The Countess' Lucky Charm (24 page)

“As you say, Joanna.” Temple inclined his head.

What could he do but acquiesce, he thought wryly. Joanna was doing just as he had asked of her—taking Simone under her very capable wing. A ball would be a challenge for Simone’s first outing into polite society however he was a firm proponent of the sink or swim philosophy.

It really wouldn’t matter where he first presented Simone—everyone would be curious about her regardless of the occasion.

* * *

A hesitant Simone rapped on the door to Joanna’s chamber. At the muffled “Come in!” she twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

A visibly perspiring Joanna sat perched on the edge of a blue velvet foot stool; the matching chair had been pushed back against the wall, along with a small side table and foot warmer. The rug had also been rolled up, leaving a bare expanse of polished plank flooring.

“To give us room to move about,” she explained at Simone’s bewildered look. “We shall start with the
contredans
. Come stand beside me and watch while I pace out the steps. To start with, I’ll show you two figures. Easy ones then we’ll progress to the more difficult ones in the next few days.”

To Joanna’s count of “One two three four”, a stumbling Simone tried to follow. Frowning, she watched Joanna’s feet, taking a few hesitant steps of her own before stopping and placing her fists on her hips.
Oy
, dancing was not as easy as Joanna professed.

“I can’t learn this.” Dismay filled Simone’s voice. The happy anticipation of attending the ball with Temple faded.

“You shall, if you wish to go to the
Crossfield’s
ball as the Countess of Leavenby. Now stop looking at your feet,” ordered an unsympathetic Joanna. “Lift your head and look at your partner. Remember, you must smile and flirt with all the gentlemen and one cannot do so unless one is focused on them, not your feet.”

“Flirt?” Simone echoed stupidly. Did married women flirt with other gentlemen? She didn’t want to flirt with other gentlemen—she wanted to flirt with Temple.

“Yes, flirt. Now look at me and dance.”

The cherubic Joanna proved to be a harsh taskmaster and Simone, wanting to please her, obediently lifted her gaze and took several tentative steps.

“Talk to me while you practice” continued Joanna. “I should like to hear more about your life in Canada. There is an air of mystery about you I find intriguing. Temple has been naughty and scarcely answered any of my questions.”

Simone had been dreading the moment when she would be questioned on her background. The moment had come and she was on her own, without Temple’s comforting presence. To make matters worse, Joanna posed the questions, the person Temple had assured her would be her ally.

In short, she wanted Joanna to like her.

Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead as she considered her answer and she stumbled again, knocking into the footstool and sending it flying.

“There is no great mystery about me. I grew up in Montreal with a dear family friend. My parents died when I was young.”

“Oh dear, I am so sorry.” Joanna’s consternation was evident as she stepped away. “And a one two three four. I find your accent intriguing,” she continued, her face red from the exertion.

“A mixture of French and English, I suppose,” Simone replied. “The French were the original founders of Canada, you know.” She hoped the explanation satisfied Joanna. It really had been difficult for her to conquer her east side accent. Even now, when tired or excited, she would let slip with an inappropriate phrase or word.

“What? Oh yes, I knew that.” Joanna was beginning to puff. “Just one time more through each figure, Simone. I’m growing fatigued.”

Simone obliged and finished with a final twirl that drew praise from Joanna. A wave of nausea overcame her and she leaned against the wall, swaying a little.

“Are you unwell?” Joanna’s concerned face swam into her vision.

Simone nodded shakily. “I do believe I’m unaccustomed to the rich food.”

“A spot of ginger tea is what you need. Let’s move to the sitting room and ring Mrs Andrews, shall we?”

“What of Lady Frederica?” She blurted the question before she could stop herself. The nausea had passed yet she could not bear to face the intimidating woman.

“Oh, she has taken to her room with a fit of the vapours,” Joanna said airily. “You and Temple have given her a bit of a comeuppance. Don’t be afraid of her, she’s harmless.”

“Yes, Temple has said the same thing. That I must stand up to her.” The old Simone would have defied the woman with a swagger and a curse that would have given the old lady a swoon. For Temple’s sake, she wanted the dowager countess to accept her. She just wasn’t sure how to go about it.

* * *

Her new gown arrived the morning of the ball. A few anxious moments had ensued when the matching slippers couldn’t be found but eventually they had been unearthed in the bottom of the band box, beneath layers of tissue.

A bemused Temple watched from the comfort of his wingback chair as she twirled about their chamber, holding the swatch of ivory silk close to her.

“This is the finest dress ever,” she declared. “It’s a princess dress.”

“Don’t you think you should actually put the dress on before you make such a statement?”

“Well, then ask me again when I dress this evening. I’m so excited I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep this afternoon. Joanna told me that,” she added. “A ball goes until the wee hours of the morning and I must rest for it.”

“I could think of something to tire you out,” he said, a wicked glint in his eye.

“Oh, you. I’m too excited for that now too.” She tossed a throw cushion at him.

“I meant I have a new dance I want to teach you. What did you think I meant?” The glint in his eye belied his bland voice, leaving Simone no doubt he had another, more pleasurable dance in mind.

“A new dance?” She groaned. “Do we have time? What I have learned from Joanna has taken me days to conquer.”

“Oh, it’s easy enough. It’s called the waltz.” He demonstrated. “One two three, one two three. You step from foot to foot and let me lead you. Here.” He grabbed her about the waist. “Let us begin. I start with my right foot forward, your left foot goes back. It’s as simple as that. No, don’t look down.” He tilted her head up. “Just follow me.”

Stiffly, Simone moved with him, looking him in the face as if the movements of her feet were reflected there. Her lips twitched in time, one two three, one two three.

“You know what’s so delicious about the waltz,” he commented as he twirled her about.

She clung to him, just barely managing to shake her head.

“I get to hold you scandalously close in my arms and the gossiping tongues can’t say a thing.”

And he did, pulling her even closer so that his thighs rippled against hers. His arm was tight against her back, and he squeezed her right hand with his left one. How heavenly, a floating dance, making her as ethereal as the butterflies that wafted through the rose garden by the stable.

“See?” he murmured against her hair. “Nothing to it.” He leaned back to look at her. “Are you ready to rest now?”

“I shall do my best,” she promised.

Much to her surprise, she did manage a small nap, awakening at the sound of Temple opening the door from his adjoining dressing room. He carried a cloth covered tray.

“Are you awake? It’s time for you to call Joanna’s maid.” He strolled over to the wingback chairs flanking the fire place, placing the tray on the little side table before sitting down with a casual elegance.

“Thank you.” Solicitous as always, she thought. She sat up and stretched before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Does Joanna mind sharing her maid with me?”

“What? Don’t be silly, of course not. We’ll find you a suitable candidate soon enough.” He whipped off the cloth and pointed to the tray. “Mrs Andrews sent us a bite or two. Dinner will be late this evening. Will you pour, darling?”

Darling? She flipped him a startled look. He’d never called her darling before. It set her heart to fluttering. Perhaps he really did care for her, perhaps even loved her a little.

He seemed oblivious to her reaction, merely waited patiently while she poured. By now, she knew he took both cream and sugar in his tea and she prepared it just as he liked. She offered him the sandwich plate and he took two, propping them on the edge of his saucer against the cup.

As for her, anticipation for the evening’s ball had dulled her appetite. She could barely drink one cup and eat one sandwich to please him; she had seen him scowl when she first passed the plate by.

He waited until she had finished her sandwich before he spoke again. “I must warn you, Simone. It’s not going to be easy this evening. There will be gossip.”

“I know,” she nodded. “It’s my first time in polite society.” She picked up her cup and took a sip of the fragrant East Indian blend. Delicious; surely not even the Prince Regent drank finer tea.

“No, that’s not what I mean. You shall fare splendidly this evening, I’ve no doubt.” A rueful expression glided across his face. “No, it’s me I’m referring to. I’m a pariah, the kind of man who mothers will cross the street to avoid.”

“Surely you’re joking, Temple. How could anyone think that of you? You are the Earl of Leavenby.”

“Be that as it may,” he shrugged, “let us just say I have an unsavoury reputation.”

“Only because they don’t know you,” she defended him staunchly. “Perhaps I could spread a good word for you.”

Her offer amused him, for he let loose a dry chuckle. “If only it were that easy, Simone. Nay, I fear my reputation is well earned. I haven’t behaved in the most exemplary manner. At the time, it did not signify.” He stopped.

And now, because of you, it does.

It signified now because he didn’t want her tarred with the same brush for something that wasn’t of her doing.

“What? And now it does?” She was truly astonished. “In my opinion, that does not signify. Mrs Featherstone told me once during our sewing lessons that what is in the past is past. Anyone deserves a second chance.”

 
“They thought me a scoundrel. I thought I would oblige them.” He lifted his hands, palms up. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Then who are you?” Her question was simple.

Apparently, the answer was not as simple, for Temple looked away from her deliberately. His eyes narrowed, and his hands, placed so carelessly on the arms of the chair, clenched into fists.

“I don’t know,” he replied at length, staring out the window at the hazy, late afternoon sky as if he could find the answer written there. “A rogue. A scoundrel.” He turned his regard back to her, gauging her reaction. “I have done things I am ashamed of. You asked me why I would leave a life of privilege. Because I didn’t deserve it. Because I wanted to turn myself into a man, a true man, a man of honour. A man who stands on his own two feet. A man who defends his loved ones.”

A man who defends you, Simone, and our children.

She answered quickly, before he had a chance to consider that notion.

“You saved me, that means you’re not a rogue. Or a scoundrel.” She was staunch in her defence of him. “So do not be silly, I beg of you. What’s done is done.”

“Don’t you want to know what it is that I’ve done?”

She looked at him long and hard before answering. “No. You’re caring and compassionate, that’s all that matters to me.”

“Compassionate? Where did you learn that?” He raised his eyebrows, a familiar gesture she had grown to love. Her choice of words had obviously taken him aback.

“I’ve been studying the dictionary,” she boasted. “It seemed to describe you perfectly.”

“Ah, Simone, darling.” He shook his head, closing his eyes until they crinkled at the corners. “You give me too much credit.”

“You have warned me it will not be easy tonight. I appreciate that. However,” she leaned over and brushed his hand with her own. “Do not worry for me. I don’t care what they think of you.”

I only care that I love you
, she added silently. She desperately wanted to tell him but she held herself back. Why would he, a peer of the realm, want the love of an orphaned street urchin?

“Very well.” A relieved smile creased his lips. “But don’t say I gave you no warning.”

“I promise,” she vowed. “You shall not hear me grumble.” She glanced over at the clock on the fireplace mantle. “Golly, look at the time. Joanna told me I should need several hours to ready myself. I should start.”

“Yes, you should.” He grinned, seemingly as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Come to the sitting room when you’re ready, I’ll wait for you there.”
 

* * *

An impatient Temple paced the floor, swirling the brandy in his glass first one way, then the other. Simone had taken his attempt at disclosure with aplomb but he sincerely dreaded the evening. Dreaded it, yet knew it could not be avoided.