Deb Marlowe - Cinderella in the Regency Ballroom

‘Perhaps I should go back,’ she demurred. ‘My friends …’

‘Are all already strolling the gardens,’ Jack said smoothly. ‘I will help you find them.’

She said nothing further. Keller hurried back towards the house and Jack decided it would be prudent to move on.

‘Have you seen the stone gateway?’ He inclined his head at her. ‘It is quite renowned as a place of good fortune.’

‘No …’ she gazed up at him with something that looked like exasperation ‘… I have not. Perhaps we should walk that way before poor Mr Keller discovers your ruse?’

Jack laughed. ‘Was I that obvious?’

‘Perhaps only to those already familiar with your machinations,’ she said sourly.

He indicated the direction and offered up his arm. After a long searching look, she sighed and laid her hand lightly on his.

‘A gate of good fortune, you said?’ she asked. ‘How does it work?’

‘I couldn’t say how the tales originated, but the legend says that you must pause on the threshold, thinking very hard on the difficulties of your life. You must concentrate and count to three silently while you swing open the gate and cross through.’

‘And then?’

‘And then your troubles are over.’ He shrugged. ‘The hardships you focused on will have disappeared.’

‘Would that it were that easy,’ she said wistfully. ‘But I shall definitely write and tell my old nurse of it. She adores tales of superstition and fancy.’

The sun rode low in the afternoon sky. Its rays, filtered through spring leaves, painted the ancient statuary with a forgiving brush. Miss Beecham paused to admire the figure of Palladio. The soft light erased the harsh wear of time on his stern-faced visage, but Jack could not look away from the little fires it lit in the fall of her hair.

‘I tried to get away earlier and ask you to tour the gardens,’ he said. ‘I noticed that you looked a little pale and thought perhaps you’d welcome a quiet stroll with a restful companion.’

An ironic snort was her only answer.

Jack clenched his teeth. Even her sarcasm attracted him. When they resumed their stroll he allowed his gaze to run down the turquoise-and-ivory dress she wore and he briefly mourned the bosom-enhancing high waists that had lately fallen out of fashion.

He breathed deep and forced himself to focus. All of his work today had been leading to this.

‘Hmm. I left myself wide open with that remark and you failed to take advantage of it. Forgive me, but you have not seemed yourself today, Miss Beecham,’ he said. They’d reached a paved circular area from which three avenues radiated outwards. He ignored them all and instead led her on to a smaller, gravelled pathway through a copse. ‘I’m sorry if the day has not been to your liking.’

‘Of course the day has been to my liking, Mr Alden.’ Had she been any younger he would have sworn she would have rolled her eyes at him. ‘I found a peacock feather on the drive as soon as we arrived, so I knew it was certain to be a good day.’

He blinked at that, but she did not pause.

‘But you are right, I have not been acting myself and it has taken some of the shine from what might have been a perfect day—and given me a dreadful headache besides.’

‘Not acting yourself? Well, then, whose role have you been enacting?’

She cast him an arch look. ‘Couldn’t you tell? I would have thought you found it a familiar picture.’

They’d intersected the larger walk that would lead them to the gate. Jack stopped abruptly as his feet hit the smooth surface and stared incredulously at her. ‘Me? You thought to act like me?’

Was that how he looked to her? Aloof, uninterested, distant? Was that how everyone else viewed him as well? The idea astounded him. He’d thought himself reserved, yes, but not so determinedly remote.

Suddenly he began to laugh. He allowed her hand to drop away from his arm, walked over to lean on a sturdy horse-chestnut tree and proceeded to shake with amusement, long and hard.

‘It’s not funny, I assure you.’ Miss Beecham sniffed. ‘I have no idea how you go about like that every day. It’s too much work.’

‘No, no.’ He chuckled. ‘You did an admirable imitation of me. I dare say I should have enjoyed it more had I known what to look for.’ He straightened away from the massive trunk and grinned at her. ‘And, in truth, it was only fair. Now you must return the critique, for I’ve been doing my damnedest to act more like you!’

‘Were you?’ She looked diverted. ‘Well, without a doubt, you should continue.’

‘No! As you say, it’s too much work. I’ve fair exhausted myself.’ He wiped his eye and returned to her side. Reaching down, he took both of her hands in his. ‘Shall we strike a bargain? Let us just be honest with each other. It’s far easier and we got on well enough before.’

She shot him an incredulous look.

‘Well, perhaps I should rephrase. I, in any case, quite enjoyed your company. I would like to continue to do so.’

‘Honesty?’ she asked.

‘Honesty,’ he vowed solemnly.

‘Well, I did enjoy your company before, when you were not being a sanctimonious bore.’

Another burst of laughter escaped him. ‘Well, I cannot promise that it won’t happen again, but if it does, I beg you to let me know and I will attempt to rein myself in.’

She ran a dubious eye over him. Jack felt the heat of her innocent gaze rush from the top of his head down to the shining tips of his boots. Well, perhaps there were a few things he would have to hold back.

This time when he offered his arm she tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow with a smile. They strolled companionably for a few minutes before he spoke again.

‘So tell me, Miss Beecham, how are you feeling about your sojourn into society?’

She wrinkled her brow at him. ‘How am I feeling about it? That’s an odd question. Most people just ask me if I am enjoying myself.’

Jack carefully kept his tone neutral. ‘Excepting today, of course, it is obvious to anyone who lays an eye on you that you are enjoying yourself.’

She watched him closely, and then smiled. ‘How do I feel?’ she mused. She took a moment to consider the question, her brow furrowed becomingly. ‘Well, I am enjoying myself, of course. No one spending any amount of time with your mother could do otherwise. But …’ she sighed ‘… I admit to a little anxiety as well. To be honest, I hadn’t expected everything to feel so alien.’

‘Alien?’ he repeated, surprised. ‘How so?’

‘I was born to this world …’ she gestured about them ‘… just as surely as you were, Mr Alden. My father was a wealthy gentleman landowner. My mother’s family has multiple connections to the nobility.’ She shrugged. ‘But the last years of my life have been so drastically different from all of this, and I find that those years have altered the way that I view certain things.’

She fascinated him more every second. ‘Would you share some specifics?’ he asked.

‘Well, all this, for example. Chester House.’ She glanced back towards the house and at the guests they could glimpse wandering through the vast and varied gardens. ‘It’s fascinating and beautiful and educational. I’m very grateful that Lord Bradington invited us to experience it all, but I can’t help but think of all the people who will never view anything like this. I walk through here and I imagine the pleasure these things would bring, the awe they might inspire, if it were all open to the public—in a museum or a pleasure garden, perhaps.’

‘Would not most Evangelicals disagree?’ he asked. ‘I thought they wish to educate the masses only so far as it will help them do their duty and accept their lot in life?’