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However, Lady Wilton was already gone, and Jessie sighed to herself and wished she could run away, anywhere, and be herself!
* * * * *
The ballroom was alight with wax candles. The scent of spring wafted through the open garden doors. Hothouse flowers filled the corners of the room. Lackeys floated about offering champagne and trays of delectables.
The admiral had been the second son until his brother, Jessie’s father, had been killed in a hunting accident ten years ago. He inherited the title and the vast wealth, but rarely spent anything more than what he spent on his beloved niece, whose mother had died in childbirth. He was torn with conflicting emotions. It was his duty to see her properly married, but damn if he didn’t love coming home from sea to find her embroiled in some scrape or other. She was spirited and filled his home with laughter. She was kind and affectionate, and he simply adored and spoiled her.
He eyed the eligible gentlemen who filled his ballroom, and his gaze came to rest on a dashing fellow he knew to be Don Rodrigo. He could only hope his niece would not look his way. He was, although ton, a rogue if ever there was one, and besides that, Rodrigo meant to return to his ranch in Argentina. No, he didn’t wish anyone who lived so far away to catch his Jessie’s eye.
It was at that moment the rogue in question leaned into his friend and said, “Simon, will you tell me, please, what the devil we are doing here at a debutante ball?”
Simon Bolivar looked up at his tall, broad friend and sighed. Both were from South America and were patriots working towards a similar goal. However, Rodrigo did not believe, as did Simon, that they might enlist British aid.
Simon’s new bride smiled up at Rodrigo and said in Spanish with a stamp of her foot, “Don’t be disagreeable, Rodrigo. It does not become you. We are at Stafford House because we must pursue our friendships at such functions. Besides, they say the Stafford girl is the most beautiful in all of London. I would like to see her for myself.”
He pinched her nose affectionately. “Then, dear-heart, I have no other wish but to remain here for your pleasure.” He smiled, and she patted his shoulder. He chuckled. “It is a mystery to me why you remain with this...”
“Stop!” she said on a laugh. “You may not insult my Simon. You are a great dashing cavalier, but your soul is dark and buried. My Simon is naught but a pure gaucho, whose heart is bared for me.” She eyed him. “Oh no, you frown. Don’t frown. One day, some woman will bare your heart, you will see.”
He laughed. “Madre de dios, woman!”
“Enough!” she told him. “What I don’t understand is your dislike of the British. Your own mother was English.” Simon tried to stop her, but she continued. “Tell me, why is that?”
Rodrigo sighed. “I know the English. Remember Simon and I were educated here, and I know the politics, the prejudices...the cruelties they can inflict. If they do agree to assist our cause, it will be to get a foothold...only that.”
* * * * *
The grand staircase of Stafford House was a spectacular construction of ornate ivory and gold woodwork. Its rich color of highly polished steps took a circular route from the second landing to the first. There, the staircase met a darkly veined white marble floor. One was, therefore, given a full view of this magnificent structure from several angles, and one angle in particular could be seen quite nicely from the open double doorway of the ballroom.
Of course, the dowager knew just what she was doing when she collected her guests in the ballroom before sending word for Jessie to join them. Thus, Jessie’s descent was perfectly timed.
The admiral beamed with pride to watch his niece float down the staircase and told his aunt, “She quite takes the breath away.”
“Indeed, she does. She is a vision,” the dowager responded whole-heartedly.
Jessie’s red, waist-length hair had been collected into Grecian splendor. Her gown of white with silver embroidery clung to her provocative and womanly form. Her violet eyes were fringed with dark lashes. She had the self-assurance of having been through this ordeal before and was not in the least bit nervous, however, when a hush came over the assembled company, she froze in place, a slight frown bringing her well-shaped dark brows together.
“Give her your arm,” the dowager whispered to her nephew.
The admiral hurriedly went forward and bent his elbow. Jessie smiled and took his arm, once again in command of herself. He leaned in and told her, “Confound it, girl...for a moment, I thought I was looking at your mother. I know I have said it before, but tonight...your hair...just as she wore hers. Lovely.”
Jessie never knew her mother and always loved hearing about her. “Oh, I like that, Uncle. Thank you.”
“Aye, I was a second son, and I knew in the end she would choose m’brother instead of me, but she did so because she loved him.” He sighed. “That fact made it square with me.”
“I don’t think you ever told me that. Well, there is never any saying what will make one person fall in love with another, is there?”
“No...no saying,” he returned, and patted her arm.
The dowager watched the two, well pleased with her nephew. Whatever he had said to Jessie had brought a sparkle to her eyes and a smile to her lips. She was the embodiment of enchantment.
* * * * *
Don Rodrigo had been about to say something when the Lady Jessica’s name was announced, and he looked up to find her at the ballroom entrance. He was transfixed as he stared at her. It flitted through his mind that she looked familiar. Where had he seen her before?
He watched as her uncle introduced her to some guests she did not know. He heard Simon comment with enthusiasm on Lady Jessica’s beauty, and laughed to see Maria slap him roundly.
Lady Jersey approached Rodrigo and gave him her hand. He kissed the wrist above her lace glove and whispered, “My sweet.”
