A Lady at Willowgrove Hall (29 page)

Cecily could not help but smile at the child’s innocent observations. As she looked in the direction Hannah pointed, she saw him.

She tried to pretend it was the heat that made her heart flutter. Her eye caught sight of his freshly shaven jaw. The manner in which the flickering light played on his spontaneous smile and emphasized the lightness of his eyes.

She yearned for him to look in her direction as much as she feared it.

She wondered if Mrs. Massey had the same reaction.

But Mrs. Massey clearly did not see him, for she instructed Hannah to tell Mrs. Stanton they had arrived and then ushered Cecily across the room—in the opposite direction.

Around the room they went. Smiling. Nodding. She met Mrs. Donnelly. The Lerens and their three daughters. Mr. Felton.

They were all welcoming, but Cecily found it odd how their expressions altered when Mrs. Trent’s name was mentioned. How could it be that they all thought so poorly of her? Mrs. Trent was a bit eccentric, but these people seemed to not care for her at all.

And then Mrs. Massey led them around to Mr. Stanton.

Mr. Stanton was speaking with a young man, and Mrs. Massey joined their conversation as if she had been invited, her arm looped through Cecily’s, pulling her closer. Interrupting a conversation between gentlemen in such a brazen way made Cecily uncomfortable. She shifted from foot to foot and lowered her eyes. Not wishing to appear as uncomfortable as she felt, she gathered the courage to glance up at Mr. Stanton. He was already looking at her. As their eyes met, the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

She listened more closely to Mrs. Massey.

“And, Miss Faire, you already know Mr. Stanton, but this is Mr. Curley. Mr. Curley runs a farm on the other side of the vale.”

The men bowed in unison. Mr. Curley’s bold gaze held hers. She did not have the opportunity to return the greeting, for Mrs. Massey was already speaking.

“Mr. Curley, Miss Faire has not yet had the opportunity to
dance, and I do believe that the musicians are about to take up their instruments again.”

Heat flushed Cecily’s face. She did not wish to be singled out. Nor did she feel confident enough in her abilities to dance.

But Mr. Curley’s eagerness made refusal impossible. He stepped forward, a broad smile on his round face, giving her a glimpse of his crooked teeth. “I would be honored. Miss Faire?”

Cecily cast a nervous glance toward Mrs. Massey and forced herself not to look at Mr. Stanton. “I would be delighted.”

She allowed herself to be led to the floor, to the thick sea of dancers and swishing gowns. She recognized the dance from her days at Rosemere, and that brought her a little confidence. But as she stood facing her partner, preparing for the dance to begin, she turned and saw Mrs. Massey with her arm draped through Mr. Stanton’s. Cecily had to sneak an extra glance. For even though it would be breaking every rule of decorum, it almost appeared as if she were pulling him to the dance! Mr. Stanton, on the other hand, appeared uncomfortable. His expression was resolute. Almost stern.

Before she could contemplate their relationship further, the dance started and she refocused her attention on Mr. Curley.

Despite his teeth, he was not an altogether unattractive man. His light hair fell over his broad forehead, which by some might be considered too large, and light lashes framed kind, if not overeager, eyes. He had a nice, easy smile. But she knew better than to soften toward kind eyes and warm smiles.

“And where are you from, Miss Faire?” He seemed to almost shout in attempt to be heard over the music.

“I am most recently from Rosemere School in Darbury.”

“Darbury? That is quite a distance. And do you find Wiltonshire to your liking?”

The music grew louder, a happy, lively tune, and yet his questions did not stop.

“I am very fond of it, yes,” she managed to say between steps.

But if he noticed her need for concentration, he did not let on. “And how do you like Mrs. Trent?”

“She is a very kind woman.” Cecily circled around and waited until she once again faced her partner.

“Is that so? I have heard she is quite testy.”

At this, Cecily stiffened. She did not like to hear unkind things about the mistress of Willowgrove. “I have found the opposite to be true.”

His expression narrowed, as if he did not believe her, but then it softened again, and he extended his gloved hand toward her for the next move.

Somehow Cecily survived the dance with no major mistakes. She only turned the wrong direction once, but it was barely noticeable against the backdrop of so many people and such loud music. As Mr. Curley led her from the floor, she felt quite proud of herself.

Mrs. Massey had been talking to Mr. Stanton during the length of the dance, and as Mr. Curley and Cecily approached them, Mrs. Massey locked eyes with Cecily. “You two looked absolutely lovely.”

The music began again, and Mr. Curley turned to Mrs. Massey. “Would you care to dance, Mrs. Massey?”

A look of surprise crossed Mrs. Massey’s face. “Oh, I don’t think so, Mr. Curley. I—”

But his rebuttal came quickly. “Oh, you cannot refuse! You cannot ask your friend here to dance without dancing yourself.”

If she was annoyed, she did not look it. “Very well.” She extended her gloved hand and placed it on his waiting arm. “Thank you, Mr. Curley.”

Mr. Curley led Mrs. Massey to the dance floor.

And that left Cecily alone with Mr. Stanton.

24

N
athaniel hated to dance. A silly waste of time, and yet another opportunity for his mother to try her hand at matching him with one of the local young ladies.

Even now, he sensed her watching his every interaction. Under normal circumstances, he would find any excuse not to attend such a gathering. But seeing as this event was to celebrate his sister’s engagement, he could hardly refuse.

And despite his general attitude toward such events, he had come almost willingly.

For he knew Miss Faire would be in attendance. And he noticed the moment she entered.

She was a mystery—a contradiction. Beautiful and bright, yet guarded and demure.

He watched as Hannah hugged her waist and as Mrs. Massey ushered her around the space, trying to maintain focus on the conversation he was having with Mr. Curley. Her vibrant hair was swept high off of her neck, soft curls bouncing with each movement.
Her cheeks were flushed the most becoming shade of rose, and her full lips curved in an easy smile. Twice she had extended her hand in greeting, her every movement delicate and graceful. Heaven help him, he was no better than the rest of the men in the room, curious and infatuated with Mrs. Trent’s new companion.

He’d noticed her discomfort at their introduction. Mrs. Massey was always brazen—quite the opposite, he’d learned, of Miss Faire’s more reserved nature. He’d wanted to at least try to make her feel more at ease, but within moments, Mrs. Massey had her dancing with Mr. Curley. And as he watched them dance, her hand on his arm, Nathaniel could barely breathe.

By contrast, Mrs. Massey’s presence was suffocating. She’d taken hold of his arm the moment she arrived, and try as he might, he could not free himself. But now, the tide had turned. Miss Faire was standing next to him, her soft scent of rosewater teasing him, watching the dancers swirl around the room.

He stepped closer to be heard above the music and voices. “Did you enjoy your dance, Miss Faire?”

“I did, very much.” She turned away from the twirling couples to look at him. “But I am afraid I lack talent.”

“On the contrary, you looked quite at ease.” He had not meant for the compliment to slip so openly, but at his words, a flush of pink kissed her cheeks.

She toyed with the fan around her wrist. “Well then, I played a part well, for I have little experience dancing, really. At the school I typically took the gentleman’s part, and, well, I am afraid my lack of experience will betray me.”

He could not help but notice the necklace that she wore. The bright beads were entrancing against her cream skin. He nodded toward it. “Your necklace is lovely.”

She touched it with the tips of her fingers and smiled up at him. “I have you to thank for it. It seems you have gotten in quite
the habit of assisting me with things I manage to break. First my trunk and then my necklace.”

He returned the smile. “It is my pleasure.”

She rolled a bead between her forefinger and thumb. “I told you it had belonged to my mother. I have such fond memories of her wearing it to church every Sunday. Losing it would have been like losing her again. So I thank you.”

He seized the opportunity to learn more. “When you dropped it, you said that you should never have taken it.”

“Did I?” She adjusted the necklace again.

“Yes.”

She looked out to the dancers. “The truth is my mother left this necklace to both me and my sister. When we were separated, I had the necklace. I am sure she has wondered what became of it all these years. I am so clumsy I am certain it would have been safer in her care. But one day I shall return it. I am sure she misses it, just as I would.”

She offered him a smile. He could not look away from her. Her statement was simple enough, a short explanation that, on the surface, appeared to be little more than a reason behind her distraught behavior earlier. But to him, it marked something very different. It marked the first signs of her breaking down the shell of her reserve—and the start of her letting him into her world.

As the dancers widened their circles, Nathaniel moved closer to Miss Faire to make room, but once they passed, he did not return to his original position. With the soft music, the busy room, and the glint of the candlelight off her face, he quickly forgot about Mrs. Massey and the others.

They were alone. He’d been hoping for just such a moment, for in his pocket was the letter he had received from Mr. McGovern just the day prior. He had been saving it, waiting for the opportunity to give it to her.

He said nothing, just pulled it from his waistcoat and held it out to her. Her attention shifted to the note in his hand.

A tiny frown tugged at her full lips, and she tilted her head in an attempt to read the inscription. “What’s this?”

“Go ahead,” he said. “Take it.”

She took the letter, opened it, and angled it to catch the light from the nearest candle. As she read, her eyes widened. “Is this . . .”

Her voice trailed off, yet he could see the question in her eyes. “It’s a list of several of the reputable dressmakers and seamstresses in Manchester. It is not complete, but it is a start.”

A little laugh escaped her lips. “Why, this is wonderful!” He thought he noticed moisture gathering in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say!”

“You do not have to say a word.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stanton.”

“You do not have to thank me. Mr. McGovern is responsible for the list, not I.”

“But you . . . you . . .” Again, her voice trailed off. “I shall write to these establishments tomorrow. You have given me renewed optimism.”

Perhaps they were more alike than he expected. Both of them searching for freedom from a family situation. But whereas he was searching, reaching for his own identity, trying to free himself from family prejudices, she was doing the opposite . . . reaching for a connection.

“I hope you do not think me bold, Miss Faire. But I do wish you would let me assist you more.”

Her face fell, and she made herself busy with putting the letter in her reticule. “But you have already helped me so much.”

“Do you recall that first day that Mrs. Trent was back at Willowgrove? When we were speaking in the blue drawing room?”

She nodded.

“We spoke of secrets. You said that you believed that everyone had them. It was in our nature.”

“Ah, so I did.”

He had to force his focus, for he was mesmerized by the way the light caught the glimmer in her eyes. “There is one thing I cannot figure out about you. You have shared that you are here for employment. You hope to find your sister. But what I do not know is how you came to be separated from them in the first place.”

“You are right, Mr. Stanton.” She pivoted away from him slightly. “I did speak of secrets. And like most people who have something to hide, I wish to be free from it. But I believe I also said that everyone is entitled to a secret or two.”

“I do not disagree.” He dipped his head slightly to be nearer to her. “But I wish you would share your secret with me.”

She flicked her eyes up. “Why?”

He was caught. He had let too much slip. “Because I-I . . .” He decided to change his tactic. “Because I wish to help you, that is all.”

And it was a falsehood. He knew it. She probably could sense it too. But how could he tell her that she had captivated him, and he would not find rest until he knew she was happy?

“You and your family have been kind to me. But I caution you about being too interested in my past, for I am afraid you would not like what you would find there.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “That is an intriguing comment.”

“I did not mean for it to be intriguing. I meant for it to be honest.”

“Everyone has something in their past that is less than favorable.”

The music stopped, and applause and voices filled the room, bouncing from the plaster wall and low ceiling.

Mrs. Massey and Mr. Curley were coming back to them, and
just the sight of it annoyed Nathaniel. He wanted more time with Miss Faire.

Mrs. Massey was the first to speak. “What a lovely dancer Mr. Curley is! But I am parched. Shall we go find refreshments?”

Nathaniel acted quickly. “You’ll forgive me, but Miss Faire has promised me this dance.”

Mrs. Massey’s eyes widened. “But you do not dance, Mr. Stanton.”

“I shall make an exception.”

He offered his arm to Miss Faire. He forced himself to meet her gaze, afraid he might find refusal there. But instead, she smiled and placed her gloved hand atop his arm.

Nathaniel led her to the floor, not pausing to look back.

Once they were settled in their spot, Miss Faire leaned closer. “Why did you do that?”