Debutantes Don’t Date

by Kristina O’Grady

  “What other alternative?”

  “That Grace isn’t alive for me to marry. If he killed her, in his mind I would then be free to marry Lady Anne.”

  “Would you?”

  “Not damn well likely!” Jasper’s voice rose to a roar. How could Neal even think he would be able to replace Grace? A tightening formed in his chest at the thought.

  “Very well. So tell me this: why would Miss Lancaster run away and why would you let her?”

  A large sigh was forced from his chest. “Where do I start? She doesn’t want to be here. She keeps pushing me away, she’s afraid of getting too close to someone again. Did you know her whole family was killed at Christmastime a couple of years ago? She says she can’t deal with losing someone again. I could imagine her running away, never to be seen again. How on earth am I supposed to deal with that? How am I supposed to make her see we are perfect together?”

  “Whoa, Jasper, I am not the man to talk to about happiness and women. You need to talk to your sister. She may not know about happiness either, but at least she’s a woman. Leave me out of it.”

  Jasper sighed. “Sorry. You’re right of course.” He took a long pull of brandy and ran his hand through his hair, his hopelessness almost overwhelming him, before he continued. “Grace wouldn’t believe me about Lord Wester. I had no choice but to station one of your men at her door.”

  “Does she know he’s there?”

  “Surely you jest? She would have my head if she thought she was being kept under lock and key over this.”

  “You locked her in as well?”

  “Wouldn’t you do the same if it was Victoria?”

  “Right. Good point. Pass the brandy please.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Today is going to be a better day, Grace repeated to herself for the fiftieth time in the last hour. Whoever said positive affirmations work, was full of shit. Today sucked. She had awoken this morning with a headache to end all headaches and now she was being tortured by Victoria’s seamstress. She had been forced onto a small pedestal in the middle of her room, Victoria insisting that Grace have some more dresses made.

  “I don’t see why, Victoria, when I will be leaving soon.”

  Victoria dismissed her comment with a wave of her hand. “All the same, we’ll get them made anyway. Besides, we need to start on your wedding dress, don’t we, Mme Beauparlant?”

  Everything was going fine until Victoria mentioned to the seamstress that it was Jasper she was to marry in six weeks. Mme Beauparlant had her mouth full of pins and Grace was sure she made every effort possible to make sure at least one out of every two pins she used ended up stuck into Grace herself.

  There was a knock on the door and Grace gladly called out “Enter.”

  When Jasper walked into the room, she realised she should have asked who the person was on the other side of the door before granting admission. Two things happened at once: she saw his eyes go to her scantily clad body and then to the seamstress and back again. He visually paled and then his face became an interesting shade of purple. For a moment she thought he was having an aneurysm on the spot and took a step towards him. Unfortunately for her, she forgot she was on a platform and proceeded to fall flat on her face when the ground disappeared from under her feet. It all happened in slow motion but she couldn’t get her arms out from the fabric for her wedding dress that was draped over her shoulders.

  The room stayed in stunned silence for a millisecond. Grace enjoyed the first moment of peace she’d found all day. Then the room exploded into activity, her every sense heightened. Victoria’s ear-splitting screams threated to burst her head right open, the seamstress with the fake French accent bustled around her in mock concern. In reality, all the lady managed to do was stand on the back of her leg and stab her with more pins. Victoria’s maid made tutting noises and wrung her hands in dismay. But through all this noise and commotion there was Jasper. He had recovered from his shock of seeing her mostly unclothed and silently stepped forward and lifted her gently to her feet.

  His hands were warm as he tilted her face up towards his. “Heavens, Grace, look what you’ve done, you silly chook,” he murmured to her softly. He removed his handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket and gently but firmed held it to her bloody nose.

  Her body was recovering from the shock of meeting the floor so quickly and her nose throbbed with each heartbeat. Jasper’s crisp white handkerchief was soon soaked through.

  “Isabel,” Jasper said to the maid, “get me something to stop this with please. Victoria, you can stop screaming, one would think you had never seen blood before. And Mme Beauparlant, you are no longer needed for today. Thank you for your time, please go ahead with the dresses the ladies have already decided on and we will be in touch regarding any others that are needed.” He paused for a moment as everyone did his bidding. Grace marvelled at his presence over people; they all followed his directions without question. She supposed that was why he was a Lord.

  “Now, Grace, come and sit down. We need to get the bleeding stopped.” He led her to the window seat and made her sit down on the supple cushions. The view was quite nice here. She often spent time in this exact spot looking out to the gardens or reading a book.

  She watched as blood soaked through the handkerchief and dropped onto the silk underdrawers she was wearing. There was so much blood. Her world slowly faded in and out of focus. She tried to concentrate on Jasper’s voice as he talked soothingly to her but his voice sounded far away. She had fainted once before and she was afraid she was about to do so again. She closed her eyes and let the darkness come.

  She heard the voices before she could understand the words. Where was she? Had she fallen at work? Was she in the hospital? She listened closely but she couldn’t hear the familiar beeps of machines and the smell wasn’t quite right either, although she did smell blood. The metallic scent hung in the air. She tried sniffing but air wouldn’t travel up her nose.

  “I think she’s waking up,” one of the voices said.

  “Grace, can you hear me?” another voice said softly into her ear.

  Her eyes opened and took in her surroundings. Not a hospital. There was no accident at work. In fact, there was no work, just the 19th century and strangely dressed, concerned people. People that somehow had come to mean more to her than anyone in the whole world, in this time, and or hers. She closed her eyes again and drifted back to sleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Later in the afternoon Grace sought Jasper out. There was something niggling in her mind that she needed to ask him about. She found him in the library with a newspaper and a cup of tea.

  “Jasper?” Now she’d found him, she felt incredibly nervous. Surely she was being ridiculous.

  He looked up from his paper at her voice and rose to greet her. “You shouldn’t be out of bed, should you?”

  “It was only a nasty fall, Jasper, I’m not ill.”

  “But you did faint.” He met her at the door and she placed her hand on his arm. The muscles bunched under her touch and she marvelled at their strength.

  “It was only all the blood which made me woozy. I’m fine now, I promise.”

  He settled her in the chair closest to the fire before pouring her a cup of tea.

  “Thank you, I’ll have to hurt myself more often, if this is the way I get treated. Victoria sent up a box of sweets from her favourite shop earlier, a girl could get used to this.” She leaned back with a contented sigh.

  She took a sip of hot tea to gather her courage. “Jasper?”

  “Yes, Grace?”

  Was it her, or was he bracing himself about something? He looked very tense.

  “When you came into my room earlier today, was it me or did you seem surprised at seeing the seamstress there?”

  Jasper cleared his throat and shifted slightly in his seat. “I was hoping to find you alone, if you know what I mean?”

  “That’s not what I meant. And you really shouldn’t try
to sneak into a lady’s chamber uninvited,” she chastised with a smile. “No, what I mean is, when you walked in, you looked with shock towards Mme Beauparlant. Is there something I should know? Can you tell me why she spent a better part of the hour stabbing me with pins? On purpose, I might add. I’ve still got pin pricks all over my back from that mad woman!”

  “This is not a conversation I should be having with my bride-to-be.”

  “What do you mean by that? Jasper, I would really like to know.”

  Jasper got out of his chair and walked over to shut the door of the library before he spoke another word. “Mme Beauparlant, or Mrs Par which is her real name; she’s not even French…she and I had a very short um…arrangement late last year and I’m afraid she may have taken her frustration at not snaring my title, out on you.”

  “And by late last year, you mean…?”

  “Just before Christmas.” Jasper ran a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, Grace.”

  “To me? Whatever for? You were with her before you ever met me, it’s not as though I had a claim on you. No wonder she’s still mad; just before Christmas? Poor woman.” A thought popped into her head, “Does your sister know?”

  “Good Lord, no. If she knew, Mme Beauparlant would be out of a job. Victoria would never hire a seamstress who involved herself with high society men, especially one involved with her brother. No, we made sure we were very discreet. Victoria would have ruined Beauparlant by telling all her friends. They wouldn’t have used her any more either. Victoria holds a lot of stock with the ton.”

  “So she took her revenge out on me then?” Grace hid a smile behind her tea cup; this was just too funny.

  “I’m afraid so.” Jasper was still agitated, he kept tugging on his hair and rubbing his face.

  Grace couldn’t contain herself any longer and laughter burst through her lips. In moments she was laughing so hard tears were running down her checks.

  “I really don’t see why this is so funny.” Jasper looked at her from his chair.

  “It’s OK, Jasper,” she gasped between gales of laughter, “it’s a woman thing…pins! Ha!” Grace struggled to bring herself under control. The image of Mme Beauparlant stabbing her in the backside with her pins sent her into another fit of laughter. Oh, the poor lady.

  After a few minutes she’d calmed down enough to say, “I wonder what kind of dresses I’ll end up with? Do you think she will take her revenge on those as well?”

  “She wouldn’t dare. Like I said, if Victoria found out…But you may want to check for stray pins before you put them on.” Jasper’s eyes crinkled as he was finally able to see the humour in the situation.

  The days that followed their library visit were really pleasant. Jasper met her every day in the library after lunch for tea to talk. It was something she began to look forward to and she found herself humming to herself for no reason throughout the day.

  Jasper waited in the library for Grace to appear with the tea trolley like she had done for the last week. It still amused him to see her pushing it in front of her as she entered the room, but she saw no reason why she couldn’t bring the tea from the kitchen herself. He wondered what array of biscuits, slices and cakes she would have today. His mouth watered at the very prospect of procuring some of Victoria’s cook’s famous jam tarts. He hoped she’d made raspberry. They were his favourite.

  He could hear her coming down the hall and he sat up straighter in his chair and quickly picked up the book next to him. No need to look too eager.

  “Lord Bingham, what is the meaning of this?”

  He looked up from his book in surprise. It wasn’t Grace at all, and instead of jam tarts she was waving a piece of paper in front of her.

  “Lady Anne, what seems to be the matter?” Jasper rose from his seat and moved towards her in concern.

  “Would you care to tell me where this money has come from?”

  “What money, Anne?” Damn, Grace had just arrived with the tea and the jam tarts. Her timing couldn’t have been worse. He couldn’t see how this was going to end well.

  “Sorry, Grace,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and drawing her into the hallway, “this is a conversation I need to have with Lady Anne alone.” He let her go and then gently shut the door in her face. If it wasn’t for the mess he just found himself in, he would have found her mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out hilarious, but as it was, all he could manage was a pained grimace as he turned back to Lady Anne.

  “I can explain.”

  “I should hope so.” Lady Anne uncrossed her arms and walked towards him, still brandishing her paper. “Why did you transfer money into my account, Jasper?”

  The shock of hearing his Christian name on her lips prevented him from responding. In all the time he’d known her, she always addressed him as Lord Bingham.

  “Well? What do you have to say for yourself? Why have you transferred money into my account?”

  Jasper cleared his throat. “Consider it compensation for not proposing to you.”

  “For not proposing? Are you mad? If you paid me for that I should be the richest woman in England! Imagine the amount of money I could collect from all the other men also haven’t proposed to me over the last three seasons!”

  “Yes, but it is because of me no one else did propose to you over the last three seasons. Everyone thought we would wed, myself included. You know as well as I do, that is the reason that has kept you unavailable for the last three seasons, everyone thought you were as good as betrothed.

  “If someone actually wanted to marry me they would have asked despite the fact I was spoken for. And it still doesn’t explain the money. Why have you given me money?” A look of horror crossed her pretty face. “You don’t…don’t want me to…?”

  “I don’t want you to do what?” he asked carefully.

  “I am not that kind of woman!” Lady Anne had been pacing the floor, but she stopped now, scrunched up the paper in her hand and threw it at him.

  She was nowhere near hitting him, but he ducked anyway. “Could you tell me what on earth you are talking about?”

  “I am a lady!”

  “I never said otherwise, Lady Anne.” He took a cautious step towards her.

  She turned and fled across the room to the door and wrenched it open. “I will never be your mistress!”

  Before Jasper could respond, she stormed out, her head held high, graceful as a queen, albeit a very angry queen, but a queen none the less.

  “Jasper?” Grace’s voice reached though his shock and he looked to see her standing at the open door, still holding onto the tea trolley.

  “Grace, I can explain.”

  A lone tear rolled down her cheek before she ducked her head to hide it. She cleared her throat. “No need, Jasper, we only have a fake engagement anyway, it’s not my concern where you take your pleasure. I will go and get some fresh tea for us, shall I? I’ll just take this back down to the kitchen.”

  The tea cups rattled violently on the tray as she pushed the trolley down the hall. She refused to look over her shoulder at Jasper’s stricken face. Once she made it around the corner from the library she was grateful to sink down on the bench seat placed against the wall outside the sitting room. The cups on the tray were still rattling on the trolley even though she had stopped walking. She looked at the tray and was surprised to see it shaking. She released the handle and clasped her hands in her lap. She was in danger of smashing all the cups on the tray.

  She wasn’t just mad, she was livid.

  Anne may not have wanted Jasper, but he still wanted her. How was she supposed to compete with that? After all she had given him? It made her blood boil to think of their time in the secret passage and of the intensity of her need for him. He made her forget things she was better off remembering. Like how in 1814 women were worth nothing and that in 2014 she had a career waiting for her to return to. She was somebody and she was going places. It had been a long time since she had let anyone clo
se to her. See where it had gotten her. It served her right. She should’ve known better.

  She kicked the trolley and the cups rattled again.

  What she told Jasper was right; theirs was only a fake engagement. The thought of Jasper touching another woman, let alone her friend, like he had touched her made her see red. Anger she understood, but the pain she felt in her chest was unexpected. Why did she feel this way? Why was she so…so…jealous? She always knew this was a short-term thing. She was going home, wasn’t she? She realised with a start that since her fall and their daily meetings in the library, she’d stopped looking for ways to get home. She stood back up and walked a couple of paces towards the kitchen and then stopped; she’d forgotten the trolley.

  Jasper came around the corner before she reached the tea trolley and she stopped. He looked as horrible as she felt. Served him right.

  “I put money in Lady Anne’s account so she would be able to attract a decent husband, not because I want her to be my mistress.” The words burst from his lips as soon as he saw her. “I tried telling you the night of Lord and Lady Blade’s dinner, but Neal kept us separated.”

  “You have had plenty of opportunity since then to slide it into the conversation.”

  “I know. And now I wish I had. Please believe me, I have no interest in Lady Anne at all. If I did, I would have married her years ago, as it was expected.”

  Grace looked into his face and saw truth there. “You’d better go and explain it to Anne then.”

  Grace watched as he headed out the door in order to find Anne. She retired to her room after that; she had lots to think about. What were her real feelings for Jasper and was she really prepared to stay in this time with him, if she could? Or if she did find her way back, would she grab that chance to return to 2014 with both hands and hold on tight?

  She sat on the window seat and looked through her bag again for clues. It was time to go home.