With the Dowager Lady Keegain’s help the ladies had completed Jane’s costume with an elegant fan of the lovely plumy feathers left over from the mask. She had been surprised when the dowager suggested it. The earl’s family was so welcoming. It was not just Lord Keegain she loved. She loved Charlotte and young Alice and even Helen as if they were her own sisters. Jane wanted to be part of this family, but she was not.
You are being a wallflower, she castigated herself. Your friends have outfitted you in a most spectacular dress complete with jewels and mask, and you are wasting their effort. The jewels that Lady Amelia had pressed upon Jane had truly complemented the outfit, and Jane did not look out of place, or a country bumpkin. She would not act it. She would be bright and gay, she told herself even as she hung back in the alcove.
She would try. Mingle. Talk to others. Any gentleman here would be suitable for a dance if not a match. The next person that asks you to dance, accept. It is that simple, she told herself. You do not have to marry the first person who asks. It is only a dance.
Applying an air of false cheer, Jane contented herself with glancing around the room at the fine masks, and elaborate gowns worn by the ladies. The guests wore masks so incredibly detailed that it was obvious that many had hired special artists and costumers to provide for their wardrobe. They truly were exquisite. Jane glanced down at her own dress, a daring deep purple that matched the feathers of her mask. She did not feel much like a peacock. It was a bright and creative bird, but Lady Amelia had been so gracious, she could not squander this chance.
Jane raised her feathered fan now, as she peered around the room, feeling safe in the sanctity of her disguise, knowing she looked every bit as fine as the others here, especially with the expensive ring of diamonds and sapphires around her neck and glittering at her ears. The jewels felt warm and heavy at her neck and the feathers bobbed, tickling her, as she shifted her head.
It was disconcerting, not recognizing more than a few individuals. This was not the general crowd that came to Bath. This was the crème de la crème of the Beau Monde Ton. Everyone who was not at parties in Town during the Christmas season was here. In fact, Jane knew, some had come from Town to enjoy this event in spite of the weather.
She tried to find her friends again. She looked for Lady Charlotte’s outrageous pink dress. It took several minutes of hard searching. It was with relief when she spotted them and decided to make her way towards them. The group was just across the ballroom now, a bevy of fine ladies clad in a rainbow of silks and satins.
Lady Patience was easy enough to spot; her red head stood out no matter what costume she chose to wear. The gentleman talking to her then must be Lord Barton, for those bright shining heads certainly complemented one another, although Reginald’s hair was considerably darker than his sister.
Lady Amelia was there in her cat’s mask with a collar of emeralds. Lord and Lady Battonsbury were with them. Lady Charlotte turned to dance with a gentleman in a fool’s hat. The two of them were a riot of color. Keegain’s other sister was more difficult to find, but Jane did not know Lady Helen as well as she knew the others and she had not seen the mask that Helen had chosen.
She could not find Lord Keegain at all. Where was the earl? It was his party!
She should not be looking. Jane chastised herself unable to believe that she had once again allowed herself to be distracted. What was it about the man that enthralled her? She was here to dance. Just that, to find someone for the next dance, or, more accurately to allow herself to be found for the next dance. The last thing she wanted was to sit out the rest of the night, afraid that if she did she would be forever bypassed and forgotten. Jane noted that as she was working her way towards her friends, all three of them found partners to dance.
Anyone. I will dance with anyone.
As if in answer to her thoughts, a gentleman approached. He was a burly man, with large fleshy hands that looked more accustomed to work than those of many a man here. His dark hair stuck out at odd angles under his hat, a rakish affair that went well with the simple black mask he wore beneath. He had gone all out in his outfit. He looked the very picture of a pirate, right down to the cutlass he wore at his hip.
“Never have I seen a more elegant fowl,” he said bending low over her hand. “Might I interest you in a turn around the dance floor Lady…?” He held the question as if he expected her to answer with her name.
Jane laughed a little. “You are wicked, good sir, for I understand that we are not to be unmasked until midnight. Would you have me give away my true identity so early in the evening?”
“I am a pirate after all,” he said and gave a comic leer that caused Jane to laugh as she took his hand, allowing herself to be led to the dance floor for the next set. Lady Charlotte was two pairs over from her. She would find her way to her friends after the dance she decided.
Once Jane set her mind to it, it was quite easy to lose herself in the dance. She let all her troubles and uncertainties fall away. Even realizing that it was Lady Margret who danced near to her did little to spoil her fun. Of course, Jane realized it was not Keegain with whom Lady Margret was dancing. It was another gentleman who apparently stepped on her toes.
Jane turned away with a smile. It was easy to laugh with the pirate, who despite his foreboding expression seemed to have a good sense of humor and kept her laughing as he made witty, even if somewhat bawdy, remarks about those around them. Jane did not take offense. It was all in the fun of the masquerade. In fact, she had a few choice remarks of her own regarding Lady Margret, although she kept them to herself.
The pirate was intent upon finding out who was whom, but Jane was not much help to him even if she wanted to be.
“What of your family?” The pirate asked after he had pointed out one disastrous couple that was easy to identify by their bickering. Jane thought they should keep to the convention that one did not dance with his or her spouse at a ball. “Perhaps they are siblings,” she considered.
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “My brother and I fight constantly.”
“That is a shame. Siblings should be one’s best help in this world,” Jane countered.
“Do your parents get along well?”
Jane nodded a touch wistfully. “My mother is no longer with us. My father doted upon her though. It is hard for him to be alone, I think, although he is often occupied with business.”
“As most gentleman are,” the pirate commented.
Jane nodded. “We still miss Mother a great deal.”
“Your father has not remarried then?”
“No,” Jane admitted.
“I am sure he feels blessed to have a daughter such as yourself, on which to spend his affection.”
Jane could not help but laugh at that. “You speak as though you know me, when I know for a fact you do not. I am certain I would have remembered your voice, if not your face. Whether or not I am a blessing, I am sure I worry him enough.”
“I can hardly imagine such a thing, although I suppose it is in the nature of all fathers to worry,” the man answered with a smile as they danced their piece and rejoined the line.
“Such fine plumage,” he said, nodding at her bright feathers as they waited their turn to dance down the center line again. “Does your family enjoy many such birds?”
For a moment Jane did not know how to answer. Peacock was a meal fit for the wealthy. To answer honestly would reveal her true state. Did not Lady Amelia say this was the point of the masquerade then, to become anyone for a night? Well, if that were the case, why should she not be a fine lady? The pirate would find out the truth soon enough, but perhaps by then he would be well on the way to being smitten. Not that she truly wanted this stranger to court her. She knew nothing of him, and he seemed rather coarse, but perhaps that was just his act to go with the pirate visage. Given time, she might like him.
Given space. Away from Keegain and the confusing feelings he raised within her, she would find another suitor. Why not this
man? Her heart felt heavy at the thought, but she smiled brightly and allowed the pirate to dance her down through the center, a little further than necessary for they bumped into another gentleman. The man was dressed as a rakish war hero in full uniform complete with saber. His eyes glittered at her from another black mask, plain and simple, much like the one of her pirate.
“I beg your pardon,” the pirate said, with a bow and led her back to the other dancers who seemed to notice nothing amiss.
Jane could not shake the feeling though, of being watched from that point onward. Every time they danced to that end of the room, the soldier was there watching. Her own partner seemed to have little else to say after that although he pressed her for a second dance as the first finished. She berated him for his forwardness and refused. When he persisted, she pleaded exhaustion and a desire to sit the next one out.
“I must find my companions,” she said. Something about the pirate had disturbed her and the flirtation suddenly did not seem such a good idea.
He seemed ready to protest her decision, and Jane finally had to refuse him again in a rather firm tone.
“Very well, then. Allow me return you to your chaperone,” he offered.
He was just being solicitous, she thought, and then she spotted her friends across the room. “Oh, there is Lady Patience,” she said. “And her brother, Lord Barton. One can always find her red hair.” Jane gave a quick curtsey to the pirate and turned away, in an attempt to disappear into the crowd, but the press was so great that it was hard to make the exit she truly desired.
The pirate stepped forward, and for a moment she thought he might pursue her. Desperately she pushed between the knots of ladies talking and escaped him, ending near a window and laughing at herself for being so foolish. This was the Earl of Keegain’s ball. No blackguard would have been invited.
Outside the wind beat at the windows whistling and drawing her attention. Branches rattled against the glass. Her gaze was drawn to the rising storm and she shivered. The room seemed suddenly a touch darker, more sinister. The exotic masks and the crush of strangers joined into a queer combination that seemed more suitable for a re-enactment of Dante’s Inferno than a simple ball.
Thunder rattled the pane and she looked up in surprise as did those near her. Thunder in winter? It seemed an ill omen and Jane found herself fleeing, away from the glass that showed only the black of the night and the strange distorted reflections of the masked dancers.
Jane’s heart raced within her breast and Lady Amelia’s jewels felt hot against her throat. There were too many people here. She could not catch her breath. For a moment she panicked, wanting nothing more than escape. Jane twisted around, looking for a familiar face, for the cat mask. Yes. Lady Amelia. Nothing unsettled the duke’s daughter. Jane could not find her in the crush, or any of the other young ladies she had so recently befriended.
It had been a mistake to dance with the pirate. Something had seemed off, as though he were too interested and now she was completely on the other side of the ballroom and she had once again lost her friends to the whirling crowd.
You are unfair. The pirate is quite likely here for the same reason you are: to find a marriage match. The worst he would be was a fortune hunter. Of course he would try to find out about her family. Had she not been trying to do the same? Only she had lied, had she not? If any were the deceiver, it was she.
Someone bumped into Jane and then another. The room was too crowded. For a moment she thought the pirate might have come back, wanting to claim the next dance after all. She felt a large hand close on her wrist and near panicked. Jane pulled frantically away, catching her breath upon a sob because she had lied and been caught out in that lie. The pirate would have his revenge.
Jane opened her mouth to scream; only she recognized the calming voice in her ear, deep and endearing, “Miss Bellevue, will you dance with me?”
29
Lord Keegain again spied Miss Bellevue’s lithe form across the dance floor, and made his way towards her. They were both in masks, he thought. Who would know if he danced with her? There was anonymity in the mask and freedom in the dance.
“Miss Bellevue, will you dance with me.” Lord Keegain said quietly and led Jane toward the floor.
When he approached the poor girl looked frightened half out of her wits. Perhaps she had seen something? Something to frighten her? He needed to know what it was. As the earl, the safety of his guests was of paramount importance.
If the villains were about to strike, he needed to know and quickly, so that he might alert Reynold’s men. He glanced across the floor, his sisters were encircled with his mother and Lord and Lady Battonsbury. He spotted Reynolds and his brother, Lord Wortingham with Margret. They were safe. It was with that thought in mind that he was able to take a moment to calm Miss Bellevue.
“My… my Lord Keegain?” Jane looked at him for confirmation and he nodded. No doubt his monstrous mask had frightened her, but now she let out a breath and gripped his arm tightly. She was, at least pleased to see him, despite his botched apology, and that filled him with a sense of pride.
“Are you ill, madam?” he asked as they prepared to line up for the opening notes.
“No.” The word came out a rushed breath. She gathered herself and tried again. “That is to say… I fear I do not know my own mind. I felt…. I felt as though something was amiss.” She shook her head, causing an abundance of feathers to flap in every direction. “I am sorry, my lord, I really do not know what came over me. I expect I was overcome by the music and the proximity of so many people. It is quite the crush.”
“I suppose that it is a bit stuffy in here with all the windows closed.” Lord Keegain conceded, looking over the sea of faces.
Miss Bellevue frowned. She was indeed out of sorts.
“Are you sure you are quite all right?”
“Yes,” she said still a little breathless, as they took their places.
It was unaccountably warm, but he did not want to open windows, not only because of the biting cold outside, but due to the fact that the traitor might allow some of his compatriots into the room. Or perhaps escape.
The dance began. Keegain bowed and dipped and spun as the cadence required and reached out his hand to Jane. She took it and he felt her slender gloved fingers in his own. He grasped them gently, only too happy to be touching her again, even so innocently as this.
There was no explanation for it, but holding her hand made him want to smile. Too soon, it was time to separate as the strictures of the dance required, but soon enough they were reunited as the music played on.
“I think, my lord, I am unaccustomed to so many people so closely together. In truth the dances I have attended are somewhat less…”
“Crowded?” Lord Keegain supplied helpfully.
“Less well attended.” Jane laughed lightly, but the laugh was enough to send a warmth down his spine. “Especially by so august a crowd,” she added in a whisper.
Lord Keegain was sure he was not supposed to have heard that last part. It was said with such a heavy weight, it made him start. The dance pattern at that moment called for the couples to be looking aside, so Miss Bellevue did not see his reaction, and truthfully, she might have missed it anyway for the way the mask hid his features and his expressions.
The mask also helped in other ways. He was able to gaze at her without seeming to stare. The dress she wore was lovely, but the color was truly striking. The purple alone made her stand out like royalty, although the earl was sure he would notice her in anything. Miss Bellevue’s strength and bearing overshadowed any other lady in the room.
The dance came to an end and Lord Keegain was suddenly and unaccountably sad to hear the final notes playing. He knew that he must leave her. He bowed to her curtsy, but they moved toward each other unwilling to part. In the silence that followed, the dancers applauded politely and the musicians smiled and nodded to their accolades, but Keegain had the unworthy thought that it was not the mus
icians the couples approved of, but each other.
Keegain was transported back to another time, a freer time when the world was his; when the earldom was still his father’s and when he was at liberty to choose his companions as he wished. Would that he could still do as he chose.
“The crowd of popinjays applaud the end of a set,” he had once told Fitzwilliam in dogmatic manner worthy of Master Thomas, “because they are always startled that everyone else was successfully able to maneuver without crashing into each other like so many drunken draft horses.”
“Do you often feed your draft horses an excess of spirts, then?” Fitzwilliam had inquired out of the corner of his mouth while to all intents and purposes attending their professor.
Keegain was not so lucky. He broke out in a loud guffaw, nearly spitting on Master Thomas himself. This action caused him a detention as Master Thomas did not approve of mockery. The story, told again had Fitzwilliam in stitches. Yet, in all the years since, Lord Keegain had never seen a reason to alter his views on the fallaciousness of balls. Until now: until this dance, with Jane which had seemingly changed everything. Suddenly, the ball he hosted seemed less a duty of nobility and more like a gift: a wondrous and marvelous heavenly gift.
He had not felt so free since he was a boy. He could ask her to dance again and no one would be the wiser. He could even waltz with her. Thank heavens for the masks. He could not stop smiling, until he saw her tense face. Even with the mask over her features, he could sense the tightness in her shoulders, the way she held herself apart.
Something had upset her. Or someone more like, he thought uncharitably. “Miss Bellevue,” he said, approaching her cautiously. “If you forgive me for saying so, you seem uneasy. Might I suggest something cool to drink? It should help take away the residue of your discomfort. There is wassail punch or wine if you prefer?”
Jane seemed to think about it more intently than the question merited. Finally she nodded, the feathers bouncing and fighting one another as she moved. “Thank you, my lord.” She nearly curtsied again. She was certainly distressed.
Winning Lady Jane: A Christmas Regency Romance (Ladies of Bath Book 0) Page 17