The Valentine's Day Ball

by Julia Parks

  Jane bit her lower lip nervously as he continued to stare. She refused to be embarrassed, though she had always abhorred the way men ogled her. But on this occasion, she was neither angry nor embarrassed, and she refused to question the reason for this. She did so want to thank him, to tell him…

  “When you do that with your mouth,” he whispered, “I want very much to kiss you, Jane.”

  Forgetting to be outraged by his remark, Jane asked, “Do what?”

  “Nibble at your lip in that bewitching manner.”

  “You shouldn’t say things like that, Lord Devlin. I wanted to tell you something, but now—”

  “Tell me. I promise I’ll behave.”

  “I wanted to thank you for making me feel at ease when we dance. And it’s not just when we dance—I feel more confident when I dance with anyone now.” She blushed, and Devlin watched as if interested in the way the colour spread downward from her cheeks.

  “You can thank me by calling me Drew.”

  “We have already discussed that, sir.”

  “Ah, so the deed I have done, the wonder I have wrought for which you are eternally grateful, whatever it is, is not worth that one forfeit?”

  “No…yes. Very well, but only when we are alone.”

  “Such as now, Jane?”

  “Such as now, Drew.”

  And then he did pull her closer still, scandalizing the more starchy matrons that watched. Jane saw their faces out of the corner of her eye, and suddenly she didn’t care what they or anyone else thought. She gave over to the heady feeling of his thighs touching hers, his arm circling her waist. Boldly, she let her cheek rest against his chin and closed her eyes.

  b

  The music ended and the spell was broken. Drew led Jane to a chair beside his mother. Deliberately, he bowed and left her, seeking someone else—anyone else—for the next dance.

  He wanted to laugh at himself. It was a new experience, protecting a lady’s virtue from gossiping tongues. In the past, he had associated with demireps or ladies with shady reputations, so there had been no need for discretion.

  Even before his exile to the Indies, when he had thought himself passionately in love with Cynthia, it had been she who had kept him at a proper distance, much against his will.

  He couldn’t understand Jane. She was all that was proper. When he had first met her, he had thought her a veritable prude. Since then, she had changed. Perhaps she had drunk too much champagne. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her drink to excess, and it was possible that an entire day spent socializing was more than she could handle.

  This theory, however, was improbable as he watched his mother and Jane converse. Jane appeared to be completely at ease, having no difficulty keeping up her end of the conversation.

  The intricate movements of the dance brought him back to his partner, and he forced himself to be agreeable to Miss Whatever-her-name-was.

  b

  Still dressed in her bedclothes the next morning, Jane went up the stairs to the nursery to tell Nana about the Ashmores’ picnic and ball. She described the dresses, the decorations, and the food.

  Finally, the old nurse grew impatient. “What about Mr. Primrose? Did ye ask ’im about th’ notes?”

  “Yes, Nana. That is, I nearly did, but fortunately I realized he hadn’t written any such notes to me. He’s in love with Mary Aubrey.”

  “Miss Aubrey? Why, I never would ’a’ guessed it, Miss Jane. I’m that sorry, I am.”

  Jane patted the gnarled hand. “Never mind, dear. You know very well I wasn’t interested in him. But I think I was able to help them. Mary’s mother was against it, but I believe I was able to persuade her otherwise. Perhaps they’ll name their first child after me?”

  “’Tis yer own babes ye should be namin’. But never you mind, dear. Ye’ll find the man who’s been writing those notes. Mayhap ’twill be someone ye can love.”

  Jane laughed. Her worries about the letters seemed trivial. She would no longer let them bother her.

  “I’m going into town today, Nana. Is there anything I can bring you?” The nurse would say no as usual, and Jane would still bring her some of the sweetmeats the old woman dearly loved.

  She was about to leave when she spied a straight pin on the floor. “You’ve dropped a pin, Nana.”

  Jane was about to pick it up when the old woman said sharply, “No! I dropped ’t, and I must pick ’t up. Remember, ’twould be bad luck if I didn’t.”

  “Of course, I forgot. I’ll come see you when I return.”

  b

  With her habit of shopping early, Jane was one of the first customers at the booksellers. While she no longer felt driven to discover who had sent the notes, she was still curious. She asked to speak to the senior clerk and was whisked to a tiny office in the rear of Duffield’s.

  “How may I help you, Miss Lindsay?”

  “I received a letter and a book yesterday. The book, a copy of She Stoops To Conquer, was from your establishment, and one of your messengers delivered it. The note was unsigned, and I was hoping you could tell me who purchased the book?”

  “I remember the transaction. One of our new clerks helped this customer, and he required a little assistance. However, I’m afraid it would be impossible to tell you the name of the buyer. Whoever it was had merely sent a servant in with the note and asked that it be delivered with the book. Naturally, we didn’t ask the writer’s name.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “I do hope this hasn’t hurt our relationship with you, Miss Lindsay. You know you are one of our most valued customers. It is just that we often are asked to send small gifts to beautiful women—and to handsome men, for that matter—and the sender is usually quite careful to guard his or her anonymity.”

  “I quite understand, Mr. Fairfax. Do not distress yourself that I blame you in any way. I am glad to be considered one of your valued customers, and I must confess that I don’t know where I would turn without Duffield’s.”

  “You are most kind. If you wish, I will call the clerk to my office, and you may question him.”

  “I doubt it would be illuminating, but thank you anyhow. Now, I must see what you have that is new. Good day Mr. Fairfax.”

  “Good day, Miss Lindsay.”

  From the booksellers, Jane went to the boot maker. She had finally been forced to admit her favourite riding boots were past hope. Taking the well-worn pair with her in hopes of duplicating them, she placed her order. Both feet were carefully measured, the dimensions noted, and she was soon on her way again. Her next stop was at the milliner where she spent an hour trying on the latest bonnets.

  “I shall take the straw one with me, and you may send the green velvet shako when it is ready.”

  “Very good, Miss Lindsay.” The clerk handed the velvet cloth to a servant. “Will there be anything else?”

  “Not today, thank you.”

  “And thank you for your patronage, Miss Lindsay.”

  “You’re welcome.” As Jane started through the door, she bumped into another customer just entering.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Jane said automatically.

  “It was my fault. Why, Miss Lindsay, I didn’t expect to meet you again so soon.”

  “Mrs. Peterson, how nice to see you.”

  “My dear, I am so glad we met. I hate to impose, but if you have the time, that is—”

  “I am at your disposal, ma’am. If I may be of service to you in any way, it would please me to stay.”

  Mrs. Peterson smiled. “Would you please help me choose a new bonnet? I can never find one that suits me.”

  Jane protested, but the older woman waved away her compliments on the hat she was wearing. “You see, in the shop they all look delightful, but once I get them home they are never quite right.”

  “I’d be happy to, Mrs. Peterson, though I’m no expert on the latest fashion. I tend to wear whichever style pleases me the most.”

  “And the results are very agreeable, I assure
you. The hat you wore at the Ashmores’ breakfast was so becoming—light and frivolous, but eminently suitable. And today, that poke bonnet is also flattering. Perhaps I wasn’t meant to wear headdresses,” concluded the doleful matron, sitting in front of a mirror and untying the ribbons on her navy bonnet.

  “I doubt that! Come, Mrs. Hill. Show Mrs. Peterson that lovely straw bonnet, the one with the cherry red ribbons.”

  There is no more companionable activity than trying on a wide variety of hats. One gets the chance to giggle at the absurd, gasp at the frightful, and exclaim over the beautiful.

  After an hour of such activity, Jane and Faith Peterson were well on their way to becoming fast friends. After this successful expedition into the world of fashion, it was only natural that one lady should invite the other to a hot cup of tea, and that the other should accept. Jane’s coach took them the short distance from Milsom Street and across the River Avon to Laura Place.

  The bright salon looked out on the street, affording its occupants a pleasant view. The furniture was upholstered in pale yellow chintz; the draperies and thick carpets were a blue-grey. There were green potted plants and vases of fresh flowers everywhere.

  “What a delightful room, Mrs. Peterson.”

  “Thank you, Miss Lindsay. I’m a bit embarrassed by it every time I enter it.”

  “Why would you be embarrassed?”

  The older woman laughed, a light, girlish sound. “I’ve been here little more than a week, you know. It is a rented house, but when I first saw this room it was bright purple! I was horrified, and I’m afraid I let it show. Drew whisked me away to the furniture warehouses, drapery makers, rug dealers, and so on. Within one day’s time, he had the room transformed to what you now see.”

  “But I fail to understand why you should feel embarrassed.”

  “I made Drew feel dreadful that he had chosen this house. He did so want me to like it.”

  “But you do, don’t you?”

  “It is lovely now. But I felt like such a demanding mother, a veritable shrew.”

  “And I have told you at least a dozen times that you are no such thing, Mother.”

  “Drew!” Her face alit as she watched her son enter the parlour. “You’ll join us for tea, I hope.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it, Mother. Hello, Jane. What brings you to Bath?”

  “Shopping, Lord Devlin,” she said, stressing his title.

  He laughed as he pulled his chair closer to the sofa where Jane and his mother were seated.

  “Jane is reminding me, Mother, that she only promised to use my first name when we were alone together.”

  “Quite right,” said Mrs. Peterson. “But we are alone. I promise I am every bit as discreet as my son.”

  Jane glared at Devlin, and he returned it with a wide-eyed stare.

  “Jane and I are quite the best of friends, Drew.”

  “Are you?” He accepted the cup of tea Jane passed him.

  “Yes. Jane very kindly helped me select three new bonnets this morning. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

  “You exaggerate, ma’am.”

  “No, I’m not generally given to exaggeration. More than likely, I would have chosen the three ugliest hats in the shop only I wouldn’t have discovered it until I got home with them!”

  Devlin laughed. “She’s quite right, Jane. And then she would have kept them in the cupboard, too embarrassed to return them.”

  They were all laughing now. Jane finally asked, “How do you know it won’t happen again? You haven’t tried them on at home yet.”

  “You’re right! I’ll do that this minute!” She rang for the footman and told him to fetch the three hatboxes from her room.

  When he returned, Faith picked up one hat. Standing in front of the fireplace, which had a fine gilt mirror hanging above it, she carefully set the frothy confection of ribbons and organdie netting on her dark hair. Satisfied with the angle, she turned to her audience.

  “Lovely, Mother, most becoming.”

  Jane seconded his verdict. While his mother was busy with the next bonnet, Devlin turned his attention to Jane.

  “Did you meet Mother by accident?”

  “Yes, as I was leaving the milliner’s, she was going in. She asked me to stay.”

  “I appreciate your helping her. She always seems so self-assured, even reserved, but it only masks her timidity. She is so eager to please, afraid of offending—especially those for whom she cares.”

  “Like you.”

  “And now you, I think. She wants to be a part of Bath society.”

  Their quiet conversation was interrupted as his mother requested their approval once more.

  “With her girlhood friend the dowager duchess and you to support her, she should do quite well.”

  “Your mother would be accepted anywhere, Lord Devlin.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t want her accepted because her son will be the Earl of Cheswick someday. That sort of thing can change to ridicule in the blink of an eye. I want her accepted for herself.”

  “She will be, I assure you, Drew,” said Jane, placing her hand on his sleeve.

  His eyes softened, and he took her hand in his own, holding it gently, almost reverently. Jane studied his face, wondering.

  “What about…?” Faith Peterson smiled and turned back to the mirror.

  She cleared her throat loudly and turned around again. This time, her query was met by two attentive listeners.

  Jane took her leave not long afterwards, reminding Drew and his mother that she expected them at Heartland on Thursday. On the ride home, Jane tried not to think about how many hours there were until teatime on Thursday.

  Chapter Five

  The evening of the same day that she and Jane Lindsay had bought hats, Faith Peterson attended a musicale the Dowager Duchess of Wentworth was giving. Drew had been included in the invitation, but he gladly declined. Her Grace believed those in her position were responsible for supporting the arts. Unfortunately, she had no ear for music, so the singers and musicians she sponsored were often mediocre, if not terrible. Since only these performers comprised the duchess’s musical evenings, her guests often left with the headache.

  In the coach, however, Drew’s mother asked him once more to join her.

  “No, no, no, Mother. I see no reason to subject myself to such caterwauling. I much prefer a quiet game of cards.”

  “Very well.” She was silent for a moment. Then, as if gathering her courage, she said timidly, “Drew, what do you intend to do about Jane Lindsay?”

  “Do? Why, Mother, must I do something?” he said.

  “You can’t trifle with her affections. She is too fine, too special.”

  “I assure you, Mother, I am not trifling with Miss Lindsay.”

  “Then you are serious, Drew?” Her delight showed in her voice. “When may I wish you happy?”

  “Not so fast, Mother. Until we met again at the Ashmores—just yesterday, might I remind you—I would have sworn Jane Lindsay despised me.”

  “She couldn’t!”

  “Oh, she had good reason. I saw to that.”

  “Drew, what did you do?”

  “Never mind, Mother. Evidently, Jane has forgiven me, but that doesn’t mean she would welcome my suit. And for that matter, I’ve not yet made up my mind. Jane Lindsay is not like you, Mother. She is headstrong and opinionated, not precisely desirable wifely traits, to my way of thinking.”

  His mother clutched at his arm in the dim light of the carriage lamp. “Drew, you mustn’t consider meekness the most important trait in a wife. Love and respect for each other mean more. Without that, a marriage is empty and bitterness grows.” The anguish in her voice filled the air.

  “Mother?”

  “No, I’ve said too much already, Drew. I’ll say no more. Here we are now.”

  “Enjoy the music, Mother.”

  She laughed. “Wretched boy!”

  It was as well his destination was b
ut two streets away. His mother’s revelations about her marriage had been unsettling. But it was what she hadn’t said that disturbed him the most, and his own thoughts would take some time to sort out.

  His host, Giles Stanton, greeted him warmly. They had met as boys at Eton. Being young and far away from home, they had formed a time-tested alliance. Drew, who was tall and strong even then, had protected Giles from the older boys until they had both been accepted. Giles, who possessed a sunny personality, won friends easily and shared them with the quiet, studious Drew.

  “Drew! It’s good to see you! Come in, come in! You know Harry Routh and Farley. And you remember m’brother, Andrew? And this gentleman is Roland Havelock.”

  “Mr. Havelock and I are acquainted. How are you, Havelock? Didn’t know you’d returned to Bath.”

  “Nor I you, Devlin. Yes, I just got in today. Just here for a day or two then on to London. What about you, old man?”

  “I’m settled here for some time. I’ve brought my mother from York.”

  “How is she, Drew?” asked Giles.

  “As sweet as ever, thank you. Now, what are we playing?” Lord Devlin sat as Farley dealt the cards.

  Six hours later, the play broke up. Farley and Routh, who were slightly to go, offered Drew and Havelock a ride. Havelock could barely stand and accepted immediately. Drew declined, bade his host goodnight, and walked home. He rarely drank to excess, and the cool night breeze soon refreshed him, sharpening his thoughts. Then his thoughts returned to his mother’s advice.

  When he had left for York, he had been confused. His anger at Jane Lindsay’s harsh condemnation had quickly faded, mainly because he knew she had been justified. And knowing she never wanted to see him again had helped his decision to put her out of his mind.

  Miss Jane Lindsay wasn’t made for dalliance, even though her figure made such an idea dizzying. But marriage had been the last thing on his mind since he returned to England and visited his malevolent uncle the past summer.

  Lord Cheswick had never been a pleasant man, always seeking more power, more money. But Fate had rendered him bitter with the death of two sons and the knowledge that his title and estate would go to his despised nephew. His only pleasures now came from exercising his power.