by Laura Landon
“Where is she?” Jack demanded, stopping in front of Benton.
Benton turned his head and gave a sharp nod toward the closed door. “In there.”
Jack took a step toward the closed door but Benton clamped his fingers around Jack’s arm and stopped him.
“Don’t. Maggie’s with her.”
Jack pulled free and hesitated. He looked at the closed door, then back to the concerned expression on Benton’s face. His features were drawn tight, his face a pale gray, and the muscles knotted along his jaw.
“What happened?” Jack finally found the courage to ask.
“The baroness saw you.”
Benton’s meaning hit him with the force of a knockout punch. “What does that mean?”
Benton smiled a malicious grin. “The baroness has always been fond of inflicting pain. Her favorite means is a whip she had specially made for her purposes. It seems she must have had metal tabs added to it in London. It’s…quite affective.”
“Bloody hell!” Jack hissed beneath his breath. “Why didn’t someone try to stop her?”
“Maggie did.” Benton’s fists tightened at his sides. “She took one or two lashes for the mistress.”
An anger so intense Jack couldn’t control it erupted inside him and he turned toward the closed door. This time when Benton reached out he shoved him away. He had to make sure she was all right. He didn’t know what he could do, but he wouldn’t let her stay in this house one more night. Not with a woman who would take a whip to another human being.
“Where is the baroness?” Jack asked with his hand on the knob.
“She went back to the east wing.”
Jack was glad she wasn’t there. If she was, he didn’t doubt he’d kill her.
Jack turned the knob and threw open the door to Jenna’s sitting room. He stormed across the carpet, then through the door that took him to Jenna’s bedroom.
The sight in front of him nearly took him to his knees.
She was seated on a small upholstered bench in front of her dressing table. The dress she’d worn when she was with him only minutes ago hung in bloody tatters from her waist. From the look of it, Maggie had cut the material from Jenna’s body.
She clutched a blanket to her chest, as much to cover her nakedness as to have something to hold close when the stabs of pain sliced through her.
Her back was raw and bloody, the welts and cuts vivid evidence of what she’d been forced to endure.
Jack trembled with rage.
She hadn’t noticed he was there. Her eyes remained tightly closed while Maggie dabbed a wet cloth over her skin. The water turned a muddier red each time she rinsed her cloth.
It wasn’t until the maid who helped Maggie moved to replenish the water that Jenna opened her eyes and saw him.
She didn’t look directly at him, but saw him in the mirror.
Their gazes locked, hers filled with pain, then clouded with fear.
Jack wanted to go to her. He wanted to hold her, to tend her, to take her pain and make it his own. But the expression on her face stopped him.
“Leave,” she whispered through the pain. “You have...to be on...the carriage.”
Jack held her gaze for a second longer, then strode as close as Benton would allow.
“You have to be on that carriage when it leaves,” she repeated, but this time her words were pinched, forced through gritted teeth.
“And you’re coming with me.” He turned. “Maggie, collect a few things, just what you can carry for the two of you. Benton, go and detain the carriage and make it wait for us. I’ll bring the ladies. Now hurry! All of you!”
He spun toward the door.
“No.”
Jack turned back. She was in shock. The stricken look on her face shredded his heart as he stepped quietly toward her and knelt by her side. Her hand trembled as he took it in both his own and pressed his lips to her palm.
She was terrified.
“I’ll carry you, Jenna. Don’t worry.”
“No!”
The word rang with such finality that Jack said the only words he could think of, words that would expose him. But if that’s what it took to make her leave with him, so be it.
“Jenna, you must come. Whatever is going on here isn’t worth dying for. I’ll take care of you. I’m not who you think—”
“No.”
She pulled her hand from his and leaned away from him and clung to Maggie’s skirts.
“Benton.” Her voice was laced with resolution. “Get him out of here. Now.”
“But Jenna, I can take care of—”
“No!” She turned her face to him and the anger that shot from her eyes stunned him. “I will never go with you!”
She entrapped his gaze and used it as her greatest weapon. He couldn’t look away, even as he saw agony clouding her beautiful eyes. They brimmed with anguish, but search as he might he could not see love there. Unless it was buried beneath the terror.
Jack didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
“Go, Hawkins. If you don’t, that woman will kill her.”
“Get your hands off me, Benton. I’m not leaving without her.”
But Jack didn’t resist as Benton pulled him to his feet. Jenna turned away.
“I know what I’m doing. Now get out.”
The icy quiet of her voice impaled him, froze him where he stood.
“Jenna. Love. Don’t do this.”
A tear trickled from Jenna’s eye, the only confirmation to him that his words meant anything to her. But her stony silence and stiffened spine spoke her final words of separation.
Benton gripped his shoulder and urged him toward the door.
With a harsh breath that hissed through his clenched teeth, he knew Benton was right. He knew what he had to do.
Jack spun on his heels and left Kingston Manor.
PART TWO
THE DEVIL’S GIFT by Laura Landon
Chapter 12
“Are you sure you want to join the witch and her brother tonight?” Maggie asked as she stood in front of Jenna’s sitting room door.
Maggie folded her arms beneath her breasts like one of the Queen’s guards, blocking the exit so Jenna couldn’t leave.
“I could tell them you’re still na feeling up to such a long evening.”
Jenna took one final look out her window at the waning sunlight. It wouldn’t be long and there’d be flickering lights in several of the tenant’s cottage windows.
Those weren’t the lights she’d be looking for, however. Her gaze would search for one light in particular. A single lantern light which was a signal to her that all was well.
She scanned the horizon, then made the decision that she had no choice but to go downstairs. Even though there was nothing she’d rather do than send Maggie down to make her excuses, hiding in her room wouldn’t make any of the problems go away. What it would do is give her stepmother more time to craft plans Jenna would have a harder time countering.
The plans Jenna was certain Eleanor would be making were ones concerning Jenna’s future—plans that would make Jenna the next Duchess of Ridgeway.
The thought made Jenna shiver.
It had been two weeks since the night Eleanor had seen her kissing Jack Hawkins in the garden. Even Eleanor realized how completely she’d lost control of her temper and how close she’d come to doing irreparable damage. That was more than likely the reason she’d given Jenna such a wide berth since then. Not that Eleanor would feel the least bit of guilt because of what she’d done, but that she feared that she may have gone too far and harmed Jenna more than the Duke of Ridgeway could overlook.
And she would have if Maggie hadn’t tried to stop her when she did, and Benton hadn’t come only seconds later to pull the whip out of Eleanor’s hand.
Jenna tried not to dwell on that night. She tried not to remember the pain she’d endured or the fear that had engulfed her when she thought her stepmother wouldn’t quit. All she allowed her mind to re
call was Jack Hawkins’ face.
The expression he wore wasn’t the look she wanted to remember when she thought of him. Fury and helplessness and disappointment were emotions she’d never associated with him. But they were the emotions she saw when his tall, muscular frame reflected in the mirror in front of her. Just as she saw his fierce expression surrounded by his long, dark hair disheveled from the late night frenzy, or even perhaps from her fingers raking through it when they’d kissed in the moonlit garden.
But when she closed her eyes, she could see and feel what she’d noticed first about him—the strength that knitted his bones together and infused his spine in ways that went far beyond mere musculature. It was a strength derived from valor. A strength she drew from him. That’s what she would always remember when she thought of him.
And think of him she would. Often. Probably for the rest of her life.
She would think of him and wonder what had become of him. Think of him and hope that he eventually made something of himself. Think of the vision he would make striding through a crowded ballroom filled with Society’s most elite.
In her mind’s eye he’d never fit the role of butler. In her mind’s eye he’d never been one to take orders from anyone else, but had been the one to issue them. In her heart’s eye he would always be her first, her only love. And at times, in the dark of night when she felt so very alone, she could still feel his lips against hers, his arms around her, and his strength supporting her.
That was the Jack Hawkins she would always remember. Especially when she had to face her stepmother and her plans for Jenna’s future. As she knew she undoubtedly would have to face tonight.
Jenna gave herself a mental shake and turned to where Maggie still stood. “I’ve put off seeing her long enough. It’s time I found out what steps she’s taken while I’ve been recuperating.”
“Well, just know that I do na intend to let you out of my sight. And neither does Benton. We’ll both be close by in case you need us.”
Jenna smiled. Knowing that Maggie and Benton would not be far away was comforting indeed. Only knowing Jack Hawkins was nearby would have been more reassuring.
Jenna took one more glance out the window, then walked across the room and down the hallway. Maggie was close behind her as she made her way down the stairs, and when she neared the sitting room where she’d been informed Eleanor and her brother Colin waited for her, she saw Benton standing guard in his position near the door.
Jenna gave him an open smile she didn’t quite feel and nodded to indicate he should announce her.
Benton bowed respectfully, then opened the door to the sitting room and announced her presence. He stepped back to allow her to enter, and Jenna took a fortifying breath she prayed would give her confidence. It didn’t, but she had no choice other than to enter.
“Ah, Miss Kingston.”
Colin, Viscount Brackston, greeted her the minute Jenna walked through the door. “I’m so glad you chose to join us tonight.”
“Lord Brackston.”
“Do look, Eleanor,” Brackston said with a haughty grin on his face. “Miss Kingston is finally well enough to leave her sickroom.”
Brackston crossed the room as if he were truly eager to see her. But Jenna knew that she didn’t interest him as much as watching the entertainment that was about to unfold when his sister was forced to spend the evening with Jenna.
Jenna tried to understand such a relationship between a brother and sister, but couldn’t. For as compulsively protective as they both seemed for the other, there was a strange and frightening antagonism that always appeared to be there. Jenna had seen it on more than one occasion.
Colin Brackston could infuriate his sister more than anyone, yet there was no length to which she wouldn’t go to protect him. Eleanor doted on him, pampered him to the point of spoiling him, yet Brackston seemed to take extreme pleasure in always expecting more than his sister gave.
“I wish we had known you were joining us,” Eleanor said. “We would have saved dessert until later and you could have enjoyed Cook’s peach cobbler.”
“Yes,” Brackston interjected. “If we had known, we could even have invited the Duke of Ridgeway. I hear he’s visiting the Earl and Countess of Plumberry. They’re not all that far from here, are they, Elly?”
Jenna tried not to react to Brackston’s comment. It was evident how this evening was going to play out. Instead of Eleanor’s brother choosing a side to oppose his sister, he was going to join forces with her against Jenna.
Jenna wanted to turn and leave the room. She wasn’t up to this tonight.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t be adequate company for anyone this evening.”
“Nonsense, Miss Kingston,” Colin said, waving a dismissing hand. “You are always splendid company.”
“Of course you are, my dear,” Eleanor said with a tinge of disappointment in her voice. “Only it’s a shame we missed such a perfect opportunity. We could have invited both Ridgeway and the Earl and Countess of Plumberry for an extended weekend. It would have given you and His Grace an opportunity to deepen your affection for one another.”
“Yes,” Brackston interjected, with even more enthusiasm. “Elly and I would have been the perfect diversion you and old Ridgy needed to get to know each other.”
“Don’t call His Grace ‘old’, Colin. The duke isn’t that old.”
“Of course he isn’t. Simply because he can recall Prinny’s coronation doesn’t make him that ancient.”
“Stop it this instant, Colin,” Eleanor scolded in a halfhearted voice. “Jenevieve isn’t up to your teasing. In fact, she looks ready to drop. Show her to a chair and get her a glass of wine.”
“How thoughtless of me,” Brackston cooed, extending his arm to escort her to a chair. When she was seated, he walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of dark red wine.
“Burgundy,” he said, handing it to her. “Did I remember correctly?”
Jenna took the glass. “Yes. Thank you.”
Jenna lifted the glass to her lips and took a small sip. What would happen if she drank the whole glass in one long swallow then asked for another? Maybe by the time she finished her third or fourth glass she would be so foxed she could actually tolerate the company of Eleanor and her brother.
Or maybe it would take five.
She almost laughed at the thought.
The rebel in her wanted to find out. The cautious side of her knew she needed to stay alert enough to defend herself against whatever scheme Eleanor was plotting.
“Speaking of His Grace—” Eleanor began, but Jenna interrupted her so quickly that the baroness’s mouth literally hung open. From the surprised look on her face Eleanor was completely taken off guard.
“Oh, do feel free to speak of anyone you wish, Stepmother,” Jenna said, lifting her glass of wine to her lips. “I’m quite content with my wine.”
The Baroness bristled as she always did at the word stepmother.
“Be that as it may,” Eleanor retorted, “it’s time plans were finalized. Ridgeway was here to see me just last week. He’s anxious to announce your engagement.”
“There will be no engagement to announce.”
Jenna’s stepmother’s face turned a deep red. “There will be an engagement announced. And the sooner you set a date the better off you will be.”
Jenna sat back in her chair and took another slow sip of her wine. It took as much control as she could manage to pretend her stepmother’s demands didn’t affect her in the least.
It was a new tactic for Jenna, but the last four weeks had given her plenty of time to think. The new show of strength felt unexpectedly comfortable.
“I’m not sure how I will be better off marrying a man I do not know, nor even care for.”
“You will be a duchess!”
“And what will you be?”
Jenna saw a look in Eleanor’s eyes that left as quickly as it had come. But that look spoke volumes.
Whatever Elean
or and her brother were involved with, the Duke of Ridgeway was an accomplice. Her stepmother’s slight hesitation confirmed Jenna’s suspicion.
“I will be exactly what I am now. I can’t imagine what you are implying.”
“I’m simply asking what you will gain if I marry Ridgeway. How much has the duke offered to pay you if you hand me over? Or is there something more than money you will get from the bargain?”
“How dare you! I should—”
“You should what? Whip me again?”
For a fraction of a second, Eleanor appeared unable to find her voice. That knowledge gave Jenna the most remarkable sense of power she’d ever experienced when engaged in a battle with her stepmother. Jenna nearly laughed out loud because she knew to whom she owed her success. She owed it to Jack.
He’d been the one, after all, who’d answered her every inquiry with a question of his own. He’d been the one to stand up to her and push her beyond her limits.
Now she knew why. She understood the advantage it gave him to put her on the defensive, and she’d just used the same tactic with her stepmother and...it had worked.
“Well, Elly,” Brackston said stepping to the sideboard and refilling his glass with a light-colored amber liquid. “It seems your timid stepdaughter has found her tongue.”
“Enough, Colin,” Eleanor said. “And enough of your impudence,” she snapped, turning toward Jenna. “You will accept the duke’s proposal within the week and I will send an announcement of your betrothal to the papers in London immediately thereafter.”
“Why the rush, Eleanor?” Jenna asked, making a point of using her stepmother’s Christian name. It was the first time she’d done such and the shock on the baroness’s face told Jenna how astounded she was.
“Time is of the essence because—”
Lady Kingston stopped when everyone in the room became aware of the clattering of a carriage rolling into the portico. “Benton!” she shrieked. Her tone clearly conveyed her annoyance over the interruption. “Benton!”
