by S. G. Rogers
He’d parted from Miss Roring after midnight last night, so she had to get her information sometime prior to his arrival at five o’clock today. If only he knew what schedule she’d kept before then, perhaps he could discover who had been feeding Miss Roring lies. Neither Mrs. Marsh nor Miss Roring were likely to tell him, but a member of the household staff might be persuaded if the price was high enough. Logan wracked his brain as he tried to remember the name of the maid Miss Roring had mentioned during dinner. Was it Elspeth, or perhaps Eliza? No—it was Alice! If he could speak with her privately, Alice would be able to tell him what he needed to know.
His timepiece indicated it was after eight. Mrs. Marsh and Miss Roring would have left the townhouse for the evening if they’d made plans. Surely since her aunt was so keen to marry her off, she would make certain her niece was out tonight somewhere conspicuous. Intent on his investigation, Logan abandoned the remainder of his gin, departed Boodle’s, and made his way to Eaton Square.
As Jillian rode in the carriage with Aunt Letty, she tried unsuccessfully to tug up the neckline of her gown.
“Leave it alone, girl!” Aunt Letty exclaimed.
“I feel so naked. Everybody will be staring at my décolleté.”
“That’s the whole point. Would you come all this way just to hide under a table?”
“If I didn’t know better, Aunt, I might suspect you were quite wild in your youth.”
“How do you suppose I landed Mr. Marsh? Your mother got the lion’s share of the looks in our family, so I had only my décolleté and determination to work with.”
The effects of the champagne made Jillian giggle. Her mirth was infectious and finally Aunt Letty laughed too.
“I’m glad you’ve cheered up.”
“I’m not cheerful in the least,” Jillian said. “It’s just that my head is spinning.”
“Good enough. Make sure to drink water or plain punch from now on. Silliness is fine, but public intoxication in a young lady is unattractive in the extreme.”
Mrs. Marsh’s housekeeper gave Logan a cool stare. “The ladies of the house are not at home, sir.”
“That’s all right. I’m actually here to speak with Alice, if I may.”
“It’s late, and the help are not allowed gentlemen callers.”
The door started to close, but Logan stuck his foot in the opening.
“I just want to see her a moment, right here on the doorstep if necessary.” He produced a ten-pound note and pressed it into the servant’s hand. “That’s for your trouble.”
The housekeeper gaped at the money, which represented the lion’s share of her annual salary. The woman slid it into her apron pocket.
“Wait here, sir.”
The door shut and Logan paced. At length, the door opened a crack and a wide-eyed Alice peeked out.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Her voice was timid. Logan reassured her by producing another ten-pound note. The girl nearly choked when she saw the money.
“Take that to the East End if you’re looking for easy company, sir!” she exclaimed.
“No, Alice. All I want is information.” He laid a five-pound note on top of the ten. “Can you tell me what Miss Roring’s schedule was today?”
A light of recognition shone in her eyes. “I know you…you’re that Mr. Logan. You’ve treated the young mistress ill, if you’ll pardon my saying so!”
“It’s all been a horrible misunderstanding, Alice, and I’m trying to get to the bottom of it. What of her schedule?”
Alice chewed her lip.
“Well the morning started out well enough. Mrs. Marsh and Miss Roring went to a ladies’ breakfast. When they came back, Miss Roring was in a great deal of distress…and blackened your name something terrible.”
“Can you tell me whose breakfast she attended?”
“Erm, that would be Lady Wimpel, I believe. Mrs. Marsh says she knows everybody who’s anybody.”
“Yes, I am well acquainted with Lady Wimpel.”
Logan fell silent as he absorbed Alice’s response. Sophia would most certainly have been in attendance at any function of Lady Wimpel’s. That would explain how Jillian knew about his engagement, but it didn’t account for the rest. Perhaps manipulative Sophia had extracted the information out of one of his gormless friends and twisted it to suit her purposes.
“It all fits,” he murmured.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Logan?” Alice asked.
“Where is Miss Roring right now?”
“She is at a ball this evening, given by the Duke and Duchess of Rochester.”
Logan winced. “Is that tonight? With everything going on, I’d forgotten about it. Thank you, Alice. You’ve been very helpful.”
He darted down the stairs.
“I hope it works out for you, sir,” Alice called out before shutting the door.
The Rochester mansion reminded Jillian of a magnificent palace, with its high ceilings, sweeping staircases, oversized oil paintings, and crystal chandeliers. Music, furnished by a full orchestra, spilled out from the ballroom. Glittering, beautifully dressed people were gathering inside the ballroom. Others were across the hall, chatting in an almost equally large room set up with banquet tables and all manner of food. Jillian giggled when she saw the decorative ice sculptures, since they were almost certainly carved from ice imported by her father.
Aunt Letty had introduced her to the Duke and Duchess of Rochester in the receiving line, as well as their eldest son, Lord Archibald. The young man shocked Jillian when he took her gloved hand, bowed slightly, and brought her fingers to his lips. His burnished gold hair gave him an almost angelic glow, but the fire in his blue eyes conjured a more wicked nature. Instead of pulling her hand away at the familiarity, Jillian found herself smiling in response. Not Gypsy eyes, but magnetic all the same. Since there were many more people waiting in the receiving line, there was no opportunity for further conversation, but she hoped Lord Archibald might seek her out for a dance or two at some point during the evening.
As Jillian moved on, she caught sight of her reflection in a tall mirror. Alice and Aunt Letty had worked very hard to make her stunning. Her off the shoulder gown was the palest shell pink, with a tight, shaped bodice. Layers of pink and white netting cascaded to the floor. Dainty crystals sewn to the fabric glinted in the light as she turned, giving the gown a shimmering appearance. Her curled hair was caught up into jeweled combs and arranged into an artful display in the back. Her darkened lashes set off her eyes, and a very light dusting of powder and judicious application of rouge had eased the ravages from her emotional outburst. A simple choker necklace fashioned of fuchsia ribbon was fastened around her throat, and an impressive diamond bracelet gleamed at her wrist.
“I confess I feel quite splendid, Aunt,” she said. “Thank you for loaning me your jewelry.”
“You’re quite welcome. It suits you perfectly.”
A gentleman passing by bore a resemblance to Logan, and Jillian felt a sudden pang of longing.
“Aunt Letty, might I have just a little more champagne?”
“Absolutely not. You’ve had too much as it is.”
Sophia’s voice rang out just then. “Jillian!” She hastened over, a vision in a gown of claret. “Good evening, Mrs. Marsh.”
Aunt Letty inclined her head. “Miss Watkins. If you’ll excuse me, young ladies, I see a friend of mine has just arrived.”
As Aunt Letty headed off, Sophia extended her gloved hand to squeeze Jillian’s.
“I wasn’t sure if I would see you tonight, but here you are. Your gown is astonishing! Is it a Charles Worth original?”
“I believe so.”
“Mine, too.” She scanned the crowd, warily. “I must ask you to keep an eye out for Vicar Lewis. He takes every opportunity to monopolize me.”
“Poor Vicar Lewis. I suppose he cannot take a hint.”
“Or will not! I heard a rumor that Lord Archibald kissed your hand, is it true?”
“Why, yes.”
Sophia frowned, almost imperceptibly. “I suppose when you’re royalty, you can get away with things like that.”
“Are you acquainted with Lord Archibald?” Jillian asked.
“To some respects. Tell me, has anyone signed your dance card yet?”
“No, I just arrived.” Jillian consulted the little fan-shaped booklet dangling from her wrist. “Oh, good, there are plenty of waltzes. I do so love to waltz.”
Lord Archibald appeared at her elbow.
“I couldn’t help but overhear. I shall instruct the orchestra to play waltzes all night long if you’ll dance each and every one of them with me, Miss Roring,” he said.
A peculiar expression descended over Sophia’s face. “Please excuse me. I must go sample the punch.” She threaded her way through the crowd toward the refreshment tables.
Lord Archibald smiled at Jillian and withdrew a pencil from his pocket. “May I?”
She offered him her dance card, and he made several scribbles. A quick glance at the card revealed he had claimed her for the Promenade, two waltzes, a polka, and several quadrilles.
“Forgive me, but it will raise eyebrows if we dance more than three dances together,” she said, laughing.
“Blast. It is my party, after all,” he said. “But if you insist, I will hold you only to the waltzes and the Promenade.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
A trio of young ladies standing next to the punch bowl cast curious glances at Lord Archibald and Jillian. As Sophia poured herself a cup of the icy sweet liquid, she overheard their whispers.
“Lord Archibald seems quite taken with that girl. Do either of you know who she is?”
“I heard someone say she’s Mrs. Marsh’s niece.”
“We are not acquainted, but I noticed her at Lady Wimpel’s breakfast this morning. She is striking, to say the least, and I adore her gown.”
Sophia joined the group.
“Hello, Miss Taylor, Miss Dooney, and Miss Byron.” She curtsied. “I heard you mention the lady speaking with Lord Archibald right now.”
“Do you know her, Miss Watkins?”
“Very little. Miss Roring is pretty, I grant you. Unfortunately, her father is a common merchant.”
The three girls drew back in horror.
“No! Really?”
“I’m afraid so. He’s a foreigner who trades in ice and I’m not even certain he speaks English,” Sophia said.
“How vulgar!”
“Gentlemen who know Miss Roring call her the Ice Princess in secret…but please don’t repeat that to anyone.”
“Your confidence is safe with us.”
“In my opinion, Lord Archibald is wasting his time with her,” Sophia said. “The Duke and Duchess would never consent to such a lowly match.” She drained her cup and set it down on a nearby tray. “Enjoy the party, ladies.”
Sophia strolled off, secure in the knowledge that the girls with whom she spoke were three of the biggest gossips in London.
Chapter Ten
Headwinds
LORD ARCHIBALD ESCORTED JILLIAN into the ballroom, where the dancing was about to commence. She marveled at the domed fresco-painted ceiling, the sparkling chandeliers, the polished wooden floor, and the arched windows lining one side of the room. Tall, lit candelabras accented the arched alcoves on the other side of the ballroom, in which chairs had been arranged. The colorful gowns and jewelry worn by matrons and young ladies alike dazzled the eye.
“You are glowing from within, Miss Roring,” Lord Archibald said. “Dare I hope your happiness is due to my presence?”
“I would not have you think otherwise, sir, but I believe no small part of my delight stems from the fact that this is my first ball in London.”
“Hurrah for firsts, then.”
Jillian studied her escort’s profile a moment. Lord Archibald is perhaps not so magnetically attractive to me as a certain country gentleman, but he is attentive, handsome, and charming. Is it possible I’ve grown tired of Mr. Logan’s brooding good looks?
As the couples lined up, Jillian noticed Sophia was paired with Duke Rochester. Jillian smiled, but Sophia failed to acknowledge her. Although Jillian was taken back at the slight, she tried to shrug it off. Sophia was rather cool when Lord Archibald came to speak with me. Could her pique have anything to do with him?
The music commenced, and Jillian forgot everything else but the Grand Promenade. The dance, designed specifically for ladies to display their charms, was not especially intricate. Many admiring glances were cast Jillian’s way, and she silently thanked Aunt Letty for her selection of gown. Halfway through the promenade, she spotted a gentleman resembling Logan amongst the onlookers. Her heart nearly stopped until she gave herself a shake. Silly girl. You mustn’t drop into a dead faint every time you see a head of dark wavy hair! As the dance brought her closer, her stomach seemed to lift into her throat. Logan had indeed arrived at the ball, his eyes piercing through whatever defenses she’d marshaled against him. Her heart beat faster, and she tore her gaze away. How am I to get through the entire evening with him here?
When the opening dance ended, Jillian sank into a curtsy. Lord Archibald bowed and extended his arm.
“If you insist, I shall relinquish you to your aunt for now,” he said. “Do you know where she is sitting?”
“I believe she sits in the alcove nearest to the door.”
Lord Archibald led Jillian through the crowd. As they approached Aunt Letty, Jillian froze. Logan had positioned himself in the chair next to Aunt Letty, and they were deep in conversation.
“Is there something wrong?” Lord Archibald asked.
Jillian desperately scanned the faces nearby, looking for an acquaintance. Relief flowed through her when she saw a forlorn Miss Kelsey standing alone.
“No, it’s just that must speak to a friend of mine. If you’ll excuse me, Lord Archibald.”
“Do call me Archie.” He kissed her hand again. “Thank you for the dance.”
Jillian made a beeline for Miss Kelsey and linked her arm through hers.
“Miss Kelsey, you look lovely. Would you be so kind as to accompany me to the ladies’ sitting room? I need a moment to freshen up.”
Before she could leave the ballroom, three gentlemen of Jillian’s acquaintance stopped her to reserve a dance. Because she was with Miss Kelsey, the gentlemen felt obliged to reserve a dance with her as well. Although she was aware the requests were out of courtesy, with each fresh name written on her dance card, Miss Kelsey’s eyes grew brighter. As they left the ballroom, she squeezed Jillian’s hand.
“I do believe I wouldn’t be dancing at all this evening if not for you, Miss Roring,” she murmured. “I’m very grateful.”
Jillian giggled. “I’m not certain you realize how pretty you are. After you are seen on the dance floor, I expect you will not sit down the rest of the night.”
A large music room had been pressed into service as a ladies’ sitting room for the duration of the ball. The walls were already paneled with mirrors, and dressing screens were arranged to afford some measure of privacy. Jillian found an unoccupied area and pretended to preen while she collected herself. Miss Kelsey perched on a nearby settee. Gossip flowed as young ladies chatted a louder than decorum would dictate.
“Lord Archibald is absolutely fawning over that girl. I heard her father is in trade.”
Jillian blanched.
“To me she looks like a porcelain doll.”
“They call her Ice Princess behind her back, I’m told.”
At that, laughter ensued.
“That’s too cruel, but it fits!”
The voices faded as the girls returned to the ballroom. A comforting arm suddenly slid around Jillian’s waist.
“Let’s sit for a while, Miss Roring,” Miss Kelsey murmured in a soothing tone. “Neither of us is engaged for the second dance.”
“Yes, I…”
Shaking from he
ad to toe, Jillian allowed Miss Kelsey to lead her to the settee.
“Would you like me to fetch Mrs. Marsh?”
The vision of Logan in a tête-à-tête with Aunt Letty flashed into Jillian’s mind. “No, I don’t want to burden her. She warned me that society gossips could be uncharitable.”
“Don’t listen to those jealous harpies. You’re beautiful, talented, sweet, and kind.”
“Thank you.” Jillian smiled. “May I call you by your Christian name?”
“It’s Katherine. Katie, if you like.”
“My name is Jillian.”
“Ooh, even your name is pretty.”
Jillian’s smile broadened. “If you hadn’t been here, Katie, I might have burst into tears just now.”
“I’ll wait with you as long as you like.”
A glance in the mirror revealed a stain of color on Jillian’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the rouge she wore. Although she would have liked nothing better than to flee, she rose and squared her shoulders.
“No, let’s go back. I’m not a sea captain’s daughter for nothing, you know. I shall stiffen my resolve and sail in the headwinds bravely.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Let’s hope I do not capsize.
The second dance, a quadrille, was underway by the time Jillian and Katie returned to the ballroom. Aunt Letty had left her seat and was dancing with Mr. Loach. Why she dances beautifully, Jillian thought. Logan was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Aunt Letty had given him a verbal trouncing and he’d had the good manners to depart. A vague sense of disappointment ensued, surprising Jillian with its poignancy. How can I feel his absence so keenly after he exposed me to ridicule?