The Valentine's Day Ball (15 page)

“True, we’d best save them.”

Mrs. Brown carried the jars in her apron into the kitchen and arranged them on the table.

“That’s all, Mrs. Brown,” said the footman.

“Good, Sims. You may go back to your other duties.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The footman climbed down and left.

Jane asked, “Wasn’t that the man my cousin sent?”

“Yes, Miss Lindsay.”

“Is he working out?”

“Mostly, but Mr. Pipkin doesn’t trust him.”

“You know Mr. Pipkin,” said Jane, not unkindly, but they all knew Pipkin’s puritanical judgement.

“No, it’s not that.” Mrs. Brown looked around guiltily. It was unlike her to gossip. “Mr. Pipkin has twice found Sims upstairs, but he never has a reason for being there.”

Jane smiled. “I appreciate your telling me, Mrs. Brown. He is probably sweet on the upstairs maid.”

Mrs. Brown sniffed and returned to her tally. With her filled apron gathered in one hand, Jane grabbed the top shelf to pull herself up. As she did, it gave way, glass jars and wood collapsing on top of her.

“Miss Jane!” screamed the cook, rushing into the larder.

“I’m all right, Mrs. Brown,” said Jane, her voice a bit shaky. “Most of it landed in front of me and then toppled over on top. Ouch!” Jane lifted a bloody hand, and Mrs. Brown pulled her out from under the wreckage.

“It should have been me down there! Oh, Miss Jane, I’ll never forgive myself! You, Tom, run and get the surgeon. Ann, fetch Mrs. Tucker! The rest of you—out!”

“Really, Mrs. Brown, I’m fine. Just a small cut and a few bruises, I’m sure,” protested Jane as the anxious cook hovered over her. She sat at the kitchen table, looking into the demolished larder. “All that food and work gone to waste. I wonder what made it fall? It didn’t even feel loose when I was working up there.”

“It’s old. I’ve been telling Mr. Pipkin he needed to see to it.”

Tucker bustled in with Jane’s case of medicinal supplies. In no time, the cuts on Jane’s palm had been cleaned and dusted with basilicum powder.

“I think you should let me wrap it up, Miss Jane, so you won’t use it.”

“It hardly calls for that, Tucker,” said Jane, looking into her maid’s concerned face. “Oh, very well. Do what you will.”

An hour later, Jane was seated in the cheery morning room, her feet propped up on a stool. Within easy reach of her uninjured left hand was a cup of tea, a plate of Cook’s buttery biscuits, her embroidery, and the latest novel. Many ladies of the
ton
would have been in heaven; Jane, however, found such enforced inactivity little short of unbearable. But when she had tried to help sort out the mess in the larder, Mrs. Brown had exclaimed in horror, her protests backed up by the village doctor who had arrived expecting nothing less than a corpse.

So Jane had retreated to the morning room. One compensation was the solitude. She didn’t have to listen to someone’s mournful sigh each time she lifted her hand.

Pipkin looked in occasionally, but he was different. He had sniffed at Mrs. Brown and the surgeon and said, “‘The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing: but the soul of the diligent shall be made fat.’ Proverbs 13:4.”

Jane opened a letter from Cherry that had arrived in the morning mail. It contained the usual exclamations and nonsense, until the last paragraph:

I have asked Mama if we may go to Paris in June. Everyone is going now that we are at peace again. It would be
dreadful
to miss such an opportunity. You could come, too, Jane dearest. Perhaps if you write to Mama, together we can persuade her.

Jane reread the passage again and smiled. Surely, Cherry knew better than to try and cozen her. The prospect of a trip to Paris was tempting, but not in June. In June, she would begin planning Open Day at Heartland. It was always held on the fifteenth of July. Perhaps afterwards, in August.

Pipkin entered and handed her a calling card, the corner turned down to show that the caller was actually present.

“Lord Devlin? Show him in.”

Jane straightened up. Just as she was pushing the footstool out of the way, Drew entered.

“Here, let me help,” he said, pushing it back in place. Jane grinned.

“Actually, I was removing it.”

“You shouldn’t be! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, but how did you find out?”

“I met Dr. Harrington as I was entering the drive, and he told me about your accident. I must confess, I had expected to see you lying senseless on the couch. I was surprised when Pipkin let me in here.”

“I must remember to thank Pipkin,” Jane said, smiling up at him until she began to feel self-conscious. She took refuge in the social banalities. “Won’t you be seated? Isn’t this beautiful weather we are having lately?”

“Indeed,” he said, turning to find a chair and placing it beside hers. Pipkin entered with more refreshments.

Jane picked up the teapot awkwardly in her left hand. Drew sat forward and took it from her.

“Let me do that. What happened, precisely? I see your right hand is bandaged.”

“It’s nothing, really. And as for the bandage, I merely let my maid bandage it to ease her worry. You know how these old family retainers are.”

“No, I don’t. My childhood didn’t include a warm home. But I’ll take your word for it, providing you promise me you’ll be able to dance by tomorrow evening.”

“Tomorrow evening? But I—”

“You are going to the Assembly in Bath with my mother and me. At least, I hope you will come.”

“But you’re to come to tea tomorrow.”

“Yes, but we would like for you to dine with us instead and then go to the Assembly. It will be the first one for Mother, and she was so hoping you’d join us to bolster her courage.”

This last was said in such sincere, pleading tones that Jane doubted he was being completely honest. But it did sound like a delightful outing, and she longed to wear her new scarlet gown.

“Very well,” she agreed slowly.

“Good! I’ll come out here to escort you.”

“There’s no need for that. I shall be perfectly safe with our coachman and Mickey along. It’s not as though we’re at opposite ends of the world.”

“No, we’re not, are we?” His dark eyes held hers.

The morning is growing uncomfortably warm.
“Would…would you care to take a walk in the garden, Lord Devlin?”

“Drew.”

“Drew,” she echoed, taking his hand and standing up.

He was so close to her their bodies almost touched. And still he stared, his hand holding hers. Jane’s breath came faster—there didn’t seem to be enough air and her breast rose and fell rapidly.

“Drew?” she said tentatively.

He stepped back, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. The morning room, like the library on the opposite side of the house, boasted French doors. He opened one, allowing her to pass through it.

“Is your mother enjoying Bath?” asked Jane, after searching for a safe topic.

“Yes, she loves it. She goes to the Pump Room every morning, and she already has a small circle of friends.”

“Is she taking the waters?”

“She tried them once, but she enjoys the very best health so she has no need of them. A fortunate circumstance, since she told me in no uncertain terms she would never drink them again. To be precise, she told me she thought the hot mineral springs must arise out of the very depths of Hell—an extreme observation for the daughter of a curate.”

Jane laughed. “So she attends the Pump Room to socialize, like most of its patrons.”

“Yes, and then she shops or reads or walks in the gardens. She is an amateur gardener.”

“Laura Place is the perfect setting, being so close to Sidney Gardens as well as the shops and the Pump Room.”

“Yes, Mother swears she much prefers it to the country.”

”Then I suppose you’re glad I wouldn’t sell you Heartland.”

“Definitely. And this way, I can visit its beautiful mistress.”

Jane frowned. She was unused to receiving such fulsome compliments. Such comments in the past had been delivered in a taunting manner, and she was unsure how to reply.

“Why so serious, Jane? Normally, a lady responds when she receives a compliment.”

“I’m sorry, Lord Devlin. I thought you were teasing me.”

He stopped and scanned the immediate vicinity. The gardener was working nearby, and Drew pulled Jane behind a row of shrubbery They were quite alone except for the buzzing of a bee.

He took her in his arms and murmured, “I was in earnest then, and I am now, as well.”

With this, he lowered his lips to hers. Returning his kiss eagerly, Jane was surprised when he raised his head and released her. He took her hand and placed it on his arm again before leading her back by the garden.

Drew would have explored the garden further, but Jane said, “Let’s go back in. I am tired.”

b

Drew left soon afterwards, feeling very pleased with himself. He had shown Jane that he cared for her reputation, that he respected her and that he was not simply trifling with her. And she had been disappointed by their brief kiss. That meant she cared for him. He hoped.

Yes, she must care. She didn’t go about kissing every man who spoke to her—that was absurd!

That first night she had only kissed him because…Why had she kissed him at the Valentine Ball? She hadn’t liked him above half. So why?

He urged his grey stallion to a gallop. He was going crazy, his jealousy rendering his judgement faulty, and he admitted he was jealous at the thought of Jane kissing anyone else. He slowed the big horse to a walk, controlling it easily as the animal shook its head to protest.

He tried to remember that first kiss. How had she returned his kiss—expertly or inexpertly? It had been sweet, he remembered that very well. Her response had been tentative, and then she had given full rein to her passion, moulding her body to his.

“Damn!” he said aloud.

Why hadn’t he kissed her like that in the garden when he had the chance? The devil take chivalry and gentleman-like behaviour! He would escort her home after the Assembly, and he would kiss her as she had never been kissed before!

b

Jane was restless. She didn’t know why, precisely, but since her walk in the garden with Drew, she’d found it impossible to sit still. She lifted her grandmother’s brooch and noted the time. If she forgot about tea, she would have time for a good ride before dinner.

Jane made her way upstairs cautiously. If she met Tucker along the way, she could forget about riding. Tucker would protest because of her injury.

Jane changed as quickly as possible, folding her discarded gown and placing it in the back of the wardrobe. She removed the loose bandage and picked up her tan leather riding gloves. Then she made her escape down the back stairs.

Once she was clear of the grounds, Jane let Sinbad fly. Bending low over the horse’s neck, her billowing hair melded with the long mane. Over all the fences, high and low, they sailed. Finally though, the run had to end, and she eased back on the reins. Jane was too good a horsewoman to think about anything but gradually cooling her horse for the next fifteen or twenty minutes.

Then she was ready to think about some very difficult questions. So, she first reviewed the facts. First, Drew’s kisses were very enjoyable. Second, he seemed to enjoy kissing her, too. And third, he had never indicated he wanted anything further. Certainly love had not been mentioned nor marriage. Even Jane hadn’t thought about such a possibility.

What did Drew want with her? He couldn’t believe she would accept a
carte blanche
. But what other possibility was there? Perhaps he found her innocent passion amusing. But that couldn’t be it either, or he would have kissed her—really kissed her—in the garden earlier.

Jane’s experience with men in social situations was limitless, but her experience in romance was nil. The closest thing to romance she could recall had been nothing but business—fortune hunters hoping to contract a lucrative future by marrying her. She hadn’t even been kissed except once, at fourteen, by the old rector’s son. And that had been wet and disgusting.

Jane knew her behaviour hadn’t been ladylike. What if Drew felt she had been too free, too fast? Perhaps he’d had her kisses and that was all he wanted. But at five and twenty, Jane knew there was more between a man and a woman. She could recall every word of her friend Sally’s vivid description about what happened on her wedding night
.
That had been informative, and only last year hadn’t she interrupted the stable boy with one of the local village girls under the haystack? She remembered how they had moaned, unaware that she was riding by. The girl’s dress had been around her hips, and the boy—

Jane trembled, trying to get rid of the painful longing that flooded her body. She shifted in the saddle, but it didn’t help, so she turned Sinbad around, urging him to a canter as she headed home.

Tomorrow night, I will ask Drew to accompany me home in the carriage. I will tell him my maid is ill and unable to travel to Bath. It will be late, so such a request won’t seem unusual. And then I will make him kiss me!

b

Jane stretched like a cat as Tucker laid out her clothes for the morning. Tucker was very much on her dignity after Jane’s secret ride the day before.

“Which dress will you be wearing tonight, Miss Jane?”

“The new red and silver one.”

“And your hair?”

“I wish I could wear it down. It is much easier.”
And Drew likes my hair down
. “Getting it to stay up takes so many pins, I can hardly hold up my head.”

Fashion debates always loosened Tucker up, and she laughed. “Ye’re exaggeratin’, Miss Jane. But I think I’ve an idea. I have some of the silver braid left over from the reticule I knitted to match the dress. Why don’t I thread it through the white net and make a snood? It would be very becoming and wear much better.”

“What a clever idea. Tucker, you’re a genius. I’ll feel so elegant.”

“Because you will be, Miss Jane.”

“Of course, I shan’t be fashionable. Catching one’s hair up in a net, no matter how becoming it may be, is just not fashionable.”

“Do you care so much?” asked Tucker, as if bewildered by her sudden infatuation with current fashions.

“No, not really. I was just making an observation. Do you think you might have time to sew some seed pearls here and there on the net?”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Oh, Tucker, I’d forgotten—one reason I chose this fabric was because it would match Grandmother’s ruby pendant. But the catch is broken.”

“I’ll get Mickey to leave for Bath right now. He’ll be back quick as the cat can lick her whiskers.”

Taking up the heart-shaped pendant, Tucker hurried away.

b