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What a delight, this man. How he kept surprising her, tossing aside his uptight propriety for her sake, murmuring plans for meeting in secret, fibbing to the others that he would withdraw early, then waiting upstairs for her to do the same. What a thrill to look around for watchers and scramble into her chamber, shutting the door behind them.
Jane stood with her back to the door, her hands still on the knob, breathing hard and trying to laugh quietly. He was leaning against the wall, smiling. The moment was giddily awkward as she waited to see what he had in mind, if he would suddenly shed Mr. Nobley and become some other man entirely. If he would break any other rules. The wait was agonizing. She realized she didn’t know what she wanted him to do.
“I would love to see those paintings,” he said, his voice still proper.
“Of course,” she said. Of course he was still Mr. Nobley, of course the man, the actor, was not falling in love with her. And a relief it was, too, as she realized she wasn’t ready to let go of Pem-brook Park yet. Somehow she had to be by the day after tomorrow.
She presented the first painting, and he held it at arm’s length for some time before saying, “This is you,” though the portrayal was not photo-realistic.
“I couldn’t quite get the eyes,” she said.
“You got them just right.” He didn’t look away from the painting when he said, “They are beautiful.”
Jane didn’t know whether to thank him or clear her throat, so she did neither and instead handed him the second painting of her window and the tree.
“Ah,” was all he said for some time. He glanced back and forth between both paintings. “I like this second one best. Beside it, the portrait looks stiff, as though you were too cautious, measuring everything, taking away the spontaneity. The fearlessness of this window scene is a better style for you. I think, Miss Erstwhile, that you do very well when you loosen up and let the color fly.”
He was right, and it felt good to admit it. Her next painting would be better.
“I should let you retire.” He held the self-portrait a minute longer, gazing at it as she had sometimes felt him look at her— unblinking, curious, even urgent.
She peeped through the keyhole to make sure no one was in the corridor before opening the door and letting him slip out. After a moment, she peered again and could see nothing, then Mr. Nobley’s face dropped into view. He was crouching outside her door, looking back.
“Miss Erstwhile?” he whispered.
“Yes, Mr. Nobley?”
“Tomorrow evening, will you reserve for me the first two dances?”
“Yes, Mr. Nobley.” She could hear how her voice was full of smile.
“Miss Erstwhile, may I come back in a moment?”
She yanked him back in and shut the door. Now he was going to grab her and kiss her and call her Jane, now she’d witness the pent-up passion that explodes behind Regency doors! But . . . he just stood with his back to the door and looked at her. And smiled in his way, the way that made her stare back and wish she could breathe.
“I should not put you in danger of Mrs. Wattlesbrook by staying,” Mr. Nobley said, “but I suddenly had to see you again. I know that seems ridiculous, but I look at you, and I feel sure of something. Things are changing, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” she said, and they were, right at that moment.
He took her hand and looked at it a moment, then he turned it over. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed her palm.
“Tomorrow, then.” And he left.
If only he was real! She stood and pressed her palm to her chest and breathed her pulse back into submission and thought she’d rather fancy a swoon.
To her self-portrait, Jane whispered, “This is the best therapy ever.”
Guy after Boyfriend #12
Jake Zeiger, AGE THIRTY-ISH
One Saturday during the Tad era, Jane was checking the mail slot when Jake from 302 came up beside her. The nearness of their slots meant the back of his hand touched hers as he inserted the key.
“Hey, how’s your dog?” he asked.
“Better. The vet said it was just something he ate.”
“That’s a relief, huh?” His smile was like a first kiss.
