“Now,” she said firmly. “Do you feel special?”
“I…?” Suddenly she lifted her chin. “I feel special because of you. I want to be as confident as you are.”
Well that was a first. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. “Then shall we go dance? I think I should like to see how a confident Miss Moss smiles.”
She looked at Gwen. “Exactly like you do.”
Well, notexactlybecause they were different people, but Gwen didn’t quibble. In truth, she appreciated the support of Miss Moss especially as they stepped out of the retiring room to a seemingly hostile room. She didn’t know if Miss Atkinson had been whispering things or if it was just the way she always felt at Almack’s, but it seemed as if everyone was staring at her. Or rather at the two of them because they were together.
“We are special,” Miss Moss whispered to herself, but Gwen took the words to heart.
“And we’re smart too!”
Miss Moss grinned and then their mothers converged on them, both speaking in low whispers that were completely unintelligible to Gwen.
“Stop, stop. Please,” she said to her mother, but it managed to silence both of the older women. Then she looked at Miss Moss who gave her an apologetic look. “Miss Moss, would you care to walk with me? I should love some lemonade before the dancing begins again.”
“Definitely not—” began the woman’s mother, but Miss Moss was made of sterner stuff. She lifted her chin and held out her arm.
“I would love to.”
They walked together to the lemonade stand which would have been unremarkable alone. But apparently Miss Moss knew quite a few of the more awkward women. By ones or twos, they came and used their friendship with Miss Moss to meet Gwen. Mindful of Jackson’s advice, she found herself giving genuine compliments to every single one of the ladies, which in turn seemed to brighten them to a noticeable degree.
Soon the lemonade area was filled with girls’ laughter and Gwen was rather bemused to be at the center of it. She was, however, quite pleased to notice their extraordinary interest in the Lincolnshire daffodil. Mostly on the discussion of whether it was truly magical, but there was some scientific talk as well comparing it to other flowers. And naturally, where there were girls, there were soon men.
The gentlemen all asked her for a dance, and she accepted when she could, but she was more interested in talking to the women who were Miss Moss’s friends. Every one of them was shy or odd in some way. Before she’d met Jackson, she wouldn’t have even noticed that. But the moment she focused on trying to learn something about them that she could compliment, the more she realized every single one of them felt awkward in some way. It was a revelation to her. And since she had no interest in dancing to find a husband, she took great pleasure in matching up gentlemen with the ladies around her.
In truth, she was a terrible matchmaker, but it didn’t matter. So long as everyone got a partner, everyone was happy. And none more so than the blossoming Miss Moss.
“It is magic!” Miss Moss said just before she left with her newest partner.
“No—” she began, but there was no time to deny it as a girl asked if she could have Lincolnshire daffodils for her official come-out ball in three days’ time. And once she was heard asking, all the other girls clamored for flowers as well.
And there it was. Somehow, some way, Jackson had made her and his daffodil popular. She couldn’t believe it. And she couldn’t wait to tell him.
“Magic,” she whispered to herself only to have the other ladies echo it.
“Magic,” they all concurred.
Until a strident tone cut through her happiness. She knew the voice as well as the tone. It was Aunt Isabelle, and with one word, she effectively destroyed everything Gwen had accomplished this evening.
“Rubbish!”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jackson couldn’t forcehimself to leave, even if he couldn’t go inside. He wanted to be near Gwen just in case. So he lurked in the shadows, paced the street, and generally wondered what she was doing, what she was feeling, and—preeminent in his thoughts—would she say yes? Did she feel for him the aching need he had for her?
And then he saw Isabelle.
What was she doing here? Causing trouble, obviously, and he couldn’t leave Gwen vulnerable to her aunt’s venom no matter what damage it caused to their daffodil business.
As usual, Isabelle was flanked by gentlemen companions. There were three tonight, pretty boys who were trained in gossip—the getting and making of it. Two would follow her in, flanking her on either side in a show of power. The third would slink in behind, his entire job being to hear everyone’s reaction to whatever commotion Isabelle began. And in that moment, Jackson saw his opportunity.
He took it.
Isabelle chose her men for looks, not pugilistic skill. He waited until Isabelle and two of her men began climbing the steps. She would pass through the building door before climbing the steps to Almack’s which was on the second floor. The moment she was far enough away to not hear any noise, Jackson slipped behind the carriage and grabbed the third man by the collar. He’d knocked the blighter flat, then dragged the man into the shadows before he climbed the steps two at a time. He made it inside the building door in time to hear Isabelle instruct the Almack’s doorman above.
“Another gentleman follows directly behind me. You will allow him in.”