Page 47 of The Gentlewoman Author

Two sisters of perhaps twelve and ten who appeared to be traveling with their family danced around the room, urging their parents to join. They did, along with several other couples, until right before Mary’s eyes, the finest soirée she’d ever attended formed around her.

An older gentleman, nudged Daniel off the bench and began to play “The Seeds of Love.” Daniel took Mary by the hand, and they joined the others in the dance.

“You are a miracle worker, Daniel.” His performance transformed the gloomy dining hall into one bright with festivity. Mary easily followed his lead and spun in and out of his arms.

“I’ve done my job, then. You are smiling.”

Was she? Like a young lady falling in love? She settled her visage into something more befitting her station, serene and genteel, but her face would not comply.

“Thank you,” she said. “I owe you a great deal of gratitude for accompanying me on this chase.”

He sobered.

“Even if it proves fruitless,” she said, “your kindness means everything.” His company and efforts to draw her from her worry were as much an elixir as writing. Without him, she may have crumbled in despair.

“We are stronger together. And soon enough I will be wooing you for the benefit of my parents, so we are even.” He was breathless from the dance, and his words took on an intimacy she was certain he did not intend.

They spun, holding hands, stepping close together as the dance required, and she could not stop another blush from rising. Since an honest courtship was not possible, she would enjoy this pretend one. “I cannot wait,” she said with a tremulous smile. She may as well practice flirting with him. The better to convince his parents.

When the song ended and another began, Daniel led Mary back to their table and picked up her bowl.

“Empty, as you see.” She held out a hand for the prize. It was juvenile, but she loved this routine. When Daniel asked around the villages through which they traveled for news of Louisa and Savage, he never failed to stop somewhere to bring her a gift.

He reached into his satchel, which was draped over his chair and took her proffered hand. “I’ve looked for these across all of England.” His fingers circled her wrist, and the gentle pressure on the sensitive spot beneath her palm sent a wave of pleasure up her arm and down her body. He placed a pink box tied in pale blue ribbon in her hand.

She untied the gift and removed the lid to expose a collection of acorn-sized white balls. “Cream filberts! My favorite. How did you know?”

He lifted a shoulder and took a bonbon from her hand, popping it into his mouth. Their eyes held as they chewed sugar coating and found the hazelnut inside.

“Delicious,” she said.

Spending an evening at Daniel’s side was sweeter than any trace of sugar on her tongue, and she wanted to savor it. Tomorrow they’d reach Mr. Savage’s hunting box. It was her last hope of finding the couple and repairing Louisa’s situation.

Feeling bold, she took Daniel’s hand and led him into the middle of the still-dancing crowd for a final jig before bed, telling herself it would help her sleep.

It didn’t. The possibilities of the next day haunted. She dreamt that Daniel challenged Mr. Savage to a duel. Daniel shot Mr. Savage dead. At his collapse, Louisa rushed to Savage’s side, her white muslin gown soaking with crimson blood from the fallen man’s chest while Mary embraced Daniel, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. It was not a chaste kiss, and she woke aching for his arms around her and his mouth against hers. The dream told her more of her feelings than she had yet admitted to herself.

Fully awake, she rose and dealt with her anxiety in the same way she always had. Under the yellow glow of a candle, she trimmed her quill, obscured the tip with ink, and waited for inspiration to strike. Instead of the next lines of the story, Daniel appeared. She wrapped her arms around herself, placing her hands exactly where Daniel’s had rested during their dancing. The combination of his laughter and the music, the tilt of his head when he laughed, the pull of his leading hand on her waist, each were threads, capturing her, drawing her to him like he was her sanctuary. It must be the lateness of the hour. She was not so fanciful in the light of day. But he was thoughtful of her in a way no one had been in years—decades even. Had she learned drawing instead of writing, she’d have sketched his face, if only to rid her mind of it. Instead, she leaned into her own craft, painting a portrait of Daniel with words. She did not spend time making it poetic. It was meant only to take him from her mind and leave him on the page.

His lower lip is fuller than the upper.She ran a finger along her own sensitive lips, wondering what Daniel’s felt like. His emotions are not found in the movement of his mouth, but in his eyes. When he gives a gift, his eyes are soft. When he speaks of his family, they are tight. When he looks at me across the small space in the carriage, they are dark and hold questions I cannot fathom and fear to discover.

The following morning, Mary arose, still trying to wipe the glistening dew of the night’s visions from her mind. She could not meet Daniel’s eyes over the breakfast table. Instead, she examined his straight nose. The shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. His hands, the same hands that brought her confections and lifted her into the carriage.

“You are quiet this morning. Did you sleep?”

“I am nervous for the day ahead.” She glanced up, at last catching his eyes, soft and understanding. Concentrate on your porridge. She tried, but it congealed in her mouth.

Daniel eyed her. “At least drink your tea.” He understood her.

Before long, they set off toward Chesterfield. The horses settled into a familiar rhythm, clomping over barely dry roads in a refrain fraught with trepidation. Mary wished to skip past the confrontation and move straight to the problem, whatever that turned out to be. If they were there, they must be married. If they were not there, it would be more waiting. She would go to Daniel’s castle and pretend to be in love with him. Easy.

Or perhaps not. Her dream and the words she’d written about him last night mocked her hasty agreement to pretend she was in love with him. This farce could wound her when they parted ways. However eager to recompense him for his aid in finding Louisa, Mary regretted agreeing to his scheme.

“We are nearly there,” Daniel said. “When we arrive, I will go in while you wait in the carriage.”

“Nonsense. I will go with you.” She paused. “Better still, you wait in the carriage.”

“Mary, we have no idea in what state we will find them.”