Chapter 30

30

As Jane enteredthe grand ballroom of Carlton House later that night, she paused and gazed in awe. Candles flickered on glittering crystal chandeliers while murmured conversations filled the air. This was not Almack’s of five years ago—it was far better. This was a royal ball, and it was her first.

Even though she couldn’t see very well without her spectacles, she could tell that the residence of the prince regent glistened with sparkling jewels on elegant ladies, moving, talking, dancing. The ball was given in honor of the British military and the navy, and the room was full of army and navy officers dressed in red and dark navy uniforms, who walked around with glasses of wine and punch in their hands.

Chatter and laughter swelled around her, and waltz music was played by the orchestra situated in the gallery above. Delicate silk dresses swished and swayed as couples enjoyed a scandalous new dance that was disapproved of by matrons but highly encouraged by the prince himself. Even through her blurry vision, she could see the large mirrors in gilt frames that lined the walls, making the already spacious room appear almost endless. Tall windows draped by sumptuous curtains offered glimpses of the moonlit garden outside. She wished she could make out the details of the hand-painted frescoes and gilded moldings adorning the lofty ceiling. The heady aroma of ladies’ perfume overpowered the fruity fragrance of the wine that proud footmen carried around on silver trays.

Richard, Jane, and Calliope stood at the entrance into the ballroom, and several heads turned to them, gazes landing on her. Even through her blurry vision, Jane recognized Lady Whitemouth with her golden hair and her aura of power and authority.

Jane tensed, blinking, twisting the beautiful fan Mrs. Newman’s assistant had handcrafted for her from the same silvery material as her dress.

As though reading her thoughts, Richard leaned over to her and squeezed her elbow covertly and reassuringly. “You have every right to be here, no matter what anyone else says. Do not forget that.”

She glanced up at him, wishing she could see him more clearly.

“Your beauty radiates from within, love,” he said and produced a rectangular box from his coat. “The dress you are wearing is like a beautiful frame that only enhances what I already see.”

She took the box and opened it. Through her blurry vision, she saw a pair of spectacles. They looked like lorgnettes—the decorative, fashionable accessory that was held in front of the eyes with a handle—because they were oval, with the outer edges curving upward slightly. But unlike lorgnettes, these had two arms that fit over the ears. The frames were made of shiny gold with exquisite, delicate patterns adorned with small sparkling diamonds. She couldn’t breathe at the beauty of the gift, at his sentiment.

“This is too much…” she murmured, unable to look away. “This must have cost you a fortune.”

“This is not even close to what I’d like to shower you with,” he said, making her feel all warm and tingly. “I ordered them from an optician a few days ago, but I don’t know if you will be able to see well in them. Please, try them on.”

“Thank you, Richard, but I can’t accept them,” she said as she looked up at him.

“I insist,” he said. “Please. At least for this ball. Clearly, you’re not seeing well, and you shouldn’t compromise who you are for the sake of fashion or others’ opinions.”

He was certainly right—she was frustrated not being able to see clearly. She took the spectacles from the box and slipped them on. The world around her immediately came into focus, and she sighed in relief from the clarity and sharpness of her vision.

She caught the intense gaze of his sparkling blue eyes. There was nothing but love in them. Nothing but admiration and support. She straightened her back and beamed. She knew she’d never looked or felt more beautiful. She felt so light, she could soar. The sensation was wonderful, new, and…odd.

“Breathtaking,” said Richard.

This was a royal ball, with the highest nobility and the most beautiful ladies in London.

How could Richard look at her in such a crowd as if no one else mattered?

Bubbles of excitement and exhilaration gurgled in the pit of her stomach. Was this how it felt to belong here? To belong with Lord Richard Seaton, the brother of the twelfth Duke of Grandhampton, one of the oldest and richest families in England?

To see how people watched her not with disgust, pity, or puzzlement, but with appreciation and respect.

Lady Whitemouth’s lips curved down as she looked Jane over. And Jane’s palms broke into a sweat in her gloves. But then a smile spread on the countess’s face, and she and several other older matrons in silks and with feathers in their hair made their way to Jane, Richard, and Calliope.

“Miss Grant,” Lady Whitemouth said as she stopped in front of them, her blond hair done in fashionable curls under a turban with three long feathers. She wore a peach silk gown that Jane recognized from Madame Dubois’s shop. “Lady Calliope. Lord Richard.”

Richard’s grandmama was by her side. With them stood Lady Isabella, always pretty, in a white gown, her bodice draped with lace that sparkled with small crystals. Lady Isabella gave Jane a friendly smile. “How do you do, Lady Whitemouth?” asked Jane. “Lady Isabella?”

“I’m well, Miss Grant,” said Lady Isabella. “Thank you for asking. You two are quite a dashing couple tonight. You, too, of course, Lady Calliope,” she said and blushed.

Calliope smiled back at her warmly.

“Quite,” said Lady Whitemouth, eyeing her suspiciously. “Miss Grant, you have quite…blossomed since I last saw you.”

Jane swallowed. The countess surely couldn’t know what Jane and Richard had done…could she?

“And now you look just like your dear deceased mama,” added the Dowager Duchess of Grandhampton.

Jane couldn’t breathe for a moment. Tears burned the backs of her eyes.

“Thank you,” said Jane. “I wish my papa were alive to say that to me. But it means very much to me that you can.”

The dowager’s eyes warmed as she cocked her head. “You do her proud.”

She knew there was nothing more that anyone could have said to make her feel at ease but provide the approval of her mama. At the end of the day, doing her mama, whom Jane had never known but often imagined, proud meant more than impressing the ton. And, surrounded and supported by Richard and Calliope, she felt as if she were a part of them. As if she were finally accepted by the ton.

A handsome golden-haired man in uniform suddenly appeared next to Lady Whitemouth. He was as tall as Richard and built just as well—lean and muscled. He had a straight nose, a square jaw, and there was an unmistakable air of arrogance around him.

“Lord Richard.” He nodded to Richard. “Lady Whitemouth.” His eyes focused on Jane, looking her over in admiration. How strange it was, thought Jane, to have a handsome man look at her like that. She’d never experienced that, except with Richard. “And who’s this? And is she free for a dance?”

Jane could practically feel the heat radiating off Richard as his face flushed red. His breathing quickened, and his hands curled into tight balls.

“This is my fiancée, Miss Jane Grant,” he said coldly. “And she’s not free for a dance, Kelford, because she promised the next dance to me.”

She had done no such thing, but it was endearing that Richard was suddenly so possessive, so she nodded to Kelford, whoever he was. “I am otherwise engaged, sir.”

“I’m sure the duke would find other agreeable ladies to dance with who are not occupied,” suggested Lady Whitemouth, pushing Lady Isabella forward slightly.

Kelford cocked his head in acknowledgment, his long-lashed eyes smiling in amusement. His gaze glanced over Lady Isabella and landed on Calliope, never leaving her. For the first time since Jane had known her, Calliope seemed to be at a loss. She stood completely immobile, wide-eyed, as though trapped in the strength of the officer’s gaze.

The master of ceremonies announced the next dance.

“How about it?” Kelford asked Calliope.

“This is my sister, Kelford,” growled Richard.

“Ah,” said Kelford, his eyes never leaving Calliope. “She’ll be in good hands.”

“Calliope,” said Richard through gritted teeth. “Have you not promised the next dance to Preston?”

Despite the pleasantries that occurred just a few moments before, Jane could see Lady Whitemouth’s face screwing in on itself as though she’d eaten a lemon. Jane was sure Lady Whitemouth had intended for Kelford to dance with Lady Isabella, but now he was overlooking her daughter.

“I do not recall,” said Calliope.

Richard’s face practically collapsed.

Kelford grinned like a cat about to devour a well-deserved saucer of cream. “In that case… May I have the honor of your next dance, Lady Calliope?”

Jane was sure Calliope would say no. Clearly, this man was a scoundrel and a rake, not caring for any social manners. Richard, most certainly, disapproved. And besides, Calliope wasn’t interested in dances or flirting or men.

“You may,” said Calliope.

Kelford nodded to her, the picture of gallantry. With that, Calliope accepted his hand, and they walked into the crowd to take their place among the couples in the middle of the room.

Jane looked at Richard, who tore his glare from Kelford’s back and turned back to her, his expression immediately warming.

“Shall we?” he asked, and she barely contained a broad grin.

They both nodded politely to Lady Whitemouth and Lady Isabella and made their way through the guests, as well.

“Why are you objecting to him so much?” asked Jane.

“He’s a rake and a fortune hunter,” said Richard. “The Duke of Kelford has not a penny, and three younger sisters that he must support. He’s a navy officer. I know him from Oxford. I’ve seen him at some of the wild soirées where men like him go to drink and to sleep around with women.”

They finally took their place on the dance floor, the guests around them in a circle. Many pairs of eyes were on her. She was at the center of their attention. Yet, unlike a few days ago, all awkwardness was gone from Jane. She felt relaxed and wonderful. Most importantly, she was at the center of Richard’s attention. He looked at her as though no one and nothing else existed.

“Do you mean men like you?” Jane asked.

“Not anymore, love. Ever since I met you, I haven’t thought of another female.”

The orchestra struck the first chords of the waltz, and Jane and Richard flowed. Her heart beat so fast as Richard’s strong arms held her, guiding her through the steps and movements. She couldn’t take her eyes off his handsome face and neither, it seemed, could he take his eyes from her. As other couples around them swirled and moved, she was warm, the heat of his body like an oven through his clothes.

“Isn’t this nice, Jane?” he asked, his eyes sparkling and glowing, only on her, a soft, beautiful smile on his lips. “You and me. Dancing.”

“It is more than nice,” she admitted.

It was happiness. The man she loved held her in his arms and whirled and swirled her about.

His blue gaze captivated her, and his fingers caressed her back through the fabric of her gown. “In four days it will be our wedding, Jane. This could be our forever. Just don’t say no.”

A burst of warmth in her chest was like sunshine. She felt light and happy, warm and soaring. She beamed at him as she imagined living in their own home, waking up to him, going to sleep with him. Having family visit. Friends. Going to balls where he wouldn’t need to be embarrassed by her but would be proud she was his wife.

Like he was proud to be with her now.

She wanted to say yes. The word was on her lips. And even though fear started to slowly clench around her heart, she could still imagine saying yes to him. She could imagine being brave and allowing herself to believe that she could be a part of this world.

That she deserved to be with him. That she belonged with him.

That she wasn’t drifting through life anymore but could finally come to shore. And that shore was him.

She smiled at him, a smile that said yes. But out loud, she said, “I haven’t decided yet.”

He beamed a glorious, beautiful smile that made him look like a half god. “So it’s not a no,” he said, satisfied.

“It’s not a no.”