Island of the Swans (27 page)

Jane was still recovering from her shock at hearing these words as the young duke gracefully exited the coach. Then he extended his hand to assist in her descent. She stared at him with an expression of amazement, heedless of the servants who were approaching to take command of the horses. Alexander said nothing, but simply crooked his arm in Jane’s and led her toward the tree-lined esplanade that opened onto the walled gardens.

“Your Grace!” she exclaimed, stopping their progress through the high arches, festooned with scores of twinkling lanterns.

“Yes?” Alexander answered calmly. “By the way, Jane, could you consider addressing me by my Christian name? ‘Your Grace’ seems far too formal when one is affianced.”

“We are
not
affianced!” Jane replied hotly. “We hardly know each other! You’ve been very kind… I don’t deny that, but really, Your Gra—really, Alexander, I have in no way given any indication that—”

“That’s true enough,” he interrupted. “Until just a moment ago, I had given no indication either… but tonight I
choose
to give you a
slight
indication of my affection and esteem.”

He led her quickly down a graveled walk, bordered on each side by lofty trees. Without warning, he pulled her into a maze of hedges, which were cut in geometric designs under an espaliered rose tree. Its pink blossoms gave off a faint but sweet perfume. Jane stood there, dumbstruck, as Alexander reached into a small pocket in the lining of his silk coat. He pulled out an object and kept it hidden in his hand.

“I said only that I
intend
to make you my wife. Naturally, it isn’t at all clear whether you will have me. But to show you the sincerity of these intentions, I would like you to have these… they belonged to my grandmother, Henrietta, the Second Duchess of Gordon.”

Alexander held up two exquisite ear fobs in the moonlight. Their faceted sides glittered like the lanterns shining in the distance.

“I was going to wait to present them at some opportune and properly romantic moment, but as I watched your lovely profile in the coach as you gazed out at the moon, I was struck by how perfectly these diamonds would complement your ensemble.”

Without waiting for her response, the duke leaned forward and fastened one, then the other clip to her ears.

“Alex—Alexander,” she stammered, fingering one of the jewels dangling from her ears with her glove. “I’m touched you should want me to have these—especially since they belonged to your grandmother—but…” She looked up at him, brows knit pensively. “How can you be so sure you want to marry me after such a short introduction? We’ve led entirely different lives… we don’t even know each other properly… and we’re both… we’re both—”

Jane left her sentence dangling in the balmy night air. She lowered her eyes and then glanced distractedly into the silvery night. The delicate sounds of a string orchestra playing somewhere on the green expanse of Comely Gardens floated toward them.

“We’re both… sore of heart?” Alexander questioned softly. “Isn’t that what you were trying to say?” he asked, holding her softly rounded chin between his slender fingers.

The gold metal of his ducal ring felt cold against her flesh.

“We must give our hearts a rest,” she told him earnestly. “At least I must.”

Alexander bent forward, gently brushing her lips with his. He lingered there only a moment before pulling his head away.

“How long a trial period would you suggest?” he murmured.

“I can’t put a time to it,” she replied in a soft, melancholy voice. “I only know that my feelings for Thomas aren’t dead. Perhaps they never will be. I like you too much, Alexander, to—”

“I don’t ask you to forget Thomas,” Alexander interrupted her shortly, taking her hands in his. “He was a spirited lad, and I acknowledge your love for him. It does you credit that you haven’t dismissed his memory with ease, and that you are not easily seduced by the trappings of the House of Gordon, as others of your sex might be.”

“But I still love him as if he were
alive
,” Jane responded sadly. “What would be left over for you?”

“Thomas is dead, Jane. The tie has, tragically, been severed by fate.”

“I suppose I’ve accepted the fact he’s dead,” Jane said, blinking back tears as she looked beyond Alexander’s shoulder at the perfect pink blossoms on the rose tree behind him. “It took me months to do that much. But I still feel
attached
somehow… connected to him—at least to the memory of him. Until that tie is broken, I’m not fit to be… a wife. Especially not the wife of a duke.”

“Becoming a duchess is not the point, Jane,” answered Alexander, his exasperation showing. “However, what you said before—that you still need time to break the ties you feel—
that
, I will accept and try to understand.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and gradually tightened his grip.

“But the bond you feel with Thomas Fraser
will
be broken, Jane, or your life will be unbearable,” Alexander said grimly. “I know. I learned that lesson myself. It took my meeting you to realize how wide the gulf is between the living and the dead. Of course your feelings for Thomas aren’t forgotten. Mine for Bathia will never be forgotten either, but we must put those emotions where they belong. They’re a precious part of our past, to be remembered… but to be just that—a lovely, sad memory. Only one part of the tapestry of a full life.”

“I know you’re right,” Jane sighed. “But I just can’t seem to…” her voice trailed off. She gazed into his eyes and shook her head sorrowfully, “I know I shouldn’t keep living in the past, but I can’t seem to go forward in the present. I’m just stuck—like a coach wheel in a rutted road.”

He smiled. “I’m just the person to give you a push!”

“I’m stuck too deeply for that, I’m afraid,” Jane replied, shaking her head again, this time with resignation. “At least that’s the way it seems. So I think I should—”

She began to remove one of the diamond earrings.

“Don’t!” Alexander said harshly, staying her hand with his. “Whatever you decide, I want you to have them. Even if you don’t wear them.”

His words allowed no room for argument, and his demeanor reflected a habit of being obeyed. Presently, the grim line of his mouth softened into a smile, and he laced his long fingers through hers. She wondered if he could feel the ivory extension filling the empty space inside her right glove.

“I’ll accept you as you are, for the time being,” he said in a bantering tone, pulling her gently against his chest. “However, I can’t guarantee I’ll always play the gentleman while you try to get your wheels unstuck.”

As if to illustrate his words, he slowly skimmed the crested facet of his gold signet ring lightly down her cheekbone to her throat, then pressed it to her swelling bosom that thrust out of her gown’s low-cut bodice. The cool metal sent chills through her body as Alexander drew her closer to him, the full length of his frame melding with her own.

“Perhaps a little lubrication… a little whale oil, or such, would unloosen those wheels a bit,” he murmured teasingly, deliberately tilting his pelvis toward hers to offer proof of his rising ardor. His tongue gently flicked around the diamond earrings, and darted briefly inside her ear. Jane tensed, but before long, his insistent, feathery caresses overcame her resistance. “You’re a wonder, Mistress Jane,” he whispered, returning to the sensitive spot he’d discovered just above her lobes where the earrings dangled.

The flat surface of his signet ring continued to press lightly against the valley between her breasts, causing a peculiar fluttering to ripple through her chest and stomach.

Slowly, languidly, Alexander pulled his body away from hers, resting his hands lightly on her bare shoulders. There was still clear evidence he had interrupted their embrace fully aroused, but he seemed now to take no notice.

“I think we’d better find our supper companions, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

Jane thought she perceived a calculating glint flicker in his eye. He made a show of admiring his gift to her by rocking her shoulders gently, causing the earrings to swing softly against her neck.

“Lovely… lovely,” he said smugly. “My grandmother would pluck them off you from her grave and my mother would snatch them from your ears instantly, if either one of them could see how much more stunning they look on you. You’ll understand what I mean this winter when you see their portraits in the gallery at Gordon Castle.”

“
Alexander!
” Jane protested in exasperation.

“I know… I know! Your wheels are stuck,” he laughed. “Well… let’s just say you’ll see what I mean
if
you accompany me to the Highlands… someday.”

Without further conversation, he led her back up the gravel path toward the center of the gardens where a line of Corinthian columns supported an ornate bandstand, and a string quartet was mechanically playing Handel. There seemed to be a thousand lanterns twinkling along the periphery of the circle of pavilions and its central building, flanked by two domed wings with turrets.

As they entered the pavilion itself, Comely Gardens’ owner, Andrew Gibb, greeted the duke with an effusive welcome and directed them to a large, open-air supper box decorated with the same neoclassic motif that Gibb had used throughout his pleasure park.

Jane was soon swept up in a wave of greetings and embraces as Catherine, John Fordyce, and Charles Gordon, among others, said their hellos and bid them join the late night supper. Jane was mildly surprised to see Marietta Buchanan, who seemed even more plump than the last time they met. She was flitting around Jane’s erstwhile escort, the toothy Jamie Ferguson.

“We’d begun to worry you’d never make your way through that line of carriages,” John Fordyce said, as liveried attendants drew gilded chairs for Jane and Alexander.

“You’ve missed the concert,” Marietta said, her envious eyes resting on the jewels dangling from Jane’s earlobes. As the pudgy lass began a comparison of the pleasures of smoked salmon versus the delights of potted shrimp, Catherine suddenly gave out a little yelp of pleasure.

“Jane! Those earrings… they’re beautiful!”

A hush descended on the table. Alexander lifted his glass, gesturing in Jane’s direction.

“I remarked the same m’self, Catherine,” he said jovially, “when first I saw them sparkling against her throat. Lads, I propose we drink a toast to the beautiful women in the world—especially those in our company this evening.”

“Aye… Hear! Hear!” chorused the gentlemen around the table. “To the lassies.”

“Hurry now… eat your victuals, Mistress Jane,” Alexander commanded. “I desire you to walk with me to the Cascade. We must see how cleverly this imitation Vauxhall exhibition is constructed.”

Jane attacked her food and tried to ignore Alex and the memory of his unorthodox proposal of marriage. She nibbled on a few bites of ham and sighed. She didn’t feel like eating even the minuscule portions served up by Andrew Gibb. Presently, she sank back in her gilded chair, unable to taste another morsel. At first, she thought the gentle brushing against her thigh was something she imagined. Then she glanced down toward her lap and saw a flash of gold winking in the candlelight. Alexander’s hand, with its distinctive gold crest ring, gently stroked her leg through the silky folds of her skirt. She found the steady motion disturbingly pleasant.

“We mustn’t miss the Cascade,” she announced, her voice ringing shrill even in her own ears.

“Right you are, Jane.” Alexander signaled for the waiters to attend to her chair. “Come, everyone… the clock strikes nine.”

The entire party began to stroll among the boxed hedges and the statues of Diana, Apollo, and the various heroes of Greek mythology. Eventually reaching an unilluminated section of the garden, they were soon hemmed in by the milling crowd waiting for the display to begin. Then, on some silent signal, two servants magically appeared to light the lanterns surrounding the construction of a miniature landscape. It depicted a lush country scene, complete with tiny miller’s house, a water mill, trees, and gardens. A sudden surge of water began cascading over the tops of model mountains, spilling over a rocky precipice and under small-scale bridges, and with that, the audience let out a communal gasp of pleasure. The rushing torrent reached the millhouse, turning the tiny mill wheel around and grinding the authentic grain contained inside.

“Come,” Alexander whispered in her ear. “Gibb has invited us to see something even more unusual.”

Alexander took her hand and led her around behind the massive display. Andrew Gibb was clearly delighted that such a prominent member of the Scottish aristocracy should grace his establishment. He greeted them effusively once again, beckoning Jane and Alexander to follow him behind a curtain at the back of the enormous construction. Wheels and gears creaked and groaned as a revolving turnstile scooped up pailfuls of water and hoisted them up to the top of the contraption, where they were poured down the side of the miniature mountain in a continuous display.

“The basic principle is sheer gravity,” Gibb explained. “Gravity… and that lad’s muscle power.”

In the shadows Jane saw a boy she took to be about sixteen methodically turning a crank, his arm muscles bulging from the effort.

“Very ingenious,” said the duke, complimenting his host. “I have long enjoyed the study of mechanics. Perhaps this same principle could be applied to a granary in late summer when the rivers run low?”

“Or a sawmill?” Jane suggested, equally captivated by the intricate machinery. “Thomas told me once that logging in the Highlands comes to a complete standstill during the dry months because the timber can’t be floated to market,” she said eagerly to Alex. “If there were a way of capturing the spring thaw, and then releasing it in this fashion… ’twould be a possible solution for your problems on the River Spey, might it not?”

Jane looked at the duke and Andrew Gibb expectantly. Gibb was nodding as if he found her ideas noteworthy, but Alexander’s face had the look of a disapproving tutor, determined to scold a recalcitrant pupil.