And then he turned his back on her and began walking.
He even started to whistle.
“Captain?”
He stopped in his tracks, smiled, then schooled his expression to be neutral. Slowly, he turned around. “Yes?”
“Thank you for getting the hackney.” She plucked at her skirts, appearing almost shy.
“You’re welcome,” he said gruffly.
She gave him a crooked smile.
When he turned again to the top of the street, his chest felt heavy with something important.
He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was taking place around Miss Jones.
Miss Jones.
He could say her name a long time without ever losing pleasure in the saying. Something was important about that. It filled him with wonder. And warmth.
He could hardly stand the five minutes he’d have to wait to see her again.
Miss Jones looked out the window almost the entire time they were in the hackney. Her profile was mesmerizing. Stephen enjoyed watching her bob up and down gently with the rhythm of the wheels, too. Her feet were pressed tightly together and her hands folded neatly in her lap.
She was such a lady.
Such a
He looked out his window, too, only occasionally sneaking peeks at her. The one time he spoke to her was when they crossed Waterloo Bridge. “A fine view, isn’t it?”
She finally looked at him. “Yes,” she said. “Very fine.”
And that was that.
When they reached the theater, they couldn’t find Pratt and the Hartleys in the crowd. They’d arrived too late for the dramatic performance, but they caught a pantomime and enjoyed the subsequent harlequinade immensely. Miss Jones especially laughed at Harlequin’s antics when Pantaloon chased him across the stage and pummeled him so hard with his hat that Harlequin snatched it and punched his fist through the crown.
After it was over, they went backstage, where they did finally meet up with Pratt, the Hartleys, and the small, elite acting troupe known as the Canterbury Cousins.
“So nice to see you, Captain!” Lady Hartley said. She took his arm possessively.
“Shouldn’t you be working on the house?” Sir Ned frowned. “The damned bats need to be got rid of, and the beam in the breakfast room and in Miranda’s bedchamber are still rotting away. Why’d you come here?”
“The house repairs and the bats will have to wait.” Stephen held his annoyance at bay. Of course he should have stayed home and seen to his own affairs. But he wasn’t going to have an obnoxious distant relative tell him what to do.
“The street fair is
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sir Ned narrowed his eyes.
“You are an old man.” Pratt smiled his beautiful white smile. “You forget things.”
Sir Ned’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not an old man!”
“Then shut your lips.” Pratt extended his palms toward Sir Ned. “In my country, people who talk too much get no wine. No women. No songs.”
Surprisingly, Sir Ned did stop talking.
Miss Hartley stared at Pratt in wonder, then took her father’s arm. “Yes, Papa, we need Miss Jones and Captain Arrow. They need to get the actors to come and perform for free.”
“Free?” a red-bearded man said. “We can’t perform for free.”
“But sirs,” Miss Jones said, “we’ve no money to pay you. Consider this an opportunity to become better known around London.”
“Sorry, we’re too good a troupe to work for no pay,” said another actor.
“But Prinny’s coming!” Miss Hartley said.
The actors all looked at each other.
“The Prince Regent?” the red-bearded man said in a disbelieving tone.
Stephen cleared his throat. “Yes,” he told the actor. “He’s coming. We’re to make the arrangements tonight.”
The actors took themselves off for a moment and came back.
“We’ll do it,” said the red-bearded man. “We’ll start with the balcony scene from
“We’ll make sure we’ve got a balcony,” Stephen said, regretting that it was one more carpentry project he’d have to oversee before he got to the rotting beams.
“
Stephen made the obligatory chuckle at the man’s attempt at wit, but he was bothered. Building the balcony would be a hassle, but that wasn’t going to be nearly as difficult as getting the Prince Regent to come to Dreare Street.
“Isn’t everything about the fair so exciting, Captain?” Miss Jones said in the carriage on their way home.
“Very.” His lingering doubts about the street fair dissolved then. One look at her grin of delight and he realized that even if she’d wanted the moon, he’d move heaven and earth to help her get it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The gown Lady Tabitha sent over to Jilly to wear to the ball was of expensive cut but almost austere, a gray muslin with a modest neckline and only the smallest ruffle at the hem. Lady Tabitha had judged her size well, at least. In addition to the gown, she’d sent over a simple shawl in pale gray and a pair of serviceable French slippers in the same color.
“They may be too practical for a night of dancing, but they’re a very soft kid leather, Miss Jilly,” said Otis. “You won’t trip in them. I believe the whole outfit shrieks understated wealth.”
Jilly observed herself in the looking glass in her sitting room. “Oh, Otis. This outfit is perfectly proper but dull as dishwater. I look like someone’s chaperone. Or a very well-dressed lady’s maid. Admit it.”
“Well—” He winced, unable to disagree.
“Do you think Lady Tabitha did this on purpose?”
He bit his lip. “How can we even think such a thing? She’s enabling you to go to a fine ball. She didn’t have to show you such attention at all.”
“I know.” Jilly was positively flummoxed by the lady’s attention. “But it’s a shame I can’t wear one of my old gowns.”
“But you made a pretty sum selling them.”
“I know.” Jilly sighed. “But I know just the gown I’d have worn tonight.” It was a deep green silk creation that went well with her eyes. Captain Arrow would have admired it, she was sure.
But she must stop thinking about what gowns he would like to see on her. It was a futile pastime, and she was beginning to question her own judgment. She was married, and he was a rake. Even if she were unattached, she should steer clear of him.
She fingered her neckline. “I need something to offset the spare look of this gown.”
