by Laura Landon
“Yes. But she didn’t stay long. She sat off to the side, well out of the way, and never talked to anyone but Melinda. She stayed only until most of the guests had arrived, then quietly exited a side door. Usually, most in attendance didn’t even realize she was there.”
“Why did she go? It wasn’t to meet people. It wasn’t because she felt the need to belong. And heaven only knows, it wasn’t to have someplace to wear her fancy gowns. Until now, she didn’t own a gown worth wearing in public.”
His Grace smiled at that. “No. It wasn’t because of her gowns.”
Simon lifted his gaze. “Why, James? Why did she go, when facing people terrifies her so?”
“I don’t know. I’ve often asked Melinda that same question, but she never gives me an answer. Perhaps she went only to see the people. To see who danced with whom, and how the women wore their hair, and their beautiful gowns. And pretend.”
“Pretend?” Simon asked.
“Yes, pretend. Pretend that she was the one in the pretty gown, dancing in the arms of a handsome man. I don’t know. Far be it from me to try to understand women. Even my wife still confuses me.”
Simon smiled at Collingsworth’s honesty, then leaned his head against the back of the chair. “Something happened the day Jessica went with Melinda to see Madame Lamont.”
“I know. Melinda said Farley, Reddington, and Chitwood were sitting on a bench outside Madame Lamont’s shop. Jessica was totally absorbed in their conversation.”
“Is that who it was?” Simon said, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. “I asked Sanjay what had happened, and he only knew she’d watched three men talk.”
“Melinda said after they left, your wife was clearly upset, but she wouldn’t talk about it. Did she tell you what they’d said?”
Simon fought to breathe past the knot that hammered in his chest. “She asked me about Rosalind.”
A lingering silence hung in the room, and finally Collingsworth released a long breath that hissed through his teeth. “What did you say?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t handle it well at all. In the first place, her question took me totally by surprise. I didn’t think she knew about Rosalind. And I was not in the best of moods, as you probably remember. This happened right after my meeting with you and Ira. The more I pored over the papers Ira had left, the angrier I became. I’m afraid I didn’t need much of a spark to set me off, and nothing sets me off faster than being reminded of Rosalind.”
“So, what did you tell her?”
Simon shoved himself out of the chair and gripped the cushions at the back. “I told her Rosalind did not matter and that I never wanted her name mentioned again.”
His Grace leaned back in the chair and stared at Simon. “Did she understand?”
“What do you think? You are married. Would Melinda have understood?”
“Not a chance,” His Grace answered on a humorless laugh.
“Well, neither did Jessica. I don’t know what the three men said, but I can only guess. I was hoping I could be the one to tell my wife about my…stepmother.” Simon could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“Perhaps she feels threatened by Rosalind? You were engaged to marry her, you know.”
“Don’t remind me,” Simon said. “But I don’t think Rosalind is the only person by whom she feels threatened.”
“Then who?”
Simon stared at his refection in the mirror on the wall. “Me. I’m the one forcing her to face every one of her worst nightmares while I’m getting everything I always dreamed of having. More money than I ever thought to have at my disposal, my rightful place in society, and the assurance that the Northcote name will never be outcast. What has she gained from our marriage?”
The Duke of Collingsworth sat straight in his chair. “Protection from Tanhill.”
Simon steadied his gaze until it locked with James’s serious expression. “Do you know what she asked from me when she returned from Madame Lamont’s?”
James shook his head.
“She asked for a house of her own. A safe haven where she could go should she ever need to escape from…” Simon paused. “From whom, James? From Colin? Or from me?”
“Surely she doesn’t think she needs protection from you, Simon?”
“No.” Simon lowered his head to his hands and breathed a heavy sigh. “Surely not me.” A stab of guilt punched him in the gut. Since the day he’d realized who Jessica was and how much she was worth, every move he’d made had been calculated with one goal in mind.
To destroy Tanhill.
He had not married Jessica just to protect her from her stepbrother. Or to save his inheritance. He’d married her to take possession of the money Tanhill would steal from her as soon as he locked her away in an asylum. Money that would give his enemy more power than he or the rest of England could afford to let him have.
Simon leaned his head back against the cushion. He’d tried to convince himself that, in part, his actions were necessary to accomplish a greater cause—to save the vast Northcote estate. And to a point that was true.
The money had been necessary to pay his debts, necessary to rebuild his inheritance. But he’d resigned himself to losing everything before Jessica came with her offer. Marriage to her meant he could have everything—the money necessary to protect what was rightfully his, the level of respect and position of distinction he’d enjoyed before his father had ruined them, the ability to use the power associated with the Northcote name.
But those benefits were secondary when faced with the knowledge that Jessica’s wealth gave him the capability to destroy Tanhill. Financially. Then, physically.
And what had he given his wife in return? Nothing except the promise of his name, which she now doubted he would use to protect her, a notoriety she did not want, and a dependence on him she refused to accept. And he was forcing her to risk exposing her deafness.
“Excuse me, Your Grace. My lord,” Melinda interrupted from the doorway, “but I have come in search of two gallant and noble young gentlemen who would like to escort two charming and enchanting ladies to a ball.”
The Duke of Collingsworth stood and executed a very low bow. “You happen to be in luck, Your Grace. It just so happens that my friend and I have gotten dressed for just such an occasion and are in need of two ravishingly beautiful females. And you, my dear, just happen to complete the order to perfection.”
“Oh, how fortunate,” Melinda said, accepting her husband’s most improper embrace with no sign of embarrassment.
Simon turned to the doorway. His wife was nowhere in sight. “Did Lady Northcote come down with you?”
“No. I came down first to give her a moment to herself. She’s nervous, as you might well imagine.”
Simon walked to the door. Perhaps it would be best if he had a word with her before they left. He hadn’t been able to see her all day. Twice he’d tried to breach the barrage of servants attending his wife, but Madame Lamont had taken over the role of commander in chief, and would not let him near her.
“Lord Northcote?”
He turned back to Melinda. She was still nestled in her husband’s arms. “She will be all right, won’t she? I mean, no one will find out that she cannot hear, will they?”
“No.” Simon shook his head. “No one will find out she cannot hear.”
The duchess nodded rapidly, then brought her folded hands up to her mouth. “I pray they won’t. She is so proud.”
Simon turned on his heel and walked out of the room. When he reached the center of the large foyer, he lifted his gaze upward.
The breath caught in his throat. Jessica stood on the balcony above wearing the gown Madame Lamont had promised would steal his breath.
The dressmaker had lied. Her description did not come close to preparing him for such a stunning sight.
A scattering of tiny pearls covered the wide overskirt, giving the gown the distinction of simple elegance. Her thick, coffee-rich hair was gat
hered upward on the crown of her head, allowing the mass of loose ringlets to tumble in layers away from her face and down her back. Only the faintest wisps of curls outlined her face, accented by thin apricot velvet ribbons the hairdresser had threaded in and out among the tendrils. The style was ever so simple, yet ever so elegant.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Simon moved to the bottom of the stairs and waited. His heart pounded in his ears as he watched her descend the stairs, one hand resting on the railing, the other clutching a delicate lace handkerchief that matched the apricot of her gown.
Her gaze locked with his, not moving, not wavering. It was as if the approval she saw in his eyes and the look of appreciation on his face gave her strength.
When she neared, he reached out his hand. Only when her warm flesh touched his did he remember to breathe.
He held both her hands in his for a moment, then brought them to his lips. “You, my dear,” he said, lifting his head so she would not miss his words, “will, without a doubt, be the most beautiful woman at the ball tonight.”
“I will not embarrass you?”
Simon touched his fingers to her cheeks. There was no thick, heavy powder on her face. No bright, gaudy colors on her cheeks and lips. “I should be the one worried that you will be embarrassed to be seen in the company of someone so ordinary looking as myself.”
She shook her head and gave him a shy smile. Simon placed a finger beneath her chin and raised her gaze until she could see him. “Nothing will happen, Jesse. I will make certain that nothing happens.”
She nodded, and Simon leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. “You are truly beautiful, Countess,” he said, looking at her again. “Not one woman at the ball will be half so lovely.”
When they turned around, the look he saw on the Duke and Duchess of Collingsworth’s faces confirmed his opinion. His wife was perfect.
He wanted this night to be perfect, too. He didn’t care what it took, he would make sure it was.
Tonight he would take the first step to bringing about everything he’d dreamed of accomplishing. He would introduce his wife into society and face his stepmother for the first time since his father’s death. His blood raced at the thought of seeing Rosalind again.
Jessica clutched the glass of punch Simon handed her and prayed she could hold it steady when she brought it to her lips. She lifted it to her mouth and managed to take only a small, delicate sip instead of downing the entire glass to quench her dry throat.
Somehow, she had survived thus far.
How often had she dreamed of standing on the top of the stairs and having her name read aloud as she entered a brightly lit, beautifully decorated ballroom? How often had she fantasized about walking through a crowd of society’s finest on the arm of the most handsome man in London? How often had she imagined herself standing in the midst of a crowd of people as if she belonged? Tonight it had actually happened.
She knew the exact moment their name was announced. The whole room turned in unison to stare at Simon and her, the looks of curiosity obvious. Simon stood at the top of the stairs with his hand covering hers and did not make a move. For the longest time, he let the ton drink its fill, evaluate the two of them. Then, he gently squeezed her hand, a signal for her to look at him. When she turned her head, the slow, seductive smile on his face warmed her to her very core.
She could not help but return his smile. Before they took their first step down the stairs to meet their host and hostess, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. It was like a dream come true, and she indeed felt like a fairy princess on the arm of her Prince Charming.
Meeting the Earl and Countess of Milebanke had been a puzzling experience. The earl seemed pleased at their presence, but the countess greeted Simon with a chilly demeanor. The underlying glint in Lady Milebanke’s eyes almost seemed malicious. Perhaps she and Simon had not always been on the best of terms? Perhaps she thought his presence would cause a catastrophe that would affect the success of her ball? Perhaps to have as her guests the couple foremost on the lips of society’s greatest gossips was not worth the risk? Whatever the reason, Simon seemed to revel in the discomfort he caused.
All eyes in the room focused on them as they made their way to where the Duke and Duchess of Collingsworth waited for them.
“You seem to have a habit of bringing a room to a halt when you enter, my lord,” Jessica said to her husband after they passed a small group who parted for them.
Simon smiled. “I think this time I’m not the one stopping the ball, wife. Very few eyes are upon me. And if Baron Cargille doesn’t remove that lecherous grin from his face when he looks at you, he and I will have to have words before long.”
She laughed. A heated warmth spread all through her when Simon covered her hand on his arm and pulled it closer to his body. She felt very secure and smiled confidently as they made their way over to the duke and duchess, near the terrace door.
“You look absolutely ravishing, Countess,” His Grace said, bowing slightly. “Everyone here is in awe.”
“Oh, Jessica,” Melinda said, the look of excitement evident on her face. “All the women are green with envy over your gown. Lillian Crestwall informed Lady Stratmore that she knows for a fact your gown is an exclusive creation by that elusive designer who Madame Lamont has at her disposal. Now everyone is more anxious than ever to find out how to get a design from her.”
Jessica held her breath, praying Simon would not question how she got her design in such short order.
Thankfully, he did not, and talk changed to other, less dangerous topics. As they visited, Jessica noticed Simon made sure he was never more than a hairbreadth away from her. Soon, the Earl and Countess of Burnhaven came to join them, and Jessica smiled as the conversation progressed easily between the six of them.
It was not long, however, before Lord and Lady Pepperlaine joined them, then a Lord Barkley, and the Duke and Duchess of Westlawn, all friends of Simon’s or of His Grace’s. Each, of course, made a point of including her in their conversation, and Jessica was grateful her gloves concealed her damp palms as she glanced from person to person, struggling not to miss anything.
Their group had grown too large. Jessica could not keep up with each mouth that moved. A wave of insecurity washed over her, and she took several deep breaths to steady her nerves.
As if Simon felt her growing panic, he reached for her hand and twined his fingers through hers. She looked up at him.
“They are playing a waltz, my lady,” he said with a warm smile lighting his face. “I’m certain you recall promising the first waltz to me.”
Jessica placed her hand on Simon’s outstretched arm as he excused himself and his wife, then led her out onto the dance floor. He took her in his arms, as he had each night when they’d practiced in the darkness, and with a gentle smile, he led her in the steps that were by now so familiar she could do them without thinking.
She felt the warmth of his hand on her back and marveled at the security that enveloped her. Her hand tightened on the steel muscles spanning his shoulder, and she was engulfed by his strength. She felt safe as long as she was with Simon.
“You seemed uncomfortable just now,” Simon said as they moved across the dance floor. “Why?”
Jessica kept her gaze focused on the easy smile on Simon’s face and followed his lead. It was no different than when they danced at home in the privacy of their own bedroom. “The crowd. There were too many mouths to watch. I couldn’t tell which ones were talking to me.”
He held her a little closer. “I see. I didn’t think of that. I will not let it happen again. Smile, Jesse,” he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “The whole of society is watching us, and we wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”
She forced her lips upward. “No, my lord. We wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”
Simon turned her on the dance floor. “Do you know what? I think I prefer dancing with you in our bedroom to dancing here on a
crowded dance floor. There are not nearly so many clothes separating us, and I can choose to end the dance whenever I like.”
Jessica looked around to make sure no one was dancing close enough to have overheard her husband.
“Admit it, wife. Don’t you wish the very same thing?”
Jessica felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. How could he think such thoughts when they were but one mistake away from all of London finding out she could not hear?
“You loved it,” he said, pulling her even closer to him. “I know you did.”
Jessica held her breath while Simon’s touch sent a spattering of tingling pulses racing through her. She knew the look in her eyes mirrored the passion they’d shared last night. “I think you are getting quite bold, my husband.”
“If you don’t want me to kiss you right here, my lovely little wife, with all these people watching, you had better stop looking at my mouth with such longing in your eyes.”
Jessica quickly glanced to the side and swallowed past the lump in her throat. How was it possible for him to read her so well?
She looked up when his hand touched her chin and turned her face. “You shouldn’t touch me so, Simon. Everyone is staring at us.”
“Of course they’re staring. You’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“That’s not true. Most of the women are not half so interested in me as they are in you.”
“Really? Do you think so?”
The innocent look on his face was as unexpected as the teasing gleam in his eyes. Both were unfamiliar to her. “Yes. I think when they look at me they wonder what you saw in me to marry me.”
“No, wife. They know exactly what I saw in you, and they are envious because they do not possess it.”
The breath caught in her throat. Did he really mean that? Jessica shook herself. No, she could not let herself think such thoughts for even a moment. She would only get hurt if she did.
Northcote swirled her around one final time and then stopped. The music must have ended, for all the other couples had stepped off the floor. As he led her back to where the Duke and Duchess of Collingsworth waited, Jessica thought that if nothing else, Simon had given her this one fairy-tale evening.