Chapter Eleven
“I suppose you know you’ve formed a tendre for Miss Foster.” Fitz wandered across the drawing room of Kendall Manor and helped himself to a cup of tea on Christmas Eve. “I’ve watched you for the past few days. No doubt about it. You have all the symptoms. It’s a tendre.”
“What? No. Don’t be an idiot. I do not form tendres.
I leave all that stuff to London dandies.
” Blaine frowned over his plate. “She’s an interesting girl, has an educated and sharp wit, and a distressing tendency to speak her mind.
Which is actually more appealing than distressing but wouldn’t do at all in town. ”
“And she has a magnificent horse.”
“Flora is unique, isn’t she?” On this, thought Blaine, he and Fitz could most certainly agree.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a beast with her combination of strength and speed.
That chest…you’d assume she would be only good for farm work, but when you sit atop her for a gallop, you wouldn’t believe the power in those flanks. ”
“You’ve ridden her?”
“Bareback too,” grinned Blaine. “Gerry rides her a lot that way. Both seem to enjoy it.”
“Gerry?” Fitz raised an eyebrow. “How sweet. You’ve already reached the nickname stage.”
“Do I have to ask you to stand up so I can knock you down? I will do it, as you well know.”
“I can’t help it.” Fitz chuckled. “I never thought I’d see the day when you, Mr I-Will-Never-Succumb-To-A-Young-Woman’s-Wiles, succumbs to a young woman’s wiles.”
Blaine held up his hand and raised his forefinger.
“Firstly, I have not succumbed in any way, shape, or form.” He raised another finger.
“Secondly, Gerry has no wiles. She wouldn’t know a wile if it popped out of her teacup.
” He raised another finger. “Thirdly, the mutual interest we share is solely to do with horses. Nothing else. I enjoy her company, Fitz. That’s all. ”
“Ah.” His friend stretched out his legs in front of him. “You’re forgetting one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You kissed her.”
Blaine blinked. He certainly hadn’t forgotten that moment. “Damn you to hell and back, Fitz.”
“A charming sentiment,” he sighed.
“Dear God. What if you’re right? I don’t know what the devil a tendre is.
” Blaine began to pace. “I really like the girl. She is fun to be with, and you never know what’s going to pop out of her mouth next.
She’s bright, cheerful, and doesn’t expect the world to revolve around her.
” He spun on his heel and glared at Fitz.
“Which is a damned sight more than you can say about most of the London Incomparables.”
Fitz nodded. “No arguments on that point, my lad. None whatsoever.” He shuddered a little. “I’d far rather spend a day tramping over snowy countrysides with your Gerry than an afternoon with the latest in a long line of acclaimed beauties.”
That brought Blaine’s pacing to a standstill. The thought of some other man spending hours with her, watching the expressions fly like lightning across her face as she engaged in lively conversation, perhaps laughing with her, arguing with her…no. No, this wasn’t right.
He slowly turned and stared at Fitz, at a loss as to what to say.
Fitz’s lips curled upward into a broad grin. “Ah yes. There it is. Awareness descends like a wonderful cloud of…of utter and complete shock.”
“Damn,” whispered Blaine. “Damn, damn, damn…”
“Well, I believe my afternoon’s work has been successfully completed. Perhaps it’s time for us to prepare for the Christmas Party?”
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“I suggested we adjourn to our chambers to prepare for the evening’s frivolity, old lad. You know, the Christmas party at your young lady’s home?”
“Oh. Um, yes. Yes, good idea.”
Following Fitz from the room, Blaine had to wonder what the hell he was supposed to do. He still wasn’t sure what a tendre was, but if it was the sort of possessive yearning that he was currently experiencing whenever he thought of Geraldine, then he clearly had one.
The problem he now had to face? Dealing with the young lady herself in only a few short hours…
Unaware that she was causing Sir Blaine Kendall many confusing thoughts, Geraldine was caught in the middle of her own small crisis.
Her gown, her favourite red Christmas gown, didn’t fit.
“I don’t understand it,” she groaned, staring at herself in the mirror. “I can’t possibly have grown that much, can I?”
The maid helping her dress for the party, sighed and shook her head. “I’m afraid you have, miss. There is no way to fasten the bodice.”
She was right. Geraldine stared at her breasts, overflowing the snug gathers of velvet that formed the top of the gown. While some might find such a display of flesh appealing, she didn’t. Also, it was very uncomfortable, cutting into her the way it did.
“How are you doing, darling…” Mrs Foster’s voice faded as she peered around the door into Geraldine’s room. “Oh dear.”
“Mama,” she wailed. “I don’t know what to do with these dratted things.”
Her mother tried vainly to suppress a chuckle. “Be proud of them, sweetheart. And let’s find something that fits you better.”
“I don’t have anything,” Geraldine snapped. “Certainly nothing that would work for the Christmas Party.” She slumped onto her bed. “I suppose I shall just stay up here all night.”
“No daughter of mine ever pouts.” Mrs Foster scolded. “You are a young lady. Act like it. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She vanished out the door.
“Unless she’s bringing a stylishly cut hay bale, I see no alternative but to remain unseen this year.
” Geraldine hunched her shoulders, trying to reduce the volume of those annoying breasts.
“If I could wear my shirt and breeches, I’d be quite acceptably covered.
” She turned to the maid and shot her a hopeful glance.
“I could even borrow one of my brother’s cravats, although I’ve no idea how to tie it… ”
“No, miss.” The response was depressingly firm.
The door opened again, and Mrs Foster returned, bearing an armful of deep green silk. “Now then. This should be more the thing.”
“What…where did you get that, Mama?”
“It was made for me several years ago, so it might be a little out of style, but it’s from a London modiste. An excellently designed gown is always attractive.”
“I’ve never seen you wear it…” Geraldine eagerly shed the velvet and touched the folds of silk with reverence.
“It’s more of a ballgown, really. There’s been no need for it at Holly Grange. But tonight it just might serve the purpose.” She carefully drifted the gown over Geraldine’s head and let it settle. “There now. You have exactly the right curves to show it the way it should be shown.”
Holding her breath, Geraldine felt her mother lacing the back closed.
No buttons here, but silk ribbons matching the rich green of the fabric.
Glancing down, she still saw a white and curvaceous bosom, but now it was held properly in place, framed by the delicate shadow of green lace edging the neckline.
“Much better,” pronounced Mrs Foster. “Look at yourself.”
Turning to the mirror, Geraldine barely managed to repress a gasp of surprise.
“Mama,” she breathed. “Oh my…”
A swath of emerald green silk swept from the lower edge of the bodice to the floor.
Absolutely devoid of decoration, it made Geraldine feel taller and more elegant than she ever had before.
The sleeves were puffed and edged with a luxurious ruffle of the same fabric, and the bodice featured the only ornamentation, a lovely piece of embroidery offering fanciful butterflies and birds.
It must have taken months to bead them all into such a dazzling and sparkling display.
“It’s…” she tried to find the words. “It’s…”
“Beautiful, darling. On you, it is indeed beautiful.”
“Thank you,” breathed Geraldine. “I had no idea I could look like this…” She turned from one side to the other, enjoying the swirl of fabric that fell elegantly from the back of the gown.
“Now you must wear this with it.” Mrs Foster produced a small box from which she removed a pendant. “This was your grandmother’s and will be yours in due course. But I believe it’s time to give it a wee outing, don’t you?”
“Oh…”
Geraldine lost her breath as her Mama clasped the jade horse around her neck.
It fell perfectly into place, and she touched it reverently with one finger.
“You couldn’t have found anything better, Mama.
I swear I feel as if I’ve been magically transformed into some kind of Princess for the evening. ”
“You’ve always been my Princess, darling.
You’ve just never realised it until now.
” Mrs Foster beamed at her, then risked a quick hug.
“Now please try not to destroy the gown before the guests arrive? I must dress, and time is passing.” She glanced at the maid.
“Don’t let her change anything at all. Tie her down if necessary. ”
The girl giggled and curtsied. “Yes Ma’am.”
Barely hearing the by-play, Geraldine remained fixated on the image in the mirror, scarcely able to believe it was herself.
“I’m grown up,” she muttered, not sure how she felt about that.
The maid unwrapped the rest of the tissue that Mrs Foster had brought in. “There’s a little pin for your hair too, miss. It might look nice right about…here?”
Candlelight sparkled on her reflection. It dazzled from the beads and stones in the bodice of the gown, from the slim gold chain holding the pendant, and now from a tiny bunch of rich green gems tied together with a golden bow and tucked into Geraldine’s hair.
She’d allowed her maid to dress it more formally this evening, pulling it high and shaping a few loose ends into curls around her face.
The small decoration was the perfect finishing touch.
She swallowed. I wonder what Blaine will think when he sees me.
The sound of a sprightly tune was already drifting through Holly Grange as Blaine and Fitz arrived.
Lights blazed out across the snow-laden surroundings, horses, and carriages filled the spaces in and around the stables, and over and above it all was the hum of voices, laughing, talking, enjoying the seasonal affair.
“This looks like fun,” observed Blaine, watching two small children peeking from a doorway into the hall where a maid and a couple of footmen were taking their cloaks and hats.
“Indeed.” Fitz smiled at the maid. “Thank you, my dear.”
“Sir.” She dropped a polite curtsey, smiling back very warmly.
“No, Fitz.” Blaine grabbed his arm and steered him toward the source of the light and music.
“I wasn’t…”
“I know. You can’t help it, can you? One smile leads to another, and the next thing I know I’m rescuing you out of a bedroom window at three o’clock in the morning while some farmer is trying to load his musket in order to blow your brains out.”
“Oh really,” expostulated Fitz. “You’re exaggerating. That only happened once…”
“I got pig shit on my brand-new boots,” hissed Blaine. “That’s something a man doesn’t forget.”
“Sir Blaine, Mr Wilde…” Mr Foster held out his hand and beamed. “We are so glad you could join us, aren’t we, dear?” He turned to his wife.
“We certainly are.”
She held out her hand and Blaine took it, elegantly saluting it with a light touch of his lips. “Wouldn’t have missed it for anything, sir. Ma’am.”
Fitz followed suit. “We’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
“Oh, go along, you two,” she laughed. “I know a Banbury story when I hear one. But the dancing is about to begin, and I’m sure you’ll be much in demand.”
Mr Foster leaned in. “And if you need to catch your breath, there’s brandy in the library. Don’t tell anyone else, but it’s always nice to have a quiet spot to escape to, if you know what I mean.” He glanced sideways at his wife, who rolled her eyes.
“I do indeed, sir,” grinned Blaine.
“Very much appreciated, sir,” endorsed Fitz, giving the man’s hand a hearty shake. “Would that more hosts felt the same way.”
“Run along now,” Mrs Foster said. “You’d better dance as much as you can. Earn that brandy.”
The two men chuckled, bowed, and did as she suggested. They moved on and into the fray.
Blaine’s eyes automatically drifted over the crowded room, seeking out a certain fair-haired young lady. But he couldn’t find her and frowned.
“Fitz, do you see…” Turning to his friend, he paused and stopped talking, since Fitz was no longer there. He was taking his place in the set forming on the dance floor, smiling from ear to ear at a lovely girl in a simple but very pretty pink gown.
Sighing, Blaine turned away, just in time to see a woman in dark green enter the ballroom.
He blinked.
Then blinked again and realised all the breath had left his lungs.
It was Geraldine.