The Summer of You (29 page)

She was his.

He brought his head up, and her eyes caught his in wonder, as both their breathing slowed, both floated back down to the reality they had left behind. But before they landed, she found his ear, mumbled those words she had come here to say and only now, in this state of total loss and freedom, had the audacity to speak.

When he repeated them back, pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear, he became acutely aware that for the first time in his life, everything he wanted was granted, and he could think of nothing else to ask for.

Except to keep her.

They lay there for minutes, for hours, as the candle by the chair flickered its way down, extinguished in the early hours of the morning. As sleep drifted in, she felt his lips on her cheek and a mumbled, humorous, “Good night, Jane,” float across the room on a summer breeze.

No, not summer, she realized, as she lost herself to slumber. For it was past midnight.

It was the first day of fall.

MORNING came, and it was the day of the ball. Victoria was excited. It was impossible not to be, having put so much hard work and expectation on this one evening . . . Was it any wonder that the night before she had found sleep impossible? Luckily, her ankle was quite strong enough for dancing, but there were so many details to finalize, so many little things that Victoria was certain would go wrong that she had spent the gray hours before dawn composing a list of things to double-check.

Around noon, Victoria was near collapsing with exhaustion.

“Now, you are going to take a nice long nap,” Lady Wilton said to her youngest daughter as she escorted her to her bedroom.

“But if the paper lanterns are not secured properly, the whole garden could catch fire!” Victoria whined, as she let her mother unbutton the back of her dress, unlace her corset.

“Now, now,” Lady Wilton tutted. “The ball will be lovely. I’m so proud of you, you know,” she said, the tears in her voice not unnoticed by even the very tired Victoria. “I cannot wait to see what you girls came up with.”

“I’m shocked you managed to stay out of the planning entirely.” Victoria sighed. Later she would be vaguely embarrassed by her bold speech to her mother, but right now she was too exhausted to care.

Luckily, Lady Wilton just chuckled. “It was difficult. But I knew that this was important for you and Lady Jane to do on your own, cementing your friendship for life.”

It was on the tip of Victoria’s tongue to say that Jane had spent much less time planning the party than anyone thought. But instead, drained as she was, and completely without pretense, she asked her mother the question she had long been curious about but never dared broach.

“What about Jason?” Victoria said and felt her mother’s fingers still on her laces. “Did you wish me to cement my friendship with him, too?”

“The Marquis is a very nice young man,” Lady Wilton replied noncommittally, without feeling.

“Mama.” Victoria turned then, faced her mother. “You must know that I find the Marquis . . . that I have a preference for him.” She watched her mother carefully here, gauging her reaction. “The minute I learned he was coming to Reston, I had to go out and purchase a new gown. Why have you never encouraged me toward him? Or vice versa?”

Lady Wilton sighed and busied herself turning down the bed. “The fact that he broke your sister’s heart is not enough?”

“That was long ago, and Penelope’s heart survived. In fact, it thrived,” Victoria countered. “Mama . . .”

Lady Wilton straightened and said very softly, “Get into bed, Victoria.” She obliged her mother but would not let her leave without an answer, holding her gaze steady and strong.

“Why, Mama?”

“Oh my darling,” Lady Wilton sighed. “Lord Jason Cummings is likely the most eligible bachelor any of us will ever meet. I have very likely failed in my motherly duties by not thrusting you into his path. But . . .” She paused here, took a deep breath. “But he has never seen you. He has never looked at you as a man should look at a woman.”

Victoria felt the whole world go still. “He has never looked at me?”

“I want nothing more,” Lady Wilton said wistfully, “than to have my daughters situated with men who truly see them. Because if a man doesn’t see you, he can’t love you—no matter how much you love him.”

Victoria watched, stunned, as her mother wiped a stray tear away from her eye. “One day,” her mother said, “you will be minding your own business, and you will look up, and find a man, a good man, looking at you as if you are the only person in the entire world. And that day, you’ll know what I am talking about.”

Victoria was about to ask her mother how she knew this, how she would be able to discern one look from another, when they heard the door slam and Sir Wilton cry out.

“Matilda!” he yelled, his footsteps impatient on the stairs. “It has happened! Finally!”

Another voice that she recognized as Mr. Cutler’s said, “Red-letter day, my friend!”

“Matilda!” her father called out again to his wife impatiently.

Lady Wilton kissed her daughter’s forehead and, with an order to “get some rest,” left her daughter to attend to her husband, leaving Victoria to ponder her mother’s words as she drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

That night, Victoria prepared herself very carefully. Not only her beautiful new gown (a cream silk with a single perfect sky blue ribbon at her waist, brought all the way from London, Mrs. Hill professed), or her hair, or face, but for once, she was determined to discover, to see what she had not before.

Was what her mother had said true? She had been helping with the ball preparations for over a week, spending the majority of her day at the Cottage, not watching her brothers or spending time with her sister and her family. And in all that time, she couldn’t think of an instance where Jason had paid her particular attention. She had been certain that having been thrown into his presence constantly, as she hadn’t in the past, he would take notice. But had he?

He was rarely around during their planning sessions, but he was a busy man, surely. One of the great men of society, he must have been working toward that end. Else he would have spent more time with Charles and Nevill. But he had come in for mealtimes, and he spoke with her then.

Didn’t he?

Or did he say no more than was polite? His conversation could be put down to Victoria being his sister’s friend and an old family acquaintance.

But he’d come to ask her specifically to help with the ball. He’d come.

By the time Victoria pinned the last of the flowers into her hair (Dr. Berridge had been kind enough to send over bouquets for herself, her mother, and Penelope), she knew two things definitively: First, that she had never in her life looked more beautiful than she did right now.

And secondly, that she had to end her torturous wanting and discover Jason’s feelings for her.

To find out if he saw her.

So, when Victoria arrived at the Cottage, she made certain to make an entrance.

She had promised Jane and Charles and Nevill that she would arrive early, simply to quadruple-check any last details. Besides, she had a certain sense of pride in the endeavor. This was her first ball. The first one she had a hand in, and in some ways it was as much her party as theirs. Her parents sent her ahead in the carriage, which would then return to pick up the rest of the family.

She was admitted by the Cottage’s butler and entered a world unlike any she had ever seen. Overcome with a delicate sense of awe, she could not help but stare openmouthed, just for a moment.

The theme they had chosen was Summer Night. Yes, technically, it was fall, and true, the theme was not particularly original, but it did evoke a certain feeling of magic, bringing the outdoors in. Seasonal blooms (roses and wildflowers—apparently Charles had won that particular argument) festooned the foyer. Ribbons of fabric hung from the ceiling, dark blues and greens, set with beading at intervals to sparkle like stars.

As she removed her cloak, the first person that came to greet her was Jason, looking far too handsome in his evening kit for her state of mind.

“Miss Victoria,” he said, walking across the hall, dodging any number of panicked servants as they moved things from one corner to the other or opened a window and then closed it again. “I do say you look lovely,” he observed as he bowed over her hand.

Victoria tried very, very hard to keep from swooning. Old Victoria would have fallen to the floor in a puddle, but new Victoria—clear-eyed Victoria—had to keep her distance and her wits.

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, looking up demurely through her lashes.

“You’ll find Jane and the others in the ballroom.” He nodded toward the great room’s entrance. “I should congratulate you all on a job well done.”

“Then come in with me and do so,” Victoria offered prettily, somewhat surprised at her own flirtatiousness.

Jason seemed to be surprised as well, for his eyebrow went up, but then he dismissed the thought. “No, I intend to keep to my library for the time being. I have some work to occupy me until the madness is in full swing. But,” he continued with a wink, “let Jane know where I am, so I’ll be fetched in time to greet the guests.”

Then he made haste to his library, leaving Victoria to find her way to the ballroom.

And she had the sinking feeling that even given her perfect hair and beautiful new dress and her newly composed self, that Jason hadn’t noticed a thing.

She kept her eye on him as the ball began. Had him dutifully fetched when the guests began to arrive. When the dancing began, she had hoped he would come to request a dance, but Jason was nowhere to be found.

“Your mind is elsewhere tonight,” Dr. Berridge surmised, who had been kind enough to partner her on the first two dances. “You should allow yourself to enjoy the party—stop worrying over the details. Everything is perfect.”

“Hmm?” Victoria asked, distracted. “Oh, it’s not that,” she blushed, “I’m simply trying to . . . to find someone.”

“Well, I have the advantage of height,” he offered, “perhaps I can help you. Who are you trying to find?”

Victoria kept silent, kept to her moves in the dance. But he must have been able to see through her. Because in those short seconds, Dr. Berridge lost his good humor and stopped in his own steps, in the middle of the dance floor, much to Victoria’s surprise. Then, without any explanation, he guided her to the side of the floor, having them fall out of the dancing.

“What is it?” Victoria asked, confused. “What is wrong?”

But the good physician said nothing, instead just lifted a hand to touch one of the small soft flowers that dotted her hair. “Nothing,” he said finally, his kindness in place if not his usual happiness. “I’m simply tired.”

“We should go into the refreshment room then. I know we had champagne and lemonade set up—” Victoria offered, but he shook his head.

“The Marquis is at the door—I believe there are a few guests still arriving, and he and his sister are there,” Dr. Berridge said abruptly. Then, his face darkening, he turned on his heel without bowing and walked away.

Victoria suddenly realized he was angry—as angry as Andrew got, at any rate. He had abandoned her in the middle of the dance, and she couldn’t help but feel it was her fault for some reason. But she shouldn’t think about that now. Not being under any obligation to anyone for the moment, and not having any real idea what to do, she decided to use the information she had been given and go seek out Jason, continuing her clear-eyed course of action.

She ducked and weaved her way through the crowd, the happy townsfolk, the gentry from farther out in the county, the world she knew assembled and glittering and greeting her as she passed, complimenting her on her looks, begging a few words of conversation. It stalled her from her goal, but it did not deter her. However, when she got to the main entrance, where Jason and Jane and the Duke had been greeting the guests, she was shocked to find herself stepping into what looked like a near fistfight.

Jason had his hand out, trying to pull Jane back into line, but she was speaking very rapidly to an increasingly red-faced Sir Wilton who, next to Victoria’s mother and Mr. Cutler, was having a rash of words. The Duke sat in a nearby settee, his ever-present attendant Nancy holding his hand, as they watched the exchange.

Her father was saying something, something Victoria could not hear as she approached, but she did manage to catch Jane’s reply, which managed to shock all assembled.

“Because I was with him.”

Jane had been floating through the whole day as if on a cloud. Nothing disturbed her. Not the last-minute fracas of the kitchen (they had a lack of blackberries necessary for the crème fraîche tarts), nor her brother’s needling on her sleeping late or his inability to be found once the guests started arriving—Victoria later mentioned she saw him go into the library, thank heavens. No, nothing would bother her today, if for no other reason than after she snuck home at dawn and subsequently woke up past noon, there were wildflowers in her room. Beautiful long cut daylilies, blazing orange and bright. There was no note, and her lady’s maid could not account for how they had gotten there, but she knew they were from him.

She knew she could not expect him at the ball—he would be out hunting highwaymen with Dobbs. But somehow, with the flowers, she felt as if he were there.

And so, an orange daylily tucked into the waist of her white silk gown, Jane stood with her brother and her father and greeted their guests as they arrived for the ball that had at once been so difficult to arrange but at that moment had been so worthwhile.

The Morgans came, dressed in their absolute best clothes—a few years out of date, but beyond impeccable in terms of make and cleanliness. Mrs. Hill and her family arrived, admired all the bolts of fabric that hung from the ceiling that she had supplied. Mr. Davies told them that he’d had the invitation framed and would hang it in his shop forever. Eventually, the Duke had to sit down, he’d grown so exhausted with the rounds of people. Guest after guest, friend after friend came in and smiled, admired, enjoyed.

“Why are you smiling?” Jason asked, seeing the permanent upturn of the corners of her mouth.

“I was simply thinking of the first day we came. Do you remember?” Jane said in between receptions. “You left me to fend for myself as I suffered the assault from the town.”