Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

I n spite of Lady Stanton's newfound interest in Eva's whereabouts, it proved shockingly easy for Eva to come up with an acceptable excuse for her to be out of her mother's house regularly. The best part was, it was not even wholly a lie.

"The Duke of Brandon, who you might remember is Lady Patience Chester's brother-in-law, is hosting a ball in a couple weeks' time. There promises to be some of the new, modern dances, and Mr. Galpin believes it would be to my benefit to practise more beforehand," Eva lied with a pure heart and clear conscience. She did not think that she could be punished for a fib that was in service to others.

Lady Stanton was quite on board with this, especially as it meant an invitation to a party hosted by a duke. Surely this meant that Eva would naturally be thrust into the path of wealthy, titled, available men. This was all the incentive that Lady Stanton needed to approve Eva's attendance.

Her easy acceptance of the scheme could not all be attributed to Eva's cleverness. Lady Stanton was, in a word, distracted. She had taken to locking herself in her room for hours on end, writing letter after letter at her small table near the window. When she was not writing letters, she was out paying calls, but would not elaborate with whom. The times she was home, she was more often than not found pacing back and forth, reading a letter or occasionally staring out the window as if waiting for someone.

If Eva had not been so preoccupied herself, it likely would have set off her own suspicions. As it was, Eva was in a world of her own, learning all the variations of waltz that she could, and other dances besides. She was pleased to learn that once she knew the basic step and rhythm of one, it was easy enough to learn another.

The dances themselves were enjoyable, though she knew that some decried them as being too "fast," or unseemly, particularly for respectable young women. The waltz in particular was viewed with suspicion, as it required the partners to be face to face, alone instead of in a set, for more of the dance than was generally accepted. Eva had only met the Duchess of Brandon once before, but she thought it a bold and daring move for such a personage to host a demonstration of this new modish dance.

Eva had always been fond of a turn about the dancefloor, but she found that she was absolutely mad for waltzing. She liked to think that it was the cheery but dignified tempo, the graceful movements that it called for. If she were being completely honest, then she would have admitted that she also very much enjoyed the fact that it was Josiah whom she was dancing with.

The brief moments that his hand was at her waist, or their hands met over their heads and they were locked face to face made Eva's heart pound so hard that she worried he would hear it. She found that she followed him easily, her faith in his ability to guide them about complete and unshakeable. He was not pushy, either, as some other gentleman had a tendency to be—he made direction changes clear with the softest of nudges or pressure on her arm, and gave her the option of following along.

Once, when they were rehearsing, the other dancers scattered about, Eva caught a glimpse of herself in Josiah's arms. They were such complete opposite in terms of their looks: Josiah was tall with hair so fair it bordered on silver, with light grey eyes that shaded to blue when the sun was out; Eva was of average height, her hair dark and abundant, her eyes even darker and fringed with thick lashes. The contrast was pleasing to Eva's eye, and her imagination was fired as to all the ways that they could play this up for theatricality.

As the date of the ball approached, Eva had assumed that she would begin to feel some sort of nerves, an apprehension about the coming performance. There was a degree of excitability about the prospect, but Eva found that mostly she was overcome with an eager kind of thrill about being the one performing with Josiah. A small part of her was concerned about getting caught; as it turned out, this should have been a much larger part, as she was getting a little lackadaisical regarding her mother.

Kitty, that bastion of girlish solidarity, had been accompanying Eva as much as possible so that Eva could at least truthfully say that she was not unchaperoned. This arrangement suited Kitty just fine, as she rather liked being able to sit in the corner, fan in hand, and observe rehearsals—strictly for learning purposes.

It was nearing St. Valentine's Day, and there was a persistent smattering of snow on the ground. Though it made the footing treacherous on occasion, it was nearly universally agreed that it was preferable to the grey wash that winter had thus far been. Kitty and Eva were returning to the latter's home, arm-in-arm, their heads locked together in giggling gossip. The other dancers had been exerting themselves, and there had been a profusion of forearms on display. They knew they ought to have been scandalised, seeing so many young bucks in just their shirts and breeches, sleeves rolled nearly to their elbows, but in private, they found the whole thing exhilarating.

"I declare it a most enumerating afternoon," Kitty declared. "Certainly more educational than a trip to an art gallery."

Eva playfully swatted Kitty with her free hand. "You are terrible!"

"I do not hear you disagreeing," Kitty replied easily, which made Eva laugh again.

"You may be right," she allowed, "but I doubt that there will be very many governesses altering their curriculum for their girl wards."

"Can you imagine? Everyone would be wondering why there was an epidemic of governesses fainting hither and thither," Kitty laughed.

They rounded the corner to the street where the Stanton home stood in a row with other fashionable families. They slowed their pace, not wishing to enter domesticity just yet, and it was not quite time for tea.

"I really would like to think that you have learned something other than how to flutter your eyelashes at young men," Eva said.

"I've enjoyed watching your Mr. Galpin instruct his charges," Kitty said a little thoughtfully. "Although sometimes I find it hard to watch him for too long."

Eva stopped short, very close to taking some kind of offence as if Kitty had spoken ill of herself. "What makes you say that?"

Kitty gave a little shrug, and tugged Eva onward. "He's just… too much to look at. He's so very graceful, and—it's a bit like watching a statue come to life. He looks more like a prince from a fairy story than a dancing master sometimes."

Eva relaxed, and nodded at the truth of that. "I admit, it is sometimes a challenge not to stare at him as we are dancing together."

Sliding Eva a sly glance, Kitty tipped her head a little closer, the edges of their bonnets nearly touching. "I don't expect he would mind if you did," she whispered.

"What makes you say that?" Eva asked, looking askance at Kitty. "Has he…said something?"

"No, it's in the manner in which he stares at you when you are not dancing."

"Which is?" Eva prompted.

"Like…like he regrets letting go of you. It's quite a wistful thing, very sentimental. Only in the eyes," Kitty said, waving vaguely at her own face. "It's quite romantic, really."

" Romantic ?" Eva whispered, the word hanging in front of her in the cold air. "Surely you are mistaken."

Kitty shrugged nonchalantly again. "Perhaps I am. Of course," she said, another mischievous grin growing on her face, "would it be so terrible a thing if I wasn't ? Mr. Galpin surely has the finest calves in the whole kingdom."

In spite of herself, Eva couldn't help but giggle as well, as if she were a girl of seventeen again. "I think his eyes are far more handsome than his legs."

They were still bickering playfully about the Fine Qualities of Mr. Galpin when they attained the door to the Stanton home. As Eva was reaching up for the latch, the door was yanked open quite unexpectedly, making both of them start backward. Standing framed in the doorway was Lady Stanton, who stared at both Kitty and Eva hotly. Both young ladies stared back, a little agog at being surprised so. They had been in the midst of conversation—Kitty had just said the words "lovely straight nose"—when they were interrupted.

"Good afternoon, girls," Lady Stanton said in tightly controlled tones. "I had wondered where you were off to."

"Hullo, Lady Stanton," Kitty said quickly, recovering first. "I hope you are well?"

"Quite well, Miss Johnson," Lady Stanton replied, still staring at Eva. "Will you be joining us for tea?"

"Oh, well, I'm not sure I?—"

"I insist," Lady Stanton said, then stepped backward to allow the ladies to enter. They did so with their heads held high, but refusing to meet Lady Stanton's piercing gaze as they removed their outerwear. Gloves, bonnets, and snow-dusted pelisses dispensed with, they obediently followed Lady Stanton into the parlour. Eva could not shake the notion that they were naughty schoolgirls that had been caught at mischief.

"Did you have a pleasant afternoon out?" Lady Stanton asked, deceptively mild.

"I think so, yes, though this weather makes going anywhere a bit of a chore," Eva replied.

Lady Stanton did not reply immediately, instead ringing a small brass bell on the table next to her. When the footman appeared, she imperiously ordered tea for them. Only when the footman had departed did Lady Stanton say, "And yet, this has not stopped you from going out rather frequently of late."

"Certainly not," Eva said easily. "I know how eager you were for me to take advantage of Mr. Galpin—" Kitty interrupted with a fit of coughing, which warranted an acerbic look from Lady Stanton and a solid thump on the back from Eva. "—‘s expert teaching," Eva finished, resisting the urge to glare at Kitty herself.

"I see," Lady Stanton said. "And you have been spending all of your free time at his academy?"

"No, not all," Eva said, looking to Kitty for a moment. "We've spent more than a few moments perusing the arcade and shops as well." This was true, particularly as Kitty had recently taken a fancy to reticules.

The footman reappeared with a tea tray, which he set down with a bit of a clank on the small table near Lady Stanton. He shot a helpless glance at Eva and Kitty, then scampered off before he could get a whacking for lingering. Lady Stanton began to pour the tea, appearing as cool and collected as could be. It was unnerving, an interrogation by politeness, and Eva resisted the urge to squirm.

"And may I presume that it was either at the dancing academy or the shops that you saw a man with a ‘lovely straight nose'?" Lady Stanton asked, her tone deceptively calm.

Eva opened her mouth, fully prepared to denounce the idea in the harshest of terms, her back up, defensive and prickly. Before she could say anything, however, Kitty broke in with a gale of laughter. Instantly, like a guard dog that has heard a squeaky floorboard in the night, Lady Stanton's attention snapped to Kitty.

"Please, forgive me Lady Stanton," Kitty said, covering her mouth with her fingertips. "I really do not mean to laugh, it's so terribly rude of me." She made a show of tamping down her humour, attempting to compose herself.

Eva settled back a little, instantly recognising Kitty's trademark ability to get them out of a fix. Lady Stanton's attention was now solely on Kitty, who had managed to get her mouth set into a sombre straight line; it was only her sparkling eyes that indicated her amusement.

"I'm sorry, Lady Stanton, it's just—the very notion of anyone down at the shops being described as handsome is… Well, I mean, have you seen some of those shopgirls? Honestly, there's one down at the modiste in Mayfair that looks as if she would be better suited to unloading ships at the docks," Kitty said, leaning forward and lowering her voice as if they were all enjoying a good gossip.

"Well, I've heard that some shops have taken to employing only the handsomest of clerks to entice ladies to come and spend," Lady Stanton said, taking the bait. She glanced pointedly at Eva. "It would be very unfortunate if a young lady were to form an inappropriate attachment as a result."

"Oh, you must mean Mr. Elliot at Harding Howell!" Kitty gasped, leaning forward further, picking up her tea cup and stirring in a spoon of sugar. "Isn't it just the most scandalous thing? I mean it's one thing if a widow takes up male companionship , but a dowager!"

Now Lady Stanton was well and truly invested; she loved a good scandal, and Kitty was a font of gossip. "You don't mean that he is a kept man ?" she replied back, Eva completely forgotten, who was perfectly happy with this turn of events.

"Not yet, but I believe that is the aim. And let's not pretend the dowager Countess Jenkins hasn't got the banknotes to offer someone carte blanche ," Kitty replied saucily, sitting back with her teacup in hand. Eva could only watch in vague awe, not entirely sure how she had managed to turn the conversation so quickly.

"Oh, I can't hear another word of this, it's so tawdry!" Lady Stanton said, waving off the very idea. But in the very next moment, she was leaning forward again, staring across the table to Kitty. "What of her son, though? How does he bear it?"

"Oh he's gone off to Italy," Kitty replied, then took a sip of her tea. "He's threatened to become an artist or a poet, and last anyone heard of him, he's taken up with an Italian widow."

"Merciful heavens," Lady Stanton muttered. She sat back, staring absently at the tea table. Whatever her concerns had been, Kitty had just expertly put them into some kind of perspective.

There followed a profound silence, with all present contemplating the information relayed. By the time conversation resumed, it was far more congenial. An easy hour passed, with Eva growing more and more relaxed. It seemed that Lady Stanton had completely forgotten her earlier suspicion.

Or that is what Eva thought until the moment that Kitty had departed. They farewelled her happily, and saw her sent off in her father's carriage. It was only when the door was firmly closed that Lady Stanton turned to Eva, her face inscrutable. She said nothing, merely stared at Eva, who, to her credit, did not cower or back down.

The message was silent, but no less clear: Eva was under suspicion, and would have to be careful. Her days of easy freedom were at an end.