Stone Dreaming Woman (22 page)

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Authors: Lael R Neill

BOOK: Stone Dreaming Woman
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Their destination was the one real mansion in River Bend. Shane had told her it belonged to a twice-over millionaire timber broker named Adrian Beaufort, and it was as elegant as anything she had ever seen, up to and including Parkfield. Liveried servants took the ladies’ token wraps and escorted everyone into the banquet room. As they were seated, Jenny took a quick head count and came up with about sixty couples. She was also very aware that everybody knew everybody else, and everybody surmised who the Governor and his wife were, while nobody knew her. That would lead to a lot of speculation, and Jenny felt impish enough to play it to the hilt.

Somewhere in the background a small orchestra was playing softly. Ignoring the silly rule that young ladies must only pick at their food, she ate with relish, though she made sure her table manners were precise and correct to the last detail. She carried on a limited conversation with the white-haired gentleman next to her, discovering that he was the Barton of Underwood and Barton, Solicitors, and that he had read and thoroughly enjoyed
By the Grace of God
, although she did not divulge her connection to the book’s author. And Shane, whose main interest in law school had been criminal law and penology, entangled himself in a debate with the Underwood of Underwood and Barton concerning the death penalty and mandatory sentencing. What Jenny heard impressed her, but after all, Shane had both a law degree and a good mind, and she knew he stayed as up to date in his field as she did in her own. Finally the servers cleared away the last of the meal, and the crowd adjourned to the ballroom. Jenny drew her gloves back on as they walked down the long hall.

“Shane, I noticed several other Northwest Mounted uniforms. And I did see Paul and Laurence. Are the others from River Bend, then?”

“Most of them, yes. Some are from the Academy, and some are active duty officers. Like I said, by and large they’re bachelors and they’re here to keep the widows and wallflowers happy. By the time the night’s over you’ll meet them all.” When she had settled her long gloves, he gave her his arm.

“Remember when you called me a wallflower?” she asked as they walked down the hall.

He flinched. “That box social is one night I don’t even like to think about. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t even be a bad memory right now.”

“If I’d known what had happened to you over the previous week, it would have been another thing entirely.”

“At the time I had no idea you’d even care.”

“Well, see what you get for underestimating me?” She dimpled at him again. Then she fell silent as they found their place in the Governor’s receiving line. A stream of chatter flowed about them, above which she heard Marie talking to Bob a few places ahead. Jenny first met the large contingent of River Bend officials, then the mayor himself, who in turn introduced her to the Governor and his wife. She favored them both with a brilliant smile and a proper curtsey and watched him fall for her debutante charm. When they were through the line, Shane leaned over to whisper to her.

“I’ll bet a month’s salary he asks you to dance within the first five dances.” She did not reply, but she looked back at the Governor, a stocky, florid man of about sixty, and his serious, purse-mouthed wife, and was inclined to agree. Governor Georges Marot looked like a man who truly appreciated the ladies.

They had been rather near the end of the receiving line, so the ball began soon. The Governor and his wife led the first dance, and then, after a polite interval, other couples joined.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance,
Mam’selle
?” Shane asked in his abominable Voyageur French. He extended his hand with exaggerated pomp.

“Certainly, Inspector Adair. I’d be most delighted.” She slipped her right hand through the loop to hold her train out of the way, took his hand, and glided into his arms. Due to her heels, her hand on his shoulder tab was comfortably below her eye level. Hearing Aunt Eleanor’s instruction that a lady always looks at the gentleman with whom she is dancing, she gazed up at him. To her amusement his cheeks held high color, and happiness had painted a pink patch across his forehead. “Then where did you learn to dance so well, clear out in a place like Elk Gap?” she asked after a moment.

“It wasn’t in Elk Gap. It was at Royal Dominion. I had, ah, a cicerone who guided me through the mazes of polite society. A mentor, if you will, who made a gentleman of me.”

Jenny grinned wryly. “Oh. That figures, doesn’t it?” She understood all too completely. It did not take a genius to deduce what he meant, especially since he’d once told her his initial intention at college was to become a portrait artist.

“How about you?” he asked, declining to comment further.

“Me? I’m an old hand at balls like this. The private girls’ school I went to made certain we were all proper little debutantes before we could even spell the word.”
But,
Jenny appended silently,
I could attend another two or three thousand balls and none of them would be so exciting. I’ve never been escorted by anyone half so handsome as Shane in his incredible dress uniform. With that black hair and fair skin, he wears red so dramatically
. She felt invigorated and tingly inside from the touch of his hand, even through two pairs of white gloves. She smiled up at him, and for the moment nothing existed except the music, Shane, and the dancing.

Bob claimed the next dance, and then Shane’s prediction came true. The Governor himself strode up and bowed sharply. His French was as Québécois as Shane’s.


Mademoiselle
Weston, before your program is full, would you do me the honor of granting me a dance?” Jenny curtseyed back as he took her hand and led her officiously to the center of the dance floor. There he proceeded to drag her around dramatically, with all the finesse of a draft horse.

“So, Mademoiselle, your last name is not French, yet you speak like a native. How is that?”

“I’m from New York, Your Excellency. I studied French all my life, lately under a former Sorbonne professor at the University of Virginia.”

“Ah, I understand. It is surprising to find an obvious socialite like you in this remote village.”

She decided to answer the implied question. “I am visiting my uncle for the summer,” she replied, favoring him with a devastating smile.

“So that is how the rose has been transplanted into this wilderness, eh? I knew when I saw you at dinner that you were no product of River Bend, or even Ontario, for that matter. Such a lovely gown, Mademoiselle. My compliments to your couturier.” He was trying to dance dynamically, fairly hauling her around, in contrast to Shane, whose quiet strength enabled him to float over the dance floor in the same easy way he skated. She smiled up at the older man.

“Even though I’m American, the gown is Parisian, Your Excellency. It’s a custom design from the House of Genesse.” That was intended to impress, and it evidently did. The man’s graying eyebrows raised for the merest moment.

“My wife will be most interested. She has wanted a Genesse for years.”

“Every woman should have at least one, sir.” They chatted politely until he knew an acceptable amount about her background. The music came to a quick finale, and he stepped back and bowed over her hand.

“I thank you, Mademoiselle. And if I may, your program, please?”

“Certainly.” She slipped the tasseled cord from her wrist and handed him the program. Every second dance was signed “Adair,” with Shane’s distinctive outsized. pointed capital A. (
Every dance
, Shane had said, to which Bob replied,
Every other dance; don’t be a hog
.) There were a few other names, including Bob, Paul and Laurence, and five blank spaces. The Governor added “Marot” to three of them and handed it back to her with a flourish.

“Inspector Adair must be your beau for the summer,
non
?”

“I’d scarcely call him that, sir. He’s a friend of my uncle’s.”

“Inspector Adair’s reputation precedes him. I have heard of him even in Ottawa. It is stellar officers such as he who will eventually give the Royal Northwest Mounted Police jurisdiction over all of Canada. You choose wisely, Mademoiselle,” he said as he escorted her back to Shane. “Farewell for now, Mademoiselle. I look forward to the pleasure of dancing with you later.” He gave her another courtly bow, released her hand, and retired, all dignity and pomp. Shane raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“It seems
Monsieur
Marot is most taken with you, Mademoiselle,” he observed.

“Overcome with curiosity is more like it,” she replied.

“Then I believe this is my dance?”

“Why, Inspector Adair, you’re right! It is indeed your dance!” She smiled and gave him her hand. The orchestra’s next piece was the “Emperor Waltz.” She could not recall having enjoyed any one dance as much as she reveled in the quick, swinging pace of the familiar melody. She felt as light as a feather in Shane’s arms as they whirled around the floor, and neither one realized, until the orchestra was through and the spell broken, that all the rest of the dancers, led by the Governor himself, had cleared the floor to watch them.

As she came to, there was a smattering of gloved applause, and it surprised them both to find themselves the center of so much attention. That spectacular dance, to the chagrin of many ambitious mothers and sighing girls, established Jenny as the acknowledged queen of the ball.

When the orchestra came to the end of the program and started playing extra pieces, she found herself mobbed by every eligible gentleman in the place. She danced twice more with Governor Marot, once with Bob, once with Paul, and once with the Mayor of River Bend, while managing to save every other dance for Shane. She noticed, too, that he had succeeded in coaxing a smile from Madame Marot while they danced, and when they returned from the floor she looked almost animated for a moment or so. Then the last dance was announced, and when she looked around for Shane, he was directly behind her. Music wrapped itself gently around them, and she allowed herself to dance quite close to him. At one point she felt his cheek brush her temple.

“Shane, I don’t want tonight to end,” she murmured. His hand crept a fraction farther around her back.

“I don’t want this dance to end,” he replied. “It makes me want to do an oil study so I can keep it forever.” But it ended all too soon, and there were rounds of good nights and farewells to be said. Governor Marot expressed regret that he would not be able to attend any balls in New York so he could have the pleasure of dancing with her again, and the Beauforts cordially invited both her and Shane to call on them any time they were in River Bend. Then they were outside in the pleasantly balmy night. It was past one o’clock, and though Jenny’s spirits were soaring, she was not a night person, and she was deathly tired. She clung to Shane’s arm with both hands, her train gathered over the crook of her elbow.

“It was a lovely evening. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a ball quite so much. Thank you for inviting me,” she said at length as they walked. Tactfully Bob and Marie had gone on ahead, allowing Jenny and Shane their privacy.

“I’m glad you accepted my invitation. Didn’t I say you’d be the belle of the ball? You must have left quite a string of broken hearts behind you tonight.”

“I only care about one.” She patted the center of his chest. He covered her hand with his.

“That one’s in fine shape. After all, I’m seeing you home.” They walked in contented silence, while she luxuriated in the feel of her hand about his forearm. They were nearly at Bob and Marie’s home when she stopped abruptly.

“Oh, bother. I have a rock in my shoe.”

He swept her up into his arms and carried her toward the smooth river stone wall along the side of Bob’s driveway. She let her arms encircle his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He made a slow way from the sidewalk and sat down on the wall. She pulled the overskirt of her dress away so she would not risk marring the delicate fabric and slipped from his lap to sit beside him. It took her only a moment to shake the pebble loose. Then she replaced the offending footwear and looked up.

“Thank you for the loveliest evening of my life. I’ll never forget it.”

“I’m the one who should thank you,” he replied. “Now I know how the frog felt.”

“Frog?” she echoed.

“When he turned into a prince.”

She turned slightly to face him. “I haven’t kissed you yet.”

“High time, then,” he whispered, his lips very close to hers. Once again, echoing the night in Richard’s assembly room, he lowered his face to hers and their lips touched. At first it was only tentative, only exploring, and she let herself go into the gentle strength that was Shane. His gloved hand ran across her cheek, down over her shoulder, and closed around her upper arm, bringing her closer to him. At the same time she let her hand stray to the back of his head, intensifying the kiss that was already drowning her in a tidal wave of warm pleasure. She parted her lips slightly and let the tip of her tongue touch the margin of his upper lip. In return he scooped her into his arms, overwhelmed with the sudden passion that threatened to sweep them away. Finally he broke the moment, leaning away from her. She felt his breath slip over her cheek and her arms closed around him, desperately wanting to prolong the exquisite moment.

“Jenny…”

“Hush, silly. Kiss me again.”

“I can’t. I’ll forget I’m a gentleman.”

“Remember? I’m not a lady.” Her wit ratcheted down the intensity of the moment.

“All right, then.” Her arms were still around him and he was holding her gently, as if she could disappear at any moment. The next quiet and deeply satisfying kiss brought a fitting end to their perfect evening. After the initial scalding, excited heat had subsided, she was tingling all over. He held her a moment longer, pressing his face into her hair. She read the contour of his face as she drew her hand across his cheek and over his throat in a prolonged caress. It was something she would never forget. They kissed again, just as slowly and just as tenderly. Then he leaned back and looked at her, his eyes colorless in the moonlight.

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