by Dayna Quince
“He spoke to me,” she blurted.
Charlotte and Rose turned their attention to her. “Who?” Rose asked.
“Mr. Calder,” Heather whispered. “I went outside for some air after the gentlemen arrived, and he followed me.” At this, Rose’s green eyes widened, and Charlotte’s brows flew up to her forehead.
“He followed you?” Charlotte leaned forward.
“Yes. He said that he needed to speak with me regarding the duke—like an interview. He asked me all sorts of questions and wrote my answers down on a notepad.”
Rose’s head went back in shock, and Charlotte remained perfectly still. Their silence was palpable.
“He asked me if I’d ever been in love,” Heather went on. There was no point in stopping now, and it felt good to release the pressure, like a teapot with too much steam. “He asked me if I enjoyed music, if I played an instrument, and so forth.”
“That is…” Rose looked up and frowned. “I’m stumped. I’ve nothing to say to that.”
“It’s odd but I suppose it’s a good thing.” Charlotte patted Heather’s knee.
“The duke was waylaid by a broken axle and injury to his ankle. I was worried I would not have enough time to speak with him. Mr. Calder didn’t seem to enjoy our talk either. We have that in accord.”
“Well… Have you ever been in love?” Rose asked.
Heather was caught off guard once again. It seemed such a silly question to ever ask anyone. “No, I can’t say that I have. You?” She smiled as Rose blushed.
“You asked first.” Charlotte poked Rose in the side.
“I’ve yet to meet a man worth loving,” Rose said. “Though I hope to.”
The girls sighed and grew quiet. It was the type of question that made one look inward and consider the possibilities of love. For Heather, knowing what she knew about her own circumstances and that of Charlotte and Rose, love was a luxury they could scarcely afford. Heather wanted to say something hopeful but decided they would only be empty words.
The butler announced dinner was ready, and everyone paired off, according to Lady Endervale’s instruction. Heather looked around in confusion. She had yet to be assigned a partner.
Rose mouthed “I’m sorry” and Charlotte threw Heather an anxious glance as they left her, escorted by Mr. Hughes and Sir Stanley. Their parting figures revealed Mr. Calder, patiently waiting as everyone assembled near the door. Then he turned and his eyes settled on her. He approached her casually, the corners of his mouth curving up slightly.
“I have the honor of escorting you into dinner, Miss Everly. Lady Endervale has graciously invited me to dine with the guests in the duke’s place until he arrives.”
“How”—Heather stumbled for words as his blue eyes swept over her— “kind of our hostess,” she finished awkwardly. If he took offense to her lack of enthusiasm, he didn’t show it. Heather stood and took his offered arm, and they fell in behind the line of guests. Heather wasn’t surprised to be seated across from Mr. Calder, given their shared lower rung on the totem pole of society. She was grateful, however, not to be sitting beside him and forced to make conversation. She was still recovering from the afternoon of questioning and the odd effect he seemed to have on her. She was sitting between Mr. Hughes and Sir Stanley, with Rose and Charlotte on either side of Mr. Calder. Mr. Calder looked briefly at her just before their soups were set before them. Sir Stanley leaned toward Heather and asked about her sisters. Heather was grateful for the distraction.
“Violet remained with Primrose to dine in her room. They are still too young to dine at such a gathering,” Heather said.
“Ah, yes…terribly sophisticated, the eating of food and drinking of wine.” Sir Stanley smirked.
Heather smiled behind her napkin. “I suspect Violet thinks so.”
“I have a younger sister of my own, you see. She too would be green with envy, as green as this asparagus soup.” He looked down at the bowl and made a comical face.
Heather tried to repress her laughter behind her hand but failed. Collecting herself, she relished every spoonful of asparagus soup until the next plate was set before her. Through the collective effort of the last remaining acquaintances who would acknowledge them, her mother had arranged an invite to this house party within a day of being ousted from Mrs. Brogans residence, as well as travel with the Endervale’s from London the week before. After months of potatoes and mutton, the food here was heaven.
The dinner carried on, course after course, and Heather was enjoying herself. She drank more than she ought to, the result of the constant awareness of the man across from her, and the subtle way he would glance at her frequently throughout the meal. He was watching her, his eyes floating over her like a warm breeze, and then drifting away again before she could make sense of it. She tried to ignore it, but for some perplexing reason, she could feel it each time he looked at her. When his eyes touched on her, her skin would tingle in awareness, like a hidden sense she was only now discovering. He was masterful in disguising it to anyone but her. Whenever she looked up, he would look away, but he’d make no qualms about meeting her eyes first. He knew she knew, but what did it mean?
There was something in these looks, especially when she laughed or received significant attention from the male guests on either side of her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Perhaps he thought her behavior unsuitable, given her tenuous situation with the duke? She didn’t like that. He had no right to disapprove of her actions when they were perfectly acceptable. She was not an accomplished flirt, nor was she inviting unwanted attention. She was simply enjoying good food, conversation, and a reprieve from the dark cloud of her own circumstances.
Heather became angrier the longer she pondered him and grew quiet despite the din of lively chatter around her. How dare he, she fumed. What right did he have to police her evening and actions? Was this part of the duke’s instructions? That same awareness sprinkled over her, and she looked up to meet his gaze. She held it, daring him to issue some kind of wordless reproof. There was that flash in his eyes again. A challenge? Amusement? Heather wanted to growl in frustration but instead reined herself in and took a deep breath. As she inhaled deeply in an attempt to regain her calm, she kept her eyes on him and caught him glance down fleetingly as her rib cage expanded and the bodice of her dress pulled tightly over her breasts. His eyes returned to hers, glowing hotly like coals.
Heather forgot how to exhale. Heat spread over her skin like the caress of the finest silk. She broke the invisible pull between them by looking down at her plate. Somehow, a crème brûlée had magically appeared before her.
“It’s divine, Miss Everly. Perfectly creamy and smooth,” Sir Stanley said to her right.
Her cheeks burned uncomfortably hot. “I beg your pardon?” The words rushed out as she finally released her breath.
Sir Stanley looked at her oddly and pointed at his plate with his spoon. “The crème brûlée.”
“Oh!” Heather huffed in an embarrassed laughter. “I thought… Never mind. Yes, it looks delicious.”
Sir Stanley frowned at her as he took another bite then turned to his other dining companion.
Thoroughly flustered, Heather took two bites of her dessert and prayed dinner would be over soon. Her prayer was answered when Lady Endervale stood, and the gentlemen rose as the ladies departed for the drawing room. Heather wished to escape to her room, but she knew she would have to bide her time in the drawing room before she could retire.
“Dear, did you enjoy dinner?” Her mother looped an arm through hers as they entered the drawing room.
“Of course. Everything was superb.” Heather hoped her smile was convincing.
“I’m glad. You’ve been a bit withdrawn since the start of the party.”
Drat. “Not withdrawn, just adjusting.”
“It’s unfortunate about the duke not being here, when we have waited so anxiously. But Mr. Calder assures me he is in contact with him multiple times a day, and the
duke is eager to meet you.” Her mother pulled her toward two chairs in the far corner and turned to face her. Her knowing eyes searched her face. “Do you still wish to go forward with the duke?”
“Of course!” Heather said with what she hoped was a believable tone. “It’s just… I’m worried there won’t be time.”
Her mother patted her hand. “That’s why Mr. Calder was sent, my dear. I have hopes that the duke is as eager as we are to form a union. We must make Mr. Calder an ally.”
Heather thought of the way Mr. Calder had looked at her during dinner, and the way she felt the heat of his gaze rush over her skin. She didn’t think ally was the appropriate word for Mr. Calder.
“It helps that he is young and handsome,” her mother continued, “and if Lady Endervale continues to let him participate in the activities, we will have ample opportunity to make a lasting impression for him to convey to the duke. Perhaps I will speak to her directly on the matter.”
Heather didn’t like that idea, but her mother’s eyes were clear of worry and lit with hope, which is something she hadn’t seen for a very long time. She bit her tongue. She had a few choice words for Mr. Calder and those glowing eyes of his. She would save them for a more opportune time when she could take him to task without an audience. But she didn’t have the nerve to do it tonight, not when she could still recall the feeling of his eyes on her, almost like a touch. Even the memory caused a frisson of heat to slide down her spine.
It simply would not do.
She looked around for a distraction. Lady Lucy, Lord Rigsby’s sister, had arrived shortly before dinner and commandeered a sofa. Charlotte and Rose had just joined them, filling the last seats of the sofa, and Hazel and Anabelle were taking seats across from them.
“I’m going to sit with Anabelle and Hazel, if I may, Mother?”
“Certainly, dear. I’ve been meaning to ask Lady Dare about her poodle.”
Heather escorted her mother to Lady Dare, and then squeezed in beside Hazel on the sofa.
“I feel as though I’ve eaten an elephant,” Hazel said with a grimace.
“You certainly ate like an elephant,” Anabelle murmured.
Hazel’s eyes snapped to her sister. “Don’t you dare claim to have a bird’s appetite, Anabelle. I saw you take two rolls.”
Anabelle rolled her eyes.
“Don’t start, you two. I’m beginning to think I was blessed to only have a brother.” Lucy broke into their bickering. She had infused herself into their little group as if she’d always been there. Heather didn’t mind. Lucy was a magnet for attention, which suited Heather’s desire to be mostly unseen.
“You don’t fight with your brother?” Hazel said in disbelief.
“Of course, but we do it properly, without witnesses.”
“What about you, Heather? Do you and your sisters get along?”
“We have our disagreements, but it’s easier now. Violet can be quite the shrew when she wishes, but they have both matured so much in the last few years.”
“Please forgive us for deserting you. I had forgotten he would partner with you. I meant to tell you,” Rose admitted contritely.
“It’s all right.” Heather sighed. “We didn’t say more than two words to each other, and then I was seated between Mr. Hughes and Sir Stanley. I enjoyed dinner very much.”
“I found Mr. Calder quite charming,” Charlotte mused. “Did you think so, Rose?”
“I did, but I will only be kind to him if Heather wishes me to.”
Heather laughed. “He isn’t my enemy, be kind to him if you wish. I only find the situation between us difficult because, well… It’s difficult.”
“And odd,” Lucy added.
“Yes.” Heather nodded in agreement. “Quite odd. I haven’t the faintest idea what I should be doing or saying. He is but a steward, an employee of the duke, and yet in some strange way, I feel as though my future is in his hands. It doesn’t help that he smiles at me so and watches me with those glowing eyes.” Heather shook her head in dismay.
“I beg your pardon?” Lucy said.
Heather looked up to find her friends staring at her peculiarly. “What did I say?”
“Something about his smile and glowing eyes,” Anabelle prompted with a grin.
“Do feel free to elaborate.” Hazel nodded encouragingly.
“What? No. There is nothing that needs clarification, I assure you. He is simply watching me—for the duke, I would presume.”
Lucy squinted at her. “For the duke, you say? And yet you say his eyes are glowing? How would you describe glowing eyes exactly? I would like to know when a man’s eyes are glowing when he looks at me.”
Heather wanted to melt into the sofa. “Forget I said anything.”
“We can’t now. We will all be watching him, watching you, the rest of the evening.” Charlotte laughed quietly.
“No, you won’t.” Heather stood. “I had quite enough excitement for one day and wish to retire. I will see you tomorrow if I don’t throw myself from my window.”
“Heather, don’t run away,” Lucy bid.
“I’m not running. I’m walking at an appropriate pace. Goodnight, you harpies,” Heather said in affectionate weariness. She caught her mother’s eyes as she headed for the door and conveyed her intent. Her mother didn’t stop her, only nodded in understanding, and continued talking to Lady Dare.
Once out of sight, Heather picked up her pace and headed up the stairs. She was about to put her foot on the first step of the next landing, when a shadow moved in the hall.
“Miss Everly,” he said.
Heather froze. She slowly turned, barely able to see his face in the shadows of the corridor, but she knew his voice already and now knew the feeling of his eyes touching her.
“Mr. Calder.”
“I was hoping to speak with you again. I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. Will you join me?”
Heather hesitated. She should say no. She should go straight to her room to do what she’d meant to do, which was to go to bed and wish this day were just a terrible dream.
Chapter 5
Was she dreaming? All her movements were languid and heavy, and she had no control of where it led. She nodded and turned to him. His features became clearer, his lips turning up on one side in a half smile. He looked uncertain. Good.
“Lady Endervale is lending me her sitting room for the duke’s use.” He opened the door to a room with a chaise lounge and a desk. A fire filled the room with adequate warmth, and an oil lamp glowed. “I don’t think she’s ever used it.” His voiced was tinged with amusement.
He waved her through, and Heather entered slowly. He walked around her and pulled a chair from against the wall, placing it before the desk.
Heather took the seat and folded her hands in her lap, nervously resigning herself to another interview of sorts. “Have you more questions then?” She looked back to be sure they could be seen through the open door.
“I actually wondered if perhaps you had some questions of your own, Miss Everly? The duke seems to inspire questions and curiosity.” He smiled and a dimple appeared to be winking at her.
Heather felt her mouth go dry. How could a steward be so boyishly handsome? Her eyes greedily absorbed his face with pleasure and discomfort. He was much more masculine than she initially thought, his eyes magnetically blue, his jaw wide and firm. He had a cleft in his chin. Had she noticed that before? She noticed it now. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from staring at him.
“Feel free to ask me any questions you want.”
Heather looked down at her hands as she thought about what to ask. After a few moments of silence, she finally looked up and met his gaze. “How long have you worked for the duke?”
He tilted his head to the side in thought. “All my life, to be honest. I took up my full responsibilities a year ago after my father passed.”
“I’m sorry,” she said with feeling.
He nodded but said nothing.
“Did you always want to be a steward?”
His eyes cut to the side and he pursed his lips, then he looked back at her and smiled. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Simple honesty will do. I promise not to tell.” Heather couldn’t help smiling in return.
“It has its good days and bad days. You could say I was raised for the position, but wasn’t certain it would ever be mine.”
Heather nodded and bit her lip. She was feeling mischievous and spiteful, especially after the havoc he played on her senses at dinner. “Are you in love, Mr. Calder?”
“I beg your pardon?” He sat up straighter in his chair.
“Are you in love with anyone? You asked it of me, and now I’m asking you. Is there a woman who holds the key to your heart?”
He looked very uncomfortable, and perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Heather swore she saw color begin to creep up his neck. Even when bashful, he was handsome.
He cleared his throat. “When I asked if you had questions, I meant as they pertain to the duke.”
Heather grinned. “Answer the question.”
He thrust his chin out and pulled at his cravat. “No, not at this present time.”