Miss Verey’s Proposal

by Nicola Cornick

  Jane’s lips closed tightly. ‘I have no notion what you mean, your Grace. I am sure that it would be ungracious in me to deny Lord Blakeney my company when he seeks me out!’

  ‘Indeed! It would do no harm for you to be a little more moderate in your undertakings! Blakeney, Henshaw, Farraday…you will soon have a name as a flirt!’

  Jane’s eyes narrowed. She had thrown Blakeney and Henshaw in his face and could therefore not complain if he reproached her for it, but poor Mr Farraday, who would not say boo to a goose…

  ‘If we are speaking of flirtations, your Grace, you would do well to look to yourself!’

  Alex caught her wrist in a tight grip. They had both forgotten the crowded ballroom and the press of people so close at hand.

  ‘I collect that you mean to censure me for my relationship with Lady Dennery,’ he said levelly. ‘I should have realised that it was jealousy that prompted your remarks-’

  Jane’s eyes flashed. This was particularly provoking as it was true.

  ‘I do not care if Lady Dennery wishes to rehearse her amours before the whole Town! I only condemn your hypocrisy in ringing a peal over me!’

  ‘And I do not care to see the likes of Blakeney hanging on your coat-tails! I shall take steps to prevent it in future!’

  Their eyes met and held, locked in furious confrontation. Then Alex shook his head slightly.

  ‘I cannot believe…Jane, you try my patience sorely, but I suppose my own behaviour is scarcely exemplary! To tell the truth, I met Lady Dennery in the ante-room, that is all. What I said this morning is true-you need have no concern for her! Now, admit you would not care what company I kept if you did not like me a little!’

  The logic of this was hard to refute. His fingers had relaxed their grip and had slid down to take her hand in his. His touch was warm and seductive, reminding Jane of their encounter in the Park. She could feel a smile start to curve her lips.

  ‘Your Grace-’

  ‘Please call me Alex, now that we are betrothed.’

  ‘Yes!’ Jane said, suddenly remembering that she had an issue to raise with him. ‘I understand that you have already told your brother that we are to wed! That was not well done, sir! I asked for a little time!’

  ‘I know it.’ The pressure of Alex’s fingers had increased infinitesimally, sending quivers of sensation along Jane’s nerves. ‘You are mistaken, Jane. I said nothing to Philip, although he may have drawn his own conclusions when I gave my blessing on his match with Miss Marchment! I would not do that when I had given you my word that I would wait for your decision.’ He stepped closer. ‘Will you give me your answer now, Jane? I do most ardently hope that you will accept me…’

  Jane felt as though she was trapped in the tantalising web of her feelings. Alex was smiling with a warmth that did strange things to her equilibrium; she could read in his eyes that he wanted to kiss her and she felt a little dizzy.

  ‘Perhaps I will…But this is Sophia’s night, not mine, your Grace. I would not wish to steal her thunder-’

  His expression told her that he knew she had capitulated. She saw the blaze of triumph in his eyes, shadowed by a less definable emotion. Jane was swept by excitement followed by near-terror. Alex turned her hand over and kissed the palm, then a dry voice from beside them broke the spell.

  ‘Alex, I am persuaded that you would not wish to draw any further attention to Miss Verey, at least not yet!’ Lady Eleanor Fane said.

  Alex tore his gaze away from Jane. ‘As usual, you are quite correct, Aunt Eleanor,’ he said abruptly. ‘I will bid you goodnight, Miss Verey.’

  ‘I assume that you have just agreed to make Alex the happiest of men,’ Lady Eleanor said comfortably, tucking Jane’s arm through hers and steering her towards Lady Verey. ‘It is an open secret, particularly the way that the two of you looked this evening! When you were quarrelling I scarce knew whether it would end in tears or kisses! As good as a play, and good to see Alex on his high ropes when usually he is the most moderate of men!’

  Jane smiled, accepted the approval and the good-tempered teasing, but a small, cold corner of her heart reminded her that one thing was missing. It seemed that, despite his pleasure at the engagement, the Duke of Delahaye was still not able to tell her that he loved her.

  The following day was bright and summery enough to banish even the most melancholy of reflections. They were engaged for a trip to Richmond to watch a balloon launch and Lord Philip and the Duke had offered their escort, before Philip took himself off to Ambergate next morning.

  They arrived in the country to discover a crowd already gathered, strolling in the sun and watching the stripy silk balloon rippling gently in the breeze. Four burly men were anchoring it to the ground with thick ropes. Jane jumped down from the phaeton, her troubles forgotten.

  ‘Oh, how wonderful. I would so love to fly!’

  ‘Why don’t you stand in the basket and see what its like under the canopy, miss?’ one of the aviators suggested. ‘Here, let me give you a hand up the steps.’

  A few of the crowd clapped as Jane stepped over the side and down into the well of the basket. After a moment, Alex followed her, jumping down inside. It was surprisingly roomy under the huge silk canopy, with strong leather straps that Jane imagined the aviators must hold on to during the flight. There was room for at least three people in the basket and the edge was so high that Jane could barely see over the top. She looked up into the balloon’s canopy and wondered what it would be like to feel the ground drop away and watch the countryside receding below you.

  A sudden gust of wind caught the canopy and whipped under the basket. There was a shout and then the crowd was scattering, drawing back. For a moment Jane wondered what was happening and then she felt the edge of the basket tip up, throwing her to the floor. The basket started to drag across the field, lifting from the ground one moment, bumping over the tussocks the next as the wind filled the canopy.

  ‘Oh!’ Jane tried to scramble to her feet, but their progress was too rough to allow her to regain her balance. She felt as helpless as a rag doll, tumbled in a heap of petticoats on the floor, tossed from side to side.

  ‘Hold on!’ Alex had managed to grasp one of the leather straps in one hand and bent down to pull Jane closer. The basket lifted from the ground and with a whimper Jane clutched at his jacket, turning her face into his chest. Gone were her ambitions of being a fearless aviator. Suddenly solid ground seemed much more appealing.

  The basket hit the ground for a final time, shaking Alex’s grip from the strap so that he fell with Jane in a heap on the floor. There was silence. Silence and stillness. Jane opened her eyes. Above her the huge canopy was snagged on the branches of a tall oak and as she watched, it gradually crumpled down on top of them, blotting out the blue of the sky.

  She felt as though she was covered in bruises, every bone in her body shaken from its socket. Her hat had come off and she had evidently sat on it at some point for it was completely flattened. Her hair was tumbled about her face and she suddenly became aware that her skirts were up about her knees, revealing far too much of her legs to Alex’s appreciative gaze. She tried to sit up, only to find that the angle of the basket prevented it.

  Jane pushed the hair out of her eyes and tried to straighten her clothing. Her dress had slipped from one shoulder, showing the upper curve of her breasts, and she was sure that she looked like the veriest Cyprian with her hair about her shoulders, her skirts riding up and her dress descending to meet it.

  She turned her head to see Alex watching her with a lazy grin that made her heart skip a beat.

  He was looking no less dishevelled than she, his black hair hopelessly tousled, his jacket creased and his neckcloth awry.

  ‘You look very nice,’ Alex said slowly.

  The silk canopy descended with a sudden whoosh, throwing them into a twilight world. In the distance Jane could hear shouts and voices calling, but she paid no attention.

  Alex put out one hand and tumb
led her back into his arms. Before she could say a word his mouth came down on hers.

  It was suddenly like another world, a fantasy world. The shock, the fear and the sudden relief combined in a heady brew. Instead of pushing him away, Jane found herself pulling Alex closer so that their tangled limbs were inextricably entwined. Her lips parted in invitation and she felt the same dizzy, melting sensation invade her limbs as though her whole body was just waiting for his touch.

  The kiss deepened with a searing intensity but Jane was no longer afraid. She shivered as the dress slipped further from her shoulders and Alex’s fingers skimmed her bare skin. Desire coursed through her. His mouth left hers to trace the line of her neck and the curve of her breast with agonising, irresistible slowness, pausing only as it reached the place where the last wisps of material still covered her. The excitement lit her blood with wildfire. Alex’s mouth was rough and urgent as it returned to hers and Jane revelled in its sensuous demand. She had lost all concept of time or reality, only knowing the greatest relief and joy at being safe and in the arms of the man she loved.

  Neither of them heard the voices or footsteps approaching and only came to their senses as the silk curtain lifted to reveal the anxious faces of the balloonists and half the crowd. Alex had sufficient time and presence of mind to straighten Jane’s dress, but they were still in each other’s arms when it seemed that they were surrounded by people exclaiming and crying and reaching in to the basket to help them out.

  Alex picked Jane up and handed her out of the basket to the first of the waiting men. Her legs crumpled as she was put gently on the ground and when Alex jumped down and scooped her into his arms again, she made no demur. The fresh breeze cooled her hot cheeks and the bright light made her blink. Suddenly she could feel every ache and bruise, and she did not want to face the barrage of questions and the curious eyes of the crowd. She felt the tears come into her eyes and turned her face against Alex’s shoulder. She was not sure whether it was reaction to the accident or the sudden realisation of what she had done that made her want to cry.

  Alex strode across the field, making short shrift of the questions of the crowd. It was only when they reached Lady Verey and the others, almost prostrate with anxiety, that Alex allowed his pace to slow.

  ‘Miss Verey is bruised and shocked but otherwise unhurt,’ he said, giving a tearful Lady Verey his most reassuring smile. ‘We must return home at once, for she needs to rest.’

  ‘What a terrible thing to happen!’ Lady Eleanor, normally so resilient, had aged visibly. ‘When we saw that the men had had the ropes snatched from their hands, we thought you would take off straight into the sky!’

  ‘Not without the burners going, ma’am,’ Lord Philip said practically, ‘but it must have been very unpleasant nevertheless. Alex, put her down here.’ He gestured towards the seat of his carriage. ‘Can you drive, or would you prefer someone to take your phaeton back for you? I notice your shoulder is giving you a little trouble.’

  Alex hesitated. ‘Thank you, Philip. I must confess that it pains me a little. If you could take my team, perhaps Blakeney would drive your curricle back?’

  ‘I’m flattered you trust me with your cattle,’ Philip said a little drily. ‘I’ve been waiting for a chance to try my hand with them, although not, perhaps, under these circumstances! Lady Eleanor, perhaps you and Sophia could travel with me? Lady Verey, I am persuaded that you would wish to remain with your daughter? As would Alex, I make no doubt…’

  Lady Verey was already in the carriage, chafing Jane’s cold hands and peering into her daughter’s face.

  ‘No harm done,’ Philip said bracingly, proving himself a staunch support in times of need. ‘We’ll have you all back in Portman Square in no time!’

  Sophia bent to kiss her friend, her blue gaze troubled.

  ‘Oh Jane,’ she whispered, ‘everyone is talking! They all saw the two of you in the balloon basket and…’ she blushed ‘…they say that he was making love to you! Oh, Jane, you’ll have to marry him now!’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘You’ll have to marry him now.’

  Jane slept deeply that night; when she awoke, Sophia’s words were still ringing in her head. She slipped from her bed and moved across to the window, leaning on the sill. It was still early. The street was deserted and beyond the rooftops the sky was a pale, misty blue and very beautiful.

  Jane sighed. She knew that what Sophia had said was true. To be found kissing and hugging in the basket of a hot-air balloon was an extraordinary circumstance that the ton would savour to the full. Alex had already made his declaration and now, for the sake of her reputation, the announcement would need to be made as soon as possible…

  She opened the window and took a deep breath of the cool air. She ached a little from the balloon accident, but not as much as she had expected. Evidently she had been very lucky.

  The house was silent. Jane could imagine what would happen once Lady Verey was awake. Her mother would erupt into her bedroom, insisting on a public announcement of the engagement forthwith, planning the wedding, talking and talking about bride clothes…

  Jane dressed quickly and quietly. She had a few difficulties with the buttons of her dress but managed by twisting around as far as she could. It was hopeless to try to arrange her hair on her own, so she tied it back with a ribbon and bundled it under a chip bonnet. Folding her cloak over her arm, she went softly from the room and down the wide stairs.

  A housemaid was scrubbing the doorstep and looked up, startled and taken aback, to see the young mistress out and about so early.

  ‘Oh, miss-’ she began, but Jane put a finger to her lips.

  ‘Hush, Hetty! I shall not be gone long! Pray do not tell Mama…’

  ‘But, Miss Jane-’ the maid protested, only to find she was speaking to thin air. Jane’s hurrying figure could just be seen, disappearing down the street and turning the corner. The maid watched dubiously, then, with a sigh, she returned to her scrubbing.

  For several days, Jane had had in her mind a half-formed plan to go to Spitalfields and find Thérèse de Beaurain. Simon had maintained that he would not force his attentions on Thérèse since she quite evidently did not welcome them, but Jane loved her brother a great deal, knew that he was unhappy and was determined to try to help him. If Thérèse truly did not care, then Jane was prepared to accept that, but she could see that it would be easy for the French girl to misunderstand Simon’s intentions. Jane was sure that she could make Thérèse realise that Simon was entirely honourable, and perhaps persuade her to agree to a meeting.

  There was only one fly in the ointment and it was a formidable one. Jane knew that Alex would never agree to her visiting Spitalfields and, now that they were to be officially betrothed, she was sure she would never be able to slip away on her own. This was her only chance.

  Jane had thought that it would be only a step to Spitalfields, but that was because she did not really know where it was. She turned down Oxford Street and, by the time she reached St Giles Circus, she felt as though she had been walking for hours. She was obliged to pause for a rest, for her feet had started to ache and, as the morning awoke and the pavements filled, she was starting to attract some curious glances. A young man driving a cart called across to her, but Jane raised her chin and turned haughtily away. She was now far from Portman Square and for the first time, the imprudence of her plan struck her.

  ‘Cab, lady?’

  A hansom had drawn up beside Jane. The driver, a fatherly-looking figure, was eyeing her with concern.

  ‘Can I take you home, miss? You should not be wandering about on your own…’

  Jane smiled. ‘Thank you, sir. You can take me to Spitalfields, if you please.’

  The driver looked dubious. ‘It’s no place for a young lady alone. Be sensible, ma’am, and go home. Where’s it to be? Grosvenor Square? Queen’s Square?’

  For a moment Jane reflected crossly on her lack of foresight in forgetting to borrow some
of Cassie’s old clothes. It seemed that a young lady was as instantly recognisable on the streets of London as a Cyprian might be. She had not laid her plans particularly well this time, and felt keenly that Alex was to blame for this. She had become so preoccupied by him that it had left little room for other schemes.

  ‘I have business with another lady in Spitalfields,’ she repeated. ‘Be so good as to take me there, sir.’

  The driver scratched his head doubtfully. Then, clearly thinking that Jane was safer with his escort than without, he reluctantly agreed and they set off along High Holborn.

  Jane watched in fascination as the streets passed by. Narrow cobbled alleys gave glimpses of cramped squares and tumbling buildings leaning towards each other. Shop signs swung in the breeze and sprawling taverns already seemed packed with humanity. Crowds jostled the coach, good-humoured in the sunshine, peering curiously into the interior. Jane could not have created more of a stir had she been preceded by a butler announcing her progress.

  ‘This is Crispin Street, Miss,’ the driver said, in tones of deepest disapproval. ‘Whereabouts do you wish to me to set you down?’

  Jane’s throat was suddenly dry. ‘I am not precisely sure-’ she began, then broke off as she saw a fair girl emerging from a house a little way down the street.

  ‘Oh, there she is! I am sure of it! I pray you…’ she fumbled in her reticule for a coin ‘…wait for me here! I shall not be long!’ She thrust the money into his hand and turned back to the street.

  ‘Thérèse! Wait!’

  The fair girl had been about to pass them by with no more than an inquiring look, but at Jane’s words she hesitated a moment and her intensely blue eyes rested in puzzlement on Jane’s face.

  ‘Mam’zelle? I beg your pardon-do I know you?’

  ‘No…yes!’ Jane found that she seemed out of breath, her thoughts tumbling. It had all happened too quickly. How was she to find the words to explain? The cab driver was listening with unconcealed interest and a couple of passers-by had stopped to watch. Across the street, a portly man, bulging out of an embroidered waistcoat, lounged in a doorway and watched them out of the corner of his eye.