“I believe the answer approaches.” He slid her arm through his and nodded toward a handsome, well-dressed man sauntering toward them, his gaze fixed on Kaitlyn.
Reese exchanged glances with her friend, whose cheeks had gone pink at the flattering attention. William waited until the man had reached them.
“Sir Hughes, I know you have already met Miss Taylor, but I don’t believe Miss Hamilton, also from America, has been introduced to you. Sir Jack Hughes Von Maughanhoe.”
They curtsied. He acknowledged them both but had eyes only for Kaitlyn. Reese, tall as she was, had never felt so invisible.
“I believe I have the next dance, Miss Taylor.” Sir Hughes extended his arm.
“I believe you’re right.” Kaitlyn accepted his arm, and they left.
“Shall we then?” William asked.
“Sure, but be warned, I’m kind of awful at this,” Reese said.
“Have no fear.” He led her onto the dance floor and smoothly pulled her into position, his right arm high on her back. He moved them into the dance before she had time to worry about it.
“How are you adjusting, Miss Hamilton?” he asked.
“Well, that tonic has made me feel less stressed about being here,” she said a little ruefully. “It hasn’t kept me from realizing how dangerous this time can be, especially for Jem and Cyrus.”
“How so?”
She explained about the dueling discussion.
“I think your fear is unnecessary, Miss Hamilton.” William smiled. “Duels are not so common as you have been led to believe. And should Misters Taylor or Manning have the misfortune to be challenged, rest assured my aunt would have the power to soothe any such situation.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Reese remembered the demonstrations of magic she’d seen. She felt calm for the first time since they had arrived. “Are you using magic on me right now?”
“Not I,” William said. “Nellie is my adopted aunt.”
He didn’t explain further but started asking her questions. Reese didn’t realize until later how well he had done at keeping the right balance with his personal questions that weren’t too personal. He was also an excellent dancer. She hadn’t stumbled once. They ended the dance near Nellie, Ellen, and March.
“Lord March,” William said, “I wonder if you have a moment.”
“Any time, Milton,” the lord said.
“Thank you, Miss Hamilton. It was a pleasure to dance with you.” William bowed first to Reese and then to Ellen and Nellie. “Ladies, if you will excuse us.” He turned with March, and they strolled away.
“Your nephew has the most agreeable manners, Aunt Nellie,” Ellen said.
“Why, thank you, my dear. I agree.” Nellie frowned. “Oh, it appears I am needed.” She hurried over to some late arrivals.
“Will you come with me to the lady’s withdrawing room?” Ellen’s expression was pleasant, but her body language was not.
“Sure.” Reese wanted to talk with her anyway.
Ellen slid her arm through Reese’s, and they left the ballroom. A couple of women were just leaving the room, and Reese was relieved to find that they had it to themselves.
With a great sigh, Ellen sank to a small sofa, leaned forward, and put her face in her hands.
“Are you all right?” Reese sat beside her.
“I cannot abide that man.”
“Then why did you dance with him?” Reese asked. “Twice?”
Ellen straightened. “A lady with proper manners does not refuse a gentleman’s offer to dance, in spite of what Lizzy did in a book. You must remember that while she generally had very pretty manners, she was not considered up to snuff.”
“Okay, fine,” Reese said. “I accept that this isn’t like a book.” No. It was a freaking fantasy. But Ellen needed Reese’s help. She held the girl’s gaze. “Tell me why you don’t like that guy.”
“He makes me feel—” Ellen gave a little shudder.
“He makes you feel dirty,” Reese said, softy.
“Dirty. Yes.” Ellen’s expression turned haunted. “That describes it well. If I could bathe now, I would feel much better.”
“I’ve known guys like that before,” Reese said. “Slimy.” One in particular had been the reason she’d taken up martial arts in college. “You shouldn’t dance with that guy again.”
“I have no choice. He often works with my brother on projects in the House of Lords. Lord March has said he wishes to court me, but my brother said he will not consider it until I come of age.”
“Have you had a season?” Reese asked.
“No.” Ellen opened her dance card. “My aunt was going to sponsor me this year, but her husband became ill. They have sought treatment in Bath.”
“Your brother’s not going to try to marry you off without a season, is he? He has to give you a choice of who you marry.” Reese rubbed her temple. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
“I do not understand.”
Reese let out a breath. “Where I come from women have rights. We have the vote and own businesses and property. Women run large corporations. We have a say in whether or not we marry, and if we do, we marry for love.”
“A love match?” Ellen gave a bitter laugh. “My brother had a love match, and it nearly destroyed him.”
“Did they come to hate each other?” Reese asked, curious.
“She died,” Ellen whispered, “giving birth to their little son. He also died.”
“I’m sorry.” For the first time, Reese felt a little compassion for this older brother who seemed to dominate Ellen’s life. He might not be the caring brother that Darcy had been to Georgianna, but maybe he came across as hard because he was still grieving. It couldn’t have been less than a year, or Ellen would still be in mourning and not attending a ball. “How long ago did it happen?”
“Eleven years ago.”
Reese blinked. “Such a long time ago. I’m surprised he hasn’t remarried. Does he have other children? Since he’s an Earl, doesn’t he need an heir?”
“He has no other children. He and Cecily were married barely a year. He went a little wild after he lost them. I was still young myself, but my aunt said she was worried about him because of the risks he would take.”
“Like doing dangerous sports?” Reese found herself intrigued about this man.
“No. He was already a Corinthian, but he began to do . . . inappropriate things.” Ellen looked down at her dance card again. “He also got into the petticoat line, though I am not supposed to know about that.”
“I’ll bet you’re not supposed to know he has mistresses.” Reese gave an unladylike snort.
“You must think me a gabster,” Ellen said with wide eyes. “I cannot think what caused me to run on like that. Every feeling must be offended.”
“Offended? Me? No.” Reese chuckled as she stood. “But don’t worry about me passing it on. It’s not my secret to share. I just hate that they treat you like a mushroom.”
“A mushroom?” Ellen frowned, confused.
“They feed you garbage and keep you in the dark.”
“What an odd expression.”
“It was a favorite one of my grandfather’s, so I guess it may sound a bit off,” Reese said, “but it’s true. They keep women uninformed. How do they expect a woman to make an educated decision by keeping them ignorant?” Reese went for sarcasm. “Oh, that’s right. They don’t let women make decisions. The men make them for you and leave you to live with the consequences.”
“I like you, Miss Hamilton.” Ellen stood. “I find you so refreshing.”
“Call me Reese. But thank you. I know some people don’t like my frankness. Here, let me retie your bow.” She had the girl turn around. “Don’t mention our conversation to Jem.”
“Jem?”
“Mr. Taylor. His name is Jamison.” Reese turned her around again and checked the ribbon was straight in front. “He doesn’t like it, so he went with the nickname. It was kind of a
passive-aggressive way to tell his parents they gave him a bad name.”
“You use words I do not understand,” Ellen said.
“Sorry about that,” Reese said. “I turn into—what was it you called it? Haha, a gabster. If I had been Jem, I’d have just told them not to call me Jamison.”
“And would they have listened to you?”
“My height can be intimidating.” Reese spun around. “Is my dress straight?”
“You look lovely.” Ellen opened her card again. “I must return for the next set.”
“My card’s empty,” Reese said. “I’ll watch.”
“Oh, no. You must dance too.”
“I told you I’m a terrible dancer.”
“You danced well with Mr. Milton.”
“That was all William. He’s smooth.” Reese put her arm through Ellen’s. “Come on. We don’t want you to be late for your partner. And you can enjoy yourself, knowing that you don’t have to dance with Sir Slimy again tonight.”
“Sir Slimy?” Ellen giggled. “Do you refer to Lord March?”
“You know I do.” Reese felt happy now, with a purpose. Somehow, she was going to find a way to help Ellen. That creepy guy was not going to get this sweet kid.
“I wish I could be like you,” Ellen said, wistfully.
“Knowledge is power, my friend, and I’m going to see how much I can share with you.” Reese grinned. “If you could do anything you wanted with your life, what would you do?”
“I have been my brother’s hostess at our home here for the last three years,” Ellen said. “Once I come out, I hope he will trust me to do the same for him in London. He hosts many political parties.”
Reese pinched her lips for a second, reminding herself of Nellie’s comments about Slimy’s designs on Ellen. Women in this time had no status until they married, and then they were essentially property. Reese pushed down her anger. She had to accept that she couldn’t change the entire society.
“Are there any local single men you’re interested in?” she asked.
“No one here would dare call on me.” Ellen’s expression darkened. “I am afraid Lord March has scared them away, as he has made clear his intent to offer for me.”
“Listen,” Reese stopped and made the girl face her, “if you don’t want to marry him, don’t let them bully you into agreeing.”
“I may have no choice. If my brother marries again, his wife will be his hostess.” Ellen’s eyes moistened. “When he marries, I will lose my place, and I do not know if I could abide living as the spinster sister, serving as companion to his wife.”
“Wait. What?” Reese’s head was starting to hurt again. “You never mentioned your brother marrying again soon.”
“My aunt is pressing him to do so,” Ellen said. “As you said, he needs an heir.”
“Okay, so it’s not like he has someone lined up already. Good. You have time.” Reese turned them toward the ballroom again. “If you’d like to host your brother’s parties in London, I’m guessing you’re interested in politics. You wouldn’t mind being a political wife?”
“I believe I would enjoy it.”
“All right, then,” Reese said. “I’m guessing your brother will have a good dowry for you.”
“Yes, and I also inherited a small estate in Kent from my mother.”
“Then you don’t have to marry unless you want to,” Reese said with relief. “You can run your own estate and support yourself. Only marry if you find someone you’d like to spend the rest of your life with.”
“I will never have control of my estate,” Ellen said. “Trustees hold it until I marry, and then my husband will own it.”
Reese almost screamed her frustration. What was wrong with these men that they were so afraid of women having any power at all, any control over their own destinies? She took some long, slow breaths to calm herself before they reached the throng of guests.
When they entered the ballroom, a nice-looking young man spied them and hurried over.
“Lady Hildebrand,” he said with a bow. She curtsied and put her hand on his forearm.
Reese watched as they danced. Whatever else happened, she would do her best to help that girl find the kind of marriage she wanted with someone she wanted to be married to, whether it was a love match or an amicable business contract.
“Miss Hamilton, is it?” a lazy voice said from behind her.
The hair on Reese’s neck stood on end. She clutched her fan and slowly turned to find Sir Slimy studying her. He definitely didn’t get the concept of personal body space. His gaze paused on her chest, and the corners of his mouth edged up. She snapped the fan open with such a sharp movement that he stepped back to avoid it, and she lifted it as a barrier between them to cut off his view.
Reese had never experienced such a powerful dislike of a person, and she had interacted with plenty of scumbags when she’d worked at the clinic. She wanted to put him down, but she wasn’t a complete moron. It could be dangerous to take on a titled jerk without having a reason—besides that of staring at her chest. Fortunately, he’d given her one.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” Reese turned and walked away. She was done with this ball, but she had plans to make for the rest of this little side trip in history.
Chapter 5
JEM STUDIED HIS REFLECTION IN the mirror. His valet straightened the jacket’s collar. It had taken a while to get used to the tight breeches that were the fashion, but he found the buckskins had some give and were easier to move around in. The whole 1850 cosplay thing had turned out to be more fun than he’d expected.
He shifted a foot to admire his knee-high boots that had been polished to show his reflection. It was a shame they were bound to get scuffed while riding.
“Is anything amiss, sir?” Geoffrey asked.
“Not at all.” Jem ran his hands down the dark blue superfine broadcloth of his tailored jacket. “I wish you’d been over my troupe’s costumes the last two years.”
Something flashed across the man’s expression, before he asked, “I beg pardon, sir?”
“I’m just saying you do a fine job.”
Geoffrey paused again. “Might I ask you a question, sir, if it is not too forward?”
“Go ahead.” Jem’s first thought was that he had done something wrong, but Nellie had said all her servants knew about the time traveling. They must be used to people not doing things appropriate for the period.
“Were you a bard in your time, sir?”
“I’m no poet, if that’s what you mean.” Jem chuckled. “I worked with a group of traveling storytellers.”
“You are an actor,” Geoffrey said, his tone curious.
“Well, yes and no.” Jem rubbed his chin, wondering how to explain modern play production. “I studied acting in college, but I spent the last two years as the head stage manager. The simplest way to explain it is I’m an organizer. I make sure the director has everything she needs to make the play happen.”
“A female was over your troupe?” The manservant arched a brow.
“Yes, a female. England is ruled by a woman, and Nellie runs this place. I’m surprised you’d even have to ask me that. Now, I need to see if a certain young lady is ready to go riding.” Jem gave his appearance one more glance. He wanted to look his best today, since Kaitlyn and Cyrus had said they wouldn’t go riding, and Jem would have Reese to himself.
“Will you return for luncheon, sir?” Geoffrey wore his placid servant demeanor again.
“Neither of us have done much riding recently, so we’ll be back long before lunch.” Jem’s family bred horses, and he remembered too well that it took time to adjust one’s body to riding.
“Very good, sir. I will have a change of clothing ready for you then.” Geoffrey bowed.
The rich people of this time sure changed their clothes a lot. Jem wondered what the guy would think if he knew how often Jem had worn the same pair of jeans two days in a row. The valet would probably be
scandalized.
Jem bounded down the stairs and followed the savory smell of breakfast. He checked the dining room for Reese. The emptiness that greeted him dampened his mood. What if she had decided to sleep in rather than go riding with him? He needed time with her.
He went to the sideboard and lifted some of the silver covers to expose the food underneath—bacon, eggs, sausage, beans, fried tomatoes, fried mushrooms, black pudding, and toast. He didn’t think he’d ever be a fan of pork and beans for breakfast.
Jem picked up a plate and had just begun dishing up some food when the sound of rustling skirts and grumbling came from the hallway. Yes! He put down the plate and turned to find Reese standing in the doorway, holding the ridiculously long train of her riding habit. She looked stunning in that color, the dark blue matching her eyes.
“It’s a conspiracy,” she said, her voice grim. “They’re trying to kill me.”
Jem bit back a laugh at her expression, though he did sympathize with her situation. His life wasn’t in danger with tight breeches or choking cravats. The heavy folds of that dress looked deadly. Her comment at the Regency Ball came to mind. She had always ridden well back home, but what if she fell and the habit got caught? He fought back a stab of fear for her, but he said nothing. Until they found their old footing again, she was bound to take offense at anything he said about it.
“I will assist you today, my lady,” he said with a bow.
“Don’t get me in trouble by calling me a lady.” Reese glanced over her shoulder. “Their snooty aristocracy might hang me if they think I’m impersonating one of them.”
“Is that like impersonating an officer? What’s the penalty for that?” He winked. “I’m sure Nellie will protect us.”
She grinned and tossed her train over her shoulder, flashing the black boots she wore.
“Hey, look.” Jem pointed at her habit and his jacket. “The blues in our outfits match.” He liked the idea that Nellie’s servants had color coordinated them. Did they see Reese and him as a couple?
“No surprise there, considering the warehouse of clothes Nellie has here.” Reese walked to the sideboard. “I’ll bet she buys her fabric in bulk.” She lifted the covers and grimaced. “I wish they had more fresh fruit around here.”
Against the Magic (Twickenham Time Travel Romance) Page 6