Traveler, L.E. DeLano [book series for 12 year olds .TXT] 📗

so instead of attending school together, he and I were introduced at a cotillion last summer.

“Of course I do, Mr. Hastings. It’s nice to see you again.”

“May I offer my congratulations upon the happy occasion of your engagement?”

I smile even bigger. He’s so … formal. It sounds ridiculous.

“You may. And thank you.”

“I had hoped you might wait a little longer and choose your intended with more care,” he offers. “Since money is not a concern for you.”

What’s that supposed to mean? I stop paying attention to the dance steps and look up at him, and he looks kind of … sad.

“My parents thought it was best to have the matter resolved.” I try to keep the tone of my voice pleasant, but it’s hard. I still have a hard time understanding how parents can support their child marrying a stranger. It’s just crazy to me. Apparently, I’m not alone in that sentiment.

“I see,” Ben says carefully. He gives a slight bow over my hand as the music comes to a stop, and then he turns on his heel and strides out of the room, oblivious to the crowd of young ladies who are giggling as he passes. One of them peels off to come over to me.

“You’re Jessamyn, aren’t you?” she asks, waving her lacy fan against the heat of the ballroom.

“Yes. I believe we’ve met,” I say, remembering. “Olivia, right?”

“That’s right. And now that you’re engaged, I can finally stop hating you quite so much,” she says with an impish smile.

I give her a startled look. “Hating me?” What did I ever do to her? I search my memories, but nothing comes to mind.

“I’m teasing, of course.” She swats me playfully with her fan. “I’m just relieved to see you safely on the shelf, leaving room for the rest of us to pursue our dear Mr. Hastings. I’ve been swooning over him ever since he arrived in town, but he’s only had eyes for you.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” I say awkwardly. “He and I are simply acquaintances.”

She stares off toward the doorway, as if hoping for one more glimpse of Ben’s retreating back. “You will do me the favor of an introduction the next time he’s about, won’t you?” She turns pleading eyes up at me, and I shrug.

“Sure. Happy to help.”

“Oh, they’re starting another waltz,” Olivia notes breathlessly. “Mother considers them a scandal, but how else is girl going to get close enough to a man to really get to know him?”

“How, indeed,” I improvise, hoping I sound Victorian enough. I think I’ve got most of the lingo down around here, but I can’t even begin to copy the accent.

Olivia shuffles off with a wave of her fan, and I decide I’m going to try to find somewhere to sit down in this crush of people. It’s warm in here, too. How do women do this stuff in all this clothing? It’s crazy.

I walk along the outside edge of the crowd, sticking close to the wall as I spy the open French doors leading out to the gardens on the other side of the room. I make my way over to them, stepping out into the cool night air with a sigh of relief.

They have the pathway to the gardens lit with gas lanterns, and the smell of magnolia and jasmine mixes with the breeze off the water. It’s just beautiful, and I’m honestly enjoying myself until some semi-drunken dandy stumbles down the path and comes to a screeching halt in front of me.

“Well, look at what we have here,” he says, smiling widely. “Were you waiting for me?”

I actually look behind me to see who he’s talking to, and that’s my mistake—I should never have turned my back on him. He’s got his arms around me in an instant, and his alcohol-fueled breath is making me sick as he tries to press wet kisses all over my face and neck. I start to scream, but his hand clamps over my mouth. I struggle madly, my fingers clawing at him. I’m just about to rip out a handful of his hair when I feel him go flying, knocking me off-balance and sending me staggering down the graveled path. I barely have time to right myself before someone’s hand clamps down on mine and I’m pulled along the path and then out of sight through the middle of a bunch of bushes that snag at my skirts. I’m about to try to scream again, but as I’m pulled up against another hard body, a voice murmurs low in my ear.

“Easy, love. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I relax, sagging in relief.

“Finn,” I say, when I can get my breath again. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw your lump of a fiancé take himself off, and thought I’d step in to entertain you,” he says with a grimace. “I had no idea someone else had the same plan. Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I reassure him. “I am just really freaking tired.” I sink onto a bench nearby, taking my weight off my aching feet. These high-heeled buttoned boots are torturous. I look up and he’s staring at me with his arms crossed, and his hand is stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“Well, hello there, love,” he says huskily. “What brings you back again?”

30

Here I Go Again

I pull my gloves off and wave my sweaty hands in the air. “I’m trying to avoid someone,” I tell him.

“You’re not here on an assignment, then?”

“No. I sort of … quit.”

He looks amused. “Did you now? How’d that go over?”

I make a face. “I’m sure I’ll hear about it.”

“So this is a social visit?” His eyes brighten, and something in my stomach tightens in response.

“Uh … I’m supposed to be out with someone.”

He takes a seat next to me. “It isn’t me you’re dodging, is it?”

I smile. “No, it isn’t you.”

“Well, that’s a relief. It’d be a bloody shame to have you avoiding me anywhere.”

“I’m not allowed to avoid you,” I say. “You’re training