A Taste for Scandal (37 page)

Lifting the heavy skirts gingerly so not to crease them, she stepped carefully across the room. She took one look in the mirror and gasped. Good gracious, she didn’t even know the person staring back at her! She looked like any one of the exquisitely gowned ladies she had glimpsed during her fruitless search for Richard. Reverently, she smoothed a hand down the front of the gown. She had never thought to wear something so utterly divine. To call it perfect was an understatement. It was as if it were made for her. “That can’t be me,” she breathed, turning slightly from side to side to try to glimpse the back of her simple but quite elegant chignon.

Evie laughed. “I assure you, it is. You look every bit as lovely as I knew you would.” She rose and came to her side, smiling at Jane’s reflection. They looked like a pair of ladies, fit for any ballroom. It was a rather disconcerting realization. “I imagine you’d be quite a sensation, were you to walk through the ballroom. There isn’t a single woman down there with half your beauty and poise.”

Heat warmed Jane’s cheeks; such flattery. She and her brother both seemed to be proficient in the use of Spanish coin. “You are too kind, my lady.”

“Now, I must return to the ball. You, however, deserve a rest after so much hard work this week. I order you, as your employer, not to return to the kitchen tonight. As a matter of fact, don’t even leave this room for a while. Enjoy that gorgeous lady looking back at you in the mirror. Understood?”

Jane turned to her and smiled. After the whirlwind of the past twenty minutes, Jane knew better than to argue with her. “Yes, my lady.”

Evie’s eyes sparkled with something that looked suspiciously like triumph. “Excellent.”

He was beginning to think his sisters had gotten into the liquor cabinet when they had slipped away. First Beatrice, then Evie, shooing him up the stairs and telling him he had to fetch some mysterious gift they left in Evie’s chambers for him? Bizarre, even for them. Fortunately for them, he was happy to have an excuse to slip away from the ball for a while. He felt boxed in, stifled in a way that had nothing to do with the scarlet walls and soaring coffered ceilings of the Dennington ballroom.

He strode down the dim corridor, pausing before the third door on the left, just as Evie had instructed. He let himself in and stepped forward, only to see an unfamiliar woman across the room with her back to him. “Beg pardon,” he said quickly, stepping back.

The woman turned, then gasped, her hand going to her mouth.

Time froze, stopping his heart, his breath, even his thoughts as he stared, openmouthed, at the vision before him.
“Jane?”

Had he somehow crossed the threshold and stepped into one of his own dreams? He blinked, trying to determine if she were really there, or just a figment of his imagination. If the latter were true, he’d vastly underestimated his subconscious’s ability to conjure perfection.

She stared back at him, looking every bit as stunned to see him as he was to see her, her eyes wide and incredulous. Was it possible that the glorious creature before him, shimmering in a cream and purple gown and standing as regally as a queen was indeed his little baker?

“Richard?”

At the sound of her breathless voice, he closed his eyes and exhaled. He never got used to the rush of silvery emotion flashing through him at the sound of his name on her lips. He opened his eyes, taking in every detail of the lady before him. He had never imagined her in a gown like this. In his mind, she was perfect in her simple dresses and unfussy hair. But now, as she stood before him like a diamond of the first water, he was struck by how absolutely magnificent she was.

“What are you doing here?”

He shook his head. He had no idea what he was doing there. “My sisters . . .” He trailed off, realizing what they had done. He would have to remember to apply for their sainthood at the earliest opportunity. How had they ever known? He started again. “My sisters are geniuses, it would seem.”

She blushed, glancing down her gown. “And magicians. I still don’t know what just happened.”

“Whatever it was, I am eternally grateful for it.” He pushed the door closed and went to her, eager for a closer look. “You’ve always been beautiful, but tonight, you are quite stunning.” It was no false flattery. Inside his chest, his heart pounded as the need to pull her into his arms surged within him.

“Thank you.” She shook her head, at a loss. “I feel as though I’ve been dressed for a play. Your sisters have gilded a daisy, I’m afraid.”

“Now, now—that gown is a tulip at the very least.”

She grinned, shooting him an exasperated look. “You know very well what I mean. I don’t belong in this kind of frippery.”

“You’re absolutely right. Let’s get you out of that gown.”

He loved surprising her. She laughed, even while she rolled her eyes at him. “You are as incorrigible as ever, Richard Moore.”

“I think the word you are looking for is ‘charming.’”

“Did I say incorrigible? I meant impossible.”

He reached out and slid a finger down the ivory skin of her cheek. “Irresistible.”

She closed her eyes, leaning slightly into his touch. “Yes.” She drew in a breath and opened her eyes. “Always that. And I’m never happier than when you are near,” she said, stepping back. “I know what’s expected of you tonight, and I have no right to ask it of you, but . . . will you stay with me first? Just for a while?”

He wouldn’t have believed his own ears, but the truth was written all over her face. It was what he had wanted from her in the corridor during the dinner party—some glimmer of hope that she might see past their differences.

Was there hope? He thought of Charity and the agreement they had made that very morning, and of the promises he had made to himself and to his father. He had already accepted what was to come.

Or had he?

He took a small step toward her, and she tilted her head, unsure of his intentions. Lord, but he loved those changeable green eyes. He wanted to see them bright with joy again, flashing emerald against the creamy velvet of her skin. Below them, he could hear the music for the third quadrille drawing to a close, and he knew exactly what dance would be next. He smiled down at her, savoring the hints of warm sugar that teased his senses.

“My dear Miss Bunting,” he said, that wolfish smile coming to his lips once more. “I believe this dance is mine.”

Chapter Thirty-three

A surge of pleasure, sweet and genuine, slipped through her body as Jane looked to his outstretched hand. Their dance in the park had been one of the best days of her life. Standing there in Evie’s gorgeous gown, for the first time she felt like a proper match to the handsome earl before her. She felt as though they were meant to be.

She started to reach for his hand but he pulled it away at the last second. Her gaze snapped up to his. Was he teasing her?

He watched her carefully, his silver gaze challenging. “You should know that I’m not talking about a dance here, in this room. I mean a proper dance. I want to waltz with you, to whisk you across the dance floor to the music of a true orchestra, not some hummed tune. I want you to experience what it is like to feel the music wrap around you, to spin and glide across a real dance floor, not just in the middle of some park. You’ve allowed me to experience your world; it’s time I invited you into mine.”

She gaped at him. A waltz in a ballroom? In front of a whole roomful of people? Nerves danced in her belly at the very thought. “You must be mad! What would your family say?”

“They’d say, ‘Oh look, there goes Richard, dancing with another beautiful lady.’”

She put her hands to her hips. “Be serious. They’d be appalled to see you dancing with a servant.”

“They have little say in the matter, if they even realize who you are, which I seriously doubt.
I
almost didn’t recognize you, and I’d say I am
exceedingly
familiar with your . . . face.” He grinned shamelessly, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. He was such a cad. “I’m giving them everything they ever wanted from me. They are not going to take away the one thing I want for myself.

“Now,” he said, extending his hand once more, “Miss Bunting, may I please have this dance?”

Why did he have to make it so impossible to deny him anything? Common sense told her to refuse him, but even as she started to tell him no, that such a thing wasn’t possible, the long ago dreams of an innocent little girl floated through her mind. She looked down, her gaze falling to the delicate embroidery embellishing the fairy-tale gown. Why shouldn’t she? She was dressed for the part, and he clearly wished for her to accept.

She made the mistake of meeting his gaze. He was positively
daring
her to say yes. She pressed her lips together, warring with her conscience. It was quite possibly the most foolish thing she could do, but to be in his arms one more time, she was ready to take the leap. Raising her chin, she slipped her hand into his. “As you wish.”

He grinned in triumph and tugged her against him. “Outstanding.” He stole a quick kiss. “We’d best hurry—the break won’t last long. Wait two minutes while I go down the servant’s stairs first, then come down the front stairs. I’ll meet you at the bottom.”

“No, wait,” she said, clasping his hand to keep him from slipping away. “I should go down the servant’s stairs.”

He looked back at her and shook his head. “Not tonight.” With a wink he was gone, taking the breath from her lungs with him.

Good heavens, she could hardly believe she’d agreed to such a thing. It was reckless, and silly, and completely unwise . . . and she had never been more excited in her life.

Standing at the top of the staircase, Jane stared down at the dozens of people filling the small hall below. What had she been thinking? How could she walk down there, subjecting herself to their stares and curiosity? And the amount of people in the staircase hall was nothing compared to the hundreds she knew to be filling the ballroom. Three hundred and twenty-six of Evie’s closest friends had accepted her invitation. Jane knew because she had spent the last three days baking enough desserts to give each and every one of them ample choices to satisfy their heart’s desire.

This was a bad idea. Surely they would see straight through the fine clothes and sense that she wasn’t one of them. She didn’t belong in the glittering candlelight and among the lavish decorations below. She was a simple baker. A servant. What if someone recognized her?

Jane put a hand to her stomach and closed her eyes, and felt as though she were falling, not standing rooted to the floor as if carved from stone. She couldn’t do this. The madness that had gripped her in Evie’s chambers was just that—madness. She opened her eyes, prepared for retreat, but at that exact moment, Richard appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Their gazes collided, and suddenly all of the fear simply fell away. She trusted him.

The rest of the room faded, and all that mattered was that he was there, watching her. Waiting for her.

She drew a deep breath, and took the first step. As she descended, his eyes never left hers, his smile a guiding light. She was vaguely aware that the voices around them had hushed, and the people who had been standing beside Richard had ebbed away like a waning tide. When her slippers touched the marble floor, he bowed.

“Good evening, Miss Bunting.”

His tone was warm and smooth, completely unperturbed by their audience. She curtsied in return, hoping all the while that her legs wouldn’t give out on her. Standing above the crowd and being within it were two very different things. “Lord Raleigh.”

He extended his gloved hand, his gaze never leaving hers. “Would you care to dance?”

A sudden image flitted through her mind, of his bare hand extended to her in the park, the early morning sun just breaking through the clouds. She dipped her head once. “I’d be delighted.”

Slipping her gloved fingers into his—thank heavens for the long pair she had found waiting for her by the door—she allowed him to guide her to the ballroom. The people in front of them parted as if moved by some unseen force. The nerves that had dimmed when his gaze was locked with hers now came flooding back as they walked side by side. All around them, ladies in their elegant gowns whispered behind fans, while gentlemen openly stared. Never in her life had she felt so out of place. The nameless, faceless class of people she had always disapproved of were suddenly very real, and they had full and ample opportunity to return the judgment in spades.

She tried to breathe past the anxiety that bubbled up within her, sapping her determination. Would she look back on this moment in pleasure for the rest of her life, or would it be with regret for her brazen actions in her own employer’s home?

The orchestra played a few chords, and couples all around them glided into position. Richard squeezed her hand as he guided her onto the dance floor, reminding her that he was there with her.
For
her. Finding an open spot, he stopped and swung her around, pulling her into his arms. He smiled then, as if there were no other people in the room but the two of them. It was the exact same smile he had given her in the park, and in her kitchen, and in her own bedchamber. It was the same one that had drawn her into his arms again and again. This was their time. Their one, beautiful moment together where no classes, no edicts, no expectations or rules existed.

For a few seconds, the noise seemed to dim, the entire room poised in anticipation. She trembled, unable to quell the sudden fear that she couldn’t remember the dance and would make a fool of herself.

“Jane,” Richard breathed, squeezing her arm. “You can do this.”

She looked into his fathomless blue gaze, and all at once exhaled. In that moment, the music swelled and the dance began. Richard’s eyes never left hers as they swung into motion, his hands sure and steady as he guided her around the room. She gave herself over to him, trusting him to show her the way.

The music was magical, the melody filling the room and lifting her heart. She found her body moved naturally in time with the rhythm, as if she’d always known the tune. She blinked, suddenly realizing she
did
know the tune. It was the same one Richard had hummed in her ear so many weeks earlier.