Chapter 63
SIXTY-THREE
When Geneva woke on the morning of December the thirty-first, she felt a tiny spark of optimism.
The situation wasn’t about to improve, but come tomorrow it would be a new year, and several people who had been instrumental in causing her agitation would be gone.
Aunt Clarissa would return to London and stop dripping advice into her brother’s ear, and Rory’s departure would make things considerably less awkward.
Tonight was a night to celebrate and see this year out with music, dancing, and champagne.
Tomorrow, a new reality would set in, one Geneva would have to accept, no matter how uncertain she felt on the inside.
Sending up a fervent prayer that the silly things wouldn’t get themselves killed, Geneva hurried to the kitchen, where Cook had reduced one of the maids to tears with her endless criticism of the girl’s chopping skills.
Geneva brokered peace, checked on the progress of the menu, examined the dining room, where the table for twenty was being set, made sure there were enough champagne glasses for the midnight toast, and placed the records Jesse had purchased beside the gramophone.
She would ask the footmen who had been hired from the village to roll up the carpet and create a makeshift dance floor in the drawing room.
By the time she looked up, it was nearly three o’clock.
Where the devil was Honor? Normally, Geneva would have taken her concerns to her father or Rory, but, since she was meant to marry Jesse, she supposed she must now go to him.
She hadn’t seen him for some time and wondered what he might be doing.
She found him in her father’s bedroom, reading aloud from the book she and Honor had given Douglas for Christmas.
It sounded strange to hear Dickens narrated in an American accent, but there was something rather appealing about it as well.
How handsome Jesse looked with his fair hair, blue eyes, and bronzed skin.
Had he not been forced upon her, and had they met instead at a ball or supper party, she might have been very taken with him indeed.
Jesse stopped reading and smiled at her, his gaze warm with affection.
Was it possible that he truly cared for her?
And could she dare hope for a happy ending?
She wouldn’t find her answer tonight, and she was sick with worry over her feckless sister, but perhaps she could allow herself to fan that spark of optimism she had felt earlier and let it grow into a small, tenacious flame.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Geneva said.
Douglas waved a dismissive hand. “I’m actually rather tired. Perhaps we can continue tomorrow.”
“I hope my reading didn’t bore you,” Jesse joked.
“No, it was nice. Thank you. But I do need to sleep a while before the party, otherwise I will never last till midnight.”
“I’ll leave you to rest, then,” Jesse said and followed Geneva out the door.
“I’m worried about Honor,” she told him. “She took off with Rose hours ago. I had no idea she could drive.”
Jesse smiled guiltily. “I’ve been teaching her.”
“Without asking Father for permission?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have asked. It’s just that she’s been so affected by all this, and she feels like no one cares what she wants. I thought it would be a nice thing to do. I didn’t think she’d take the car for a joyride.”
Geneva thought that was a fitting term. Honor had looked joyful as she had sped through the gates. Perhaps she needed this, and as long as the girls returned safely, she decided, she wouldn’t berate them for going off like that. They deserved a bit of fun.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jesse asked.
“Everything is in hand,” Geneva replied, then smiled ruefully. “Actually, there is something.”
“I’m ready and able to do my part,” Jesse said.
“I’m sadly out of practice when it comes to dancing. And I don’t know any of the new dances.”
Jesse’s smile grew wide. “It would be my absolute pleasure to teach you. And we’ll begin with the Charleston. I don’t think it’s very popular in England, but it’s becoming all the rage in America. Can I show you?”
Geneva nodded happily. “Please.”
They headed downstairs and shut the door to the drawing room, and Jesse selected one of the records he had purchased and put it on.
“It starts with the footwork,” he said as he took his place.
“Doesn’t every dance?”
“Yes but when dancing the Charleston, you also have to swing your arms from side to side, like so.”
He demonstrated, and Geneva laughed. “You look like a chimp.”
“Come on, do it with me,” Jesse invited her. “One step forward, one step back. Don’t forget to swing those arms. Now bring your arms up, like this.”
Jesse lifted his hands and held them palms out.
He was light on his feet, and the steps seemed to come naturally to him.
He moved in time with the music without pausing or thinking, and his grin widened when Geneva finally caught the pattern and managed several seconds of true dancing before she became confused and nearly tripped over her own feet.
“This is harder than it looks,” she grumbled.
“It’s really not. Just have fun with it. No one will notice if you’re not doing it right. They’ve never seen it before. So even if you keep to only one basic step, you will be one step ahead of them,” he quipped. “Come on, from the top.”
He restarted the record, and Geneva managed to get through the whole thing with only a few missteps.
Once she stopped paying so much attention to her feet, she realized that she was having a ball and found that she was laughing by the time the music came to a stop and Jesse performed an exaggerated bow.
“We’re going to knock them dead tonight,” he said.
Geneva’s smile slid off her face. She didn’t want to think about death, or about the immediate future. She just wanted to enjoy a few hours of carefree fun.
“Did I say something wrong?” Jesse asked.
“I don’t want to knock anyone dead,” Geneva admitted. “It sounds too morbid.”
“All right, then, you can be footloose and fancy-free. How’s that?”
“I like the sound of that, especially if you will be the same.”
“I might be footloose, but I’m not fancy-free,” he said. His arm went around her waist, and he pulled her to him, his lips capturing hers in a sweet kiss as he molded himself to her body.
Geneva placed her hands on Jesse’s chest, meaning to push him away, but found herself leaning closer instead.
Her body thrummed with excitement, and something altogether new.
She felt as though she were fizzing like a glass of freshly poured champagne, and she liked the unfamiliar sensation.
For the first time in weeks, she felt truly alive, filled with a longing for excitement, adventure, and romance.
Before she could think better of it, she kissed Jesse back and kept kissing him until she was breathless with desire.
She had never felt this way with Rory. His kisses had been pleasant, but they had never made her knees go weak or left her feeling so wonderfully bemused.
With Jesse, the kiss felt spontaneous, a natural extension of the closeness they had shared—and perhaps a sign that, now that they were engaged, both were ready to take the next step.
As they drew apart, Geneva realized she might welcome that, so long as Jesse was willing to go at her pace and didn’t press her into anything she wasn’t ready for, the way Rory had done.
It was then that Geneva heard the roar of the automobile and the shriek of the horn as the Austin 7 sped down the lane.
She ran to the window, and her hand went to her mouth in both admiration and shock.
Neither Honor nor Rose was wearing a hat, and their newly shorn hair whipped in the wind as they honked the horn and weaved their hats in the air in an act of pure adolescent glee.
Geneva had turned on her heel, determined to meet them in the foyer before Clarissa caught a glimpse of Rose, when she realized the door to the drawing room was ajar. Rory stood on the other side, and his expression warned Geneva that he had been there for some time.