“Next time,” Ezra assured her. “We’ll come for tea so that we might take my gig and transport it in the back.”
With any luck, someday she might not have need for even the chair. Bits had been staying up at night, working on a design. She knew she would have more success with it if she was allowed to look at Garroway’s hand, but that was obviously out of the question. The vile man had been haunting her nightmares ever since their encounter at the forge.
A footman opened the door to the carriage, and Ezra leapt out, coming nowhere near as close to banging his head on the top of the door or snagging his foot as Bits would have if she attempted the same.
“Lady Elizabeth,” he said, offering her his hand. Hers trembled slightly, knowing what was to come. Sure enough, on contact a frisson of energy raced from the place where their gloved hands touched to the entirety of her body. His piercing blue eyes met hers, and her breath caught in her throat.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said with too much air in her voice, which was odd since there was none to be found in her lungs.
Ezra gave her a wry smile. “You forget, my lady. I’m not a lord, just a humble surgeon.”
Not a lord. Not a god. Just a man whose touch turned her blood into a million particles of light.
Particles of light that raced to her head and jumbled up her thoughts so bad she said stupid things.
“There is nothing ‘just’ about you, Mr. Nash,” she heard herself saying. “You are the most noble man I have ever known, and if that doesn’t earn you an honorific, I don’t know what does.”
Did she actually say that? What was she thinking? It was much too forward. What if he thought she was flirting?
Was she flirting?
She didn’t know how to do this. How to talk to men and be normal. It was too hard. Too embarrassing. She wanted to crawl back into the carriage and demand the driver take her home. And not to the Nashes’ home either. Home to London. Home to her room in Keaton’s house where her soft sheets smelled of lemon and she could go an entire week without having to talk to a male person over the age of twelve. She didn’t miss it, at least not often, but at that moment she would have given her family’s fortune to go back.
Ezra squeezed her fingers, sending a new thrill of sensation up her arm. “You are as kind as you are beautiful, Lady Elizabeth.”
She knew he was only being kind himself. She knew he didn’t truly see her as beautiful, yet no one had actually uttered those words to her before. Never, not once in her life, had someone called her beautiful. And even though she couldn’t believe the words any more than she could believe the world was flat, her heart took flight. She felt her entire body turn to flames from the deepest blush she ever experienced, and she couldn’t meet his eyes or so much as sputter out a thank you. She merely stood there, dumbstruck, as he released her and turned to lift Lily from the carriage.
Her silence lasted the entire trek up the wide stairs leading to the door of Breena Manor, and continued as the butler led them down the opulent hall to the parlor. She only gave the slightest bit of attention to the lush carpet and silk-covered walls that normally would have caught her eye. Her mind was too occupied with trying to quiet both the fluttering heart convinced there was a chance Mr. Nash actually thought she was beautiful and the ache from somewhere deeper in her chest resigned to the fact no one would ever think her lovely or desirable. Neither voice served any purpose other than leave her wishing for things that simply could not be.
Chapter 14
“I remember you now.” Sidhe had introduced his mother’s friend, Lady Tenney, before dinner. The introduction was completely unnecessary on Bits’s part as anyone who knew anything about the ton was aware of the Touched woman who had married a viscount. For that reason and many others, the widow was certainly memorable, unlike Bits, who people were normally inclined to forget.
Unfortunately, Lady Tenney was not of the normal variety.
“You were at Wesson’s ball. The one where Lady Wesson thought live birds would be an acceptable bit of decoration.” Lady Tenney rolled her eyes to heaven, as if asking the divine why he would create a woman like the notoriously unintelligent Lady Wesson. “You were with that girl. You know the one. The Earl of Winstead’s ward.”
Bits felt her spine straighten. “Nellie and I have been as close as sisters since we were little girls.” Closer than Bits’s actual sister, in fact. She did not have many regrets about moving to Corrigan, but every time she thought about Nellie tears threatened to fill her eyes. She blinked away the unwanted moisture as Lady Tenney motioned for a footman to refill her wine glass yet again. It was her third, and they had yet to make it past the first course.
“I don’t recall either of you dancing the entire evening,” Lady Tenney said as if it was something worth remarking on. Bits felt heat rise to her face. She was more embarrassed that Ezra heard how she was deemed unworthy of a dance than the fact she’d not been asked to accompany any of the gentlemen to the dance floor.
“I don’t enjoy dancing,” she said, focusing on the way her spoon disappeared into the bowl before bringing another bite to her lips. Surely Lady Tenney would let the conversation drop once she saw how entranced she was by the…
She took a tentative taste. Ah, yes. Oyster soup. She really should have known since her bowl was almost empty.
“Dancing at a ball isn’t about enjoyment,” Lady Tenney declared, obviously not caring about Bits’s newfound rapt interest in oyster soup. “You’re a young, single, aristocratic lady. It’s your duty to dance at balls, to snag a gentleman who will help you repopulate England.”
Bits’s spoonful of oyster soup sat suspended in air, forgotten, as she stared at Lady Tenney, her brain scrambling for something to say.
“Matilda, stop terrorizing the poor girl,” the Dowager Duchess chided, narrowing her eyes at her friend. “And I swear, if you have Phillipe pour you another glass of wine, I will lock my door and make you sleep in a guest room tonight. I did not allow the duke to come to my bed soused, and I don’t intend to become any more amenable in my old age.”
Bits’s eye grew wider than she thought possible and the knowledge of how to blink completely left her.
Were the Dowager Duchess and Lady Tenney…? Did they…?
Dear lord, she knew the world of the Touched was more open-minded than the society in which she’d been raised, but she had no idea they would be so permissive as to not bat an eye at two women sharing a bed chamber. She wouldn’t have even known such a thing was desired by some if it had not been for a book she and Nellie had discovered in the Earl of Winstead’s library during their first season.
That book was actually the entire scope of Bits’s knowledge about what went on behind closed bedroom doors, but even though it was merely one volume, she felt quite educated on the matter.
Educated, but not knowledgeable. For example, until that moment, she assumed women with steel-colored hair and fine lines etched into well-formed faces had no use for those types of activities. But by the way Lady Tenney set her glass away from her and asked for some water to be brought round, it was obvious there was some reason she desired to share a chamber with the Dowager Duchess.
“Now, what were we discussing before the sleeping arrangements of this house gave Lady Elizabeth an apoplexy?” the Dowager Duchess asked with a small smile. “Ahhh… yes. Balls. Not so surprising with so many young ladies attending this dinner.” As if realizing for the first time how the women sorely outnumbered the men, she turned to her son with a frown. “Really, Jack, would it have killed you to invite a few young gentlemen to this dinner? I may not have entertained much in the last few years, but I do believe it is normal practice for the number of men and women in attendance to be somewhat even. This one man for every three women ratio is utter nonsense.”
Jack watched as a footman replaced his soup with a plate of quail and roasted vegetables, never once looking at his mother as he said, “As I explained to Ezra earlier, this isn�
�t a formal dinner; it’s merely a small family gathering. Hattie is too far along in her confinement to be playing hostess to whichever scoundrels I could gather up, not to mention I’m not sure why we would need them. You and Lady Tenney certainly aren’t in the market for new husbands, as you delighted in letting Lady Elizabeth know. There is no one of equal rank for which Lady Elizabeth could properly be paired, and Miss Nash is too young to be on the marriage mart. That leaves Alice, whom I would prefer to remain single indefinitely, and Hattie, who is well and truly spoken for.”
All the females around the table stared at the duke as if he had grown an extra head. Ezra clasped a hand over his eyes, using his fingers and thumb to gently massage his temples. Bits thought she heard him mutter something about the gods saving the bloody idiot, but she couldn’t be certain, especially since in the next moment a cacophony of voices drowned out any other sound. While the women around him raged, the duke merely sat back and chuckled under his breath as if he was enjoying their ire.
It took until the next course was served for the conversation to return to a normal volume. Bits had stayed quiet through the entire fracas, hoping no one would remember she was there or that she was the reason the conversation had taken a disagreeable turn, but as usual, fate was not on her side.
“You don’t truly dislike dancing, do you, Lady Elizabeth?” Lily asked, addressing Bits formally while in the company of the duke and his family. She had been one of the least vocal of the outraged masses, but somehow she thought the Duke of Sidhe’s assertion that she was too young to be considered as a potential wife had caused her friend more pain than all the other women combined. It was in the lack of spark in her eyes and the way her fork merely skirted the edges of her tomatoes instead of attacking them with the vigor she normally brought to the table.
“I truly do not,” Bits answered. “I find I am rather unskilled at it, and I dislike doing anything in which I cannot excel.” It was the reason she also disliked sewing, painting, and conversing. “I would much rather sit at home with a good book and even better cup of tea.”
“It seems to me,” The Duchess of Sidhe said, a smile teasing up the edges of her full lips and cat-tipped eyes, “that you have simply lacked the right dancing partner. The kind who will make your heart skip a beat with the brush of his hand and the air go thin with a single look.”
Bits could have told the duchess she had experienced missed heartbeats and breathless moments on the dance floor nearly every time she had been forced to venture onto it, but since those sensations were the result of panic instead of romance, she decided to keep the information to herself.
“Oh, but surely Lady Elizabeth has danced with her fair share of dashing gentlemen.” Lily smiled at Bits as if it was a foregone conclusion she would have had her pick of eligible dance partners. Lily was, quite often, prone to seeing the world not as it was, but as she thought it should be. “Tell me, who was the most handsome and splendid gentleman you have danced with?”
Bits stilled as her mind whirled. In truth, she’d only danced a handful of times, and many of those had been with either her brother or Keaton. Only her brother’s closest friends — or perhaps those who had owed him the most money — ever bothered to so much as ask her for a simple quadrille, and most of those requests had been denied. There was only one person she could think of with whom she’d shared a dance who wasn’t of blood relation and didn’t bolt away the moment his obligation was done. “The Marquess of Trowbridge.” He was rather dashing with his bronze curls, blue eyes, and strong chin.
“Trowbridge?” Ezra stabbed a tomato with so much force seeds squirted across the table. “If your most handsome and splendid partner was a man old enough to be your father, then the duchess must be right. You have not had an appropriate dance partner.”
“Trowbridge isn’t old at all. He was just a year ahead of Henrick at Eaton.” It was most likely the reason the marquess had asked her for a turn about the floor in the first place, although she didn’t know of any friendship between Trowbridge and her brother.
Ezra’s eyebrows drew together. “No, I know the Marquess of Trowbridge.” He stared at the glass of wine in his hand as if he could see the man in the dark liquid. “At least, I met him once, some years back. He’s well into his fifth decade.”
Realization dawned. “That would have been the current Marquess’s father. He caught a fever several winters back and did not recover. Oscar has been Trowbridge for three years now, I believe.”
Ezra stared at her as if he could not understand the words she had said, and she had the an awful feeling the news of the former marquess’s death had been something of a shock to him. She was about to apologize for her botched handling of such delicate news when the duchess said, “Well, whoever this Trowbridge is, he’s certainly not the dance partner you need if you still dislike dancing after having taken a turn around the floor with him. I’m going to make it my mission to find you the perfect partner and kindle a love of dancing in you, Lady Elizabeth.”
Bits’s dread wasn’t relieved in the least by Alice’s muttering of, “And may the gods have mercy on your soul.” As the conversation turned to a ball the duke and duchess would be hosting shortly after the arrival of their child, Bits’s thoughts turned to what was becoming her favorite subject.
While everyone else talked guest lists and decorations, Ezra methodically ate his food and drank his wine, never once adding to the conversation. In fact, he looked as if he was unaware a conversation was going on around him. Bits realized that despite all the time she had spent in his home and all the hours she had devoted to growing a tendre for the surgeon, she didn’t truly know anything about his past. Now, however, her curiosity was piqued, and she knew she wouldn’t rest until she uncovered everything there was to know about Ezra Nash.
Chapter 15
“You didn’t know.”
Ezra traced the leaf of the rose he’d been admiring and took a deep breath before acknowledging his visitor.
“Your Grace,” he mumbled, knowing he sounded as petulant as he felt. He’d come here to be alone with his thoughts for a moment, a fact she probably knew well, and yet here she was.
“Don’t ‘Your Grace’ me, Ezra Nash.” Hattie stopped beside a pot of violets and frowned at the contents. “You only call me that when company demands it or you’re irritated with me, and since we’re out here, decidedly removed from everyone else, I can only assume I’ve done something to vex you. That is really quite irritating, because I haven’t even begun to try. For you to start out annoyed takes all the fun out of it.”
Her stomach protruded in front of her in such a manner it seemed almost entirely separate from the thin body it was attached to. Yet despite the bulge of impending motherhood, she was still beautiful. The gown she wore was a light shade of gold that appeared almost white in the dim light of the Orangery, and it draped over her form in cascading falls of silky material. She looked like a pagan goddess of fertility. Perhaps she was. If the god of metal could be reborn in a Velchan once a generation, who was to say the same couldn’t be true of Hera or Damona?
“You should go back to your husband, my lady.”
Hattie lowered herself onto a plush chaise surrounded by vines and flowering shrubs. A goddess indeed.
“My husband is the one who asked me to seek you out. He’s worried about you.” Ezra turned his gaze back to the roses, his teeth aching from clenching his jaw so tightly. “You should talk to him, tell him what has you so upset.”
“I’m not upset,” he ground out. “I merely desired some time alone. It’s been a trying week.”
“It was more than merely trying before Lady Elizabeth informed you of the new Marquess of Trowbridge.”
If he wasn’t careful he was going to break all the teeth in his mouth, but no matter how much he told himself to relax, he could barely unlatch his jaws to speak.
“The old man is dead. If anything, the news has lightened my burden.”
“Ez—”
“He can no longer cause any harm. The news is worth celebrating. In fact, that is what we should do. Let’s join the others and drink to answered prayers.” Jack had a bottle of very fine Scotch, which was sounding more and more appealing by the minute.
Hattie shifted on the chaise. He didn’t have to turn around to know she had pulled her feet up and leaned her body against the arm, making herself comfortable. He also knew the way her face reflected a mixture of stubbornness, concern, and pity. It was the last he detested the most, and the one he saw every time she looked at him now. No matter what other emotions she might be feeling at any given moment, she’d shown him a touch of pity ever since the day she accepted Jack’s proposal.
True, he’d been crushed that day. At the time he thought his heart might never fully recover. She’d been his for so long, the inevitability of their future so certain, he’d never thought to question it, even when Jack had entered the picture. After all, it was always the three of them in those days. The magic they’d been able to wield together was as addictive as their methods for expelling the Residual. And then one day, with his naked body curled around hers, she’d told him it was their last time together. She was going to marry Jack and become the Duchess of Sidhe.
As much as he wanted to hate them both, he couldn’t. Jack was like a brother to him, and his love for Hattie had not been so easily dismissed. He’d made a valiant attempt at removing them from his life, but when he thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, his life really went to hell and he learned what true pain and heartache was. When it got so bad he thought he could not possibly go on, it had been Jack and Hattie who had picked up his broken pieces and put him back together.
A Dance Like Flame (Of Magic & Machine Book 1) Page 10