She nodded as they stepped through the doors into the mess hall. Once again all eyes turned to the door and conversation dwindled into silence. Alex swallowed and pasted a smile on her lips as they strolled to an empty table in the corner. It seemed no matter how she dressed she was bound to silence a room.
Lord Grendal waited until she was seated before taking a chair across from her. “It seems kind of a simple place to dine when you look so lovely.”
She glanced down at the table to hide the flush that heated her cheeks at his compliment. She looked up when the serving boy placed a tray of food and a cup of chicory coffee in front of her.
They ate in silence for a while until Lord Grendal knocked a spoon from the table with his elbow. He cleared his throat and leaned down to pick it up. It seemed to take an unusually long for him to pick up the utensil Alex noted with curiosity. Finally he straightened up, a large grin upon his lips. He set the spoon on the table with a twinkle in his eye.
Intrigued she titled her head. “What is so amusing?”
“Your choice of foot attire,” he replied with a chuckle.
She bit her lip to smother her own giggle as her face burned. “I forgot about slippers. I didn’t think anyone would notice my boots.”
His grin grew bigger. “I find it charming and refreshing not to have to worry about having to lay my coat down over a puddle to protect your delicate slippers.”
With a shrug she returned to her meal. They were just finishing when a young private stepped up to their table.
The young man cleared his throat and offered a small bow. “Miss Evans? I’m Private Benjamin White.” He straightened and cast a quick glance at Lord Grendal. “I was wondering if you might permit me to escort you to the annual Firefly Ball tomorrow night.”
For a moment Alex was taken off guard. She looked at Lord Grendal. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his eyes sparkling with displeasure. Was he annoyed because they had been interrupted or that the young soldier was asking her to the ball? Did he think to keep her a virtual prisoner in her tent only allowing her out to accompany him places? She was not going to stand for such nonsense. With a brilliant smile she turned to the young man. “I would love to accompany you, Mr. White.”
The private’s face lit up. “Please, call me Benny, everyone else does.”
Alex peeked out of the corner of her eye at Lord Grendal. Anger lined his face. Hah, take that. “Well, Benny, I shall see you tomorrow night then.”
Private Benny gave another short bow and headed back to his table. Her hopes were dashed when he sat down amid whispers and veiled comments that drew guffaws from the rest of his mates. Had he asked her just to make fun of her? Was she naught but the butt of their crude jokes? Immediately she regretted her rash decision to attend the ball. The old Alex would have made light of the young man’s question and never entertained such a ridiculous idea. What was wrong with her? One boring, self-important man paid a little attention to her and she flattered herself by thinking she was suddenly anything but plain, coarse, Alex Evans? Without waiting to see the pity she imagined was in Lord Grendal’s eyes, she stood abruptly. “I had better get back to work,” she mumbled with a false smile and hurried back to her tent. She almost reached her seclusion when he caught up with her.
He stayed her flight with a hand on hers. “Alexandra? Wait.”
“I have work to do.” She kept her back to him so he wouldn’t see the tears of self-pity and weakness in her eyes.
“I am sorry; I should have seen that coming.”
“There is nothing to be sorry for. It happens all the time.”
Gently he turned her to face him. His voice was soft. “Somehow I doubt that.”
She shrugged as she stared at his well-polished brown boots. “Believe what you will. Lord knows everyone else does.”
“Everyone else believes only what you show them. I know different.”
“Do you? I doubt that. You don’t know me.”
He sighed, the sound not exasperated, but sad. “I can read you easily, Alexandra. You desperately want to be a fine lady, but you have been what you are for so long that you have no idea where to begin.”
She swiped angrily at the tear that escaped and trickled down her cheek. Damn him for being so nice and seeing what she had wanted no man ever to see, her vulnerability and desires. “It’s Alex. I hate Alexandra. I have never fit the name. Now if you’ll excuse me, as I said, I have work to do.”
“Will you do me the honor of going to the ball with me tomorrow night?”
She froze and raised her gaze to his face. His expression was serious, and as far as she could tell, sincere. “I don’t know...I don’t have a ball dress. This is the only one I purchased, which I am already regretting.”
“Please?” He gave her a gentle smile.
“I...” She didn’t know what to say. Oh how she wanted to be spun around the dance floor in the arms of a man, just once. It would be so much better, more real than dancing with her father on a cold winter’s evening for want of something else to pass the time.
“You would be doing me a great favor.”
She tilted her head not understanding his meaning. “How so?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “It seems many of the Washington ladies have found out I am heir to an old title and great deal of wealth. I find myself subjected to hours of dancing, calf eyes and listening to endless streams of unintelligent prattle.”
Despite her best intentions she giggled. “Well I suppose I could grant you this one favor since you were so kind as to help me today.”
“Wonderful, until tomorrow evening then, Alex.” He gave a small bow.
“Goodnight, Weston.” She watched as he strolled away in the direction of the stables. A shiver of excitement rolled through her. She, Alex Evans, was going to her first ball.
Chapter Seven
The next afternoon, Alex was once again lying underneath her steam boiler trying to adapt the sprocket system to move a set of legs rather than wheels, when she heard the rustle of the tent flap. A pair of shiny black boots crossed the floor and stopped beside her. “Weston, could you hand me that wrench there?”
“Weston is not here, Miss Evans. He has taken the day off.”
She slid out from under the machine and looked up. General Madden frowned down at her. “General, I was not aware that you were coming to see my progress today.” She scrambled to her feet and pushed a lock of curly hair behind her ear.
“As I intended.” He walked around the large machine. “Very impressive. How soon can you have it operational?”
“A month, maybe, two for sure,” Alex said with dread. Why did she always feel so uneasy around the general?
He frowned. “Make it a month.”
“Well, it is a difficult task, General, sir. I have had to make a number of adjustments to my father’s plans.”
“Are you saying his design won’t work?” He fixed her with a stern stare that unnerved her.
“No, I just have to make some adjustments to make it suitable for the terrain that you expect to encounter. My father designed it to run on flat wagon roads, not in sand and rough, rocky brush.”
He looked her over and for a brief second she thought she saw a wild craziness in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came when he blinked.
“I will assign a man or two to help you.”
“That is not necessary, General. Lord Grendal is already helping, and the amount of service he can give me is all that any of your men could provide unless they too are inventors.”
The general grunted. “Very well. I expect you to pick up the pace then. I want this machine ready to go in a month’s time and no later.” He marched from the tent.
Alex let out a sigh of relief. It was hard enough to modify her father’s machine without the man pressuring her. She got down and slid back underneath the machine.
* * * *
An hour later the flap rustled again. “General, I am working as fas
t and as hard as I can.”
“Then take a break.”
Alex peered out from under the machine. “Weston, I thought you were the general again.”
He grinned down at her. “I have come to slip you away for the evening.”
“I’m afraid the general will not approve.” She sighed, and rolled out from underneath.
“That is why we are not going to tell him.” His grin grew even broader as he held up a seamstresses sewing bust.
“Just what are you planning to do with that?”
“This lovely mademoiselle is going to be you for the evening.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Me? What do you mean?”
He strolled to her newly curtained off sleeping area and pulled back the dressing screen partition. With a flick of his wrist he flipped the covers down on the bed and placed the bust on the straw-filled tick. He plumped up the pillow, pulled an auburn woman’s hair piece from his pocket and arranged it on top. After giving her a mischievous grin, he pulled the covers back in place and arranged them so it appeared as if someone was sleeping on their side facing the tent wall. “There. I shall tell Private Nim outside that you are ill and have taken to your bed for the evening. If anyone comes to check they will assume you are sleeping there.”
Alex smiled. “And to think I first thought that you were dull and unintelligent.”
He cocked his head and arched a brow. “Did you really? For that maybe I will let Private Benny escort you then.” The teasing smile on his lips left little doubt he would actually have considered such an idea.
“Just how do you intend to smuggle me out of the tent?”
With comedic flare he produced a large sack from his pocket. “In a laundry bag.”
Alex dissolved into a fit of laughter. “Do you...actually mean...to throw me over...your shoulder...like a sack of...dirty laundry?”
“Why not?” He grinned, two dimples on either side of his cheeks giving him the look of a naughty cherub. “Your carriage awaits, Miss Evans.” He held out the sack.
She looked down at her dirty breeches and shirt. “I can’t very well go like this.”
“Not to fear. I have everything from a bath to a ladies’ maid already arranged and waiting at my home.”
Though the admission surprised her she realized that it shouldn’t have, for this was Weston, always in control and prepared. “What if the general were to find out I attended the ball without his permission? Won’t you be risking your job?”
“Ah, but that is the beauty of the Firefly Ball.” He winked. “It is a masquerade event.”
Alex hesitated but a moment more before smiling and climbing into the sack. A fleeting moment of panic nearly made her call the whole thing off when he tied the top of it leaving her in stuffy darkness. Willing herself to stay still and calm she made her body limp as he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder.
“My, what a load of laundry you are. It is a good thing I plan on removing your soiled articles very infrequently,” he teased, marching to the tent flap.
Alex gasped. “Are you calling me rotund, Weston?”
He chuckled. “No, not at all. I am saying that your hip is grinding into my shoulder in a very uncomfortable fashion. Now be quiet.”
A couple more steps and the tent flap rustled.
“Good evening, Lord Grendal. Can I help you with your bundle?”
“No thank you, Nim. I am just taking Miss Evans’s laundry out to be cleaned. She is feeling a little indisposed tonight.”
“Should I summon the physician, my lord?”
“No, no. It is one of those female complaints, if you know what I mean.”
Alex smothered her outraged gasp. Of all the gall! Just what did Weston know of womanly afflictions anyway?
“Aye, I know what you mean, my lord.”
“Yes, yes, I am sure you must what with all of your sisters at home. It must be rough to live with that many of the annoying creatures.”
Alex pinched his shoulder in outrage.
“Ow! I mean, how brave you will be in battle son, with that kind of experience to toughen you up. Well, good evening, Nim. See that Miss Evans is not disturbed tonight and I shall come and check on her in the morning to save you the trouble.”
“Good evening, my lord.”
Lord Grendal began walking again. When Alex was sure they were far enough from Nim so as not to be heard she whispered harshly, “Scoundrel, just what would you know of womanly complaints?”
“My mother used that as an excuse to deny my father her bed after I was born until he finally got himself a mistress.” Lord Grendal chuckled. “Now hush or people will think I am daft walking along talking to a sack of laundry.”
“You are daft.” She giggled.
“Um, most likely.” He walked along in silence for a bit before he stopped and pulled her from his shoulder. There was a small click before he lifted her and set her down on a hard surface. “A few minutes more and I will have you out of there.”
Springs creaked and then a door slammed. As she was jostled by the conveyance’s movement Weston untied the strings and peeled the sack from her head. She looked around the dim interior of the carriage and scrambled to sit on the bench opposite him. The soft velvet cushions were plush and expensive looking, as were the matching navy blue curtains that kept the occupants shielded against prying eyes.
“Is this your carriage?”
He nodded. “My mother insisted that all appearances must be kept up you see.” He shook his head. “All nonsense if you ask me, for I hardly use the thing.”
Alex pushed aside the curtain and peered out her window at the streets where the dusk gathered shadows. They turned down street after street until they came to a long row of fine looking mansions of red brick and white sandstone. The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the third one and Alex swallowed. “This is where you live?”
“It is my house,” Weston said with a shrug. A footman hurried down the steps and opened the carriage door. There was a flicker of astonishment in the young man’s eyes at the sight of her before he assumed a blank stare.
She bit her lip as Weston stepped from the carriage and turned to offer his hand to help her down. Before he could withdraw she placed her hand in his and stepped down. Just this once, for one night she would let herself play at being a great lady in a fine house. Tomorrow was time enough to return to her dowdy existence.
After escorting her inside Weston summoned a maid. “Please take Miss Evans upstairs to the guest room I ordered be made ready for her.”
The maid bobbed a quick curtsy then hurried across the foyer and up a long red carpeted stairway. Alex followed quickly, afraid she would lose her way in the great house. She was escorted down a long hallway to the last door on the right. Smothering her gasp of awe, Alex stepped inside the room. White sheer curtains edged in gold trim billowed gently in the slight summer breeze that wafted through the open windows. A large bed draped in matching material sat across from an empty stone fireplace. A gurgling noise caught her attention. She crossed the plush white carpet, edged in more golden trim, to an open door on the left wall. There she found a large brass tub filling with steaming water from a set of matching brass taps. Never in her life had Alex been in such an elegant room. She felt like a grubby intruder as she stood marveling at the shiny tile floor.
The maid cleared her throat. “You may leave your...clothing, with me to have cleaned whilst you bathe.”
Almost afraid it was all a dream Alex scurried to the dressing screen in the corner and shed her masculine attire. Within minutes she was lounging in the hot bathwater, encased in rose scented bubbles. She closed her eyes and wished that the night would never end.
Chapter Eight
Weston stared out the window at the setting sun. A delicious sense of excitement coursed through his veins at the thought of Alex in the copper colored ball gown with emerald green trim he had purchased for her. He chuckled to himself thinking of the delicate sli
ppers he had made sure to include. Tonight she would be the perfect lady. Funny, beautiful and intelligent. It was the least he could do. The only thing, before her life was snuffed out in service to her country. He wished it was going to happen to another...no, that wasn’t true, he wished it didn’t have to happen at all, that he could do something to stop it. The rustle of silk drew his attention from the gold and orange hues in front of his eyes and he turned around.
His breath fled his body in an audible whoosh as he caught sight of her. The copper silk dress set off her glossy curls and hourglass figure to perfection. The gentle swell of her breasts enhanced the demurely cut, but enticing bodice. In contrast her eyes that had always seemed a deep hazel shone with a decidedly green hue which matched the trim on the gown. The light heady scent of blooming roses tickled his nostrils. Here stood a woman, who was all woman; not a masculine form of Alex, but Alexandra. And she was beautiful.
A shy smile graced her pale pink lips and two small comparable spots tinged her cheeks. Her thick lashes lowered, veiling her eyes to his gaze. “I feel like someone else entirely in this dress.”
He smiled. “You are exquisite, Miss Evans.”
A nervous giggle bubbled from between her lips. “Thank you, Lord Grendal.”
They stood in awkward silence for a moment before he crossed the room, took her glove encased fingers in his and kissed the back of her hand. “I mean it; there will be nary a lady at the Firefly Ball tonight who can hold a candle to you.”
She laughed, sounding hollow and strained. “I will have to take your word for it.”
“You may take anything you wish tonight, my dear, for I would give you anything you asked looking as you do right this minute.” Almost anything. He pulled the matching copper and green mask from his pocket. “Do not forget this.” Without waiting for permission he placed the mask on her face and tied it in place, careful not to disturb the artfully arranged curls piled atop her head. His fingers brushed her soft skin. She gazed up at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and once again he found himself focusing on her full lips. Why did he always have the urge to kiss her when she was wearing a dress? Did it have something to do with those feminine wiles he often heard other men remark upon? It seemed unlikely Alex even knew what wiles were, let alone would use them to her advantage. He frowned. What advantage? He was being absurd. Clearing his throat he offered her his arm. “Are you ready to attend your first ball?”
Inventing Love Page 4