Chapter 15
Agatha came to help me dress a few hours later, and I could not keep a smile from my face. Not even Mrs. Rawlings’s continued disapproval could dampen my spirits. I was venturing beyond Briarstone, even if just for a few hours, and I would spend the night dancing.
I was grateful now that Ginny had insisted I pack a ball gown.
I would have had nothing appropriate otherwise, and even though I would likely never see these people again, I still wished to make a good impression.
They hadn’t heard the rumors about me, did not even know my real name.
This was my chance to reinvent myself, just for an evening, and I planned to take full advantage of that.
Agatha spent extra time on my hair, braiding my golden curls into an elegant coiffure atop my head.
When I stepped in front of the mirror to inspect myself, I smiled.
I looked rather lovely, all things considered.
My silk gown was the lightest of pinks and had the most beautiful embroidery at the hem and sleeves.
My neckline skimmed a bit lower than my normal day dresses, and I thought the gown showed my figure rather well.
Leaving Agatha in my room, I made my way down the grand staircase. I was early, and Mr. Rawlings had yet to descend. I paced the entryway as I waited for him, practically bouncing on my toes, anticipation humming inside me.
Finally, I heard footsteps and turned to see Mr. Rawlings descending. He buttoned his jacket as he made his way down, focused intently on his task, so I had the chance to fully appreciate the effect of Mr. Alexander Rawlings dressed to impress.
And I was very impressed.
He wore a black jacket with a fawn waistcoat, both of which did remarkable favors for his towering physique.
The raven waves of his hair were tamed ruthlessly by pomade, as though he had made a marked effort to appear as resolute and unaffected as ever.
The stubble that often crept over his face this late in the day shadowed his neck and jaw, and he had a pair of gloves tucked under one arm.
The bruises from our altercation in Vauxhall had faded over the last few days, though I could still see the slight discoloration around his right eye.
He looked so terribly dark and dashing that I suddenly wished to hide, certain I would not make it through the night with such a man at my side. My skin radiated a tingling energy, my stomach a hive of nerves.
He glanced up, then back down at his buttons. “There you are, Miss—”
He looked back to me, eyes intense and focused as they swept over me from head to foot. He slowed as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his hands seeming to forget altogether what they’d been doing.
A surge of pleasure rushed over me. How long had it been since I’d felt this way—since a man had looked at me with admiration rather than judgment?
“Good evening, Mr. Rawlings,” I said, surprisingly calm. “You look very nice.”
I smoothed the fabric at my stomach, drawing his attention to my narrow waist. Sometimes, a girl simply could not help herself, and I’d had so few moments of power in the short time I’d known Mr. Rawlings. I would enjoy this.
He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes from me and finishing the last button on his jacket. “Are you ready?”
“Do you not wish to return the compliment, sir?” I asked with an innocent expression. “How do I look?” I gave a small turn, bringing my shoulder to my chin and flashing him a mischievous smile.
“I think you know how you look,” he said, his voice even and unbothered.
How well he masked himself. But I’d seen how he’d stared at me.
“Oh, I do,” I said coyly. “I simply wish to hear it from you.”
“That is very reaching.” He made his way toward the front door, tugging on his gloves as he went. “Should not a compliment be offered freely and sincerely?”
I followed him. “I quite agree. I am simply providing you with such an opportunity.”
“So generous.”
“I do try.”
His carriage waited at the foot of the steps as we went outside, the chill October air sweeping over us. Mr. Rawlings stopped next to the carriage and offered me his hand. I paused beside him but did not take it.
“You mustn’t keep a lady waiting for reassurances about her appearance,” I told him, attempting to keep my expression stern. “I shall begin to doubt myself entirely and wish to stay home.”
“Do not tempt me,” he replied. “You are far too sure of yourself as it is, and I have little desire to attend the assembly.”
I simply waited, eyebrows raised in expectation.
He exhaled a long, frustrated breath. “Very well. You are as lovely as you are vexatious. How is that?”
I considered a moment, then smiled. “That will do.”
I took his hand, and the moment his strong fingers closed about mine, my heartbeat sped into a rapid staccato, a shiver running through me. Heavens, we wore gloves, yet my body seemed to react as if I’d touched a pan too hot from the stove.
I dared not look at him as I stepped up into the carriage and took my seat. He followed me inside, closing the door behind him and sitting across from me. He seemed to fill the space that remained, making me all too aware of how alone we were—and how quickly my heart was beating.
“I wanted to discuss how you will comport yourself tonight,” he said without preamble. He knocked on the roof, and the carriage started off.
“Oh? Do enlighten me.”
“It would be best if you made very little impact on the gathering,” he said. “Do not speak or laugh overmuch. Be polite but not memorable. Do whatever you can to keep from drawing undue attention to yourself.”
“What a pleasure this will be,” I said dryly. “Shall I fetch my copy of Fordyce’s Sermons to read in the corner and reject anyone who asks me to dance?”
“Ideally, yes.”
“I would not put too much hope in that.” I settled my hands on either side of me and leaned forward, looking him in the eye with a daring grin. “I intend on fully enjoying myself tonight.”
His lids lowered. “It is not too late to turn around.”
“A bluff,” I countered.
He raised his hand to the roof as if to signal the driver, his brows arched in a challenge.
“Oh, very well,” I said with a wave. “I shall behave. You must know I have no desire to compromise our story.”
He lowered his hand. “Good. Because it could happen in an instant, a slip of the tongue that reveals too much. If anyone asks you questions, use as much of your real life as you can. It will be easier to remember than anything fabricated.”
I stored away his advice. No matter that I teased, I very much did not want to give away my true identity tonight, and not just because a murderer was after me. “I will take care. I promise.”
He nodded. “I will remain close should anything happen. Simply look for me, and I will extricate you from any conversation you wish to avoid.”
Why did my stomach flutter at his words? They weren’t romantic in the least.
“And will you dance?” I couldn’t resist asking. It was difficult to picture him on the dance floor, hopping through the steps of a spirited country reel.
Mr. Rawlings cast me a look of such disgusted disbelief that I laughed.
“I shall take that as a no,” I said, still grinning. “You will disappoint so many young ladies.”
“That is not my concern tonight,” he replied. “Or any night.”
Perhaps it was a very good thing he did not dance. For purely selfish reasons, I had no desire whatsoever to see another woman on his arm.
The ride to town took only a few minutes, and I spent most of it peering out the window, glad for any view that wasn’t Briarstone. When we came to a stop in front of an unassuming townhome on the edge of the village, I straightened in surprise. “This is Helen’s home?”
“Yes,” he said, opening the door and stepping out.
I examined the house from inside the carriage, curiosity rising inside me.
The flower boxes were neat and tidy, and the door had seen a fresh coat of paint, but all in all, it was much smaller and more modest than I would have imagined for the cousin of someone of Mr. Rawlings’s status.
Not that I cared one whit about Helen’s wealth or position in Society, but I found that I had to constantly reevaluate everything I learned about Mr. Rawlings and his family.
Helen appeared at the front door, wearing a cream ball gown with a lace overlay. “A beautiful night, cousin,” she greeted Mr. Rawlings. “Isn’t it refreshing to step outside of Briarstone every now and again?”
“I am already regretting it,” he said stoically.
She took his hand as he helped her inside. “Oh, Miss Albright, don’t you look a picture,” she exclaimed as she sat beside me. “Absolutely lovely. Isn’t she lovely, Alexander?”
He followed Helen back inside. “I have already pronounced her precisely so, under much duress.”
“I cannot guess at what you mean,” I said with false sweetness.
Helen’s eyes flicked between the two of us, too perceptive for my taste. No good would come of her thinking there was anything between Mr. Rawlings and me.
I turned to her, wanting to distract her. “Your dress is beautiful,” I said. “I’ve never seen such exquisite lace.”
She smiled, touching the lace. “My husband brought it home after his last voyage to India. He spoils me so.”
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“Patrolling the Channel,” she replied. “Thankfully, nowhere near as far as India.”
We chatted easily as the carriage wound its way through town, discussing Elijah’s latest antics and comparing which dances we hoped would be called tonight.
Mr. Rawlings watched me with Helen, one hand propped against his chin, the lantern outside lighting his face.
I tried very hard not to guess what he was thinking.
We arrived at the assembly rooms, which looked very cheery indeed, though much smaller than those I’d visited in London. The windows glowed from within, cozy and welcoming, and I could already hear the sounds of the orchestra tuning their instruments.