Satisfaction

by Thea Devine

  She was living in a bubble if she thought Lujan was top over tail over her. Lujan must marry a drawing room girl, simple as that. His position, his family's expectations, demanded it, and she would be utterly delusional not to recognize that and not agree with it. The rules of society applied, even in the depths of Hertfordshire.

  So that was that: the decision was made and she needed only to choose whether she would marry Hugo for her own reasons, or leave altogether.

  Suddenly India seemed impossibly far away.

  Farther away than anything she could imagine down the road toward Way bury.

  She didn't want to leave.

  The sun was so bright, creeping up over the horizon, irresistibly warm, blinding her, heating her, beckoning her, seducing her down the road of least resistance toward Waybury.

  Oh God, I can't.

  But I want to.

  Why shouldn't I?

  Satisfaction / 85

  ***

  Why shouldn't she?

  The question had kept Kyger awake all night. Damn Hugo and his greed. All you had to do was dangle a fresh, young body in front of a man that age and he wanted to make it his. Hugo had been isolated in the countryside too damned long.

  But then, so had he.

  And if Hugo asked Jancie to marry him, he thought he might just do something drastic.

  But then there would be no earthly reason for him to stay on at Waybury. Simple as that. He'd put in his time, he'd taken up his brother's slack, more to ease his mother's mind than to be the heir pro temps, in the hopes that Lujan would eventually go down from his own excesses, and he would inherit somehow.

  He supposed that was how Hugo viewed it—that he was Lujan's understudy, just waiting for the moment that Lujan fucked up his life and someone would be there to take over.

  Sometimes he was sick of the damned whole lot of them, sick of being the good son, the better son.

  But then there was Jancie, Who could have predicted Jancie? Beautiful, tart Jancie with a backbone stiff as whalebone, and compassion to match. Dear God. Jancie.

  The wonder was she had resisted Lujan for so long. But she had, and Lujan had been intrigued and Lujan had pursued her, and Lujan had won again. It was ever his lot in life to be the charmer, the rogue, the winner, and Kyger always turned up second best.

  Even with the companion.

  Even with their father, their mother . . .

  Best not think about that—

  He had not let himself mourn, not nearly. Because he knew Hugo wouldn't, Lujan couldn't, and it was only he and Jancie who had the well of emotion necessary for such a personal and compassionate act. She was mourning now, he was certain of it, and he only wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes and hold her.

  So how was it then that they could not connect, and she and Lujan could—had?

  Lujan had the touch, always had.

  And so now their lives were up in the air, juggled by the hand

  86 / Tbea Devine

  of fate. Would Jancie stay? Would Lujan? Would Hugo ask her to marry him, this ungodly soon? And would he leave on that note, or suffer in silence?

  Or—should he just go and ask Jancie to marry him?

  By all the holy saints . . .

  The thought stunned him.

  Or had he been thinking that all along, under the skin, and just never acknowledging it? Were they not friends enough, companions enough, even attracted enough to make a go of marriage? Other couples had started up with far less between them—

  Lord almighty . ..

  Jancie in his arms—a wet dream come alive, as she yearned after Lujan and he lusted after her—could he bear to be cuckolded by the both of them in the end?

  He felt the anger boiling up from somewhere at the thought of it. Lujan was a shit and he had suppressed his irritation far too long at Lujan's cavalier treatment of Jancie when it was quite obvious what was going on behind closed doors and in the garden.

  Well, Jancie, for all her virginity, was no innocent. Not after her years in the kitchen at St. Bonny's. That had to have been an education in and of itself. Jancie knew what was what. Lujan could never have cajoled or convinced her to do anything if she didn't want it to happen.

  It just might not have happened the way Lujan wanted. It might just be that Jancie was holding out for marriage.

  Which Lujan would never do. He'd never marry anyone. It would spoil his fun. It would cage and corral him and make him feel responsible, which in turn would make him rebel. The satisfactions of that putative marriage would be very short-lived once his resentment at being tethered set in.

  And perhaps that would be his chance, his time. The consoling younger brother—just like Lujan, only better.

  Hadn't he heard that all his life?

  The magnetism of Lujan was too powerful. The wealth and amenities his father could provide were too alluring. He had no chance at all against those two insurmountable walls—but suddenly he felt the absolute need and desire to scale them.

  To upset the cart, to overset his brother, to show up his father—to win ... for the first time in a long time, to win.

  Satisfaction / 87

  * * *

  . .. shouldn't she . .. ?

  She absolutely should ... it was her mandate, her desire . ..

  There was a discreet knock at the door.

  The vicar's wife, Mrs. Elsberry, edging over the threshold with tea, eggs, and toast.

  It was eight o'clock. Just the right time, when a body needed a cup of tea and some sustenance, and Jancie said so. "You didn't have to go to this trouble, Mrs. Elsberry."

  She waved it off. "Nice to have someone to pamper for a bit." She pulled a small table to the window and set down the tray. "My own are long gone and living in London just now—don't get down but once a year to see us. So this is a pleasure, especially in that Mrs. Galliard was so fond of you."

  "Thank you," Jancie murmured, close to tears again. If only her allegiance to Olivia weren't a factor ... and Olivia's affection for her.

  "There, there. You made her remaining time so much easier, I'm sure. Mr. Galliard has continually said he didn't know what they would have done without you."

  Her tears spilled over. "So kind."

  Mrs. Elsberry pulled back the curtains. "No need to rush. I'll have the girl come help you with your toilette. We took the liberty of freshening your dress. She'll bring it to you when she comes."

  "So thoughtful..."

  "And you needn't think of leaving today, my dear. Maybe it's too soon? Grief doesn't evaporate the next day, you know. It will hit you now and again. Well, think about it, at least. Another day's respite couldn't hurt anything."

  Exactly. Another few days to figure things out, to assess whether Hugo's veiled interest was for real, whether Lujan would step up and ask her to stay . . .

  She hated feeling at their mercy. She had done all she could, all Edmund could expect her to do, but for all she knew, Hugo had had second thoughts, and the Galliards were done with her altogether. It wanted only that she arrange for someone to retrieve her meager belongings, a mile out of sight, and far from anyone's mind.

  The way it should be done. Discreet withdrawal. Never to

  88 / Tbea Devine

  be seen or heard from again. As if she really were a dirty girl. Like a servant, pensioned off after long years of satisfactory service.

  But Hugo and his family were no more aristocrats than she was. She'd do well not to forget that. But for the circumstances— and she must remember that, too—it could be her and her father in that house, cushioned in wealth and luxury.

  And now, because Hugo had been so precipitate—for whatever reason—she had, in the palm of her hand, the entree she wanted, the opportunity she needed, to find out Hugo's secrets.

  And she knew, really, there was no other answer. She had been given her mandate the day she was born. She was going to say yes to Hugo.

  ******************

  The urgency he felt was to
tally out of proportion to the situation, but it didn't stop Kyger from racing out for the vicarage by nine that morning. Probably because the house felt too empty, because he couldn't find Lujan, because Hugo was nowhere in sight.

  Damn them all.

  Jancie. . .

  The morning was cool, the road was hard, the sun barely topped the trees as he spurred his mount toward the vicarage— too late, too late .. .

  . . . shit—someone there . . . God, he hoped it wasn't—who? Hugo?

  He dove off the horse before he even pulled it to a halt—not too late—Jancie was probably asleep, they'd have to wake her, she'd have to dress . .. she might not want to see either Hugo or Lujan this morning . ..

  Wishful thinking. She might not want to see him, either.

  Sharp knock on the door; the maid opening, motioning him into the receiving parlor—breath let out—Lujan . .. Lujan'-

  "Well, old man—whatever can you be doing here at this hour?" Lujan asked lazily.

  "Or you, you ballocker," Kyger growled, taking a combative stance in front of the chair where Lujan lounged by the fire, a cup of tea by his elbow. That was too cozy, too domestic for words. He hated Lujan at that moment with a ferocity that was almost murderous.

  Satisfaction / 89

  "Sit down, little brother. Don't get in a twist. We're all friends here."

  "Not at nine in the morning, we're not. And I know exactly why you're here."

  "Do you? Hmm. I don't even know why I'm here."

  "God, you're such a son of a bitch. I'm not going to let you ..."

  "Let me? Let me. Who the hell cares what you'll let me, most righteous one. I do whatever I damned please. When have you ever stopped me from doing anything? Let me—" He shook his head wonderingly, and so did not catch the movement of Kyger bending toward him in one fluid motion until Kyger had grabbed his shirt, and yanked him to his feet.

  "Well, here's what I'll let you do now, big brother. I'll let you walk out of this room with your head on your shoulders and your legs intact."

  Lujan rammed his fist into Kyger's ribs. Kyger slammed him back against the wall. "Hands down, big brother—you are soft, you are sloppy, and you are no match for me."

  "Think again, little boy—" Lujan grunted, hauling off a punch in his ribs on the opposite side.

  "I'm still standing, brother bull, and you can't move," Kyger taunted him, but his voice was just a little hoarse. "It's all those years in the field, you know. Riding, baling hay, doing the dirty work, and knowing there's nothing in it for me. Makes a man real physically strong." He lifted his leg in a sharp movement that caught Lujan between his legs. "Makes a man able to meet all kinds of challenges."

  Lujan crumpled, but Kyger wouldn't let him fall forward, and nurse the pain.

  "Yes, I think I punctuated my concerns in the only way you can fully understand," Kyger murmured. "Just leave her alone. I'll wait till you leave."

  "You bastard," Lujan croaked. "I want to marry her."

  "The hell you do."

  "I suppose you do, too."

  Kyger thrust him back against the wall. "Let's put it this way—Father shouldn't."

  "My thought exactly," Lujan wheezed, doubling over. God,

  90 / Thea Devine

  that hurt. Who knew Kyger had such passion under that contained surface?

  "Fine. So you don't have to sully your reputation any more. I'll clean up your mess, just like I always do."

  "Son of a bitch—" Lujan struggled upright and lunged toward Kyger.

  Kyger fended him off easily and pushed him back into his chair. "Would you just stop it? You don't want to marry her, we both don't want Father to marry her, so who is really the likely candidate?"

  "You don't understand, little brother. There are bigger issues here than just an available body."

  "Issues, eh? Issues. Like Father getting another son on her?"

  "Something like that."

  "That doesn't diminish the fact that you're the oldest."

  "He's brain-struck—I think there are things we don't know, secrets he's keeping. He could do anything, if he'd marry a nobody like Jancie."

  "Really—?" Kyger drawled. "So why do you want to marry her?"

  So the father-new heir argument wouldn't work, Lujan thought, slanting a look at his avenging fury of a brother. And Kyger's taking on the burden of marrying Jancie wouldn't solve anything, either. Nor could he leave Hugo on the loose, looking for fresh flesh, unless he had a possible heir in the offing.

  So—his only choice was to lie.

  "I love her," he said softly.

  Kyger snorted, "You love her? That's rich, big brother. You love her. No, you love yourself. You love your irresponsible life. You love the money I generate. You love the fact that Waybury exists for you to come home to when your body is exhausted. But love—a nobody like Jancie? When the Countess of Cavell, with all her youth, wealth, position, and eligibility nearly killed herself over you . . . tell me another Banbury story, brother. That one won't fly."

  Shit. "I love her," Lujan said again, injecting as much yearning and sincerity in his tone as he could.

  Kyger laughed. "You are a bastard."

  "Fine. I'm not leaving."

  Satisfaction / 91

  Kyger took a stance by the door. "Neither am I."

  "This should be good. Mrs. Elsberry has gone to summon her."

  "The nobody, you mean."

  Lujan made a sound. "I'm going to ask her to marry me."

  "What?"

  "I'm going to marry her—if she'll have me."

  "Marry the nobody . . ."

  "God almighty, Kyger ..."

  Kyger shrugged. "It's a prank, right? Lift her up, throw her down, laugh your fool head off with your mates when you get back to London?"

  "I can't believe you'd think that of me . . ."

  Kyger snorted again. "But I do."

  "I love her. I'm going to ask her to marry me. But I most assuredly can't do that with you standing there like a thundercloud. Go in the next room. Eavesdrop, if you don't believe me."

  "I don't believe you. You don't love anyone but yourself." But Kyger's voice sounded distracted, and Lujan saw he was staring past him and out the window . "Oh shit—Hugo's on his way—"

  Lujan bolted upright. "Head him off, damn it. Go on, man. Trust me—this time."

  Kyger planted his feet. "I'm not leaving you alone with Jancie."

  "Listen to me, man. He wants to marry her—in time. She has no reason to marry you. She cares about me. But she'll accept him because no woman in her position could refuse such an offer."

  "I don't believe you."

  Lujan pushed at him. "Head him off before he gets here ... I promise you can believe I'm going to do what I said ..."

  "Believe him about what?" Jancie, in the doorway, slanted a curious look at them both.

  Kyger stared at him uncertainly for a moment, his instincts warring with the truth of what Lujan was saying. But he was right: Jancie wouldn't have him, and it would be far more advantageous for her to marry Hugo, who could give her a comfortable life, and, eventually, children.

  Dear God—half-brothers or -sisters from his father and Jancie? He'd rather she have Lujan, especially since she was in love with Lujan. Nothing he could do or say would change that. So the die was cast, and well before he'd ever entered the room.

  92 / Thea Devine

  "May the fates strike me dead if I'm wrong,” he muttered as he brushed past Jancie out the door. "Trusting you, of all people—"

  Jancie turned and stared after him as Lujan limped toward her, craning to see the last of Kyger's retreating form.

  Jancie whirled around. "What's going on, Lujan? Why are you all here so early this morning? I couldn't believe it when Mrs. Elsberry told me you were waiting downstairs. And now Kyger— and, did I hear right?—your father as well?"

  "No," Lujan said, his voice still a little rusty with pain, "they're just leaving, actually."

  "I see," Ja
ncie murmured. She didn't see anything at all, actually, not even why Lujan would come to see her this early. Probably they just wanted to remind her to get her things, probably Hugo had the last of her salary for her, and Kyger wanted to say good-bye.

  But Lujan had the most sour expression on his face, and he was still gazing after Kyger, who was long gone outside, and whose voice they could hear remonstrating with Hugo.

  Strange. Lujan was hovering, just a little unsteady still, and she didn't quite know what to do with her hands, or herself even, so after a moment she edged toward a chair and sank into it.

  "So what's to do, Lujan? It's awfully early for a visit—"

  "Well," Lujan sat down opposite her, "isn't there some expression about the early bird besting his rivals?"

  "Your rivals?" Jancie's hands went cold. "Kyger? Your father,. . ?" Surely he didn't mean . . . ? Dear heaven, please don't let him mean . . .

  "Well, we're all here, as you can see—and hear . . ." Lujan said with a touch of irony. Hugo was pretty adamant, actually; they could hear his voice, loud and irritated, from some far room on the other side of the rectory. "Why, do you suppose?"

  Now what? One didn't leap into the lap of one's love with a declaration—even a dirty girl knew that. Nor would Jancie give him the satisfaction of acknowledging how much she had wanted to see him before she had to leave.

  And surely that was all this was. She'd be a fool to hope for anything else. Hugo was her destiny, and she was prepared for it,

  Satisfaction' / 93

  ready to answer him in the affirmative, that she would stay, that she would wait, and after an appropriate time, she would marry him.

  So she said, "Well, there is still some money to be paid, and I know I have yet to remove my things from Way bury. I was planning to—"

  "Plan to marry me instead," Lujan said softly, leaning toward her, seizing her words, her hands, and the opportunity.

  Her heart dropped. "I—what??"

  "Marry me."

  She couldn't speak. This was beyond anything she had ever imagined—Lujan leaning toward her so beguilingly, his hands so warm, his proposal so seemingly heartfelt.