Page 4 of An Engagement with the Enemy

All those people, in their little town? Balls, fetes, musicians, and even a theatrical troupe coming later in the summer? She had never been part of such spectacles before. She’d never traveled far from home. Never even to York, their nearest town of note. Her father didn’t much like travel. He found comfort in familiar surroundings and familiar people. And she’d never gone away. She’d never had the opportunity.

She often wondered what she’d been missing. Perhaps now, she would finally find out.

As Catherine spoke about her mother’s plans, Jessica looked out over the endless meadows spreading out before them. Somehow the lush, green fields seemed to reflect the opportunities awaiting her - if only she dared reach for them.

Jessica turned back to her friend with a smile. “You know, this sounds like this could be quite the adventure for us.”

Catherine chuckled. “An adventure indeed! Though I suspect it will require a great deal of patience.”

“True.” Jessica nodded. “However, adventures are not measured in comfort, but in growth.”

She thought of Mr. Riley and Mrs. Turner, and the small romances that could blossom even in familiar places. Turning her gaze skyward, she watched the feathery white clouds drift by overhead—a reminder of how fleeting time could be.

Jessica faced her friend once more. “It seems we have a choice—we can either endure what lies ahead or embrace it for the opportunities it may bring.”

Catherine grinned. “You sound quite wise today, and I feel rather childish for being so annoyed. Very well. Whatever my mother has planned, we’ll face it together.”

“Together.” Jessica echoed her friend’s smile.

They turned their horses back along the familiar path home. Jessica tried to hold on to this simple joy of the present moment - the freshness of the countryside in summertime, the pleasure of her friend’s company.

And yet, she could not help wondering at the possibilities unfolding in the distance, beckoning her forward with the promise of new experiences and growth. The future awaited, ready to reveal itself one day at a time.

CHAPTER THREE

“My goodness. Lady Retford outdid herself,” Mr. Westcote murmured into his daughter’s ear. They had stepped into the Armory, one of the oldest rooms in Castle Amoret, a room Jessica had known as well as she knew those of her own household.

Yet she barely recognized it.

“It’s stunning,” she whispered, her gaze sweeping across the room. Her pulse raced at the sight of so many people crowded together, the noise of laughter and conversation filling the room. The heady scents of perfumes from both people and flowers made her chest constrict.

Jessica hadn’t attended a gathering this large in years. Because there hadn’t been one like it in ages. Which had given Jessica a sense of relief, that these things didn’t happen all the time. Yet even with the uncertainty a gathering such as the ball caused in her thoughts, she had looked forward to it. Told herself it would be the highlight of her summer, if not the whole year.

She barely remembered to continue forward when her father did, her hand tucked through the crook of his arm. They’d arrived late to avoid a crush in the corridors, so the family’s reception line had already disbanded, and they mingled now among the guests.

She distracted herself from the sounds and the people by casting her gaze around the room, trying to take in details amid the visual and auditory clamor.

Everything sparkled, from the crystals of the chandelier to the newly installed parquet floor with veins of mica in the marble. White and silver ribbons festooned the walls, making the medieval coats of arms hanging in their usual places look like fruit growing from elegant vines.

The footmen were stationed at regular intervals between windows, and they wore livery with silver buttons. Their shoes were polished enough to reflect light from the flickering candles in nearby wall sconces.

“Perhaps we ought to hold a ball of our own,” her father said, his smile teasing. But when she met his gaze she saw the concern in his eyes, the silent question. Was it too much? The crowd, the noise, the press of all her senses at once—was it too much? He covered her hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He lowered his voice when he asked the question out loud. “Are you well?”

Jessica tried to reassure him. “Of course.” She wouldn’t tell him that her hands grew damp within her gloves, that her heart had sped faster and faster as she looked about the room. Instead, she would devote herself to counting her breaths. Slowing them. “Merely surprised by the display. Can you imagine the work the servants must have put into this? I wonder if it took days or hours to prepare.”

“Weeks to plan, days to set up properly,” a bright voice said from behind them. They both turned to find Catherine Aldwick grinning like an imp. Her brown eyes were dark in the candlelight, and her chestnut hair shimmered with pearls. “I cannot recommend the experience, though the outcome is lovely enough, I’ll grant you.”

Mr. Westcote nodded his agreement, his gaze reluctantly leaving his daughter’s. “Beyond lovely. Will all the festivities held at the castle this summer be similarly elegant?”

“Most likely.” Catherine laughed merrily, her cheeks pink and her eyes dancing with amusement. “My mother has never been happier. I think planning such extravagant entertainments has given her more vigor than any tonic ever could.”

“It would exhaust me,” Mr. Westcote admitted freely. His eyes met Jessica’s again. “Shall I leave you to enjoy the evening?”

With Catherine present, Jessica gave a firm nod. “Yes, Papa. Thank you.”

He gave Jessica one last squeeze of her hand, then released his daughter’s arm. “Two young ladies ought to enjoy every moment of a night such as this. I am off to find old men to speak of politics and our shared dislike of the French. I hope you enjoy the evening, Jessica. Miss Aldwick. If these younger gentlemen do not keep you occupied in dancing all evening, I will be sorely disappointed in them. You are both quite lovely tonight.”