Scandal's Deception

by Pamela Gibson

  “I shall try to provide it, but I must confess these fingers do not move over the keys of the pianoforte as well as they once did.”

  Jane had never learned to dance. Her days had been filled with practical pursuits, and when they hadn’t, she’d preferred to read or ride her horse to the banks of the Chesapeake. On Sundays, she and Papa had attended church. Maddie had as well, although she attended a different church. Papa had not been pious, although he had enjoyed a good sermon. Surely she’d be allowed to accompany Lady Amelia to church. She could sit in the back and sneak out when the service ended.

  “Why don’t we repair to the dining room for a bit of nuncheon. I’m feeling quite peckish after the morning fittings. I’m sure you are, too.”

  Jane followed Lady Amelia and seated herself before a footman could rush in and pull out her chair. Her hostess scowled but did not comment. Jane was becoming fatigued by all the rules she’d memorized and had temporarily forgotten. Fortunately, she had written most down and could peruse them at any time.

  At the moment, she felt like a horse must feel when confined to an undersized paddock. She needed space and freedom, not endless lessons in how to behave. Already she’d learned to sit on the edge of a chair with her back straight, how to hold a teacup, how to pour tea—as if she even liked the foul stuff—and what would be considered proper topics of conversation at an afternoon call. Her shoulders ached from having her posture corrected by walking around with a book on her head. Ladies glided, curtsied with grace, and greeted their companions with dignity.

  If I learn how to address peers and their offspring correctly, I should be awarded a commendation. From the king himself.

  It was all so unnecessary, except that she had ordered it done, the woman who had given away her child, who never wrote, who had not yet set foot in this place to see how she fared. That woman.

  The nuncheon fare was minimal and took only a half hour to complete. After a short rest in her room, Jane was summoned to the formal drawing room where chairs had been pushed back and the carpet rolled up and set aside. Ralston was waiting.

  She’d become accustomed to her jailor—yes, she had come to think of him as thus—even though she had to admit her heart fluttered when he touched her. The phrase “Prince Charming” stuck in her head with his gorgeous eyes and tousled hair, and that crooked smile that revealed dimples on both sides of his face. Standing close enough to get a whiff of some musky scent, she was very much aware of the breadth of his shoulders and his muscular thighs as he reached out and placed her hand in his.

  A sizzle of heat traveled through her fingers, along her arm, and curled in her core. If this was the feeling one got by dancing, she’d been missing a lot.

  “You’re staring at me.”

  A flush warmed her cheeks. “Sorry.”

  “I decided to remove my coat for additional freedom of movement during the lesson. Gentlemen at balls wear evening dress, and the ladies wear ball gowns. I believe my aunt is having one made for you.”

  “Several, actually.”

  “Good. You’ll need them. Ladies of the ton have an array of events to attend during the Season.”

  Lady Amelia interceded. “Not all invitations are accepted, dear. Your mother will look them over for you and help you decide.”

  Ralston nodded toward the piano. “I stand corrected.” He glanced back at Jane, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes. “You look like a frightened rabbit. Have you not danced before?”

  She hesitated. Was she expected to know the latest dances? “I attended a few entertainments where dancing took place. I’m not sure the dances are the same here.” Not a lie, just a stretch of the truth.

  “Let’s start with a popular country dance. Two rows, one of ladies, the other of gentlemen, each facing the other, four feet apart. The partners stand just so.” He placed Jane in the proper position and stood opposite. “Watch my feet while I demonstrate the steps of various figures.”

  She’d rather watch his face instead of his feet, but necessity won. After moving slowly among the imaginary line of dancers, he advanced, retreated, then twirled his invisible partner. He repeated the steps, this time to music. Two more times, once with his aunt joining him, humming the tune. Jane studied each movement with care. Now it was her turn.

  “I fear I am not at all graceful.”

  “Nonsense. This one is quite simple. While in a line, watch the lead couple and mimic what they do. As there are only two of us, I’ll call out what comes next.”

  Several tries later, at different speeds, she counted herself passable. “What do the partners who are not dancing do?”

  “They converse. Sometimes there are three or four couples. Sometimes a long line.”

  “Oh dear, I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  His smile curved up, and she stifled a sigh. Why was her guardian such a handsome man? Why wasn’t he surly or mean, with harsh features and stained teeth? Or have large ears and a bray like a donkey? A giggle escaped, and she put her palm over her mouth.

  “What are you laughing about?”

  Heat returned to her cheeks. “Nothing. Shall we continue?”

  He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t quite believe her.

  “Do you know the waltz? Or has it not reached across the water yet?”

  “I’ve seen it performed.”

  “You’re in luck,” Lady Amelia said. “Gilbert is an excellent dancer.”

  Jane dredged her memory, trying to recall something she’d heard. “Is it not considered scandalous?”

  “No longer,” said Ralston. “It is even allowed at Almack’s.”

  “What is Almack’s?”

  Ralston seemed amused. “It is a place where young girls are paraded like horses for sale at Tattersalls and where young men go to find a mount.”

  “For shame, Ralston. That is a totally inappropriate comment in company.” Lady Amelia’s scold brought red to his ears.

  “You’re right. I forgot myself. I do apologize.” Ralston sighed. “Almack’s is an assembly room where people go to dance and partake of weak refreshments. It’s run by pillars of society who must give a young girl permission to attend. Young men seeking wives also go there.”

  “Do the men need permission as well?”

  “No, they do not.”

  “How undemocratic.”

  “I daresay. Now where were we?”

  “It’s a marriage mart,” called out Lady Amelia.

  So people went there to find mates. What if they didn’t want to marry? Jane decided to hold her tongue. “What is the origin of the word Almack’s?”

  “I believe it is a name. The founder of the assembly hall was a Scot called William Macallam who used an anagram of his name to label his assembly room. Over time, the hall located on King Street became the fashionable place to see and be seen. I’m told it now has gaslights.” He turned to the piano. “Did you know that Aunt Amelia? I haven’t been to the place in years.”

  “No. I didn’t. The place was lighted with candles when I helped your mother chaperone your sister.”

  Ralston turned back to Jane. “I’m sure your mother will obtain a voucher for you. Jocelyn has one.”

  Dearest Mother, and her pet, neither of whom had come to make her acquaintance and welcome her into the bosom of their family.

  She almost spat but caught herself in time. She was sure ladies did no such thing—ever. They didn’t in America, and they certainly wouldn’t here, where one couldn’t even walk outside in one’s own garden alone.

  “Are you ready?”

  Ralston’s quiet patience brought her back to her lesson. So he hadn’t been to Almack’s in years. Did that mean he wasn’t interested in marrying, or perhaps he had a mistress tucked away somewhere? She’d have to ask. He seemed tolerant of her m
ost brazen questions.

  Ralston demonstrated the steps by standing next to her to show her how to place her feet, then had her follow his movements. The music was lilting, although Lady Amelia played only with one hand. When Jane finally grasped the concept, Ralston turned and faced her.

  Standing even closer, he placed her left hand on his shoulder and her right hand in his. Her breath hitched as his right hand touched her back inches above her waist. The heat of his fingers warmed her through the thin material of her dress, and as the music started, he tightened his hold and guided her in the basic steps, far enough apart from her so she could watch her feet.

  “When you’re ready, look at me, not your feet. Feel the music and follow my lead.”

  She tried, but Lordy she was flummoxed. She stumbled twice and trod on his foot once. The music, the pressure at her back, and the man guiding her helped her get through the steps.

  “Now we’ll try to pick up the pace and do a few turns.”

  Jane swallowed. “Faster?”

  “At grand balls, the music is fairly lively, depending on the musicians. The gentlemen make sweeping turns about the room as they dance.”

  “I’m sure to fall.”

  “I won’t let you. Follow my lead. Close your eyes and feel the movements of my body. The steps are simple. You know them.”

  She did as he asked, trying to picture a ballroom full of dancing men and women, twirling about the floor with modern gaslights flickering.

  Instead, she breathed in the scent of spicy shaving soap and dreamed she was being courted by her handsome prince, the man whose warm hand lay firmly on her waist, and who smiled not only with his lips but with his eyes as they danced carefully among the furniture.

  Jane wanted to move closer until the front of their bodies touched. That would be scandalous. This was a dancing lesson, not a seduction.

  Was there really a difference?

  The music ended, and they stopped. Still in position, they gazed into each other’s face. His hands tightened slightly, as if he wanted to draw her closer. His lips parted, and his eyes half closed. Then he let go.

  Reluctantly, she moved back and turned toward the nearest chair, her heart thumping wildly. It wasn’t just the exertion of the steps that caused a hitch in her breathing and giddiness in her stomach. His slightly wistful expression made her insides feel like she’d swallowed a flight of hummingbirds.

  “I daresay, I feel like I’ve run a mile.” She studied Ralston’s face. “You, sir, are not even out of breath.”

  His face shuttered, and the glimpse of warmth she’d seen in his eyes had surely been imagined.

  “It requires practice. You’ve got the gist of it now. Tomorrow we’ll focus on a quadrille and another dance done primarily near Christmas. I warn you. Both are lively.”

  “As I’m no longer out at dawn milking cows or gathering eggs, I’m in need of exercise to increase my stamina. May I please be allowed to take walks. The lanes are quite picturesque, and the weather has been lovely.”

  Lady Amelia joined them and nodded. “It can’t hurt. Even if someone sees her, no one knows Jocelyn here. Mary can go with her.”

  “When will her riding habit be delivered?”

  “Tomorrow. It is one of the pieces of her wardrobe that will be completed early. Someone ordered a habit and never claimed it. The color is nice for Jane, and Madame Lucille is having it altered for her.”

  He nodded. “Lady Jane, how would you like to go riding? I shall accompany you. That should give you the exercise you need.”

  “I would love it. Thank you. That time on shipboard had me feeling quite indolent.”

  “Tomorrow you may go out walking, but not too far. When your habit arrives, we’ll go riding.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now we can have tea. You did well. Your mother will be proud.”

  Mother. There was that word again.

  If only the woman would arrive.

  But that would be another day.

  Chapter 11

  Two mornings later, Ralston greeted the stable master who brought out a horse and led it into the paddock.

  “Is Lady Amelia’s mare still fit? I know my aunt doesn’t ride any longer.”

  “She gets exercised on a regular basis, and despite her age, she can still gallop. I would not try to jump a hedge.”

  The roan wandered around the enclosure and idly grazed on tufts of grass. If Jane proved to be a skilled rider, perhaps he would purchase a livelier mount for her, something suitable for riding in Hyde Park.

  Her dance lessons were progressing nicely. Once she had suitable clothes and Aunt did something with her hair, he was sure she’d have suitors. Even a girl from America would get offers if she had a generous dowry. Jane and Jocelyn were not lacking in that category.

  The thought of someone asking for Jane’s hand unsettled him. How odd. He barely knew the girl, and already he’d developed protective feelings toward her. She was still naïve about those less-than-noble English gentlemen who might fawn all over her, hoping to get control of her fortune. She still had a lot to learn about propriety, and a rake might easily compromise her, forcing a marriage, especially if he learned she was an heiress.

  Footsteps alerted him, and he turned to find Jane walking briskly toward the lane at the end of the driveway, with no bonnet and no maid. Damn the girl. Had he not told her to bring Mary? And what was the time, anyway? Most young girls would still be abed at this hour.

  He ran after her, catching up as she turned out of the drive and headed toward town. “What are you doing? Where’s your bonnet and gloves? Where’s your maid?”

  She stopped and placed her hands on her waist, waiting until he got closer to speak. “I need none of those things. What I do need is a brisk walk to shake off these pampered limbs that haven’t been doing any hard work since I left Baltimore.” She turned around and took off walking.

  He grabbed her and forced her to a stop. Her face was flushed, and there was a brightness to her eyes and a grimness to her lips. She would not be coerced into returning to the house. Perhaps he could use reason instead. “Did you not hear what I said yesterday when I gave you permission to take walks?”

  “Permission? Why do I need permission for everything here in this God-forsaken place?”

  Her temper blazed, and he flinched as if struck.

  “I’m your guardian. I’m responsible for your safety and well-being.”

  “Jailor is more like it.” She advanced toward him until there was barely a foot between them. “Give me one good reason why I need a hat on a beautiful day. To save my complexion? It’s already more tanned than the ladies I observed on the journey here. I can think of no reason to keep my hands hidden from sight, and Mary was engaged in a mending project when I left.”

  He held her gaze, meeting her flashing eyes. “We’re in troubled times. Men are out of work. You could be abducted and held for ransom or worse.”

  “Spare me. Did you know my father taught me some rudimentary self-protection moves? I thought perhaps he regretted not having a son, and that was why he gave me boxing lessons, although I must say I feel safer with a pistol in my hand.”

  “A pugilist, are you? And a crack shot? Somehow I cannot picture either.” He stepped back as her hands became fists raised in front of her.

  “Go ahead.” He lifted his chin, forcing himself not to laugh. “Use your best punch.”

  Jane huffed and turned away. “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  “Because you are being ridiculous. If you want to continue on your walk, fine. I shall accompany you, and you can tell me more about your life in America.”

  Her teeth clamped together, and she clenched her fists. “Fine. I came out here to stretch my legs, but I warn you. I’m not through with this discussion.”

 
He nodded. “As you wish. I told you I’m happy to answer any questions you might have, providing I have the answers.”

  “Where is my mother?”

  “In London I presume, preparing for Jocelyn’s birthday ball.”

  She took a deep breath and strode down the lane.

  This female would be the death of him, and yet he had to admit he admired her spirit. She was no green girl, and she had a valid question. Where was Lady Siltsbury? Surely her maternal instincts would have compelled her to visit her missing child by now. Jocelyn might be a reigning belle with a ball in her honor, but it would be Jane’s birthday as well.

  Women. Who can understand them? An image of him shaking his sister for getting him into this mess rose in his mind.

  He ran off after his ward, reaching her at the end of the lane. She sat on a high stone wall, her feet dangling off the ground. He found footholds on protruding stones and climbed to the top, seating himself next to her. “How did you get up here?”

  “The same way you did,” she scoffed. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

  “You have skirts.”

  They sat in silence. No birds sang in nearby trees. No wind ruffled the leaves at this hour. The lane was quiet except for the occasional bleat of a lamb. “Did you have a large household in America? Were there any special people in your life besides your father?”

  “We lived on a small farm—ten acres. Some of our neighbors had large estates, but Papa’s income was from the law. We had household help and two full-time yardmen. Maddie, our housekeeper, brought in others when needed.”

  “What did you raise?”

  “Vegetables mainly, although we had a few fruit trees. We owned two cows, a flock of chickens, and several pigs.”

  “Did you own slaves?”

  “No. Papa was an abolitionist.”

  “What did you do for entertainment? Did you go to plays or the opera? Did you have any special friends?”

  She scrunched her brows together, as if deep in thought.

  Women of his acquaintance could rattle off an entire list of entertainments. Not Jane. She was as unusual as her life had been.