by Burke, Darcy
“Is that happening now?” Jane asked. “Madness, I mean.”
“No. But then I have quite a bit to divert me here.” He gestured toward the kittens with the book.
“Just them?” Jane asked, wondering if she was the only one affected by their flirtation.
“Not just them.” There was a dark, provocative edge to his tone that sent a soft shiver up her spine.
Jane fought to find the thread of their conversation before she started asking him to consider her proposal again. She wanted him to come to his own decision and wouldn’t mention it further. “Instead of coming up with a reason for your injuries, why not just stay at home until you’re fully recovered? Surely that would do you good.”
“And what will I tell my retainers happened?”
“The truth? Or at least, part of the truth? Where will you tell them you’ve been?”
“What they already believe—staying at the home of a friend. I didn’t elaborate in the letter you gave to Culpepper.”
She took in his blue breeches, ivory shirt, and dark-yellow waistcoat. His open neck and bare feet were scandalous, but they were well past that, of course. “They gathered your clothing rather quickly. Jones said he didn’t have to wait very long.” A distressing thought occurred to her. “You don’t think anyone from your household followed Jones back here, do you?”
“I doubt it.” He chuckled softly. “You are a mischievous thing, aren’t you?”
“How does that make me mischievous?”
“Because not everyone would have imagined such a scenario.”
She shrugged. “My mind tends to do that. I contemplate things rather thoroughly.” Now she was thinking of the rumor and her need to find the instigator.
“I suppose I could tell them—my retainers—that I fell from a moving coach.”
Jane leaned back against the base of the bed. “Is that believable? I suppose it is if you’d been drinking.”
“And we know that’s believable,” he quipped with a smile.
“What if you fell while trying to climb into a lady’s room?”
He laughed. “I’m not that much of a reprobate.”
“Probably shouldn’t admit it, even to your retainers, if you were.” She winked at him. “You tumbled down a flight of stairs?”
“I was attacked by swans. They’re nasty things.”
Jane giggled. “They are indeed. I’m not sure your injuries match that, however. How on earth would they bruise your ribs?”
He waggled his brows. “Perhaps their wings are more dangerous than we realize.”
“Maybe a stampede of goats would be more believable.”
He shouted with laughter. “Goats?”
She nodded, lifting her shoulder. “Why not?”
“Why not a horse or cow?” he asked between laughs.
“I would think they would do worse damage,” she said with great thought. “A goat seems just right.”
He was still laughing. “Goats it is. I’ll have to determine how I came into contact with attack goats, but I’m sure that will just come to me.” His cobalt eyes sparked with mirth.
Jane didn’t remember when she’d had such a delightful time with someone. “You’ll think of something, just as I did with Phoebe earlier.”
He set the book down on the small table beside the chair and looked at her in question. “Oh?”
“I asked her about the rumor, and she plans to speak with Ripley about it to see if he recalls anything.”
“You didn’t tell her about me?”
“No, that’s why I had to come up with something to tell her about the rumor—I couldn’t say I’d heard it from you. I said my future brother-in-law’s cousin told my sister, who in turn told me.”
“Thank you.” He sent her a sheepish glance. “I feel bad asking you to lie.”
“I understand why it’s important to you, but thank you for saying that.” She noticed a loose thread on her skirt and tried to gently tug it free. It didn’t budge. “Will others have missed you in your absence?”
“Doubtful. As you know, Sarah is in the country awaiting the birth of her child, and she’s the only close family I have.” He looked down at the kittens and stroked their fur. Fern stretched onto her back, and he rubbed her belly.
“You’ve friends, though,” Jane said, hoping to distract him from his melancholy—if that was what he was experiencing. He seemed to darken and…shrink whenever his family was mentioned.
“Felix is with Sarah, of course.” Because they were married. “And Marcus is busy being a newlywed.”
Jane wondered if that was all. She recalled they seemed to have a disagreement at the wedding breakfast. Ripley had gone to speak with Anthony, and Anthony had appeared to grow irritated. Then he’d left. She decided not to ask about it. Their diverting conversation had already taken a dim turn. “Anyone else?”
“It’s possible a few gentlemen may wonder.” He frowned and looked over at her. “I can’t say if anyone witnessed the fight. Perhaps it’s pointless of me to tell my story of attack goats if the gossip is already speeding through town.”
“I don’t think it is. I read the gossip pages—a bad habit that I shall blame my mother for, and I’ve seen nothing about you at all.”
“Not everything shows up there,” he said with disgust.
“That’s true. Otherwise, I would have known about that rumor when it happened.” She briefly clenched her hand into a fist, then laid it flat on her lap. “Every time I think of it, I’m so angry. But I have a plan, thanks to Phoebe. As I said, she will talk to Ripley to see if he remembers anything, and I will ask Lady Satterfield. She knows everyone, and if any lady were aware of it, I would wager it’s her.”
“I still think you should let this go,” Anthony said softly. “What good can come of pursuing it?”
Jane straightened as she blistered with ire. “The dastardly knave who ruined me will be knocked down a notch, at least!”
“And how will you accomplish that? You’re just going to reveal this years-old scandal—which won’t help you at all reputationwise—and the perpetrator will be shunned by all and sundry?”
“I’ll find a way. Ripley did it for Phoebe when he successfully maligned her former betrothed’s reputation.” Phoebe had told her how Ripley had gone to White’s and simply talked loudly about Sainsbury. It had been enough to negatively affect his standing.
Anthony rubbed Daffodil’s ear. “There’s no saying what damage that actually inflicted since he ended up committing murder shortly thereafter and will likely soon be transported, if not hanged.”
He had a point, blast it all. Still, she believed she could exact retribution, and she was at least going to try. Had she hoped he would help her? Perhaps. She thought they’d become friends. Were they really, though? Once he left, they’d go back to being acquaintances. In fact, she’d likely see him less since she wouldn’t be attending any Society events, not that he went to many anymore. Well, except those hosted by her friends, which were, it seemed, also his friends. So she’d likely see him.
“I can see you’re thinking,” he said. “And that you’re angry. You are angry, aren’t you?”
He could read her emotions? Of course he could. She could well imagine her ire was on display for anyone to see. She exhaled and stood. “Yes. I feel betrayed. And I’ve no idea who did it or why.”
“Why betrayed? You think someone you care about would do this?”
“I don’t know, and regardless of what happens now, I’m afraid I can’t rest until I find out who it was.” What the hell else did she have to do anyway?
She suddenly felt a tightness in her chest. What did she have? More importantly, whom did she have? Her gaze fell on the two kittens in Anthony’s lap and realized even they weren’t really hers. They’d gravitated to him since coming to live here.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” she said tightly, then turned on her heel and stalked toward the door.
“I’m so
rry,” he called after her.
As she left the room, she could have sworn he said something about understanding.
* * *
Anthony reviewed his appearance in the glass, tilting his head this way and that. It felt strange to be freshly shaven for the first time in nearly a week. He hoped Jane would approve. That was assuming he even encountered her. He hadn’t seen her since yesterday afternoon. When she’d left angry.
He’d botched that. Her situation was not the same as his. She wanted to learn more about what had happened in the past, while he wanted to bury it. Who was he to tell her how to behave in her situation?
“My lord?” Culpepper called from just outside the dressing chamber. “Do you require assistance?”
Anthony opened the door with a bit of flourish. “I do not.” He’d managed the bath they’d prepared, as well as shaving and dressing himself. He really could go home. But he didn’t want to. Not yet. Not until he made things right with Jane.
“You are missing a coat,” Culpepper advised.
He was. “Ah, yes.” He turned and fetched the coat, then handed it to the butler. “If you wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
Anthony put his hand into one sleeve, then turned his back to Culpepper, who helped him don the garment. The butler swiped his hands over each shoulder as Anthony straightened the coat on his frame.
Turning, Anthony asked, “Better?”
“Perfect, my lord.”
Laughing, Anthony adjusted the cuffs of his shirt at the end of his sleeves. “Far from it.”
“You look much improved. A few of your bruises are only a faint yellow now.”
That was true, but his right eye was still a ghastly bluish purple. “I do feel better, so that’s something, I suppose.”
“And the ribs?” Culpepper asked.
“Still a bit tight, but I had no difficulty with the bath.”
“Excellent. I hope you know you can call on us for anything.”
Anthony smiled. “I do, thank you. Miss Pemberton is quite lucky to have you and the rest of the household.”
“We’re lucky to have her.”
“I notice she hasn’t had any visitors. Well, except that first day.” He wanted to ask why her parents didn’t call. “Does her family come to see her very often?”
Culpepper’s shoulders stiffened. “They do not. In fact, they have yet to pay a call.”
Wresting his expression away from a scowl, Anthony nodded. “I see. That is their loss.” Did their inattention make Jane sad? Did she regret declaring herself a spinster? She clearly did—insomuch as she regretted the rumor and what it had done to her marriage prospects. She’d chosen to become a spinster because it had seemed the best option in her current state. A state someone else had manipulated.
Anthony suddenly wanted to get in another fight, and for a far better reason than he’d ever quarreled over before—Jane’s honor.
“I agree,” Culpepper said, referring to Anthony’s comment that her parents were lacking. “We are very happy to have Miss Pemberton here, especially now that Miss Lennox is wed. We have a warm, pleasant household.”
“I can see that,” Anthony said. “You are particularly skilled, if I may say so, as is the cook. I don’t, ah, suppose, you could bring me a glass of madeira? Or port? Any wine will do.”
Unease flickered briefly in the butler’s gaze, and Anthony regretted asking. “My apologies, my lord, but I have strict instructions to provide you nothing stronger than ale. Would you like me to bring you some?”
“I apologize for putting you in an awkward position, Culpepper. I am fine just now, thank you.” In fact, Anthony didn’t remember the last time he’d gone so long without drinking stronger spirits. He felt refreshingly clearheaded. He’d been afraid to go out into the light, he realized, but maybe it wasn’t as bad as he’d anticipated. Because he had Jane to distract him. And she’d done a marvelous job of it.
“If you don’t require anything else, then,” Culpepper said, pivoting.
“Is Miss Pemberton at home?”
“She’s in the garden room.”
“Thank you, Culpepper.” Anthony lifted his arm. “After you.”
Culpepper inclined his head and preceded Anthony from the chamber.
Anthony went downstairs and paused in the doorway of the garden room. Jane sat at the table in front of the garden doors, one of which stood ajar. Her hand steered a quill across the paper in front of her, and a single golden curl brushed her ear. He longed to be that curl—close to her scent and the soft silk of her skin.
He walked into the room. “Good afternoon, Miss Pemberton.”
The quill stopped scratching, and she set it down on the blotter. Reaching for a small cloth, she wiped her fingertips as she turned. Then her eyes widened in surprise. “Lord Colton, you shaved.”
He brought his hand up and lightly massaged his chin. “I did. Bad decision?”
“I don’t think so. You look quite handsome, in fact. I can actually see that it’s you for the first time.”
He laughed softly. “You mean I could have been an imposter this whole time?”
Her eyes danced with mirth. “I never considered that, but I suppose it’s possible. What would have been the motivation for such a ruse, however?”
“Why, to spend time with you, of course. How else can a gentleman find himself in your bed and at your mercy?” He was flirting with her, which he probably shouldn’t do. Not when her proposition still stood between them. Not when he was incredibly close to agreeing to fulfill it.
She set the cloth down on the table and stood. “I wanted to apologize—”
He couldn’t let her do that. “No, the fault was mine. I shouldn’t advise you on what to do, particularly when you didn’t even ask for my input. Please accept my apology. I never meant to anger you or cause you upset in any way.”
She hesitated, seeming surprised by his apology. “Thank you. I appreciate that, although I do realized I’ve been a bit…relentless about the rumor since you told me.”
“I wish I never had,” he said softly. At the flash of indignation in her eyes, he clarified, “Only because it causes you pain, and I would never wish to do that.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “It’s good to know the truth—or at least part of it. Knowing that it wasn’t my fault… Well, it helps.” She gave him a weak smile, and he realized she’d carried a burden for years of perceived failure. He thought of her parents not visiting and now wanted to start a new fight. Though, a physical altercation with her family was not something to actually consider. Still, he could imagine it.
He stepped toward her, closing the gap between them to maybe half a yard. “It would never have been your fault. You’re lovely. Any gentleman would be lucky to have you as his wife. I can’t believe no one ignored that ridiculous rumor and snapped you up in spite of it.”
“You didn’t.” She said this with a smile. “I’m teasing. I appreciate your kind words. I know it’s hard for you—a man—to understand, but this literally changed the course of my life. It’s hard not to feel powerless and a bit…empty.”
He knew precisely how that felt. He’d made a decision not to go home to his family’s estate to oversee something his father had asked him to do. He’d been too busy with his life in London. So his parents had gone instead. And in an instant, their family had changed forever at the hands of a highwayman. It didn’t matter that he’d been caught and hanged. Anthony felt no relief, no sense of justice. All he felt was an overriding guilt and soul-deep emptiness.
Now he wanted a bloody drink.
“Anthony?”
Her use of his name drew him from the abyss. He blinked and looked at her, focusing on the concern in her tawny gaze.
She narrowed the distance between them by two small steps. “You keep doing that.”
“What?” He twitched, knowing precisely what she meant, but hoping she really hadn’t seen through him.
“I lose you f
or a moment.” She touched his sleeve. “Where do you go?”
“Nowhere.” Nowhere he wanted to share with her. She was grace and light—the epitome of everything he was not. Everything he could never be.
“I don’t think that’s true,” she murmured. “But I won’t pester you.” She pulled her hand back. “Just know that I’m here if you ever want to talk about anything.”
He captured the hand she’d just removed from his sleeve, twining her fingers with his. “Maybe I can help you with regard to the rumor.”
She blinked twice. “Thank you. I appreciate the assistance. Phoebe sent a note earlier—Ripley didn’t recall the rumor at all.”
“That’s unfortunate. Tell me about your first Season. Who courted you?”
“No one officially.”
“You can’t think of anyone who paid you attention? Maybe took you for a promenade in a dark garden during a ball? I’m trying to determine why such a rumor was even believable.”
She glanced at their joined hands. “This is about as close as I’ve ever been to a gentleman. There weren’t any clandestine meetings or walks. I don’t even remember being invited to do anything like that. And you know I haven’t been kissed.”
Yes, he knew that. “Which is a bloody crime.”
Her gaze met his, and heat leapt between them. “Is it?”
“Of the most grievous kind,” he whispered, leaning toward her. He lifted his other hand and gently cupped her cheek just before he lowered his lips to hers. Closing his eyes, he brushed his mouth over hers. The kiss was soft, chaste, and the effect of it jolted through him like lightning.
He opened his eyes in wonder as he stood back. She stared up at him. “Is that all?”
Time stopped for a second, and then he laughed. “For someone with no experience, you know too much.”
“Only because you told me,” she said without guile.
“So this is my fault.”
She arched her brow in a thoroughly saucy, provocative fashion. Maybe she had plenty of guile. “I’d like it to be.”
And just like that, his cock went completely hard. “Careful what you ask for, Jane.” He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her against him. She felt so good, and he knew she would taste even better.
