The Devil's Gift

by Laura Landon

  “In the Crimea?”

  Benton shrugged. “Could be.”

  Jenna rubbed her arm again. The pain was getting worse. This time Maggie noticed.

  “Enough. Out now, Benton. The two of you can talk later.”

  Benton walked to the door, but Jenna stopped him before he reached the outer hallway.

  “Keep our guest sequestered above until Lady Kingston leaves. Then we’ll see what’s so special about Jack Hawkins that my aunt thought he was worth the risk we’re taking to keep him here.”

  Benton nodded and closed the door behind him.

  The minute they were alone, Maggie pushed Jenna back to bed. Jenna let her. She had a lot to think over and the quiet solitude of her bed was always the best place to think.

  Except she wasn’t sure lying in bed was where she wanted to be when she concentrated on Jack Hawkins.

  THE DEVIL’S GIFT by Laura Landon

  Chapter 4

  Jenna waited until she was sure there was no chance her stepmother might return, then climbed the back stairway to the attic. Her pulse raced faster with each step she took.

  She told herself her reaction was unfounded, since she’d never met Jack Hawkins before last night, but nothing eased the pounding of her heart or the jittery feelings. She was sure once she saw him in the light of day, all her fantasies would be dispelled.

  “I still can’t believe you let that man into your home,” Maggie whispered from behind her. “Do ye na have any faith in what I saw?”

  “You said you saw the devil,” Jenna answered in a hushed whisper. “The man who arrived is definitely not the devil. His name is Jack Hawkins, and my aunt thought enough of him to send him to me.”

  “More ’an likely he bewitched her into sending him.”

  Jenna looked over her shoulder and gave her maid a severe look, then continued on her way. When she reached his room she rapped on the door and waited.

  Before she was ready, Mr. Hawkins opened the door. Her heart fluttered. The sight of him standing there didn’t dispel one fantasy she’d had.

  He’d bathed and brushed his hair back from his face. The dampness made his thick, dark hair curl at the ends. It was longer than she would have liked, yet there was something enticing about the way the ends hung in loose waves. For some unfathomable reason she found it hard to breathe when she looked at him. She tried to look away, but couldn’t.

  He had on fresh clothes, no doubt from Benton’s own closet. The trousers and coat were black, his shirt a pristine white, and Jenna noticed that a burgundy waistcoat and a white cotton neckcloth hung on a hook by the door. These were the Kingston colors.

  Jenna was glad Mr. Hawkins hadn’t dressed in full attire. He was striking enough without a neckcloth and waistcoat. She didn’t want to imagine how impressive he’d look with a touch of burgundy to accent his dark features.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Kingston,” he said. With a slight bow he stepped back to allow Jenna and Maggie into the room.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Hawkins.”

  Jenna walked to the center of the room and feigned interest in the surroundings. “I hope you found your accommodations suitable.”

  “Oh, yes, Miss. They’re grand. Better than I’m used to. Would you care to sit?” he asked, pulling out one of the two chairs around the small writing desk. He moved the other chair to a spot against the wall and indicated that Maggie should sit there.

  Maggie gave him a wary look, but after Jenna sat, she did too.

  “I’ll have another chair brought up,” Jenna said, realizing Mr. Hawkins didn’t have a chair on which to sit. “I’d forgotten there were only two.”

  “I can sit here for now.”

  He pointed to the bed and Jenna realized he’d placed her chair a short distance away from where he intended to sit as if he’d planned their seating arrangement before they arrived.

  Jenna didn’t know if she should admire Mr. Hawkins for his foresight, or be wary of someone with such cunning ability. She’d think on that later.

  “Mr. Hawkins,” Jenna began when he was seated on the edge of the bed. “I’m not exactly sure why Lady Rutherford sent you here, but she evidently saw a potential she didn’t want to see wasted.”

  “Could be,” he answered in a considering tone. “Or maybe she just wanted to repay me for doing her a good deed.”

  Jenna lifted her gaze and found herself drowning in eyes so dark they were nearly black. His gaze seemed vastly friendly and yet she wondered how the look in anyone’s eyes could appear so warm, yet so calculating at the same time.

  “What do you do, Mr. Hawkins? For a living, that is.”

  A slightly sinister grin curved his lips upward. “I’ve been known to do many things, Miss.”

  Jenna felt her cheeks burn and prayed they weren’t red. “I’m sure you have, sir. But I’m referring to recently.” She clasped her hands in her lap in a relaxed pose. “Why don’t you begin with what you did in the war?”

  The smile on his face died.

  “I didn’t say I was in the war.”

  His voice was flat, almost defensive. As if he’d erected a barrier he didn’t want anyone to breach.

  “No, you didn’t. But you were. And I’d like to know what you did.”

  His gaze narrowed. “I watched men die. I held some of their hands when they screamed from the pain. And I even lied to some and told them I was their papa or their brother so they didn’t feel so alone when they took their last breath. Is that what you wanted to know, Miss Kingston?”

  Jenna’s stomach roiled at the image of it, but she would not let him see how his words had affected her. “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted to know.”

  “And you’re going to pretend you know what that’s like?”

  His voice held a hint of condescension and Jenna raised her chin a notch and held his gaze. “I don’t need to pretend, Mr. Hawkins. I do know what that’s like. Not to the extent you do, I’m sure, but I was with my mother when she died. I held her hand when she screamed in pain, and stayed with her until she took her last breath.” Jenna swallowed hard. “Watching someone die is never easy.”

  For a moment he didn’t speak. “How old were you when she died?” he finally said.

  “Twelve.”

  “You were alone? What about your father?”

  “My father couldn’t bear to watch her die. He loved my mother too much to admit he was losing her.”

  “So he made you take his place.”

  “He made me do nothing. Just like you couldn’t let your fellow soldiers die alone, I couldn’t let my mother die alone either.”

  “I’m not sure it’s the same,” he said in a soft voice filled with sympathy. “The men who died in my arms were strangers.”

  “But I only had to watch one person die. You were forced to go through the ordeal over and over again.”

  Jenna saw such pain on his face she ached for him. She wasn’t surprised when he rose from the edge of the bed and separated himself from her.

  “Why am I here? Why does Lady Rutherford send young girls to you?”

  “So I can help them.”

  “Help them do what?”

  “Make a better life for themselves.”

  “By doing what?”

  “Whatever they have an aptitude for. Some girls have the ability to make excellent lady’s maids. Some have a talent for cooking, or sewing, or doing other fine handiwork. And some have no more talent than is required to be a scullery maid. But training them to do their job well will enable them to have a better life than they were living when Lady Rutherford found them.”

  “And what life was that?”

  “Any life they were forced to lead to put food in their bellies or clothes on their backs. Some of them were thieves, some beggars, some pickpockets, and some prostitutes.”

  “You would take a prostitute into your home?”

  “The girls I take into my home are children. Few of them have reached their sixteenth birthday.
They existed in the kind of life they were forced into—either by their parents or out of necessity. I give them the opportunity to do something different.”

  “And what do you see for me?”

  Jenna couldn’t answer for a moment. How could she tell him that she envisioned him standing in a crowded ballroom conversing with Society’s most influential members? Or holding a beautiful woman in his arms while he danced a waltz? Or playing host to Society’s most elite?

  Anything but not having a roof over his head, or wearing used, ragged clothing, and existing without a purpose to his life.

  “What do you see?”

  Her question must have taken him by surprise because his eyebrows arched and the expression on his face looked confused.

  “Are you always so bold, Miss Kingston?”

  “Bold? I’m not at all bold.”

  “But you are.” He laughed. “A young lady lacking your bravado would never have countered my question with a question of her own. I’d venture to say there’s very little that frightens you.”

  Now it was Jenna’s turn to be confused. “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know very many females who would brave racing to meet a carriage in the middle of the night.”

  “The carriage and driver are familiar to me.”

  “Or allow a stranger into your home even though I overheard your maid warn you not to.”

  “Maggie is overly cautious.”

  “Or take the chance that your father will not discover your secret occupation.”

  “My father—” The words caught in Jenna’s throat. “My father will never discover what I’m doing.”

  “You’re terribly sure of yourself,” he said with a smile.

  “My father isn’t here right now.”

  “But when he returns...”

  “Then I shall have to be doubly cautious,” Jenna said, then rose from her chair to face him. “You, however, have not yet answered my question. What occupation do you envision entering in order to support yourself?”

  “Perhaps you’d offer some suggestions. What choices do you see for me?”

  “Well, I perceive you are a man of at least average intelligence.”

  “Average?”

  His eyebrows arched and a slight, teasing smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

  “Yes, average. I don’t know you well enough to make a more exalted assumption.”

  “Then I will have to work on that.”

  “Yes, you will,” she said in as matter-of-fact a tone as she could muster.

  He folded his arms over his chest and nodded his head. “Very well. Go on.”

  Jenna turned more serious. “There are several options available to you. There is, of course, outside work if you prefer that. Such as gardening, or working with the horses, or—”

  “After the years I spent battling the elements during the war,” he interrupted, “I think I’d rather do something indoors.”

  Jenna nodded. “Of course. Let me suggest, then, training as a gentleman’s valet. Or perhaps a household butler.”

  “Yes,” he nodded. “I think I’d like that.”

  “To be a gentleman’s valet?”

  “No. A butler.” He nodded his head as if considering the possibility. “Someday I might even come back to take Benton’s place.”

  Jenna ignored Maggie’s rude snort and found herself laughing. “You have set your sights high, Mr. Hawkins.”

  “Just, Hawkins, Miss. I believe that’s what’s proper for the butler.”

  “So it is,” Jenna said, already losing the battle without knowing exactly what battle she was fighting. Or who her enemy was.

  “Are you ready to begin, Hawkins?” she asked. “If so, we’ll commence with your lessons now.”

  . . .

  Jenna didn’t dare turn around as she led her small party into the family breakfast room. She knew if she did, she’d have to face the shocked expressions on the small group of hand-picked servants she’d chosen to help her with her lessons.

  Or, she’d have to face the angry scowl she knew she’d see on Maggie’s face.

  Or, she’d see Benton’s narrowed gaze as he carefully watched Mr. Hawkins.

  Benton had warned her several times not to be so trusting of the stranger, but Jenna didn’t feel the same. She’d always had an uncanny knack to accurately judge the girls her Aunt Chloe had sent. This time was no different. For some reason she was unable to explain, a little voice inside her told her she had nothing to fear from Jack Hawkins.

  So why, the voice of reason asked, did she find it so difficult to look Jack Hawkins in the eye?

  “I still don’t see why you had to involve the whole household in these lessons,” Maggie said when they’d reached the informal dining room door.

  “Because,” Jenna answered, keeping her voice soft enough not to be overheard, “we have the house to ourselves and the practical experience will help Mr. Hawkins learn ever so much faster.”

  “But—”

  Jenna stepped far enough from Maggie that her maid couldn’t say more without being overheard. Jenna could hardly explain that the main reason she decided to leave the privacy and seclusion of the attic was because even Maggie’s presence wasn’t protection enough from the raging emotions caused by nearness to Jack Hawkins. Jenna needed an army around her to ignore what he made her feel.

  “Where do you want the servants, Miss?” she heard Benton say from behind her.

  Jenna took a fortifying breath and turned to face the little group of servants. For Hawkins’ lessons Benton had selected three upstairs maids and three footmen. They all looked at her in round-eyed wonder as they stood in a straight line against the wall.

  “If I may have a word first,” she said, trying not to look at the tall, broad-shouldered person at the end of the line.

  Benton nodded. “Of course.”

  Benton and Maggie both stepped closer to be included with the servants.

  “I know you are aware of what I’ve been involved in during the past few years. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for your silence. Indeed, for your extreme loyalty.”

  Jenna saw several shoulders lift slightly and recognized the sense of pride her employees felt at being able to help those less fortunate.

  “This time we weren’t sent another young girl to help find a way to earn her living, but a gentleman. Mr. Hawkins.”

  All three of the upstairs maids turned their heads to smile at Mr. Hawkins.

  Jenna had never in her life seen such blatant flirtation, but she could scarcely blame them. What female in her right mind wouldn’t try to get his attention?

  “Mr. Hawkins’ goal is to become a butler in one of London’s fine homes and I would like to help him realize his ambition. With your help.”

  “Of course, Miss,” all of the servants murmured, their shoulders lifting even higher.

  “Because Lady Kingston was called away, we have this rare opportunity to let Mr. Hawkins observe and assist Benton as he serves us breakfast.”

  “You mean we’re s’posed to eat up here at the master’s table?” one of the more outspoken maids asked.

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  Jenna almost laughed out loud at the shocked grins and excitement on everyone’s faces.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea, Miss?” Benton asked stepping out of line to quietly address her.

  “No,” she answered, unable to stop a sigh from escaping. “But Mr. Hawkins’ training will go much faster this way and I’d rather we teach him everything he needs to know before Lady Kingston returns. It will be much safer.”

  Jenna hazarded a glance upward and caught Benton’s serious expression.

  “I guess you have a point there, but keeping the servants at task will be much more difficult after today.”

  Jenna smiled. “I have confidence in you, Benton. You’ll manage admirably.”

  Before she looked away, Jenna caught the heavenward
arch of Benton’s brows and broadened her smile. She turned to issue orders to begin the lessons and her gaze collided with Jack Hawkins’ intense gaze. And held.

  A warm rush of emotion bloomed within her and she quickly turned her face away from him, but not before she was certain he’d noticed the flush in her cheeks.

  She took a breath and cleared her throat. “Very well, ladies and gentlemen. Jimmy, you will be Baron Kingston and sit at the head of the table.”

  Her announcement was met with cheers and hearty pats on Jimmy’s back as they all lauded the footman on his lofty position.

  “And Franny, you will be the Countess of Twiddle.”

  “Ooo,” Franny squealed. “Does that mean I’m ta sit on Jimmy’s right?”

  “It does. And Frankie, you can be the Earl of Twiddle and sit on Jimmy’s left.”

  “Thank you, Miss,” Frankie said with a bow as regal as any nobility’s.

  “Clarice, I dub you Viscountess Buttercup.”

  Clarice clapped her hands excitedly.

  “And Robby, you will be Viscount Buttercup.”

  “I’d be honored,” the footman said with a nod befitting his exalted position.

  “Who will I be, Miss?” Daisy said. She was the only one left and from the flush on her cheeks had anxiously anticipated being given a lofty title.

  “I think you should be a duchess,” Robby said. “Don’t you think our Daisy would make a fine duchess?”

  Everyone agreed with riotous cheering and Jenna held up her hand to quiet them down. If she didn’t curtail their excitement soon, there was a possibility they’d get out of hand.

  “Although I agree you’d make a perfect duchess, I’m afraid no duchesses were invited to our house party. You will have to settle for being the lady of the house.”

  A deathly silence fell over the group.

  “You mean I’m to be her ladyship?” Daisy asked, the color draining from her face.

  “Yes, I need someone to—”

  “Not me, Miss. Please. I couldn’t dare be her. If she ever found out—”

  “Me, neither,” Clarice said while Fanny echoed the same sentiment.

  Jenna looked at each of the young girls who’d only minutes ago been laughing and joking. Unless she was mistaken, there was a dampness in Daisy’s eyes and looks of terror on Clarice and Fanny’s faces.