Raven watched as she pressed her lips to those butterscotch curls and was struck with a strange tug at the center of his chest—a pull that forced an image to form in his mind, of Jane with her own child. But instead of brown hair and blue eyes, he saw a tumble of inky black curls and gray eyes.
A disconcerting jolt rifled through him.
He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck to free himself of the thought and sensation. “That doesn’t sound like you, losing your head.”
“No, indeed,” she said wryly. “It struck me quite by surprise. You see, I didn’t even believe I would have the opportunity to attend Aversleigh’s ball. But when I mentioned that to Ableforth, he decreed that he would ensure my parents’ acceptance of the invitation. Less than an hour transpired before a messenger from the earl himself arrived at the door. With all pomp and circumstance, he stated his lordship’s desire to renew acquaintances with many members of society and hoping to do so at the marquess’s ball. Flattered and quite proud of themselves, my parents accepted the invitation on the spot.” A laughing breath escaped her as she rolled her eyes. “I then told Ellie and she was thrilled. She was sure that we would find plenty of dancing partners among all the officers and tradesmen invited.”
“What officers? What tradesmen?”
“The ones who will be in attendance, of course. The marquess’s daughter is marrying a wealthy American tradesman and this is her betrothal ball.” She lifted her shoulders in a half shrug, but there was a mysterious glint in her eyes. “Besides, that is the purpose of the Season—for unmarried men and women to become more familiar with each other. And as Ellie began to proclaim how we were bound to wear out our slippers . . . Well, I’d had one of my epiphanies.”
“And just what was your epiphany?” He growled again, folding his arms across his chest.
Her soft smile returned as she rested her cheek on the baby’s head and looked up at him. “That I only wanted to dance with you.”
He felt that tug again. But this time, it was harder. It ripped through him as if he’d been speared by a harpoon and hauled from the depths of the ocean to break the surface.
He drew in a gulp of air, lungs tight. Bloody hell. What is this?
“Very well,” he said, disgruntled and pressing a fist to the center of his chest. “Send that blasted Sanders back upstairs.”
Chapter 22
Raven didn’t need any more lessons. But Jane was determined to teach him to dance like a proper gentleman, and had doggedly cajoled him until he’d given in.
Since he was still brooding over her mention of tradesmen and officers, what else could he have done?
Even so, before she’d left with the horde—as she called them—he’d made it clear that he was attending this ball as himself. There would be no formal introduction to society as Merrick Northcott. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.
The truth was, he’d rather just continue on like this, one foot in each world. If only everyone else could see how much simpler that would be. Then he’d have everything he wanted.
The following afternoon, Raven arrived at the conservatory for his first dancing lesson.
He found Jane building some sort of contraption. It was a box with interconnecting notched wooden cogwheels, fixed to a turn-crank handle that rotated—what looked to be—a large tin grater inside.
So absorbed in her work, she didn’t notice that he’d arrived. Not even when he handed her the mallet that had fallen on the floor, out of her reach.
She was disheveled and driven, her hair falling loose from a twisted topknot, a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and the remains of a forgotten wedge of toast balanced on the edge of the trestle table.
He drew closer and lifted his hand, unable to resist tucking a few of those silken brown-and-gold strands behind her ear. “What are you building, little professor?”
She muttered something barely discernible about a snowflake maker under her breath as she turned the crank, peered into the box, then frowned at the unmoving grater.
“Want me to have a go?” he asked. “I’m fairly good with my hands.”
He didn’t mean it as a flirtation, but it managed to pull her out of her fog with a blush on her cheeks. She blinked at him several times, her pupils contracting then dilating warmly.
“You’re here,” she said, the whisper of her sweet breath flavoring the air between them.
Damn, he wanted to kiss her. It had been ages since he’d tasted her mouth. But it was that very desire that gave him reason to hold back. He was only a temporary fixture in her life. She belonged in society and he . . . didn’t know where he fit yet.
So, Raven settled for wiping the smudge off her cheek, then nodded to her contraption. “A ‘snowflake maker’?”
She smiled and slipped a handkerchief from her sleeve to swipe at her cheek. “Indeed. This is for our toboggan race on Christmas morning. You cannot always depend on Mother Nature to bring the snow precisely when you wish for it, so I thought I’d make some myself. The children and I love Christmas, even if most of the ton—including my parents—look at it as a silliness enjoyed by rustics. But the children and I put together a grand celebration. It’s our little tradition. We enjoy making puddings and sugar-dusted biscuits and we hang garlands and ribbons from the staircase.”
She smiled and her gaze went distant as if she were picturing all the years of merriment. And Raven had a burning need to know what that felt like. To be surrounded by family. To have traditions to look forward to, year after year.
Feeling like a mawkish fool, he turned his attention to the mechanism. After a brief examination, he saw why it was failing and reached inside to secure the coupling.
“And what about you? Do you have any favorite Christmastide—” She broke off abruptly and her hand fell on his sleeve. “I apologize. That was thoughtless of me.”
He shook his head, absolving her. The last thing he wanted was to diminish her joy with the reminder of his past. So, he made light of it for her sake.
“Let’s see . . .” he mused. “One year, I got a peppermint stick and a lengthy hug from the cook. Lost the sweetie, but the memory of that big-bosomed embrace will linger in my heart forever.”
Looking over his shoulder, he winked at Jane and she swatted him on the shoulder.
“Scoundrel,” she chided, almost tenderly. Then she reached for his hand. “Come along then. It’s time for your lesson.”
Raven let her tow him from the conservatory before he mentioned, “I already know how to dance.”
She cast him a doubting look. “I don’t know what type of dancing you’ve been doing with your ladies of the evening—and I’m sure I shouldn’t want to know—but today’s lesson is learning the proper steps and the proper form. Every position you present to your partner will also be viewed and judged by the entire ton.”
Unconcerned, he focused his attention on the long expanse of columns, arched niches, and murals in the main hall. At the far end, Charles, Phillipa, and the twins were carrying chairs and tufted hassocks out of a nearby room and placing them on the Axminister runner.
“What’s going on over there?” he asked her.