French Jade: A dazzling Regency love story Read online

  “Yet she always looked stunning — even your father thought so, for all the trouble she caused,” said Betsy Redmond with a sigh.

  “And there is a blue gown, very low cut — a funny shade of blue that Gabrielle liked, almost green, that changes colour in the light.”

  “Oh, I remember that one. I wonder why she left that.”

  “The hem is torn.”

  “Oh. Well, we must go over the gowns, and get them in condition to be worn. Shall you want more dresses than these, Minna? We could go out shopping,” suggested her mother casually, as they went up the stairs.

  Minna looked at her mother with an aroused suspicion. Her mother was taking this almost too well. Did she have some motives, other than to give Minna some pleasure in her revenge?

  “I don’t think so, Mother, there is no use spending money for the gowns, when Gabrielle left some.”

  “If you change your mind, we can see Miss Clothilde during the week; she complained we had not bought anything for ages.”

  Minna frowned. She had refused to buy anything new for the season. Her gowns would do just as well, she had said, while cherishing a fond desire for one ball gown that would make Mr Seymour sit up and take notice! Perhaps she could — but no, she would not give him the satisfaction of even imagining he had caused her to purchase a new gown for him to see!

  Minna and her mother and Jessie went over the gowns; she tried them on, to find they fitted rather well. Jessie sat down with sewing box and thread, to mend some rents and rips and take in the waist of the peach dress.

  They had luncheon, her mother placid, while Minna felt in a very fever of excitement. By the end of the week, she resolved to have Oliver Seymour at her feet! And as for that cat Astrid Faversham, she would have to think of some very fit punishment for her!

  But the main object of her fury was Oliver Seymour. Pretending to be such a good, kind friend, then making remarks behind her back like that. Oh, boiling in oil would be too good! No, she must bring him down to some low level.

  She would make him burn with desire for her, just as Gabrielle would do, then jeer at him as she unmasked! How delightful that would be!

  She would say to him that he was a stupid fool who could not see real gold for dross! He would be courting a girl in a mask, in a guise, who was not real, who mocked him silently. And all the time, he had scorned a girl in plain clothes, who was intelligent and honest and — and good! No, men preferred flirts, and she would show him to his face what kind of man he was!

  He had no regard for a fine, plain girl who preferred intelligent conversations to dancing, who preferred good music to whist. He would prefer a flirt in a low-cut dress to a girl who was modest and fine.

  Well, Minna would masquerade as a French jade, a very model of a wicked French girl, and see him fall at her feet! And then — oh, sweet revenge, when she unmasked, and told him —

  “Minna, I have asked you three times, will you have mint jelly with your lamb?” asked her mother impatiently. “Why are you moving your lips and waving your hand?”

  “Just — rehearsing, Mother,” said Minna, and her green eyes glittered. “I am going to enjoy this week!”

  “Well, I have informed the footmen and the butler, the maids and the cook about all this,” said Mrs Redmond. “Dear me, it will be a bother for us all — but if it makes you happy, so be it!”

  CHAPTER 3

  By the time Friday came, Minna was well-rehearsed in her part of Gabrielle. She could even walk rather well on the high French heels. She had attended a whist party, talked well about her experiences in the war, her darling deceased husband, and the condition of France today. She had gone out walking, out riding, out to tea, in the peach gown, the green gown, and a splendid black-and-white striped dress.

  Now it was time to appear before Oliver Seymour and dazzle him! The blue gown that was iridescent and splendid had been refurbished, and had fresh white lace at the throat and sleeves, courtesy of Jessie’s clever needle. Minna had practised dancing in a pair of French-heeled blue slippers, had waved the black Spanish fan before the mirror, and muttered several lines of dialogue to use with Oliver.

  “Now, don’t go too far,” warned her mother anxiously, seeing the dangerous glint in her daughter’s green eyes. “Gabrielle was accustomed to men, and how to handle them. Do not let any man go too far!”

  “Chère Tante Betsy,” cooed Minna devilishly, “do not be anxious for me! I am French, and I can handle any man who ever strutted!”

  Betsy Redmond giggled, showing a flash of the youthful charm which had so captivated Arnold Redmond. “Dear me, Minna, you are a caution!”

  Minna took this as a compliment. Usually she was called intelligent, and sober, and such a good girl!

  She set off in the carriage with her mother, feeling almost feverish with anticipation. The April night was cold, and she wore her mother’s black velvet cloak over the blue, shimmering ball gown. It was so low cut, in spite of the white lace, that when a man leaned over her in the dancing, he could see almost half her white rounded globes of breasts. But she would not care! She was the widow Madame Gabrielle Dubois, stunning and desirable!

  She had not seen Oliver Seymour this week. But she had practised her manner and speech, her appearance, before her closest friends and those of her mother. None had guessed that she was really Minerva Redmond. She could easily fool Oliver as well, she knew it. And how delicious that would be!

  The carriage rolled over the cobblestones and drew up in front of the splendid Seymour townhouse. It was ten times the size of the modest Redmond London house. White wings stretched across wide lawns, and torches blazed in the hands of footmen in white wigs who stood to light the guests inside. More lights flared in the long French windows in the house, set back in its surrounds of tall oaks and green fragrant bushes.

  Minna had been here a few times in the daylight, to tea or some musical event. But this was her first time for a ball in the grand Seymour mansion. She held her breath as she and her mother were greeted by a butler, and their cloaks removed.

  They were shown into the first drawing room. More rooms echoed the grandeur of the first one, all opening to each other with wide sliding doors. Parquet floors gleamed, precious Persian rugs silencing their steps as they moved to the reception line where Oliver stood.

  How grand and formal he looked this evening! His slim height was set off by a green-and-gold outfit. His black curly hair was dressed à la Byron, and his grey eyes gleamed as he saw Minerva approaching. His surprise showed as he looked from her to Mrs Redmond and back again. Did he know her?

  Mrs Redmond said smoothly, though the lie must be choking in her throat, “Permit me to introduce to you my niece, Madame Gabrielle Mably Dubois, newly arrived from Paris. She stayed with us for a time during the late wars, and has just come to pay us a visit. My dear, this is Mr Oliver Seymour.”

  Minerva curtseyed to him, deeply, permitting herself to bow in a manner that would show her bosom. She came erect, and caught a flare of interest and even desire in the grey eyes as he took her hand and raised it to his lips.

  “Madame — Dubois? How pleasant to welcome you to my home. And your husband is not with you?”

  Minerva put her handkerchief to her lips briefly, let her eyelids droop sadly. “My dear Gaspar, I miss him so much! But life must go on, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Oh, yes — yes—” He seemed in a daze.

  She snapped open the black fan, and gazed demurely over it at him.

  “Ah — you will dance — later?” he asked.

  “I should adore it! But you will forgive me if I stumble over your feet, eh? My poor dear husband — I was in mourning, as you will see — Do I say it right?” She turned anxiously to her mother, who was having trouble controlling her expression.

  “Yes, of course, my dear,” said Mrs Redmond. “We must stroll on — there are others behind us,” she murmured.

  Minna caught her mother’s eye. Mrs Redmond was worried that Minna woul
d go too far. “Mais oui, Tante,” she said demurely, and gave Oliver a little wink. “I see you — later, monsieur?”

  “Oh, yes, definitely —” He swallowed on the words, and turned reluctantly to the next persons.

  In the next room, Mrs Redmond groaned. “Oh, Minna —”

  “We did not tell him Minna is ill,” murmured “Gabrielle” pensively. “I think he forgot the poor girl!” Another score against him!

  The rooms were very grand. They strolled about, took some refreshments in the way of small plates of pasties of meats and savouries, had a drink of cool, refreshing chilled cordial. Oliver did entertain nicely, thought Minna critically, resolved to find fault, but finding nothing to fault.

  The rooms were also decorated well — sparsely, nothing overwhelming, but in beautiful taste. Matching dark crimson draperies hung at the long French windows, with fresh white lace curtains just inside them. The ceilings were white stucco, with low-relief frescos of cupids and angels, and some little garlands of flowers. Some china cabinets of rosewood were set about, several holding precious and beautiful sets of porcelain, a blue set from China, another set in famille rose, another in an unusual pale green.

  In the long room beyond the drawing rooms, dancing was in progress. Minna was immediately seized upon to make a set, and with her new animation was an immediate favourite. She danced more wildly, she sparkled, she talked animatedly. All she had to remember was that she “knew” nobody and must be continually introduced to people she had known for years!

  It was like being in a play, and she enjoyed herself very much. Nobody thought of her as shy, retiring bluestocking Minna, nobody asked her about literature or the arts, all treated her as a fascinating French woman!

  Within half an hour, Oliver Seymour claimed her as his partner. He had rushed through the lines of guests, and left a friend to greet any latecomers, she found. He clasped her hand, and asked the orchestra to play a waltz.

  Minna followed his steps with ease — after all, she had often danced with him! But tonight, she felt unusually gay and free, and she laughed up at him as he whirled her about the huge ballroom. The candles glimmered in the window sconces, and were reflected in the full-length mirrors opposite. She caught sight of a woman with flowing red curls, a shimmering blue ball gown, a laughing face, and had to stare to make sure it was herself!

  “When did you arrive from Paris?”

  “About a week ago, monsieur!”

  “Pray, call me Oliver! And I shall call you Gabrielle! Our families are very close friends, you know!”

  So close he felt free to insult her! Minna’s eyelids moved down on her smooth painted cheeks, and she allowed herself a half smile. “Indeed. How kind you are. Englishmen are always so kind, I remember from my visit years ago!”

  “And were all Englishmen — kind to you — then?” His hand closed more tightly on hers, his arm crept more closely about her slim waist. She felt a little warm, he was holding her so tightly.

  She allowed herself to look right up into his eyes. “Oh, mais oui, so veree kind! All wanted to take me riding in the carriage, all wanted to show me their gardens — in the moonlight — and the stars, and to tell me the names of the pretty stars!”

  The little smile curling her red lips seemed to fascinate him. “I’m sure that was very kind of the gentlemen,” he said drily. “I would take you outside to show you the stars tonight, but in London one does not see them very well, and besides it is quite cold tonight!”

  “Of course, I understand completely! And besides, you are the host, and cannot leave your guests!”

  She did not know from where she had the nerve to talk to him like this! She had never done so before, she had never glanced upwards and then half-closed her eyes, and fluttered her long lashes, which Jessie had covered with black paste. She had never allowed her clear voice to go husky with feeling, and to tease a man with subtle meanings.

  He gave her up reluctantly to another man, danced with one of the older ladies, and returned swiftly to her side as the music changed to a polonaise. They swept through it, she thanking fortune that Percival had been so patient in teaching her all the popular dances of England and Europe. He enjoyed dancing, poor Percival, now stuck down in the country, working with cattle and pigs.

  At the end of the lively Polish march, she was quite out of breath, and fanned herself vigorously with Gabrielle’s Spanish fan. Oliver took it from her, managing to clasp her fingers briefly as he did so. “Permit me,” he said, and fanned her so that her cheeks were cooler and her hair blew about her face. “What glorious hair you have, it is like sunlight!”

  “Thank you, monsieur. How kind you are!”

  “You have heard it all before,” he said, a little roughly, his grey eyes unable to stay away from her face, her throat, her rounded white breasts. “Men must pay you compliments continually! You are so lovely — such a pretty figure, so rounded and feminine, such a lovely face, a perfect oval — And your eyes. My God, I could drown in that green ocean!”

  Minna gulped, and tried to conceal her shock. No man had spoken so frankly to her before. He seemed to be eating her with his gaze. He had never acted so with her, he had always been laughing and teasing and big-brotherly.

  “Are you warm? I’ll take you to another room, it is cooler —” He put his hand under her elbow, and drew her with him, with determination. She was too flushed and flustered to protest, and in a few moments she found herself alone with him in a smaller room. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, except for the outer wall, which was French windows open to the night sky.

  In the centre of the room were several glass cases filled with green and white and rose objects. She looked at them curiously, and to distract him from staring at her, she asked, “What are these, monsieur?”

  “These — ah, my jade collection. In the family for some generations,” he said, and drew her to the nearest one. “Members of the family travelled much in the Orient, and even now I usually commission supercargoes on the trade vessels to find me the best jade when they go to China. These are some splendid pieces of white — called mutton fat, for their shiny appearance —”

  She bent over the case to admire the pieces, beautifully carved into small animals — deer, and lions, and tigers, and some sea lions. “How very clever, and so pretty,” she murmured.

  Seeing her interest, he went on to tell her about other objects. “These green ones are the finest jade, green is much prized. In fact jade in China is more valued than gold or silver. It is considered a precious stone, from heaven, and many religious objects are carved from the largest, finest pieces. I was fortunate to obtain these fine goddesses — this is the Goddess of Mercy —”

  They remained in the room for some fifteen minutes, while she genuinely admired the pieces he showed her. The rose jade gave her much pleasure, the colour was so soft, and the objects usually of flowers and birds.

  Another couple wandered into the library as they leaned over the case. The two gave Oliver and Minna curious looks. Minna was recalled to the impropriety of being here alone with her host, a male of very masculine manner.

  “I am quite recovered and cool again,” she said demurely. “Shall we return to your guests? I shall not be popular among the ladies if I detain you so long!” And she gave him a long, sideways look.

  “Do you think I care about that?” he said in a low, passionate voice. “I could talk with you for hours, and not mind it!”

  She was a little frightened by his intensity. How would Gabrielle manage this? On impulse, Minna put her hand in his silk-clad arm, and felt the heat of him, and the beating of his heart under her hand. “Do come, Mr Seymour,” she cooed. “I do not wish my dear tante to be angry wiz me, for not minding the proprieties of British society!”

  He drew a deep breath, and clasped her hand so close to his body that she could not free it. “Very well, we shall go, but only on the condition that I may have the next three dances!”

  Three dances! That
would be very rash. Everyone would talk! Minna managed to laugh a little. “But that is not fair to the other languishing ladies, Mr Seymour!”

  “I care not. And you must call me Oliver, I shall call you Gabrielle, whether you refuse me or no!”

  They were strolling through the next drawing room, back towards the ballroom. Minna stammered a little as she felt him walk so close to her that his thigh brushed hers.

  “Y-you g-go too fast, Mr Seymour — I p-protest —”

  He looked down at her as she gazed up at him, her eyes wide and green. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met,” he said intensely. “I wish I had met you five years ago.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “Before you met — your husband,” he said, in a low growl.

  Minna tried to recover. “But — but, sir — I was but a green girl when I was here last — only nineteen when I left —”

  “You must have been charming — so sweet and unspoiled —”

  Gabrielle, sweet and unspoiled? Minna gurgled out loud before she remembered herself. Gabrielle had been a flirt in her cradle, an experienced, cunning artificer when she staggered about in her first steps!

  “Why do you laugh?” The deep voice demanded over her head.

  “A private thought, monsieur!”

  “I wish to know all your thoughts!”

  “That would be most dangerous!”

  He groaned. “Here we are, back among people. Oh, God, I wish to be alone with you again!”

  Minna turned to him, and half raised her arms. “I thought you wished to dance, Oliver?” She drawled out his name wickedly, her eyes half-shut. She put one hand on his arm, held out the other hand. He grabbed her into his arms, drew her to him, and began to dance, holding her so close she could feel the warmth of his body next to hers in the silky ball gown. He was staring down at her, she knew he could see the silky smooth white breasts that were rising and falling with her quickened breathing.

  She had never been held so tightly. She thought of protesting primly — but Gabrielle would not! She would adore it, that French girl!