Read Online Belmary House Book One by Cassidy Cayman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cassidy Cayman
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beaming at her. “You look just as I hoped, Miss Jacobs.”
It was an odd compliment, but he was an odd man, so she took it. She ducked into what she hoped looked like a curtsy, nearly tumbling out of her bodice.
“Oh, dear,” he said, taking her elbow and helping her upright. He glanced quickly at her chest and frowned, then shook his head. “It’ll be fine,” he muttered to himself, and she was distracted by Duncan showing himself at the door.
“My word,” he said, his jaw near his collarbone. “If I may say, sir—”
“You may not,” Ashford interrupted. “Tell the lady how fine she looks, instead.”
“But, sir—”
“Cork it, Duncan.” He took her hand and led her toward the door.
She bobbed her head, wishing she had a shawl to shield herself from Duncan’s discombobulated gaze. The dress was more low cut than anything she’d ever worn and even though it flowed all the way to her ankles, she felt uncovered.
“Is it too much?” she asked, looking down at her flamboyant dress. She should have paid better attention to period dramas. For all she knew, this wasn’t right at all. “It’s not too revealing? Too shiny? Or, too... red?”
“For the fete tonight, it’s perfect,” Ashford assured her as he dragged her from the room.
“Did Duncan look more sour than usual?” she asked when she was settled in the carriage, her acres of satin pooling around her like a princess dream. She stroked the crisp fabric and sighed, then coughed. Ah, well, if the price of beauty was too little oxygen, she’d pay it, because she felt like Cinderella with a really awesome boob job.
“Oh, our Duncan’s a veritable pickled vegetable platter with his range of sour looks. The only time I ever saw the man really smile, I was around ten, and I couldn’t sleep for a week afterwards. Downright fearsome, his smile.” He continued to ramble on, assuring her she’d be fine. “Just don’t make eye contact, and by all that is holy, don’t speak to anyone. If your accent doesn’t stir someone’s interest, your forward nature will.”
“Do you think I’m forward?”
She paused to think about it. She might have been a little clingy, but she was terrified he was going to disappear, her only lifeline back to normalcy. His inability to give her any concrete answers had caused her to want to scream a couple times, but she’d barely raised her voice once. She imagined being forward wasn’t exactly a desirable trait for a lady in this time. Had he been insulting her? Again? She thought of all the times her mother tried to get her to be more assertive and almost laughed at his assessment of her.
“I’m actually pretty shy and reserved. I haven’t even had a date in almost a year. This is a weird situation so I’m probably overcompensating.”
He studied her with such intensity his eyebrows nearly touched in the middle. “Perhaps this is a mistake,” he muttered, then shook his head. “No, it will be fine. Just do as I tell you and no one will pay you any mind.”
He was wrong of course. The moment they got there, it seemed like all eyes were on her, though they cut away quickly whenever she tried to engage anyone with a smile or nod. Only a few people spoke to her, and none of them were ladies. Ashford refused to let her dance, saying it would cause too much attention to fall on her.
After they made a few turns around the huge, ornately decorated ballroom so she could goggle at the furniture and people’s clothes, he found a secluded spot behind the buffet and told her he’d return once he found his friend.
“Do not stray from this spot,” he said. And only because he looked genuinely concerned for her, she didn’t raise a fuss.
However, after a few minutes passed, her feet began to ache. Staring at everyone helping themselves to the vast array of foods didn’t help. It had been hours since she nervously ate a few bites of the cook’s famous stew and her stomach growled, fighting her stays. If
It was an odd compliment, but he was an odd man, so she took it. She ducked into what she hoped looked like a curtsy, nearly tumbling out of her bodice.
“Oh, dear,” he said, taking her elbow and helping her upright. He glanced quickly at her chest and frowned, then shook his head. “It’ll be fine,” he muttered to himself, and she was distracted by Duncan showing himself at the door.
“My word,” he said, his jaw near his collarbone. “If I may say, sir—”
“You may not,” Ashford interrupted. “Tell the lady how fine she looks, instead.”
“But, sir—”
“Cork it, Duncan.” He took her hand and led her toward the door.
She bobbed her head, wishing she had a shawl to shield herself from Duncan’s discombobulated gaze. The dress was more low cut than anything she’d ever worn and even though it flowed all the way to her ankles, she felt uncovered.
“Is it too much?” she asked, looking down at her flamboyant dress. She should have paid better attention to period dramas. For all she knew, this wasn’t right at all. “It’s not too revealing? Too shiny? Or, too... red?”
“For the fete tonight, it’s perfect,” Ashford assured her as he dragged her from the room.
“Did Duncan look more sour than usual?” she asked when she was settled in the carriage, her acres of satin pooling around her like a princess dream. She stroked the crisp fabric and sighed, then coughed. Ah, well, if the price of beauty was too little oxygen, she’d pay it, because she felt like Cinderella with a really awesome boob job.
“Oh, our Duncan’s a veritable pickled vegetable platter with his range of sour looks. The only time I ever saw the man really smile, I was around ten, and I couldn’t sleep for a week afterwards. Downright fearsome, his smile.” He continued to ramble on, assuring her she’d be fine. “Just don’t make eye contact, and by all that is holy, don’t speak to anyone. If your accent doesn’t stir someone’s interest, your forward nature will.”
“Do you think I’m forward?”
She paused to think about it. She might have been a little clingy, but she was terrified he was going to disappear, her only lifeline back to normalcy. His inability to give her any concrete answers had caused her to want to scream a couple times, but she’d barely raised her voice once. She imagined being forward wasn’t exactly a desirable trait for a lady in this time. Had he been insulting her? Again? She thought of all the times her mother tried to get her to be more assertive and almost laughed at his assessment of her.
“I’m actually pretty shy and reserved. I haven’t even had a date in almost a year. This is a weird situation so I’m probably overcompensating.”
He studied her with such intensity his eyebrows nearly touched in the middle. “Perhaps this is a mistake,” he muttered, then shook his head. “No, it will be fine. Just do as I tell you and no one will pay you any mind.”
He was wrong of course. The moment they got there, it seemed like all eyes were on her, though they cut away quickly whenever she tried to engage anyone with a smile or nod. Only a few people spoke to her, and none of them were ladies. Ashford refused to let her dance, saying it would cause too much attention to fall on her.
After they made a few turns around the huge, ornately decorated ballroom so she could goggle at the furniture and people’s clothes, he found a secluded spot behind the buffet and told her he’d return once he found his friend.
“Do not stray from this spot,” he said. And only because he looked genuinely concerned for her, she didn’t raise a fuss.
However, after a few minutes passed, her feet began to ache. Staring at everyone helping themselves to the vast array of foods didn’t help. It had been hours since she nervously ate a few bites of the cook’s famous stew and her stomach growled, fighting her stays. If
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