Chapter Four
THE NEXT EVENING, JANE was still arranging Anna’s hair when there was a loud rap of the front door knocker.
Joe, their man-of-all-work, would answer it.
Moments later, she heard a rumble of masculine voices; presumably his lordship’s footman had come to the door to inform them of the carriage’s arrival.
Jane snatched up her reticule. “Anna, come downstairs as soon as you’re ready. I’ll tell the footman to wait.” She hurried down the staircase, only to halt halfway down the last flight, pinned by the arrested look on Dalton’s face as he stood in the hallway below staring up at her.
Her face heated, and she knew a pink blush colored her cheeks.
“Good evening, Miss Brody. I trust we are not too early. May I compliment you? You are looking quite spectacular. That shade of pink suits you very well. Does it not, Elizabeth?” He half turned, revealing his slight sister in his shadow.
“Oh, indeed, Miss Brody. Ashes of roses is certainly your color.”
This evening Jane had allowed Anna to dress her hair in an elaborate upswept Grecian knot from which it curled down to dance around her neck. She wore an evening dress cut from the material of one of her mother’s gowns. “Thank you. My sister will not be much longer. Our apologies for delaying you.”
The library door opened, and Reverend Brody stepped into the hall. He appeared a little confused by the sight of two extra and unknown people in his house.
Jane introduced her father to the Marquess and his sister.
The reverend tapped his cheek in thought.
“Dalton, you say? I believe I knew your mother when she was Miss Amelia Lansdown. She was a friend of my wife’s from their first Season in London.
Lovely woman. Had eyes for no one but your father.
Married him at the end of the Season. It took me a little longer to convince my Constance to have me, as her family hoped for a better match than a younger son and clergyman. ”
“That does indeed sound like our mother,” Dalton answered.
Jane’s father considered the pair in front of him. “A pity your mother passed away so young. My Constance missed her fearfully.” He tipped his head toward Lady Elizabeth. “You look a lot like her.”
“You are very kind, Reverend Brody,” Elizabeth said. “Sadly, I never knew my mother, as she died soon after I was born. But my brother remembers her well.”
“Of course, of course,” the reverend said.
A small silence followed, relieved by Anna’s appearance at the top of the staircase. She was dressed in debutant white, with her hair simply arranged with a silver ribbon threaded through her blonde waves.
At last. Jane was thankful for the interruption.
“Ah, Anna, you look splendid,” said the reverend. “Have a wonderful time.”
“Oh, I shall, Papa,” she responded, clearly excited to be attending her first ball.
After gathering the ladies and wishing Reverend Brody a good evening, the Marquess led them to his carriage, where a footman stood by the open door.
Dalton handed each lady into the carriage, and Jane seated herself on the comfortable leather squabs facing the rear. He then stepped inside and seated himself beside his sister, directly in front of Jane.
Dalton stretched out his long legs and bumped Jane’s. Although she tucked her feet close in, his limbs still came to rest close to her own. The heat radiating from his stockinged calves warmed her own as he lounged at his ease.
An occasional waft of the scented soap he had used tickled her nose.
She liked the pleasant aroma. The light of a lantern illuminated the interior of the carriage from time to time, briefly revealing his face with his dark eyes concentrated on her.
It was discomfiting and bewildering to be the focus of this man’s attention.
Was he intentionally trying to make her aware of him?
They traveled through the darkened streets for a few minutes before the carriage halted, and light flared inside as the coachman opened the door and let down the stairs for their exit.
After leaving their cloaks with a footman, they proceeded toward the brightly lit ballroom.
The noise of a hundred voices talking at once assaulted their hearing.
Mrs. Courtice, as president of the charity group, greeted them at the door.
“Such a pleasure to see you again, my lord. I hope your presence here is an indication of your intended greater involvement in our cause?”
“My dear Mrs. Courtice, I am here to enjoy the ball and act as escort to my sister. Nothing more, nothing less. I have every expectation of having an enjoyable evening.”
Mrs. Courtice would have answered but before she could do so, he continued, “And I fear we must leave you, as I can see sets forming for the first dance.”
Turning to his sister, Dalton asked, “Do you have a partner?”
“Oh yes,” she replied, looking around. “Dr. Logan ... and here he is.”
They greeted the slender gentleman with graying hair and moved off to join a set.
“And you, Miss Anna?” Dalton enquired.
Mrs. Courtice sprang into action. “Off you both go. I will introduce Miss Anna to a suitable dance partner.”
The Marquess dipped his chin to their hostess and led Jane to the line of ladies.
Her eyes followed his retreating back, admiring his well-cut black coat stretched across broad shoulders, as he took his place in the gentlemen’s line.
The orchestra played the opening bars of a familiar melody, and the dance began. Jane was soon performing the complicated movements in synchrony with her partner, his warm hands grasping and releasing hers as they came together and separated with the steps.
The ballroom glittered with the light of hundreds of candles, which warmed the air and intensified the scent of the late-blooming flowers decorating the room.
A chandelier lit the center of the room, its light shining on the dancers below.
The orchestra on its dais played two of Jane’s favorite tunes for their country dances.
An audience arranged itself on the sofas and chairs at the sides of the ballroom, chatting and waiting for the return of their protégés.
The half hour passed quickly, and Jane was soon watching a new set of dancers array themselves on the dance floor. Dr. Logan returned a blushing Lady Elizabeth to her brother’s side and asked Jane for the next dance set. Dalton didn’t appear to have noticed his sister’s heightened color.
The group changed partners, with Dalton escorting his sister onto the floor.
Curiosity and speculation about Dr. Logan and Lady Elizabeth warred in Jane’s mind.
Alert now to their interest in each other, she cautiously watched their behavior.
From time to time as the dance progressed, she saw each glance toward the other when they thought themselves unobserved.
How would the Marquess of Dalton and Lady Lucinda react to this mutual interest?
She hoped it wouldn’t end in sadness for them both.
The opportunities for Jane and Dalton to converse were limited by the changing moves of the country dance, keeping their speech to small talk about the evening.
A quick succession of partners made Jane’s evening fly past in an eddy of music, color, and laughter. Before she realized it, the supper dance was next and Lord Dalton was asking her to accompany him. She placed her hand on his forearm and felt its firmness beneath her palm.
With the first bars of the waltz, Dalton took her hand in his and slid his right hand onto her waist. Her skin warmed at the touch. She glanced up into his dark eyes to find them gazing at her intently. Flustered, she looked down at his sapphire-studded cravat pin.
With a brief pause to coordinate their start, Dalton firmly whisked her into the dance. She gave herself up to his direction and felt her feet skim across the polished ballroom floor, lights and sounds whirling around her. She was conscious of his scent at this close proximity.
“Well, Miss Brody, are you enjoying the evening?”
“Very much. Balls are sufficiently infrequent in my life as to make them exciting.” She smiled up at him, wondering whether such a gauche-sounding answer would make him disdain her.
Perhaps not, as Dalton smiled in response.
His arms were a warm encircling space, making her feel relaxed and secure as he guided her around the ballroom. Swirling colors and dots of candlelight danced around them. Jane closed her eyes to savor the delicious feeling of movement.
Jane’s eyes popped open when a rough, cool surface abraded her thin slippers.
Lord Dalton had swept her through the french doors leading outside, and she was being waltzed along the balcony overlooking a garden.
The cool air raised gooseflesh on her bare arms. Her mouth formed an O of surprise and her body tensed.
What was he up to now?
“It’s cooler out here,” he replied to her unspoken question.
She dipped her chin in measured agreement. As he continued their dance, Jane’s muscles relaxed. Nothing, he is up to nothing. Her eyes closed again, returning to a world of feeling and movement.
After a few minutes, Dalton circled his right arm around her waist, drawing her closer and molding his body to hers. Caught off guard and pinned in a compromising position, her eyes snapped open and she stumbled.
Dalton halted their progress. His handsome face loomed closer in the half light. Was he going to kiss her?
Apprehension and attraction warred in her body. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. “What are you doing?” Her words sounded breathless, and she winced at their fearful tone.
Dalton released her and stepped back. “I beg your pardon, Miss Brody. I found the sight of you lost in the music and movement so alluring, I allowed impulse to overcome my good judgement. Shall we resume our dance?” He raised his arms ready. His mellow voice was soothing.