Then more kisses, and maybe something else.
Warmth stole over her in anticipation. If only it could be true.
In two days it would be her birthday. One year after that she’d be of age. Perhaps then she could pursue this dream, free of the impediment of his guardianship. Ralston would simply be another man.
A sense of excitement kept her from sleep. Instead she quietly donned her wrapper, leaving her feet bare, and padded back to her sister’s room.
“Jocelyn? Are you awake?”
A meek voice arose from the bed. “You know I am. I rarely get to sleep before dawn.”
“Perhaps this will help you.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I’ve made my decision. I’ll do it.”
A whisper stirred the air.
“Thank you.”
Chapter 25
“No. Not like that. Hold your head tilted slightly to your right, and raise the fan so it covers your mouth. Yes. That’s it. I’ve greeted a guest. Now you have, too.”
“Am I smiling behind the fan? Someone looking into my eyes would know.”
Jocelyn, seated in a chair with a blanket on her lap, piped up. “I don’t always smile. If I do, I lower the fan below my chin. You will have met everyone coming into the ball while in the receiving line. You might remember this if you meet someone elsewhere.”
Jane strolled around her sister’s room with a slight swing to her hips, as her sister had demonstrated. She dearly hoped she’d remember when to curtsy and when to extend her hand. Her mother, who would be next to her, had developed a plan. A slight nudge when a curtsy was required. A nod of her head when only a hand extended was necessary.
Good Lord, what have I done?
Her head swam with instructions from Lady Siltsbury as well as her twin. Lord Ralston, due any minute, had not yet made his appearance. Jane hoped he wouldn’t be cross with her. She needed everyone on her side if she was to carry out this scandalous deception.
The walking came easily. Getting Jocelyn’s personal quirks to feel natural posed more of a problem. She was reminded that a hundred people—possibly more—would fill the ballroom. Tiny idiosyncrasies should go unnoticed.
Their voices, she found, were similar. Jocelyn’s laugh was quite different. She tried, but she couldn’t get it right. Her twin had a high musical titter, and whenever Jane attempted it, she sounded like a squealing piglet on the run.
“Perhaps I shall not laugh. To be honest, what seems to be funny here is sometimes not funny at all where I come from.”
“That’s because what goes as mirth is a matter of opinion.”
Jane glanced toward the door. Lord Ralston had been shown in while she was concentrating on her twin’s laugh.
He strode into the room, greeting Lady Siltsbury, then Jocelyn. When he turned toward Jane, a soft, dreamy feeling, engulfed her. He didn’t look pleased. He seemed angry, although his words were polite. “I see you decided to participate in this farce. I hope it does not play out as a tragedy.”
She rubbed her hands against her skirt, as if smoothing a wrinkle. “’Tis only for one evening. I shall wear the gown Jocelyn chose for the occasion. I’ve already tried it on, and it needed only one slight alteration. My hair will be styled like hers, and Lady Siltsbury has gone over the evening’s activities and expectations. Only dances I’ve been taught will be on the musical repertoire. You shall be my partner for the opening set and the supper dance.”
“It sounds like all the details have been worked out.” He turned to Jocelyn. “How are you feeling? Your welts do not look as bright as they did yesterday.”
“I am better, sir. Jane’s agreement has set me at ease, and the paste she described to Mama seems to keep the itching to a minimum.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Your talents in the kitchen continue to amaze me, Jane.”
“An old blend my housekeeper taught me.”
“A useful woman, your housekeeper.”
An understatement if she’d ever heard one. Maddie was the woman who’d raised her. Not the elegant fribble who stood a few paces away. While Jane had spent several hours with her twin, she’d noticed her dear mama had not been around until the last hour. Was she avoiding her second child for some reason?
Jane had surmised from the time she set foot in this house there would be no warmth from this cold woman who fawned over her other daughter. It was like she purposely tried to ignore her, treating her more like a hired companion for dear Jocelyn. She’d expected curiosity about her life and Papa’s and conversation aimed at getting to know her. A warm hug, maybe even tears. What she’d once thought possible had not materialized.
And thank the good Lord for that.
Her resentment continued to grow. She’d agreed to this stunt only because of the girl in the bed who seemed to accept her immediately. Of course her sister had an ulterior motive. Jane wondered if she was being a fool.
It mattered not. One year and she could live on her own estate. If the annual stipend from Papa’s investments ran low, she’d find employment mingling with the people she felt more comfortable with—the working class. She knew how to budget and live frugally. They’d done it right after the war, when Baltimore had to recover from the British invasion. Lines had been breached earlier, but Fort McHenry had withstood its bombardment. Fortunately, their house in the countryside had not suffered any damage. Papa had hidden his past and had lived in his adopted country for so many years people never questioned his loyalty to the American cause.
Jane sensed all eyes were focused on her.
“Are you daydreaming again?” Lady Siltsbury’s rigid posture reminded Jane where she was. “Put your mind to your lessons. We can have no mistakes. While Jocelyn cannot be there, she will still be the talk of the town after tomorrow night. I’ve spared no expense, and most of my invitations were accepted long ago.”
“Mama,” whined Jocelyn. “Leave her be. She’s doing me a great service. We are in her debt.”
She sighed. “You’re right. I apologize, my dear.” Her comments were aimed at Jocelyn, not Jane. She wandered to the corner of the room and tugged at the bellpull. “It’s time to stop and give Jocelyn some peace. I’ll order refreshments for the rest of us in the family parlor. You’ll stay for dinner, Ralston? I have business to discuss with you. We’ll observe country hours for dinner.”
“I’m happy to remain. I, too, wish to speak to you and to Jane.” He turned, and his gaze seemed to penetrate Jane’s soul. She was in for a scold. It would be later, after his conversation with Lady Siltsbury.
Jane forced a smile. “I shall retire to my room, then make my way downstairs.”
“See that you do.” His eyes narrowed, and he strode to the door.
Jane plodded into the anteroom and on to her chamber. Mary awaited her there with a pitcher of hot water and clean toweling. “I brought this in case you need it, milady. You’ve had a grueling afternoon.”
“You know what’s going on?”
“I do.”
“What about the rest of the household?”
“I’m not sure. They know the ball is moving forward as planned, and the mistress of the house had a word with the housekeeper who took several of us aside. She said Lady Jocelyn had recovered and would be attending the ball. When the servants left the room, she told me not to say a word to anyone about what was really happening. I assured her I had been instructed by you to be silent about your presence in the household.”
“How many knew about Jocelyn’s spots?”
“Only the housekeeper and Miss Stafford’s personal maid. Everyone else was told she had a bad reaction to some food but was resting in order to recover.”
So Mama dearest had gambled on her second daughter’s compliance. She gritted her teeth, wanting to snarl. Such an obedient daughter she’d become. I
f Maddie could see her now, she would have a hearty laugh. Still, Jane felt sorry for the poor creature lying in her bed, wishing she were dead because of a possible missed opportunity. Was Lord Aubrey‘s love so shallow he would go on to someone else if Jocelyn wasn’t present at the ball? Why would her twin want to wed someone like that?
She wants to be a duchess.
Ah, yes. The other prize besides the man. His future prospects.
If she wed, Jane wanted someone who cherished her, who soothed her when life disappointed her, and protected her from her less charitable moments. A handsome face with an aristocratic nose and chiseled chin leaped to mind. A man with dimples in his cheeks.
She washed quickly, happy that she had such a thoughtful maid, and changed into a gown suitable for dinner. Nothing was wrong with the gown she had on, but she didn’t want to disappoint Mary who had pressed a gray silk with puffed sleeves that tapered toward her wrists. It was a gown for half mourning, according to Lady Amelia. In this house, Jane seemed to be the only one grieving for Papa.
Taking a final look in the looking glass, she tweaked an errant hair and readjusted a comb. “There. How do I look?”
Mary stood back, her hands on her hips. “Like Lady Jocelyn.”
She frowned. Tonight would be like the dress rehearsal of a theatrical performance. She’d sit with Lady Siltsbury and Lord Ralston in the dining room and pretend to be Jocelyn. Mary would bring a dinner tray, ostensibly to the grieving guest, but in reality for her twin.
After opening the door, she strode toward the stairs, then remembered to take shorter steps and to sway as she walked. She entered the parlor and—as she’d seen her sister do—slowly spread her skirts before sitting. Two pairs of eyes watched her. “Very nicely done,” said Lady Siltsbury. “Jocelyn usually kisses my cheek when she enters a room after not having seen me during the day. That won’t be necessary at the ball.”
“Thank goodness.”
“What did you say?” Ralston eyed her with suspicion.
“I said goodness, meaning there is so much to remember.”
“Indeed.” He stifled a cough and sipped something dark red. Madeira no doubt. Mama—she must remember to call her that—handed her something lighter.
“What is this?”
“Ratafia. You may not like it. Almack’s serves it.”
She sipped and sputtered. “Ugh. I believe I shall sit quietly until it is time to dine.”
She didn’t have to wait long. The butler announced dinner, and Lord Ralston offered his arm to Lady Siltsbury with Jane following. A footman seated her mother and drew out another chair for her. Ralston seated himself.
“We’re dining with service a la francaise tonight. All of the dishes will be set out on the table. I do prefer to be served, a la russe, but we’re not being formal tonight.”
Jane’s curiosity got the better of her. She waited until a footman left the room then leaned toward her mother, keeping her voice low. “I have not heard those terms used, and I am totally fascinated by words. The French spread everything out on the table at once, but the Russians are the ones who have courses brought in separately? Is that it? At home Maddie puts everything on the table, and Father and I serve ourselves. I guess you’d call passing the dishes around a la Americaine.”
Her mother glared.
Ralston cradled his wine glass, a ghost of a smile curving his lips. “Jane is fond of the origins of words. Don’t judge her harshly. She need not pretend to be her sister when we are alone.”
Lady Siltsbury nodded. “Tonight, footmen will bring out various dishes and put them on the table. You indicate what you’d like to try. Then you’ll be served.” She stopped. “Tonight you are Jocelyn, so do not indulge your curiosity any longer until we repair to the parlor after dinner and the doors are closed.”
“Yes, Mother.”
She seemed startled to hear the word on her second daughter’s lips. Recovering her composure, she blotted her lips and sat back as trays of food were brought in. Jane noted there were dishes of strawberries and wondered if those were the culprits that had given Jocelyn spots.
Best not to bring up anything of importance or substance tonight. When a servant stopped next to her, she pointed to the soup tureen on the table and began her meal.
Ralston and her mother made light conversation, discussing the weather and the sad state of affairs with famine and strikes. Lady Siltsbury actually contributed to the conversation and seemed knowledgeable about such matters. Jane was astounded until she remembered her mother’s parents had been in trade and made a fortune in shipping. She was now owner of the import export company, surreptitiously of course. Ladies did not engage in trade. It wasn’t done.
Mama dearest had her secrets, and Jane knew them.
She hugged the knowledge to herself, then sighed as a pang of remorse subdued any further thoughts in that direction. She was not vindictive, but sometimes she wished she were.
“I’ll leave you two to tea. I have a big day tomorrow, and our business has been concluded so I’m going to retire.”
Lady Siltsbury left, and Jane and Ralston followed her as far as the parlor where the tea tray already awaited. She was curious about what Ralston wanted to talk to her about.
Now she would find out.
Chapter 26
Jane entered the parlor. Ralston followed and closed the door behind him.
“Aren’t you supposed to leave it open for propriety’s sake?” she asked.
“I don’t want any part of this conversation overheard.” He sat opposite her while she poured tea. The ritual had been part of her training, and she’d learned well, including how he liked his prepared. Taking the cup from her, he sat back and crossed his legs. “Besides, I’m your guardian. I doubt anyone coming in would give it a second thought.”
Folding her hands in front of her, she raised her brows as if waiting for a question. He had one. He also had information vital to tomorrow’s ball.
“First, are you sure you want to go through with this? It’s not too late to back out.”
“I’ve given my word.”
“Why? I did not expect you to agree to this nonsense. It’s too dangerous, given your brief acquaintance with your twin.”
“I feel sorry for Jocelyn. She’s looked forward to this for months and now must hear strains of the music filtering up through the floor, not knowing what is taking place.” She took another sip of her tea, cradling the cup in her hand. “Besides, I’m bored. This gives me a chance to look over the crème de la crème of society and test my acting skills at the same time.”
“If you make a mistake, it could be disastrous.”
“For whom? Not me. Jocelyn? I suspect she could be forgiven if the story ever came out. She is ill. No one would believe her behind the scheme.”
“For your mother.”
She shrugged. “All of this was her idea. If my sister had not eaten something disagreeable, Mother would still have me hidden away in Painswick. If someone discovers the deception and she must deal with a scandal, so be it.”
He studied her face, set in a scowl. She didn’t like her mother much, but who could blame her? Lady Siltsbury seemed almost afraid to acknowledge her as her daughter, treating her like an actress hired to play a role. Elizabeth had said Katherine was a strong woman with a streak of arrogance. He expected her to at least treat her long-lost child with a modicum of warmth. So far she’d almost ignored the connection. Jane was right. If Katherine hadn’t needed her services, the girl would probably still be with his aunt.
He leaned forward. “There is an additional matter I need to discuss. It relates to Leisterbridge.”
“Ah yes, the longed-for proposal. Do you think it will materialize, or is my sister engaging in wishful thinking?”
He rose and sat next to her, takin
g her hand. She looked lovely tonight and smelled of some light floral scent that made him want to move closer and breathe in her essence. Instead he idly stroked her palm and lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “I’ve made inquiries about the marquis, and I am not liking what I hear.”
She narrowed her gaze and glanced away. “And what is that?”
“He’s a notorious womanizer who boasts of his conquests. He’s had at least two mistresses in the past year, and has not given even a hint to his cohorts that he is thinking of becoming leg-shackled.”
She gasped. “Jocelyn must be dreaming. I wondered how serious he was when she said it was important that he propose before he leaves for Scotland. If it’s true love, he could propose when he returns.” She widened her eyes. “Is he trifling with her?”
“I fear it could be so, but not having seen him with her, it is difficult to tell. I might be misjudging him. The other rumor I’ve heard is more serious. His father, the Duke of Gresham, is a stickler for pedigrees and might not want his son and heir to wed the granddaughter of a cit, despite the bloodlines of her father.”
“What a pompous macaroni.”
“A truly American response.”
Jane sat back and bit her lip. Ralston wanted to tell her she could still refuse to impersonate Jocelyn, but at this hour it was too late to call off the ball. Lady Siltsbury could greet guests, inform them of her daughter’s indisposition, and let the party proceed. Would she? He thought not.
She placed her hand in his once again. Her fingers were soft, but her grip firm. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. Be forewarned that he might not appear, or if he does, he may behave as merely another guest. It seems Jocelyn’s dreams may be just that. In any case, I shall keep a closer eye on him if he does come. I wanted you to know someone will be watching.”
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