by Laura Landon
“I told you that divvil would bring you nothing but trouble,” her maid said as she struggled to catch her breath.
Jenna’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s he done?”
“He does na have to do anything. He’s the kind that brings trouble with him.”
Jenna looked out the window. “It’s barely past sunup. What kind of trouble could he have caused already?”
“It’s your stepmother, Miss. She’s in a tiff this morning and wants to see you right off.”
Jenna gave her hair a final touch and laid the brush back on the table with trembling fingers. “Do you know what’s upset her?”
Maggie shook her head. “Tilly said her highness was out again last night and didn’t come in ’til near dawn.”
A jolt of panic raced through Jenna. “Do you think she could have seen us?”
“Not likely, Miss. If she’d a seen ya, she wouldna have waited ’til now to want to call for ya.”
Jenna felt a small sense of relief. Maggie was right. Her stepmother never put off any chance to chastise. She enjoyed hurting Jenna or the servants with her scathing remarks—or worse—too much to pass up any opportunity.
“Does Tilly know where she went?”
“She left the same as always. Her bed was empty soon after midnight and she didna come back ’til nigh onto sunup.”
Maggie stopped straightening the brushes on Jenna’s dresser and looked at Jenna with a perplexed expression on her face.
“Who do you suppose the she-divvil meets when she goes out?”
Jenna no longer reprimanded Maggie for calling her stepmother a witch. She’d tried for several years and it hadn’t done any good. Besides, it was a term she’d heard all the servants use when they didn’t know Jenna could hear.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Jenna answered, pulling a shawl from the chair and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Nor do I care. As long as her midnight activities keep her from bothering the household staff.”
“Amen I say,” Maggie said as she opened the door for Jenna. “Best hurry now,” she said, and pulled it shut. “Don’t want to keep her highness waiting.”
“Have you seen Benton this morning?” Maggie asked as she hurried down the hall toward the east wing where her stepmother had her rooms.
“Aye. He was taking some food to the servants’ quarters.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Aye, but from the look of the food on the platter, it’s going to take half the larder to keep this one fed.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Jenna sighed, trying not to move so quickly that she entered her stepmother’s room breathless.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Maggie asked before Jenna reached the archway that separated the east wing from the west.
Jenna stopped. There was nothing she wanted more than never to face her stepmother alone. Especially this morning. Not after last night.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“Verra well. But I’ll let Benton know where you are. Just in case.”
Jenna didn’t tell Maggie not to bother. The idea of Benton being close was comforting.
Jenna turned the corner and walked down the hall of the east wing. When she reached her stepmother’s sitting room door, she nodded for the footman to announce her. He left, and a few seconds later returned to admit her into her stepmother’s private suite.
Jenna walked in and stopped a respectful—and safe—distance from the woman.
Baroness Eleanor Kingston lounged on a floral chaise, her scarlet gown fitting her petite figure to perfection. Her golden-blonde hair was styled in loose ringlets that made her appear several years younger than her thirty-five years. Jenna wondered how much longer Eleanor would be able to wear such a style before it seemed too young for her age, then realized the answer was probably forever.
Eleanor was blessed with a look of perpetual youth. Her complexion was flawless, her figure as shapely as any debutante. Which was undoubtedly what had drawn Jenna’s father’s attention seven years ago.
Jenna hated to think that her father had been taken in by a beautiful face and seductive body, but she knew he probably had been. She could imagine how irresistible Eleanor had seemed in her attempt to trap a wealthy husband. It was too bad she hadn’t realized that Baron Kingston didn’t have two coins to rub together before she married him. Both Jenna and her father would have enjoyed much happier lives if she had.
Imagining Eleanor’s shock and disappointment when she realized she’d married a poor country baron was the only thought that gave Jenna comfort.
“Where have you been? I sent that worthless maid to fetch you nearly an hour ago.”
Jenna took a reluctant step into the room. Maggie had been right. Her stepmother was in a fine snit already this morning.
“So, what took you so long?” her stepmother demanded as Jenna took another step forward.
She silently shuddered at the ridiculous colors of her stepmother’s suite. Her sitting room was done in plum and pink and accented with a capricious shade of green and burnished gold. It gave the room a girlish appearance that clearly contradicted the scowl on Lady Kingston’s face.
“I wasn’t awake yet when Maggie came for me. I didn’t feel well.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” Jenna answered with less submission than she knew she should have.
“Don’t be impudent, daughter,” Baroness Kingston answered, referring to their relationship because she knew Jenna hated it.
“Impudence wasn’t my intent,” Jenna said, trying to keep her tone contrite. “I merely meant—”
“Your meaning was clear. I didn’t call you here, however, because I long for your company. I sent for you to tell you that I must leave for a few weeks.”
“Leave?”
Baroness Kingston motioned to her maid. “I know you’re not hard of hearing,” she groused, holding out her hand to take the fresh cup of tea her maid rushed to give her, “so I assume your unintelligent reaction exemplifies your surprise.”
“Y...yes.”
“I do have interests outside this abominable country hovel, you know.”
“Of course.” Jenna hesitated before asking the most important question. “How long will you be gone?”
Baroness Kingston took a leisurely sip of her tea before giving an answer. “Not that it’s any of your concern,” she said, setting her cup and saucer on the side table, “but it will consume several weeks, even a month, perhaps.”
Jenna’s heart leapt in her breast. She thought of the stranger she’d brought home last night and wanted to shout for joy. Eleanor’s absence couldn’t come at a better time.
“You seem extraordinarily pleased, my dear. Perhaps I should postpone my trip until another time.”
Jenna wiped all expression from her face. “Of course I’m not pleased. It’s just that I can’t remember you having left Kingston Manor before for more than a week or so. I can’t help but wonder what is so important to take you away for a month.”
Jenna saw the baroness’s demeanor change. She regretted her words the moment they left her mouth.
“How dare you question me, you impudent chit. You have far too much of your mother in you. Why I choose to leave or where I choose to go,” she said rising from her seat, “shouldn’t matter to you in the least.”
“It doesn’t,” Jenna said, trying to soothe her stepmother’s rising temper.
Baroness Kingston took several angry strides as she paced from the settee to the writing desk by the window. “I know why you’re so glad to see me leave,” she said as she spun around to face Jenna. “You think while I’m gone you’ll have an opportunity to escape with your father.”
The mention of her father elicited a deeper fear and Jenna struggled not to show any reaction.
“You’ve hidden him well, daughter, but the instant you bring him out of hiding, one of my men will find him, and take him to the nearest asylum.”
“You’ll never find Father,” Jenna said, making an effort to portray a calm exterior even though her heart was thundering inside her breast.
“You’d better hope I don’t. Thinking of him rotting in some filthy cell for the rest of his life is exactly what he deserves for letting me assume he was a wealthy man. He deceived me. He let me believe he could keep me in the lifestyle to which I was accustomed.”
“Father didn’t deceive you. You were so eager to marry anyone you thought could keep you and your brother out of debtor’s prison, you made a foolish decision. It’s your fault you didn’t investigate Father closely enough to discover he had no money.”
“He tricked me! He gave me cause to believe he was a wealthy man!”
“He did nothing of the sort.”
“How dare you!”
Jenna knew she’d pushed her stepmother too far but she couldn’t stop. She’d held her peace for too long and even more angry words were eager to find their way out in the open. “I dare because you’ve made father and me suffer for the tragedies you and your brother created.”
“My brother is a social pariah because of you and your father.”
“Your brother is no longer welcome in Society because his gambling earned him enemies who wouldn’t allow him to go unpunished when he was unable to pay his debts.”
“Damn you!” Baroness Kingston shouted as she crossed the room.
A moment too late Jenna saw the pearl-handled switch as her stepmother lifted her hand. She should have known it was coming. She’d experienced the baroness’s wrath often enough.
Jenna barely had time to raise her arms to cover her head before the jeweled switch with thick leather ribbons came down. They didn’t strike her face or neck or shoulders, but connected with her arms. If only she’d have worn a long-sleeved dress today rather than the flimsy morning dress. The material would have shielded her somewhat.
“Your father ruined my life when he deceived me. And he ruined my brother’s. You will not spoil my chance to become a wealthy woman. You owe it to me!”
“I owe you nothing!”
Another lash abraded her tender flesh and Jenna backed toward safety.
The baroness came after her. “We will announce your betrothal to the Duke of Ridgeway the moment I return.”
“No!” Jenna said, sidestepping a swipe of Eleanor’s whip. “The man I was engaged to marry died not even three months ago. It’s not proper for me to become betrothed again so soon.”
“Don’t tell me what’s proper and what isn’t. Your betrothal to the Devil of Devlin was a farce. Everyone knows he had no intention of marrying you.”
Jenna blanched at the horrid name her betrothed had borne for much of his young life. “His intent now is irrelevant. I am of age where you cannot force me to marry.”
Baroness Kingston stopped in the center of the room and lifted the corners of her mouth in a malicious grin that distorted her features.
“How long do you think you can keep your father hidden from me?”
Jenna’s stepmother circled her as if emphasizing the trap she was setting.
“How long do you think it will be before the men I have searching for your father will find him? And how long after I find him before I have him locked away in an asylum?”
Jenna clasped her hands around her upper arms and hugged tight.
“You don’t have a choice, daughter. The reason I’m going to London is to make the necessary arrangements for your engagement to Ridgeway. When I return, you will become a duchess. And I will become your very wealthy stepmother.”
“No! I won’t marry!”
Jenna knew her stepmother intended to strike her again and tried to step out of her reach. What saved her wasn’t her futile attempt to escape, but the loud rap at the door.
“What!”
The door opened and Benton stood in the open entryway.
“Will one extra carriage be adequate to hold your luggage, my lady? The staff was unsure how many trunks you intend to take.”
Jenna’s stepmother lowered the switch and gave Benton a demure look. “Tell the staff I’ll need three carriages. I’ll ride in the Baron’s crested carriage.”
“Yes, my lady,” Benton said with a slight bow.
“And inform Hopkins I wish to be gone by noon.”
Benton lowered his head in submission again then took one step to leave. “Will Miss Kingston be leaving now?” he asked as if his duty were to remove any unwanted refuse from the baroness’s presence.
Jenna tried to void any hint of hopefulness from her expression as she waited for a sign of dismissal from her stepmother.
“You may as well go,” she said, sinking back onto her chair. “But my absence is only a reprieve, my dear. We will announce your betrothal the moment I return.”
Jenna felt the floor shift beneath her feet but she knew better than to say anything to further anger her stepmother. She was afraid even Benton’s presence wouldn’t stop the woman from displaying her temper yet again.
She would not marry the Duke of Ridgeway. The duke was a decrepit old lecher who’d already outlived three wives. He only wanted her as a wife because none of his other wives had given him a son on whom to pass down his elevated title.
Now wasn’t the time, however, to inform her stepmother that would never happen.
“If you’re ready, Miss,” Benton said, holding the door for her.
Jenna stepped away from her stepmother with her head high and her shoulders as straight as she could hold them. Eleanor would never crush her spirit. Even though her arm stung from where the beaded strings had abused her flesh, she’d never let her stepmother know the whipping had harmed her. But it would be dangerous to let her anger show. At least until she knew her father would be safe.
Jenna walked past Benton, and it wasn’t until she heard the door close that her knees seemed to give out from beneath her. Benton placed a steadying hand beneath her elbow and escorted her away from the crazed woman’s suite.
She looked down at the bruises already forming in her flesh and silently swore. If she only had herself to be concerned for, she’d leave with just the clothes she could carry and never look back. But that wasn’t possible. There were the servants and the tenants...
...and her father.
No, leaving wasn’t a possibility.
Eleanor and her vile, deceitful brother were up to something illegal. Jenna would not leave until she discovered what they were involved in. She could not risk escaping with her father until she had enough proof to see them both prosecuted. It was the only way she could keep her father safe.
Jenna’s arm pained her little. The fury she felt toward the woman her father had married seven years ago made her forget all about the wound.
“I’ll tell Maggie to tend your bruises,” Benton said, leading Jenna toward her room.
“How long will it be before she’s ready to leave?” Jenna asked, knowing the time wouldn’t go fast enough.
“Her ladyship wants to be gone by noon, but with the proper encouragement, I’m sure we can have her on the road in an hour or so.”
Jenna tried not to show how happy that possibility made her. “Thank you, Benton. I’m sure Lady Kingston will appreciate that.”
“Yes,” Benton answered, rapping twice on the door to Jenna’s rooms before entering.
“And thank you for coming when you did.”
“The pleasure was mine,” he said, bowing slightly. It was his cue to take his leave, but he remained by the door as Maggie appeared from the adjoining dressing room.
“See to your mistress, Maggie. She needs some attention. There’s Malvern Water in the medicine chest. Will do wonders with those bruises.”
Maggie rushed to Jenna’s side. “Ah sweet Mary,” she said, moving Jenna’s arm to and fro and practically counting the marks that had already risen. “The divvil woman! Some day she’s gonna burn in the fires of Hell where she belongs.”
“Maggie,” Jenna cautioned, but s
he knew Maggie was past heeding her warning. Instead, Jenna turned again to Benton. “Did our guest get settled in?” she asked.
“He did. Although he probably didn’t find the bed in the attic as comfortable as the lasses before him did,” Benton said with a smile on his face.
“Is something wrong with the bed?”
“Nothing another foot or so onto either end wouldn’t fix.”
Jenna couldn’t stop a smile from forming on her lips. Neither could Maggie, she noticed.
“The baroness couldn’t have chosen a better time to go away.”
“The witch is leaving?” Maggie asked, her excitement evident.
Jenna opened her mouth to reprimand Maggie for being so insolent, but Benton spoke his warning first.
“Maggie, lass. Some day you’re going to pay a high price for being so disrespectful.”
“I’d never say that in front of her,” she said defensively.
“That may be,” Benton said with a slight lift of his eyebrows. “But people like the baroness have a way of overhearing things they aren’t supposed to hear.”
Maggie had the good sense to look contrite even if chastisement from Benton was the last thing she wanted to endure. And Benton had the good sense not to dwell on his warning and changed the subject.
“I’m afraid it’s going to take a bit more food than was needed for all of the lasses we’ve had here over the last two years put together to keep Mr. Hawkins well fed.”
Jenna worried her lower lip. “We’ll have to figure out a way to afford more food. We can’t have him go hungry.” Jenna stroked her arm where it was beginning to ache. “What else have you noticed about Mr. Hawkins?”
Benton drew his brows together. “He’s quiet. Doesn’t say much. Maybe because he doesn’t have much to say. Or maybe because there’s a lot he doesn’t want us to know.”
Jenna thought about that. Somehow she thought the latter was more likely to be true. “What else?”
“He’s an early riser. And from the looks of him, he’s not a stranger to hard work. My guess is he’s served in the army.”
