some ribbon or lace for it.”
“Perhaps Lady Keegain still has some of the swan feathers she used for the mask,” Lady Patience suggested.
“That would work,” Lady Amelia said.
Jane looked at the other dresses laid out on the bed. They were all so beautiful. Avarice got the better of her. Perhaps Lady Amelia was right. For one night she could be someone new. The purple gown called to her. It was exquisite. She had to at least touch it. She realized as soon as her fingers brushed the cloth that it was silk velvet. It felt like a cloud.
“This is beautiful,” she sighed “I do not think I have ever seen anything like it.”
“I doubt you would have, Miss Bellevue,” Lady Amelia spoke up as she extended her hand and rubbed the fabric between her fingers, much like Jane had done. “It is a recent present from my father who brought it from Town. He says it is of the latest design from Madam Sullivan, a very premier dressmaker, silk velvet with Venetian lace.”
“But surely you would want to wear this gown then,” Jane said as she pulled her fingers away from it. Aside from expense, it was a dear present from her father, the duke.
“Not at all, Miss Bellevue. I shall be very pleased to see you wear it.” Lady Amelia’s eyes sparkled with an ulterior motive.
“Why ever would you?” Jane inquired.
“I enjoy dressing my friends,” Lady Amelia said and Jane felt a warm glow that she was included in Lady Amelia’s friendship. “Ask Patience. Was it not my suggestion to give that hideous pink gown to your maid?”
“On the other hand, if you prefer the pink,” Lady Charlotte offered picking up the equally pink gown that she had chosen, and the others laughed.
“Only you can wear something so shocking, Charlotte,” Lady Patience said. “The rest of us would look like some candy confection.”
“But shouldn’t you be someone you are not?” Jane teased Lady Charlotte. She thought it was funny that Charlotte was a study of contrasts. She was most comfortable in a stark riding outfit or an overabundance of bows and lace, the more elaborat
e the better. The thought made Jane laugh.
“Very well, I shall have to part with it,” Lady Charlotte said with a hand over her heart. “You may have it Jane.”
“No, thank you.” Jane shuddered at the thought, although she certainly would not seem herself in the pink gown.
“It is settled then,” Lady Amelia said. “You shall have the violet and the peacock feather mask.”
“I do not know what to say,” Jane replied.
“I believe the common response is thank you,” Lady Amelia said, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Now, the jewels.”
“Oh no,” Jane protested. “I could not possibly.”
“Don’t be silly,” Lady Amelia said. “If you are going to be a great lady, you must have your jewels.” She waved a hand at Jane and the violet gown, while she dug in her jewelry box . “Go on try it on,” she said. “We are about the same height.” Amelia’s lady’s maid came forward to help her, but Jane still hesitated.
“You are taller,” Jane said, but Amelia eyed her critically. “I am sure your curves will fill it enough that it will not be too long. Go on, try it on.”
Still Jane hesitated, but Lady Charlotte spun her around. “Turn around,” she said. “And I will get your buttons.” Jane turned and without further ado the gown was pulled over her head.
“Oh,” Lady Amelia said as she viewed the dress on Jane. “It looks perfect on you. That is the one. You may have it.”
“Oh, no,” Jane said. “Only to borrow.”
Lady Amelia lifted a delicate shoulder. “I have gowns I have never tried on. Patience knows.” She nodded to the other girl. “She says Father spoils me.”
“Oh, I am certain you are not spoiled at all,” Jane said, brushing her hands over the lovely gown. It was exceedingly soft. She had never worn such a garment. It made her feel like a queen.
“Consider it yours,” Lady Amelia said looking at Jane with a critical eye. “I think diamonds would look best, or perhaps the sapphires.”
Winning Lady Jane: A Christmas Regency Romance (Ladies of Bath Book 0) Page 13
