Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Nina
Sweetwater Point
Dance Hall
Nina was not inclined to dance. Mira, however, insisted that she should not be a recluse and thus she was at the dance hall.
Nina found it hard to deny her cousin. Younger than her cousins by several years, Nina had always been chasing after the older children, desperately wanting to be included and always too little to participate. Now they were all grown and established, Nina knew them better. A little.
Lucas she had known best and regarded him as an elder brother, despite the differences in their years.
Marcus, the accountant, was only a few hours away via the train in Founding.
He visited often, staying for a night or two before returning to his life in the city.
Jonah she hardly knew at all. He had already left Wychwood when Nina was born and seldom returned.
Mira’s visits had always been sporadic but a treat nonetheless.
Traveling for her work, she couldn’t always predict where she would be in any given season.
Such was the life of a traveling monster hunter.
Since Lucas’ passing, she had been a fixture in Wychwood.
Now, after three months, she was ready to dance.
Nina wished she could say the same. Three months was more than acceptable for a period of mourning. No one would question her for wearing something other than black. Knowing that did not assuage her guilt. Lucas was gone and she was in a dance hall, wearing blue.
Mira’s sharp elbow broke Nina’s spiral.
“Smile,” she said, an exaggerated grin on her face.
“Smiling conveys amiability and invites conversation,” Nina replied. “I’d rather not.”
It was enough that she was present. It was unreasonable to expect her to be sociable as well.
The center of the hall was filled with dancers. It was a sizable crowd populated with local residents, farmers in town for the evening, soldiers enjoying a night of leave, and travelers looking for amusement.
Mira took her by the arm and circled the edge of the crowd.
“The soldiers look handsome in their uniforms,” she said, nodding in the direction of two men speaking animatedly.
Correction, one spoke with great enthusiasm. The other, Captain Pearson, frowned and shook his head.
“The uniform is tolerable enough,” Nina agreed. The navy -blue uniforms cut an elegant figure, especially on Captain Pearson. She could not deny that. “However, it cannot compensate for a disagreeable personality.”
Pearson turned in her direction, as if he could hear her words.
Impossible. The dance hall was far too boisterous for her words to carry.
Mira whistled. “That is quite the cut.”
“We’ve spoken before,” she replied, not bothering to share details. Captain Pearson had argued with her over the consequences facing the beast that attacked Lucas—while Lucas was on his literal deathbed—and had nearly walked off with his daggers. The man was a scoundrel.
Mira made a murmuring noise, sensing Nina’s distaste. “I see. Fortunately, there are several handsome dance partners available. We shall have a grand time.”
“I said I would accompany you tonight. I did not promise to have a grand time.”
Mira tightened her grip on Nina’s arm and shook it playfully. “But you can sulk in a corner, which we both know is your favorite.”
It was not. Nina enjoyed dancing, usually, but the revelry felt wrong. Lucas had not been gone a season and the desire for merriment wasn’t in her heart yet.
They circled the room once more before Mira was swept away by an old school friend for a turn on the dance floor. Nina found a seat along the wall and observed the crowd.
The hall was unusually crowded. The cold spring weather finally gave way to the warmth of summer.
Despite the heat, people were always eager for cheerful entertainment, even if the dance hall was uncomfortably warm.
Every window was opened and the humid night air flooded in.
Lively music and conversation filled the space.
“I dare you to claim that Founding has anything so lively.”
“This is a remarkable exhibition,” a familiar voice said in a tone that implied boredom. “If you enjoy simple country entertainment. It’s rather provincial.”
Pearson was not impressed.
Nina clenched her hands, remaining motionless in her chair. If she did not move, he would not notice her. The last person she wanted to speak with was Captain Anthony Pearson.
“Pardon me,” she heard Pearson say and a moment later he stood in front of her. “Miss Navarre.”
His voice was like ice cold water rolling down her back. Rather than fleeing, which is what instinct commanded her to do, she rose to feet. She refused to let that man loom over her.
“Captain Pearson,” she said in a cool tone.
“My condolences on your cousin. He was a good man.”
“Thank you.”
Pearson raised his brows, as if he expected her to say more.
Well, if he wanted further conversation, she’d ask the only thing worth asking. “What became of the beast?”
“As I promised, the situation was handled.” He stood at ease; his arms folded behind his back. “Jollett has paid for his crime.”
A rush of breath escaped her. Jollett was gone. The moment of knowing his fate was less fulfilling than she had hoped, but it was something. The sting of grief remained as strong as ever. She said, “That is a comfort.”
“You are wearing blue.”
“I am,” she replied.
“One assumes your period of mourning is over.”
“Yes. I would not be here otherwise.” This conversation was painful. She’d rather do a week’s worth of night patrols in the dead of winter than continue.
“Where is your chaperone?” he asked, looking around the crowd.
“My chaperone?” The change in conversation was welcomed but of all the uptight, old-fashioned customs, he fixated on that.
“Yes. It is indecent for a young woman to be without an escort at such events.”
“Sir, I am a deputy and a grown adult,” she said. “I do not require an escort. Things may be different where you come from but that is not our way in the West Lands.”
“I understand that convention is laxer in the West Lands, but you must consider your reputation?—”
She raised a hand to silence him, having heard quite enough. “Do not moralize at me, and do not speak to me as if I were a child.”
“Then do not act like a child.”
“You have a remarkably high opinion of yourself if you believe my behavior is any of your concern.”
He opened his mouth, as if he were about to proclaim that she was exactly his concern, when Mira appeared with a man on either arm.
“There you are!” She wedged herself between Nina and Pearson, breaking the tension. “I had a devil of a time finding you.”
She waved a hand at Nina. “Allow me to introduce my cousin, Miss Navarre. This is Charles.” She pointed toward her companions. The man with blonde curls muttered a greeting. “And Sal.” The other man—presumably Sal—tipped his head.
“Sal Kaplon,” he said.
“And you are?” Mira asked Pearson.
“Taking my leave.” He gave a clipped bow and left, spinning on his heel sharply.
Mira tossed her a look that said she now perfectly understood Nina’s prior statement about disagreeable personalities and would demand details later.
Nina dipped her head, acknowledging this.
“Well, my work here is done,” Mira announced, sounding thoroughly pleased with herself, and led Charles back to the dance floor.
“Forgive me for being awfully forward, but I begged your cousin for an introduction,” Sal said.
“Pleasure to meet you,” she said. She was grateful for the distraction. If she had to listen to Pearson’s arrogant prattle a moment longer, she’d cause a scene.
“Would you care to dance?” He held out a hand in invitation.
Nina hesitated. Her spirit wasn’t ready for revelry and mirth, but Lucas would want her to enjoy herself.
Wasn’t that exactly the reason Mira dragged her to the dance hall?
That she wore colors, to officially end her mourning?
Besides, Sal had a nice face. His eyes were kind, not cold pieces of flint, watching and judging her.
“Yes. I’d like nothing more,” she said, taking his hand.
* * *
Sweetwater Point
The Park
“Vagrancy is a crime, you know.”
A figure loomed over Nina, casting a shadow over her. She was currently flat on her back under a shade tree, an open book covering her face, but she recognized the voice. No one else had the imperious, inflexible northern tone.
“Good afternoon, Captain Pearson.” Nina remained on her back, quite comfortable to rest on the grass.
Wychwood House was currently occupied with several cousins visiting for Prudy’s birthday and it was loud .
She’d fled to the park for an hour of peace.
“Vagrancy is defined by loitering, but this is a public park, which encourages loitering. Just not drunkenness, which I am not, or panhandling, an activity of which I am also not a participant.”
“Sleeping in public is also vagrancy.”
“From sunset to sunrise, yes. Perhaps you have noticed that it is daylight.” Nina sat up and pointed to the sky.
It was currently mid-afternoon, when the summer sun lingered in the sky, promising that it would eventually slip behind the buildings to offer a respite from the heat but not yet.
“It is a fascinating bit of history. Did you know that the original settlers were so starved for sunlight that they engaged in sunbathing ? Can you imagine? They exposed themselves to rays and radiation and whatnot, risking skin damage for fun .”
“I have read that.”
“Then you also know that sunbathing is allowed from sunrise to sunset.”
“I have also noticed that you are indecently exposed,” he said, the disapproval thick in his tone.
Nina spread her arms wide and looked down at her outfit. She wore a pair of summer-weight linen trousers and a sleeveless tunic. Hardly scandalous. The shortened length was not the current fashion, but it was expected for trends to move a bit slower in the West Lands. “Do you mean my ankles?”
She dramatically crossed one leg over a raised knee and jiggled her foot. The way he looked everywhere but at her told her everything.
“As charming as your provincial repression is, you are disturbing my peace. Good day.” Nina resumed her position, book over her face.
“I know you are not concerned about safeguarding your reputation, but what of your family’s reputation? What will your gentleman friend think?”
He could not be serious.
“No,” she said in a curt tone. “Sal has no say in how I conduct myself, and as for my family, who do you think gave me the sun cream?” The West Lands sun could be harsh, and while her olive complexion rarely burned, she wished to avoid unnecessary sun damage.
Pearson continued to linger. “You represent the law and sunbathing is not appropriate.”
“You speak as if I’m in my underthings and not fully dressed.”
“You are not wearing shoes,” he said, hissing out the last word as if it were the most scandalous act imaginable.
Bare feet. Exposed ankles. In public.
She was ruined.
He was so uptight. She’d find it amusing if he didn’t vex her so.
“Honestly, Captain Pearson, don’t be tedious. What I do in my free time is none of your concern.”
“As a deputy?—”
“I am of no concern to you,” she snapped. “I do not report to you, and if you think I will allow you to bully me, I regret that I ever gave you that impression. Good day.”
Despite having the book cover her face, she turned her head enough to surreptitiously look in his direction.
Highly polished, his shoes were out of place in the humble park.
The hot, dry summer heat had browned the grass.
Nina feared he would remain and continue to find fault with her—the book, the shawl on the ground, or the tree she chose for shade—but he turned on his heel and left.
She sat up, the book now closed in her lap and watched his retreating figure. She had no idea how one man could be so unpleasant.