Chapter Five #2
She looked so wistful that Jane had to hug her.
But should she, could she, consider Paul’s suit—after everything?
She remembered the moment before he’d kissed her so long ago, the way his gaze turned heavier, expectant, as if she’d owed him that.
She didn’t know how to move, how to say no.
And since then she’d replayed it a hundred different ways: what she should’ve said, how she should’ve stepped back sooner or pushed him away…
That kiss had been nothing like Benedict’s.
‘Surely it doesn’t have to be one or the other? There are lots of men in New York to look over.’ Yet none of them had ever caught her attention for more than a moment. Not until Benedict… ‘Come on; let’s go to a party…’
Everyone who was anyone in Newport appeared often at the shingle-sided Casino, and Jane was no exception.
It offered tennis courts, cricket pitches, lawn bowling, archery, reading rooms, billiards and card rooms, though no serious gambling despite the name.
There were large porches for open-air luncheons and teas, and a theatre that could be transformed into a ballroom.
But she’d never seen it quite as bright as tonight.
Jane fidgeted nervously with her gloves as she followed May and Connor towards the ballroom.
She realised everyone was studying her as a potential duchess now, which was not a pleasant thought at all.
They watched her, gossiped about that wretched fountain incident and judged her gown, her smile, her walk…
who knew what? She made herself smile more brightly and hold her head high.
She nodded to acquaintances, waved at Amy and took in the sparkle of the room.
And there at the very centre, as if all the light in the room was gathered only on him, was the man she both longed and dreaded to see: the duke—Benedict.
He was surrounded by a crowd of ladies, and she tried not to stare at him, but she couldn’t quite stop herself.
Across the crowded room, he caught her eye before she’d even realised she was looking so intently.
There was something magnetic about the way he stood there, relaxed but unmistakably confident, as if he belonged there without effort, as dukes always would.
The soft glow of the chandeliers highlighted the sharp lines of his jaw and the casual sweep of his gold-touched hair.
Then he actually smiled at her, as if they were in some sort of conspiracy across the room, as if only they saw the truth there.
The party sparkled around her, but all she could focus on was him. Jane froze for a moment, unable to move forward or look away from him at all.
She thought of the earl who’d visited New York last year, and how she’d imagined a man with a title to be after that: lazy, demanding, drunk most of the time and most unpleasant.
A duke who was like that could pose no danger to a lady’s heart.
This man, Benedict, though—he could. There was a peculiar kind of danger about him—not the kind that shouted warnings, as with Paul, but the quiet, irresistible kind that seeped into her heart and took hold before she’d even realised it.
His smile was a spark that ignited something wild and tender. He was dangerous to her heart.
‘Jane?’ Connor said, interrupting her whirling thoughts, and held out his other arm to her. ‘Are you well, deirfiur? You look a little pale.’
She smiled up at him. How she adored him, her dear brother! With Connor, there was such a mix of protection and understanding, shared memories and hopes. He was always there when things got hard.
‘It’s just a little crowded in here,’ she said.
May smiled at her gently. ‘It’s a ridiculous place for dancing, isn’t it? But it’s important to be seen at the Casino. We don’t have to stay late.’
Jane opened her mouth to answer, but then felt a strange sort of shift in the air, a flicker in the corner of her eye.
She turned, and found Benedict coming towards her, weaving through the crowd that parted for him with an easy, unhurried stride that somehow made the room feel so much smaller.
Her breath caught. He was looking at her.
Every sound in the party blurred into something distant, muffled, beneath the pounding of her own heart.
She stood straighter, trying not to fuss with her hair, not to look too eager.
He drew closer, and she saw the warmth in his formerly so-chilly eyes, the way he smiled.
It was just him and nothing else in the whole world.
Then he was right there before them. ‘Mr and Mrs O’Neill, Miss O’Neill…’ he said with a bow. She became aware everyone was watching them, and her skin turned hot. She fussed with her fan. ‘I have to say thank you again for your very kind actions yesterday over the…the…’
‘The perilous fountain?’ Jane said, and everyone watching vanished again. It was as if she was looking at the old Benedict again.
He laughed, a sound that caught her by surprise.
It was warm and unguarded, like sunlight breaking through on a cloudy day.
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his whole face softened, as if in that moment, nothing in the world was heavy.
As if she’d heard the truest version of him, just for an instant.
‘Just so. Wretchedly clumsy of me; I have no excuse. I’m glad you were there. ’
She suddenly felt so light; the whole evening was transformed because of his laugh. It was delicious, playful and slow, every word like a dare. ‘Mrs Beresford does have terrible taste in garden ornaments, I’m rather surprised there aren’t more injuries there. I trust that you’re well? Not injured?’
He grimaced. ‘Only my dignity.’ The musicians struck up the opening notes of the first dance, a waltz. It rose like a curtain being drawn back on a theatrical scene, full of promise. There was a swell, a pause, inviting people in. ‘Would you honour me with this dance, Miss O’Neill?’
Jane was surprised. She hadn’t expected the invitation, or the way his hand extended toward hers with just the hint of a smile.
For a second, she forgot how to speak. Her own hand hesitated, hovering in the air in surprise and hope.
She tried to laugh it off, to gather her thoughts with some graceful reply.