Chapter Nine
Jane tried on another hat, peering closely at herself in her dressing table mirror. It was the sixth she’d put on that morning, and it still didn’t seem quite right.
‘What about the blue boater, Daisy?’ she muttered.
Daisy went on folding the freshly ironed linen. ‘That was the very first one you put on, Miss Jane, and it was lovely. You usually aren’t so fussy when it comes to a day of sailing.’
But Benedict usually didn’t join them on the Eos. And drat Connor for so casually mentioning that fact at the breakfast table!
‘Oh, by the way,’ he’d said as he’d spread marmalade on his toast. ‘I asked the duke to go with us today. He seems very knowledgeable about sailing, doesn’t he?’
‘You invited the duke today?’ May had gasped, her teaspoon frozen aloft in her hand.
‘Yes. Is that a problem, a ghra?’ He’d given his wife a most innocent, blinking glance. ‘I thought we wanted to be friends with him.’
‘We do! He is very charming,’ May had said. She’d dropped her spoon to twist her napkin, looking terribly worried. ‘But I asked for a very simple hamper luncheon, just for family. Surely we need something grander now?’
For a moment, Jane had been shocked, nervous but uncertain, hopeful, as she always was when she knew she would see Benedict. She wanted everything to be right, perfect even, and she feared how it would feel if he didn’t like the time with them.
‘I wouldn’t worry, May. You know he won’t mind at all,’ Jane had said, trying to convince herself she was right.
‘I think he might be a bit lonely,’ Jane’s mother had said.
‘Lonely?’ May had said. ‘But he is a duke!’
‘Of course he is,’ Jane’s mother had added, slipping a nibble of bacon to Kate under the table. ‘All alone in a big, cold house all the time, no one talking to him as if he was a real person. You can see it in his eyes.’
‘He seems contented enough,’ May had mused.
‘When he’s with Janey, he is,’ Connor had teased.
Jane had felt her face turning warm, and she’d tossed her balled-up napkin at her infuriating brother. ‘Don’t be silly!’
‘Janey does always want to help the friendless,’ her mother had added.
Jane studied herself now in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes too bright, and her heavy hair was trying to escape from its pins as usual.
Like May, wanting something simple such as just her hamper luncheon, Jane had planned to wear her blue skirt and shirtwaist with a striped jacket.
That wouldn’t do now. She had to look smart if the duke was to be seen with them, like the women in those photos of Princess Alexandra at Cowes.
She didn’t want to look at her own emotions too deeply; it was like standing at the edge of a dark, swirling pond: she knew there was something beneath the surface, but she was afraid to peer too closely for fear of what she might see.
She couldn’t afford to be overwhelmed by Benedict, to lose control, to uncover truths that might change everything in her life. She couldn’t be left open.
‘What about this one?’ Daisy asked, and held up a daisy-trimmed hat.
‘Perfect!’ Jane said brightly, happy to be distracted.
Sensing activity about to begin, Kate leaped off her new cushion on the bed and twirled around.
She jumped down and scampered out the door.
Jane followed, and found Benedict waiting in the hall below, watching her on the stairs.
Despite all her fears, her need to hide, she couldn’t look away from him.
She saw the way his breath caught just a little, as if her presence filled a space in him that was quite empty. It was a look that made her feel seen, truly seen. Time felt softer, slower. She found herself standing a little taller, feeling a bit braver—with him.
‘You look…like summertime,’ he said hoarsely.
Jane felt that horrid blush creeping up again, and fidgeted with her gloves, trying not to stare at him. ‘I did try to look like the princess at Cowes.’
‘You far surpass her.’
She laughed and was glad to find that easy feeling she so often had with him returning. ‘Now you’re teasing.’
He placed his hand on his heart over his linen jacket. ‘Not at all, I promise! The princess is impeccable. You don’t have to be; you just are.’
Jane stepped off the bottom stair, careful not to trip on Kate. He smelled so delicious, like sunshine and sandalwood soap, and it reached out to wrap around her, draw her to him. ‘I’m sure you’ve met her—the princess?’
‘I have, yes. And I promise you, you are just as lovely. You would know that if you could see her.’
Jane found herself turning warm with pleasure at the compliment. ‘You have to go to court sometimes, yes?’
‘Yes. Another duke’s duty. And it’s necessary for me to fulfil my role, to help my estate.’
‘And when you’re married, your wife will have to be presented there.’ She had read about those royal drawing rooms: the crowds, the procedure, the fear of tripping over one’s train while backing away from the queen. That was what she would do for certain—topple right over in front of everyone.
He frowned. ‘She will. Even a lady who was presented as a debutant is presented again when she’s married. Especially as a duchess who might have to take on a role at court.’
‘I’ve read about those drawing rooms. It sounds terribly scary. I would surely trip on my train.’
‘You never would! You would be the prettiest one there, and everyone would want to be close to you. They would think, “who is that charming American lady? I’ve never seen anyone like her”…’
Jane dared imagine it for a moment: she, gliding elegantly past the royal dais, plumes nodding, satin train gleaming, everyone watching and admiring.
She knew it could never be, that it was only a little fantasy, but she enjoyed it for a moment.
She laughed at the thought of the tall Irish colleen curtsying to the queen, but Benedict looked serious.
‘I had a rather strange encounter with an unpleasant sort of chap yesterday, Jane,’ he said.
At first, she was startled by the change in subject. ‘I can’t think anyone in Newport would be unpleasant to you. Their wives would be furious.’
‘He said he was named Brosnahan. And he warned me away from being friends with you in a most vehement way. If you are engaged, or about to be, I would never wish to cause you trouble.’
‘Oh.’ Paul Brosnahan. The man was like a shadow that lingered too long in the corner of her eye, haunting her from the past, persistent and unwelcome. Knowing he was now talking to Benedict made that discomfort sharpen into unease. She didn’t understand it at all.
‘I do hope you pay him no mind at all,’ she said. ‘He is just someone I once knew, and he has unfortunately taken rather a—a liking to me now.’
‘I did my best ducal impression of contempt,’ he said, and gave her a demonstration of a haughty glare that she thought was quite intimidating. ‘But if he is a favoured suitor of yours…’
‘He certainly is not.’ It all made her feel so claustrophobic, as if she was being politely cornered in a room with no door, constantly forced to explain her own lack of interest. ‘Maybe one day he could have been, but it was long ago. We knew each other when we were quite young. He lived in the same building, and our neighbours liked to tease that one day we would marry. Maybe he thought it then too, I’m not sure.
Then he went away to make his fortune and I thought that was the end of it all.
I’m afraid he’s become quite presumptuous and intense since he returned to New York.
It makes me feel quite…’ She shivered, thinking about how Paul looked at her, his gaze too long, too intense, as if he was trying to read a future that didn’t exist. It was not just desire, but entitlement.
It was so different from the way Benedict made her feel.
‘I see,’ he said simply, and gently touched her hand. The touch was gentle, grounding, like an anchor in turbulent water. It seemed to say she didn’t have to carry it all alone.
May and Connor came in just then, arm in arm, laughing, and Benedict took a step back. Yet that touch lingered on her skin.
‘Well, then,’ Connor said. ‘Shall we go sailing?’
‘Isn’t it glorious?’ Jane cried, taking off her hat to wave it in the wind.
She leaned against the rail of Eos and wished she could fly away into the blue-washed sky.
She loved the wind on her face, the endless horizon ahead; the flap of the sails, the creak of the ropes and rush of waves below.
The world had shrunk to just sky and sea.
She felt part of something immense and alive. Out here, she could simply be.
Benedict laughed and stepped up beside her to turn his own face into the sunshine.
His hair gleamed in the light, glinting gold.
His blue eyes squinted slightly against the light.
His laugh sounded so free, effortless, as if he belonged to this moment too.
She couldn’t tell whether the light was coming from the sun or from him.
‘It’s like…like…’ he said.
‘Freedom?’ she cried.
‘Yes! Freedom. If we could only fly away, up and up into those clouds and soar all around, wherever we wanted…’
‘What would you do, then, if you could fly anywhere you wanted?’
He looked utterly astonished by her question. ‘I never even considered that.’
Jane thought that was completely sad. ‘Not even in a daydream? Like after you read a book that made you wonder what something else, another life, would be like?’
‘I never dared.’
‘Dreams are free, you know. Even for dukes.’
‘But they make reality even harder to bear sometimes.’
Jane hated to see that shadow of sadness in his eyes. The cracks in his smile, the weariness he carried behind those eyes, made her heart sink for him. She wanted only to wrap him in warmth and laughter. But some storms had to be weathered and could not be fixed. ‘Benedict…’