“Aye, I will, but only if I am accompanied by armed and trusted eyes.”
“Bear and how many others?”
He allowed an easy laugh, an attempt to quell the concern in her voice. “Bear and I, even in my current state, probably can manage the negotiations.”
“I prefer that you take two or three others along. I have lost one son contesting over a woman. I don’t intend to make that two. Speaking of which, perhaps I should send another messenger to town for Lattimore. I cannot imagine what is delaying him. We may be in town before he arrives.”
“I am sure important matters of state are holding him.”
The dowager’s face twisted at his sarcasm. “Or a pretty face. I wish I had produced one daughter to populate our homes with giggling girls eager to gain her brothers’ attention.”
Devlin smiled at Jessica. “You see, Nightingale, my mother is determined you be the daughter she has coveted all these years.”
“Am I also to be the sister you have always wanted?”
His smile faded. Receptive to the idea of a daughter for his mother, he had never wanted a sister. Women seemed more difficult to command.
Considering her question, he realized his feelings for Jessica were not fraternal. What were his feelings toward his Nightingale? Seeking an apt definition for their relationship, he became restless. He supposed his unease indicated he had need of a woman. It had been some time. Perhaps he should arrange to see the winsome Lady Elaine.
No.
While Elaine had once satisfied his desires, a man eventually required more.
Mercedes, then, with her beautiful face and voluptuous hips, widowed twice, rich in her own right, and certainly one of his ardent admirers. She seemed determined to be a duchess, having advanced by stages, first marrying a viscount, and then an earl in her prior nuptials. Her desire for a ducal title was flagrant.
No, thoughts of Mercedes no longer appealed. Maybe it was not a woman’s company he needed.
As he pondered, he heard the rustle of skirts. The two women in the room were moving. He caught Jessica’s scent. According to the blended fragrances, she had been at the stables and the rose garden. Oh how he would love to pull her into his lap and study in detail her myriad bouquets.
His body stiffened with desire.
He did need a woman, but why did his body not respond to thoughts of other women, and then rouse with the scents of this child? She was not a child, of course. She was eighteen and of an age to marry.
He and his mother agreed in thinking Jessica should not wed John Lout. Their views differed about Jessica being a bride for Lattimore. She would suit, but Lattie was a rake and a gambler and interested in his baser appetites. Besides that, he would probably take a commission in the Queen’s navy, a profession particularly hard on a waiting wife, producing and rearing children by herself, confined to her home for months, even years at a time.
Devlin did not consider Lattie too old for her. She needed a mature man, to provide a stable home, a steadying hand for her whimsical kindnesses, a man who was patient and affectionate.
Chapter Ten
An excited hum developed as the staff scurried about preparing to transport the family to London. Anticipation accelerated in the predawn darkness as the travelers loaded onto the conveyances.
As they rode in the covered brougham, Lady Anne and Jessica sat comfortably side by side facing Devlin. The duchess filled the air with details and reviews of individual dressmakers and milliners.
She rattled off ideas regarding styles she expected to set trends in the coming season. Jessica assumed Lady Anne was speaking of clothes for herself, amazed that one woman needed so much — three or four riding habits, a dozen ball gowns, morning frocks, dresses for afternoon teas, either entertaining at home or going out.
Listening to his mother describe the various lords and ladies, their foibles and reputations, and Jessica’s frequent questions, Devlin felt a dark premonition.
Earlier, satisfied that his sight was returning, he had felt buoyant, pleased at traveling to town with two such delightful companions. Beyond his private darkness, all seemed well, yet as they drew closer to London, the inexplicable foreboding grew heavier.
As morning stretched into early afternoon, the convoy — the ducal coach and a second carrying household staff, followed by a wagon filled with luggage and foodstuffs from their country larder — finally stopped for luncheon from a huge hamper.
Thoughts of sautéed quail and accompanying fruits and breads had tantalized the ladies for what seemed like hours before Devlin finally ordered the stop.
They had just escaped the confines of the coach and were strolling about, stretching, when Bear appeared at Devlin’s side.
“Could I have a moment of yer time, Yer Grace?”
“Certainly, Bear. Will you have a drink or a bite of luncheon first?”
“Nay, my lord. I need to speak privately with you.” He glanced at the women and dropped his voice to a growl. “I’m needing your advice on the rigging.”
Bear led the puzzled duke toward the front of the coach and, as a ruse, guided his hands to the straps. “There’s a man following us, Yer Grace.”
“Has he been with us long?”
“Ever since we left Shiller’s Green. I directed Figg’s attention to him.”
“What do you think he’s about?”
“Donno’ as I could speculate about that, Yer Grace, but no need for you to worry about you or your ma. That’s what I’m doing here.”
“And will you protect Jessica Blair as well?”
“Nay, my lord. I only got two eyes and they’re already taken.”
“I see what you mean.” Devlin ran his fingers along the straps. “Well, then, I suppose it falls to me to watch after the fair Jessica. Is that how you see it, Bear?”
The man stared at the duke. “Not to put too fine a point on it, Yer Grace, but it looks a heavy task to keep what you might call a proper watch on the lady when your eyes don’t see nothing at all.”
“It does present a challenge, but what else can I do? You will keep the fellow off of me and I will pass the favor along by keeping him away from Jessica.”
Bear cleared his throat. The girl would come under his protection now, whether she deserved it, or not.
Less than three hours after that conversation, Bear’s new burden grew weighty.
Late in the afternoon, Devlin signaled the driver to pull to the side of the road to allow the passengers to stretch and refresh themselves. After the two outriders ranging ahead determined a likely spot to accommodate the ladies’ needs, Jessica and Lady Anne retired into a thicket for privacy. When they had finished, the dowager returned to the carriage, but Jessica saw the iridescent flutter of a bluebird and wandered hoping to glimpse the elusive prize.
She heard a rustle in the underbrush, but before she could turn, a huge, calloused hand clamped over her mouth as a matching arm caught her about the waist and lifted her high so her kicking feet met only air.
“Hush up, my love,” a familiar voice hissed. She grew still. There were better ways to deal with John Lout than a physical struggle.
“Oh, John, thank heaven it’s you. I was frightened nearly to death.”
The arm locked at her waist relaxed and he lowered her feet again to the ground. “Ah, Jess, I am relieved to hear yer glad it’s me. Is the old duke treating you badly, then?”
She set a warm smile on her face. “No, John, the duke thinks of me as a pet.”
“People are saying coarse things about you and this duke fella’. They say you warm his bed at night.”
“As I told you, he has never suggested intimacy.” This statement was not altogether true, if one counted Devlin’s teasing.
John’s voice lowered a third. “I would kill him if he
did. I might go so mad as to kill you, too, before I got meself under control.”
“What if he offered to pay for the privilege, John, more than the hundred he already promised for my care and company? What would you say then?”
Lout rubbed his chin and his eyes narrowed. “I’m a reasonable man, Jess. Has he offered money for the favor?”
“No. He hasn’t.”
“Will he, do you think?”
She shrugged; disheartened that even John could draw the correct conclusion. “No.” She looked toward the coach. “I need to return before anyone realizes I am gone.”
But their private tête-à-tête had been discovered. In spite of his size, Bear moved through the underbrush with the stealth of a cat.
When his mother returned without Jessica, Devlin sent Bear for their missing member.
Bear grudgingly did as he was bidden, tracking back the way the duchess had returned.
He heard rustling and the girl’s startled yelp when Lout grabbed her. Bear listen, placated by the fact that she did not sound alarmed.
Staying to the cover of the trees, Bear crept close to hear their conversation.
“Does the old duke know we are betrothed?” Lout said, stalking her as she began walking back toward the road.
Bear studied her face and decided the man spoke the truth about their impending nuptials. At the same time, he was curious. Jessica’s expression was not that of a bride gazing upon her beloved.
“If that’s the case, I’d better take you meself now,” Lout said. He lunged, but she sidestepped agilely, staying well beyond his grasp.
“It’s likely you shall have me, John, but not before the appointed day, after the words have joined us as man and wife. You agreed.”
“All that prevents us now is the speaking a’ the words?”
“I intend to have say over my own body until the vicar’s words join us.”
Lout tramped close, a determined look in his eyes.
The girl might not realize her peril. Bear saw the man’s intentions. He thought of his orders not to intervene unless she was threatened. Did the order anticipate protecting her from her own beloved?
Lout raised an arm.
No longer ambivalent about his sworn duty, Bear lunged, grabbing a fallen log.
Jessica stood boldly. Lout was nearly on top of her when she squatted and covered her head with both arms.
As the length of dead wood from Bear’s hand broke over his head, John went limp. His massive body folded over itself with a whoosh.
Hearing the unexpected thud, Jessica peered from between her fingers to see the huge man crumple. She saw Bear and her terror spiked. She shrank again.
“Don’t be scared, milady. I’m here to serve you.” Bear held out his open hands. “It’s me. Bear.” He spoke softly, as if to mollify her and, at the same time, keep a watchful eye on Lout. The downed man groaned and began to stir.
“I recognize you, Bear.”
“I thought ye might be too scared to know it was me, Miss. Come, then, let’s be leaving.”
“No. You must go, and quickly, before he rouses.”
“How will you explain the lump on his head?”
“I will tell him a branch fell out of the tree. I will tend him sweetly, soothe his wound and gentle him with my caring ministrations, while you run for your life.”
Bear swelled to his full, height, over six foot three, and flexed a massive arm. “I do not run from fights, Miss, for sure not from a scuffle with no two-footed creature.”
“For my sake, then.” She knelt and began stroking Lout’s brow as he groaned. He raised thick, searching fingers to his head only to encounter Jessica’s delicate hand.
He mumbled without opening his eyes. “Am I dead?”
Jessica bit both lips to stifle a laugh. “No, but you were no match for the tree.”
“What happened?” His eyelashes fluttered. Jessica raised a pleading look to Bear.
“You have felled many trees in the woods, John. I suppose it was only a matter of time before one took revenge.”
There was a slight rustling of underbrush as Bear slipped into the thicket, where the sounds of movement stopped. Jessica knew he had not gone far.
“What does an injury to me have to do with you, Jess?” John groaned.
Seeing the bully humbled, she felt a stir of tenderness. “I do not wish any man ill, especially you who will be my husband, make my living, provide for my table, warm me on cold winter nights in our bed.”
His eyes rolled as he tried to focus, his face contorted with a silly look of tender disbelief.
“No, John, I do not wish to see you injured.”
His tender look became alarm. “Did you hear something?” Squinting but obviously unable to see clearly, he pointed to the place where Bear had disappeared.
“The wind, John. Come now; let’s see if you can stand.”
“Nay, not yet.”
She started to rise, but he caught her wrist in his great paw. She smiled. “I’ll fetch water to wash your face and help you come fully awake.”
A giddy smile bowed his lips.
Jessica glanced toward the woods as she scurried to fetch a jug from the carriage. Perhaps she could see Bear’s form in the underbrush, but maybe not, camouflaged as he was by the trees. Then a hand appeared, floating, and waved.
She flapped a hand back, as if shooing an insect, in case John saw her and wondered.
• • •
Because of the distance and the size of their party, Devlin knew his entourage would not reach the city in one day. He had arranged for accommodations at the Greymont Inn, a relatively clean place, respectable, host to many of the gentry when they spent a night on the road.
As the ladies freshened themselves and prepared to sup in the tavern below stairs, Bear led the duke to the stable, beyond the hearing of others, to report Jessica’s meeting with Lout.
“When they spoke of their agreement, did you take it to mean they were referring to their betrothal?” Devlin asked.
“I’m not certain, Your Grace.”
“Was she terrified of him?”
“Not so much terrified, as not altogether pleased.”
“Perhaps she was startled by his sudden appearance.”
“That may be, mixed with annoyance. Her concern rose as they spoke, eying each other like two warriors about to do battle.”
Devlin rubbed his chin briskly. “There was no tenderness or affection between them?”
“None.” Bear added. “Well, none until I dropped him.”
“You say she attended him when he was injured?”
“Yes.”
“Of course she did.” Devlin mumbled, as if speaking to himself. “That is what she does. Attends the lost and hurting.”
Bear felt ashamed that he might have drawn Jessica and Lout closer, which might have been a good thing, under other circumstances. Obviously that consequence did not please Devlin, however, and what did not please His Grace, did not please Bear.
• • •
In his youth, Devlin had not shown good taste in his choice of women. Bear had, on more than one occasion, worried that some temptress would fool the lad with her wiles, but that had not happened.
This one — this Jessica — was different. She slipped into Devlin’s heart as she had into almost every other heart in the household.
At first, Bear did not trust her for allowing the sightless Devlin to believe her a young girl rather than a lass of marriageable age. She did not behave like a girl in search of a husband.
Bear was better satisfied with her behavior when he saw her with the horses, the kittens in the barn, her exuberance with the hounds that showed none of their usual mistrust of strangers. He liked her exch
anges with the household staff as well. She treated them as equals, in spite of her preferred status, yet she did not let the officious ones take advantage of her.
Mostly, however, he liked how she was with Devlin, respectful, watchful, not overly sympathetic, pushing him but not expecting more of him than he could manage.
He also liked that she didn’t sidle close or rub against the duke, as many a lass had done, even when he had his sight, to draw his attention.
There was quality, character and conduct worthy of respect in this Jessica Blair. When Devlin asked Bear to keep an eye on her, he accepted the charge with more than a little curiosity of his own.
• • •
In the tavern below stairs for supper, the duke dismissed his concerns as he and his mother and Jessica finished their meal. He ordered extra glasses of a surprisingly good wine, which, the keep boasted, he made himself.
Noisy new arrivals shouted and shoved benches that scraped and toppled thunderously, disrupting the cozy atmosphere. Devlin did not want to show his annoyance, particularly when he felt Jessica, on his left, stiffen as the rowdies fairly took over the establishment.
Devlin placed a steadying hand on the back of her neck and put his mouth close to her ear. “Do not be alarmed, Nightingale. They are just off the road. There is no cause for concern.”
“I am sure you are correct, Your Grace.”
She remained stiffly alert and Devlin was prompted to ask, “What is causing you such discomfort, darling?”
“Nothing, Your Grace. I am just being silly.”
“Are you overly fatigued?”
She insisted she was fine, shushed him, and fell silent as his mother continued her running account of who was who in London society, but where Jessica had asked questions and expressed genuine interest earlier, she grew tense and did not speak.
“Jessica, are you tired?” the duchess asked finally.
“What? Oh, yes, Your Grace. The excitement of the day and the long ride has finally caught up with me. I am embarrassed that you and the duke are able to outlast me.”
Lady Anne laughed lightly. “We have had years of conditioning. In town, people often welcome the dawn before seeking their beds.”
Nightingale Page 15
