Page 43 of The Scarred Duchess
“Excellent. Such a lovely expression, Miss Bennet. I commend you.”
“Thank you, Mr Sweet,” she replied just as Hill entered announcing Master John Smyth had come to call.
Jane blushed as Elizabeth leapt from the seat and exclaimed, “Master John!”
He stepped into the room. “I thought to call and pay my respects.”
“And so well-timed,” replied Mr Bennet.“I am relieved you have come to relieve me.”
Mr Smyth smiled his understanding. “I am at your service, sir.”
Mr Sweet clapped his hands and Mr Smyth took his place across from Jane.
They locked eyes. Elizabeth played.
Neither moved.
Moments passed.Why do they not begin?Franny looked from Jane to John and back. Both were smiling—John’s was wide, Jane’s was… coquettish? Jane? Mr Sweet clapped his hands. Both John and Jane looked to the floor.
Mr Smyth covered his cough with his fist. Jane blushed so that her neck resembled a beetroot.
“Oh my,” whispered Franny, hiding her amusement behind her fan.
Jane looked up at John, his light hair neatly combed and his eyes shining with a mischievous glint. When had he got so tall? How handsome he looked! She startled herself with that thought.This is John!
Jane glanced over her shoulder. Elizabeth sat at the pianoforte; Mary was next to her, ready to turn pages. Mama was hiding behind her fan. When Jane caught her eye, Mama winked at her.
Mama!
“Music, please,” said Mr Sweet.
John held out his hand. Jane hesitated, a rush of something unfamiliar stirring inside of her. She placed her hand in his and her heart began beating faster than ever. He had touched her before—helping her down from a fence and bumping shoulders while they groomed their horses—but that had been before he had gone off to Cambridge.
His hand was warm and quite pleasant. She stepped towards him and looked into his eyes; her nose was nearly into his cravat. Without thinking to do so, Jane inhaled. She drank in his cologne—familiar to Papa’s but the weakness in her knees was nothing she had ever experienced. She poked her tongue out briefly to taste her lips.
What am I doing?She stepped back before meeting him in the centre again. Their palms touched. She gasped at the heat. When had she removed her glove? Jane could taste the mint in his breath. She shivered.
He spun her under his arm, his blue eyes remaining on her, sliding left to right for an eternity.
“Lovely,” he whispered.
They stepped back. Jane’s cheeks almost ached from smiling. She lightly bit down on the tip of her tongue. She turned a circle, then faced up. John winked as he took her hand andsqueezed. His finger tickled her palm. She swallowed a giggle.
“Jane?” asked Mama.
She threw her mother a smile over her shoulder and turning under John’s arm, closed her eyes and inhaled audibly. She heard John gasp and narrowed her eyes at him. He laughed aloud as Elizabeth played the final four notes.
“Delightful,” said Mama, looking at Jane with an upraised eyebrow. “Although no excellence is to be acquired without constant practise. Is that not correct?”
“No truer statement has ever been made,” replied Mr Sweet with enthusiasm. “Again, please.”
Mary and Elizabeth exchanged places.
Jane cocked an eyebrow up at John. He dipped his head.
So, this is what Heaven may be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
