She at last regained just enough breath to say, “My word, is that Mr. Terence Hayes I see? In the flesh? Or are you just an apparition?” She pinched his arm to assure herself of his corporeality.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, though not in the sense that his size was monstrous or athletic. More like a wall of stone, a barrier of flesh and bone determined to protect and defend. Much like a great wall, he always seemed weathered to Jane, even though he couldn’t have been older than forty, with threads of silver at the temples of his otherwise dark, neatly-groomed hair and the bruised flesh around his eyes. His clean-shaven face was long, hollow, and sagging from what seemed to be perpetual exhaustion, but he always held a quiet politeness in his hazel-brown eyes that Jane had been drawn to since they first met. It was a visage she likened to a lazing basset hound, and she grinned as a warm sensation blossomed in her chest when he looked at her.
“Miss Sterling, you startled me,” Terence Hayes released a ragged breath but quickly composed himself. A hand smoothed the front of his purple waistcoat.
No, not purple, Jane noted.Mauve.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, it is me, in the flesh, you are not mistaken. How have you been? It feels as though it hasbeen half an age since we last met.”
“Well enough. Though, I’d rather not be stuck going to a lecture on a Saturday afternoon, not with the weather being as fine as it is,” Jane whined, pouting her lips as she gazed longingly out the windows and at a courtyard painted by the rare golden hues by the oncoming autumn sunset. “I’d forgotten how gloomy your England can be. I was hoping to cherish the sun before it decided to vanish again!”
“Itisautumn, Miss Sterling,” his gaze dropped to her dress, a thick brow raised. “You seem to be properly dressed for the weather with all those layers.”
Jane clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “It onlylookslayered because of the lace. See?” She toyed with the pleated fringes of her dress, displaying the white lace decorating the bulk of her pink skirts. Ruffles of the glittering lace fringed from the puffed fabric of her shoulders and pillowed around the cuffs of her silken sleeves, which she held out for him to inspect closer. “Just lace.”
“Ah, my mistake,” he said in a voice that rumbled gently from his chest, reaching her ears with a tender caress. He leaned close, eyes narrowed, to better observe her ensemble; a heavy scent of bergamot and damp earth washed over her. “Quite well-made, Miss Sterling. It’s attractive on you.”
Jane couldn’t resist another grin, though she was unsure if it was inspired by smug satisfaction or the heated fluttering in her chest. This gown was one she requested specifically for this trip. While her father’s pocketbook refused her the chance to purchase a thing directly from Paris, she was able to convince the Sterlings’ favored dressmaker Mrs. Robinson to craft an exact replica of the blossom-pink dress Jane had glimpsed in an issue ofLa Mode Illustrée. Years of patronage from the Sterlings, an inviteto afternoon tea, and a handsome sum of $30 were all the costs it took for the old seamstress to agree to the sudden commission. And Jane was excited that such an impulsive request was yielding the desired results. Though Terence Hayes was just one person, to dazzle one man was enough to dazzle a crowd.
Jane’s poise faltered slightly before burgeoning once more when Terence took her outstretched hand and brought it to his lips so they may bump against her gloved knuckles—the whisper of whatmighthave been a kiss. His hands trembled, but this tremor was something he’d always possessed, as far as Jane could remember from when she’d first met him at the exhibition in May. She’d rued that their meeting had been so brief, underneath theDiplodocusskeleton, not too unlike the scene they engaged with now, as he had been in a rush to catch an afternoon train from London to Cambridge.
“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you again, Miss Sterling,” the confidence that glimmered in Jane’s chest dimmed when he started to look behind her—searching. “I heard that your father will be in attendance. Will he be joining us?”
Jane wasn’t afraid to let her disappointment show, propping a hand upon her hip and letting her smile fall into an unsatisfied curl of her lip. “No, he will not—”
“Oh, Mr. Hayes, hello!” Mrs. Sterling appeared at Jane’s side and took hold of her elbow. Her brow pinched, and her smile softened, as she reached forward and squeezed his arm, a gesture of sympathy. “I hope you have been doing well, dear boy. I am terribly sorry to hear about your brother. A good man, he was.”
Jane’s blood chilled and her cheeks flushed. She’d forgotten the news she heard of the late Matthew Hayes’s passing. She knew very little of his death aside from a rumor her mother shared with her over breakfast as they were still crossing the Atlantic, that hehad been shot in a hunting accident a month ago. Though the ghastliness of such a whisper was enough for her to keep it at the back of her mind out of intrigue, she had otherwise forgotten about it as she didn’t anticipate seeing Terence in attendance today, nor did he wear any tokens of mourning. She was unprepared to offer condolences.
Guilt smacked her across the cheek with an ice-cold hand, and she withheld a grimace as she lowered her head and took a step back, allowing her mother more space to comfort.
“Yes, yes, thank you. A good man he was indeed,” Terence said quickly, clearing his throat in a manner hinting at a mounting discomfort. His smile was tight, brief, a polite obligation. “Will Dr. Sterling be joining us?”
Mrs. Sterling’s expression started to morph into her trademark pout. “Oh, no, I’m afraid he won’t be. Too ill to travel—only the flu, bless him, but he didn’t think he could survive on a boat with his condition.”
Heat flooded Jane’s chest once more as Terence inclined his head. “My deepest apologies, Sterlings, I hope that his recovery is swift. Do send him my condolences that he couldn’t be with us today, will you?”
There was always something so attractive about a man who allowed himself to display a genuine concern.
“I will. He regrets being unable to attend,” Mrs. Sterling placed a hand atop her breast. “It breaks his weary heart when he misses these lectures.”
“Such a shame… I had been eager to speak with him regarding a proposition. It seems that you will also have to tell him that I send him my heartfelt greetings,” Terence said, hands clasped behind his back.
Mrs. Sterling touched his shoulder in the femininemimicry of a mate clapping a hand there. “But of course! He’s spoken so fondly of you since his London trip, and I must admit we were rather impressed by the collection ofgryphaeaspecimens you sent home with him. I think they’re still displayed in his study cabinet. He’d be thrilled to know you said hello!”
Terence nodded curtly again, his smile tight but not unfriendly. It at least reached his eyes—Jane liked it when men smiled with their eyes, more so than with their teeth. “I only regret not bringing with me more specimens so that you may bring them home to him as a souvenir.”
Behind them, there was a gentle murmur that had been dying to a dull whisper as the last of the crowd filed into the theater.
“I suppose we ought to go find ourselves seats, yes?” Terence gestured for Jane and Mrs. Sterling to lead as they made their way to the stuffy theater. Jane kept her steps short so she could walk a little closer to him.
The theater was a wide and dim lecture hall, with a single stage at the room’s very front illuminated by gaslight, framed by blank chalkboards, and surrounded by an army of cushioned seats, most of which were already occupied. The only vacant seats available were at the very back of the room, steeped in shadows.
Jane turned to Terence, looking up at him. The dark lighting made his eyes molasses-brown.
“Sit with us, won’t you?” She took his arm and lightly tugged, not at all intent on releasing him. She leaned closer to whisper, “I predict that this will beawfullydull, and I’d appreciate having someone to share comments with—otherwise I’mcertainI’ll die of boredom!” She pulled on him again, pouted her pink lips, and fluttered her lashes in heavy, sad blinks. “Please, Mr. Hayes?”
He was hot beneath her touch, even through the layers ofhis suit and her gloves. His eyes fluttered with their own frantic blinks as he licked his lips. Was he blushing or was that just low light playing on his cheeks? He cleared his throat.
