Page 33 of The Hidden Heart

“I—well, perhaps I could try on the blue one.” Jessica could not bear not to see how it looked on her.

“Excellent. Gabriela and I shall be judges. Why don’t we retire to the schoolroom and have a nice chat, Gabriela, while Tilly helps Miss Maitland dress?”

Jessica took off her own plain dress and let Rachel’s maid help her into the blue velvet gown. It fit almost perfectly, and the feel of it was luxurious against her skin. Rachel’s and Gabriela’s reactions were everything she could have hoped for, but she could not see it herself. The mirror above the chest in her room was very small—governesses, after all, were not expected to indulge in vanity—and no matter how she twisted and turned or where she stood, she could see only bits and pieces of it. Even Gabriela’s room possessed no large mirror, so Lady Westhampton swept them all downstairs to her room, where a long oval mirror stood.

“Oh…” Jessica breathed, gazing at her reflection. She knew there was no way she could refuse to wear the dress now. For this moment, she was the girl she had been ten years ago—no, even better, for such deep rich colors were never allowed on girls just out. Or perhaps it was that there were depths in her face that had not been there at eighteen.

Her fair skin was lustrous against the dress, and its color turned her eyes even bluer. High waisted, it emphasized the full curves of her breasts, and the neckline dipped low enough to allow a glimpse of their swelling tops.

Rachel smiled, knowing that Jessica would not protest against wearing it anymore. “Why don’t you let Tilly put your hair up? She is an absolute wizard with hair.”

“She hasn’t tried mine,” Jessica retorted ruefully. “It has a mind of its own.”

“Now you’ve offered her a challenge. Sit down here at my vanity, and let’s see what she can do.”

So they sat in Lady Westhampton’s room, Gabriela and Jessica and Rachel, and talked and giggled like schoolgirls, while Tilly worked her art on Jessica’s hair. When she was finished, Jessica had to admit that Tilly was indeed an artist. With a narrow blue ribbon and strategically placed pins, she had coaxed and smoothed and twisted Jessica’s hair into a charming confection of curls.

“I cannot wait to see Leona’s face,” Rachel said with delight.

They had that pleasure not long afterward, when they went downstairs to supper together. Cleybourne was waiting in the small drawing room with Lord Vesey, looking about as pleasant as Jessica would have expected for a person who had been forced to endure Vesey’s company for the past several minutes. Vesey was engaged in a monologue concerning the properties of Madeira, a particularly good bottle of which he had recently consumed at Lord Bashersham’s house, a discourse that, from the look on Cleybourne’s face, had apparently been going on for some time.

When they entered the room, Cleybourne jumped up gratefully. “Rachel. Miss Mait—” He turned toward her as he said her name, really seeing her for the first time, and his words died in his throat. He stared at her for a moment, then seemed to realize that his mouth was still open and closed it sharply. He cleared his throat. “Miss Maitland. How charming you ladies look this evening.”

Beside Jessica, Rachel smothered a smile and said casually, “Why, thank you, Richard. Good evening, Lord Vesey.” Her greeting to the other man dropped in temperature noticeably.

“Lady Westhampton.” Vesey bowed to her and gave Jessica a perfunctory nod of the head.

Richard turned toward Vesey. “Are you certain your wife is joining us, Vesey? It seems a great deal of effort for someone who feels as poorly as she does.”

“Ah, well, you know Leona,” Vesey replied vaguely.

“Not really,” Richard replied shortly. “Why don’t we wait for her in the dining room? It will be easier for the footmen to carry her straight there.”

They spent the next fifteen minutes waiting idly in the dining room for Lady Vesey to make an appearance. Lord Vesey started to expand his discourse to include the wonderful qualities of brandy.

Richard grimaced and moved quickly to cut him off. “Hardly the topic to discuss with ladies present, Vesey. Rachel, do tell us about Ravenscar’s progress with Darkwater. I understand they are intent on bringing it back to its former state.”

Rachel obliged him by describing the renovations going on at her ancestral home. Vesey slumped in his chair sulkily, lifting his spoon to study his reflection in it. Jessica tried to keep the conversation going by asking questions, but she was rather distracted by the fact that Cleybourne was looking at her throughout the discussion. She could feel his gaze all through her, and she wondered what he was thinking. She wondered what she wanted him to be thinking.

Finally Lady Vesey arrived, looking, Jessica thought, rather silly being carried between the two footmen. She was wearing a filmy gold dress that accentuated her coloring, more appropriate, in Jessica’s mind, to a fancy London ball than to a quiet dinner in the country. Unlike Jessica’s and Rachel’s long-sleeved velvet dresses, suitable for the colder weather, her dress covered as little of her arms and chest as was possible. The sleeves were little puffs of sheer material through which one could see Leona’s shoulders, and the scoop neckline was so low as to be almost indecent. Jessica also saw, faintly shocked, that it was obvious Leona wore no petticoat or even a chemise beneath her dress, for one could see the dark circles of her nipples. She had heard from her friend Viola that such was the extreme of fashion among the faster set of ladies in London, some of them even going so far as to dampen their dresses so that they clung more provocatively to their figures, but this was the first time she had seen someone dressed this way.

“Lady Vesey,” Rachel said innocently, “I am afraid you will catch cold in such a summery dress. Shall I ring for a servant to bring you a shawl?”

Leona smiled at her with a sweetness as false as Rachel’s concern. “No, that’s quite all right, Lady Westhampton. Perhaps you are cold, but I am afraid that I am a very warm creature.” She cast a sideways glance at Richard as she said this, and the sexual connotation of her words was clear.

Richard ruined the effect by saying pragmatically, “Well, I hope you don’t regret it, Lady Vesey. You are not accustomed to a Yorkshire winter. You’re likely to come down with a head cold.”

Jessica bit back a smile and said agreeably, “Yes. Nasty things, head colds—all that sneezing and coughing and red noses.”

Leona shot Jessica a dismissive glance, then froze, her eyes widening in surprise, and her gaze was transformed into one of pure dislike. She turned back to Richard, smiling brightly.

As Rachel had predicted, Leona monopolized the conversation during their meal. But Jessica had the satisfaction of noticing that even while Leona was talking to him, Cleybourne’s gaze kept sliding over to herself. That—and Leona’s increasingly sour glances at her—were enough to make the evening a success.

She excused herself when the meal was over—no matter how much she liked Rachel, Jessica refused to subject herself to Lady Vesey’s malicious presence all evening—and made her way upstairs.

Gabriela wanted to know all about the supper and how Jessica’s dress had gone over, and they chatted as Gabriela helped unbutton the elegant gown Jessica had worn. Jessica changed into a nightgown and put on her dressing gown against the chill, then went to Gabriela’s room to tuck Gabriela into bed and read to her for a few minutes, a nighttime ritual for the past six years, which they found equally satisfying.

Afterward, Jessica went to bed herself. She was accustomed to rising early, having taken care of a child for six years, and as a consequence she was usually in bed early. But tonight she had trouble going to sleep after she lay down. She kept thinking about the way Cleybourne had been looking at her throughout supper—and the way his gaze had made her feel, the tingling awareness of her body. He was an impossible man, of course, but there was something about him….