Chapter Seven #2
‘He could do much, much worse,’ Amy said staunchly. ‘But I want you to be happy. What was he like when he visited, then? Did he act like your silver wasn’t old enough?’
‘He’s not like that at all!’ Jane cried, feeling she had to defend Benedict from accusations of being a snob. ‘Not stuffy…’
‘Why, Jane.’ Amy’s eyes widened. ‘Do you really like him, then?’
Jane turned away to fuss with her quiver of arrows.
‘I haven’t seen any reason yet to dislike him,’ she said carefully.
‘He’s reserved and hard to read, yes. Wary, maybe.
And, really, who could blame him for that, the way everyone stares at him?
’ She lowered her voice to a whisper, as if it was a secret. ‘He rescued a dog.’
‘Then he could never be bad!’ Amy cried in astonishment. ‘But is “not bad” good enough for you, Jane?’
Jane laughed. ‘I am confused. I thought you wanted me to be a duchess so I could give your beau a job?’
‘Well, that wouldn’t be a bad thing, to say I am friends with a real duchess! But you are so kind, Jane, such a good friend to me. You deserve only the very best.’
‘Ladies, it is time to take your places,’ the announcement went out, and Jane took a deep breath.
She had to concentrate on her arrows now, and not let the likes of Regina get ahead of her.
She followed Amy to the lawn set up with rows of targets.
Deck chairs ringed the edges of the field, and Jane glimpsed May perched in one, Connor standing behind her.
They cheered, and she waved at them. She always felt steadier when her family was near.
Their love for her was always easy and warm.
She only ever wanted to make them proud.
Connor leaned down to whisper something in May’s ear, and Jane saw they weren’t alone there. Benedict was with them.
She was afraid seeing him, knowing he watched her, would make her more nervous, but somehow it didn’t.
He smiled, but she could tell somehow, from his watchful eyes, his tense hands folded around the straw hat he held, that he urged her forward.
She could feel his support even without a word.
She returned his smile for an instant before turning away, and suddenly her hands were steadier.
‘Jane, we’re over here,’ Amy called, and Jane turned away from the bewitching spell of Benedict’s blue gaze.
She found her mark between Amy and Florence Livingston.
Regina Van Joort stood on Florence’s other side and threw Jane a sidelong glance before the two giggled together.
Jane knew she might look like them, all of them in their pastel gowns and straw hats, but she always felt apart, watching from a distance.
‘Oh, how brave of Miss O’Neill to wear last season’s gown so confidently,’ Regina said loudly. ‘One almost admires her disregard for the current fashion.’
‘Just ignore her, Jane,’ Amy murmured. ‘She just wants to throw you off your game so she can win the diamond arrow.’
‘I intend to ignore her at all times,’ Jane whispered back lightly as she tested her bowstring.
‘She’s jealous the duke pays attention to you and your family, and not hers.’
Jane peeked over at where Benedict laughed with May and Connor. It made her smile. Regina could just lump it.
‘Ready, ladies. Take aim…’ went up the announcement, and Jane focused only on the target before her, the sunlight fading around her.
She drew back her bowstring, steady and smooth, just as she’d practised, and loosed her arrow. She imagined for a second that it was Regina’s hideous flowered hat she skewered, and smiled. It landed with a most satisfying thwack right on the bull’s-eye.
She knew her family sometimes worried she only spent time reading, but she did so enjoy archery, tennis and sailing. If a person practised and concentrated, did everything right, if the day’s luck was with them, they would land their goal. The rest of life was never so straightforward.
She couldn’t help but to peek over and see if Benedict was watching her. She found that she wanted to make him proud, make him see she could be elegant and accomplished, even if her gown was from last year. Knowing he was watching made every moment more real.
She moved to the next round, and then onto the last. She made herself forget that Benedict watched and just focused on the arrow before her, the target. In the last round, she found herself next to Regina.
‘My, Miss O’Neill, your form is so…unconventional,’ she said sweetly. ‘But I do admire how you prioritise enthusiasm over accuracy.’
Jane thought of how very close she had come to the bull’s-eye in the previous rounds and laughed.
‘Indeed, Miss Van Joort,’ she said. Not even Regina could distract her now, not with Benedict watching and cheering her on.
She narrowed her gaze on the target, tested the taut bowstring with her fingertips and let it fly.
It landed right on target, with Regina’s arrow far to the left.
‘Well done, Miss O’Neill,’ Mr Schuyler, the owner of the estate and sponsor of the competition, said with a grin. He hurried over and took her hand to kiss it. ‘Now, I am sure everyone will be most happy to welcome His Grace the Duke of Trent, who has graciously agreed to present today’s prizes.’
Flushed with her victory, she turned to see Benedict coming towards her, smiling.
Someone handed him a velvet cushion holding the diamond arrow brooch that was her prize.
Seeing him in that moment made everything slow; the background of the party faded, and her focus sharpened on him like a held breath.
‘Congratulations, Miss O’Neill,’ he said, his smile widening. She had to smile in return.
He leaned closer to pin it to her lace-trimmed collar, so near she could smell his sandalwood soap and feel his warmth, the brush of his fingers on her throat. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hold a single thought in her head. Her wits were utterly scattered, and she could only feel.
She dared glance up at his face from under the narrow brim of her hat.
He looked as stunned by the moment as she felt; it was like watching a door swing open to something raw and real, something neither of them had quite expected in that moment.
For a second, the very air between them changed.
It felt as if a secret had just been shared without words.
Do you like him? Amy had asked, and Jane hadn’t known what to say.
She feared she certainly did like him—too much.
He wasn’t what she would have assumed a duke to be.
He was handsome, to be sure, and intriguing with his hidden depths.
But he wasn’t the sort of man for her. His life was far away and so full of complexities.
Yet what was this between them? How could she shake it away?
‘Congratulations, Miss O’Neill,’ he said again, his voice hoarse. He took a step back, and she desperately missed the heat of him. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, to smile as if her world wasn’t rocking on its axis. ‘Very well done.’
‘Thank you,’ she said breathlessly. How ridiculous she sounded! She hoped he did not hear.
‘Shall I escort you to the refreshment tents?’ he said. ‘I did hear they have strawberries and cream to go with the champagne.’
‘That sounds wonderful, thank you.’ She took his arm, feeling the strength and flex of it under her hand.
She was sure he must do more than walk around his vast halls in England!
She was quite distracted as they strolled past the house, the clusters of wicker chairs and settees where people whispered and giggled at seeing them together. Benedict didn’t seem to notice at all.
But Regina Van Joort and her friends certainly did. They watched her with astonishment and anger. She had to resist the urge to laugh, until she remembered that one of those girls was exactly the sort whom Benedict was looking for in Newport.
‘I did promise to help you navigate the American way of courtship,’ Jane teased. She did feel absurdly happy with him, just strolling across a lawn on a sunny day. In that light moment, she forgot why this couldn’t last, why he wasn’t the man for her. ‘Has any Newport lady caught your eye?’
He glanced around with a little frown. ‘Hmm. What of that one over there in the pink gown? Or maybe Miss Livingston? My aunt tells me she is quite sought-after, though I rather worry she has an eye condition, from how much she bats her lashes when I see her.’
‘I think that is just due to you.’ She thought of Florence Livingston and her golden curls with a jealous pang.
‘The lady in pink is Miss Browning. She is quite nice, from what I’ve seen of her.
A bit shy, rather overwhelmed by her noisy mama.
’ She nodded toward Mrs Browning, who sailed across the lawn like a lavender silk-clad galleon.
‘I am sure she would love to be whisked away from her family to a castle in England!’
‘And Miss Livingston of the batting lashes?’
Jane hesitated. Florence Livingston followed wherever Regina Van Joort led. ‘She has a large dowry.’
Benedict laughed. ‘A ringing endorsement.’
Jane laughed too. She always ended up wanting to laugh with him, no matter what else was happening.
It was the kind of laughter that bubbled up unexpectedly from a shared glance, a ridiculous joke or something utterly mundane made hilarious just because it was with him.
In those moments, the world felt lighter.
And afterwards, when the laughter faded into warm quiet, things became dangerous.
‘I admit she is not my favourite person, but she has a well-respected family and is very accomplished,’ Jane said. ‘You saw how she was at archery today, and she plays the harp beautifully. I am sure she, or any lady here, would be honoured by your attentions.’
‘Any lady here?’ He shot her a questioning glance that was a silent conversation all on its own. That quick tilt of his head, the slight narrowing of the eyes, made her feel afraid he saw her hidden emotions.