Slivers of moonlight spilled through the foliage of the oak tree, but not enough to see properly, and Jack pulled her out from under the branches and back towards the coach. She felt his eyes on her and she lifted her head to brazen it out. Many times she’d held up a coach at gun point, and she would not let herself be cowed by Jack.
His gaze was on her face, not running lewdly over her body as she had expected, and she found it impossible to look away. Her heart thudded audibly in her chest, or so it seemed; her lips parted as if of their own accord, and she was compelled to take a step towards him.
Jack took her hands in his. ‘My God, you are beautiful,’ he said with a catch in his throat.
Cora felt as if the world slid away and there was only Jack, with his sparkling eyes, his lips against her fingertips. Their bodies were nearly touching – had she taken that final step, or had he? His hand caressed her cheek, and he whispered unintelligible words that made perfect sense, and she knew at that moment that if she lived to be a hundred no other man could ever produce such longing in her.
She slipped her arms around his neck and stepped into his embrace, but the sound of the groom clearing his throat reminded her of where they were, and they flew apart. Jack’s expression darkened, and for a moment Cora thought he might rebuke the man, but then he shrugged and smiled.
‘Benning has quite rightly reminded us of our purpose and the lateness of the hour,’ he said, in a slightly exasperated tone at the interruption. ‘Would that we had more time, Cora, but perhaps another day.’ He held out his arm to her. ‘Your carriage awaits, my lady.’
Cora forced herself to smile. It had been nothing but a fantasy and now the spell was broken. Jack was a lord and she was a lowly labourer on the wrong side of the law.
The drive didn’t last long. Benning stopped the carriage under cover of a large red beech tree and Jack helped Cora down. She had lived in the area for a decade and had seen Lampton Hall a couple of times, but never in moonlight. The four-storey sandstone mansion sat in a clearing of the woods with a circular gravelled drive, a marble fountain in the centre and wide stone steps leading up to the door. It was a modest residence for an earl, or so she’d heard, but the grandeur of the place made Cora feel small and insignificant.
Jack held out his hand. Cora hesitated a little, but then took it, unable to stop herself from touching him, if only their hands. It was warm and dry, and his strong fingers gripped hers reassuringly. Following Jack round to the side of the house, Cora understood why they had stopped the carriage at a distance; taking the carriage up the gravelled drive would make too much noise and render secrecy impossible. Despite her curiosity, she was concerned that their venture was nothing but a game for Jack. It was the prerogative of the rich to indulge in such jocularity, but Cora was acutely aware that if were they caught, it would be her reputation that would be ruined, not Jack’s. But after all the revelations about her parenthood, especially from her father, she just wanted to understand, and it gave her an opportunity to spend more time with Jack. She tried not to think about what Ned would have to say about it.
As she followed Jack down a few steps at the side of the house and in through a servants’ door, excitement stole over her and a shiver ran up her spine. They entered a long wide passage and doorways revealed the purpose of the rooms they passed: kitchen, scullery, laundry room, a dining area, boot room and pantry.
A corridor ran down either side of the main passage and Jack held a finger to his lips. It wasn’t until they reached a curving staircase that he whispered, ‘Cook’s and the housekeeper’s private quarters. On the other side, the butler’s.’
‘Where do the other servants sleep?’ Cora asked quietly.
‘Upstairs in the attics. Come.’ Jack put his hand on the small of her back and led her up the gloomy stairwell.
Heat snaked through her despite her layers of clothing, and she imagined Jack’s hand caressing her naked skin. Then she reminded herself of everything that stood between them – men like Jack might bed women like her, but they never married them. Although he was acting the perfect gentleman with her now, this was their reality. Disappointment washed over her. Even so, she was glad of the support. The steps were precipitous with her unaccustomed skirts and she clung on to him.
They emerged through a concealed door and found themselves at the end of a large gallery with bare floorboards. Jack let go of her hand and lit a three-armed candelabra. Cora started as something growled nearby, but when her eyes became accustomed to the light, she noticed two large spaniels staring at her, the smaller of the two with its fangs bared. Jack’s dogs again.
‘Lady, Duke, come and say hello to Cora.’ Jack clapped on the side of his leg and the dogs ran up to him, tails wagging. He took Cora’s hand again but this time held it out for the dogs to sniff. The larger of the two dogs accepted her immediately as a friend, but the smaller dog eyed her warily.
‘It’s all right, Lady. Cora’s my friend.’ Jack sat down on his haunches and ruffled Lady’s ears. ‘They’re good hunting dogs,’ he said, ‘although I think Lady fancies herself more as a guard dog.’
‘I’m gathering that.’ Cora smiled. He had taken her hand again, as if it was natural for him to do so, and had called her a friend. The consideration touched her, but it still didn’t change the fact that men like Jack did not marry women like her. ‘Just as well they didn’t alert the whole house to our presence.’
Jack shrugged. ‘Why should they? I live here.’
So he did; another reminder of their different circumstances. Any intimacy between them would be as far away from the marital bed as you could possibly get, should Jack feel inclined to take her up on the offer she had made at the coaching inn.
Oh, what had possessed her to make it in the first place? Desperation, was the answer. She wanted the same kind of love and equality she’d witnessed between Ned and Sarah, not to be someone’s mistress and always at a disadvantage.
And because of her crimes there was the threat of the gallows hanging over her head. When he had yanked her inside the carriage, she had thought it the beginning of the end. Even though he’d reassured her he had no intention of handing her to the magistrate it wouldn’t stop anyone else, should her secret become known. She shivered and rubbed her arms with her hands.
‘Are you cold?’ asked Jack.
‘I’m well enough. No need to concern yourself.’
Jack placed the candelabra on the floor, took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘The gallery never really warms up, even in summer. I’m so used to it that it didn’t occur to me how cold it must feel to a lady without a shawl.’
A lady. He had called her a lady.
Cora felt a tremendous heat suffuse her cheeks. What was the matter with her? It was this damned dress, surely, for making her feel so … so different. ‘Thank you. Are you going to show me this painting or not?’ she said, more sharply than she had intended. His solicitousness confused her.
‘Naturally, that’s why we’re here. This way.’
Jack picked up the candles again, signalled for the dogs to follow, and made his way across the gallery. The heels of his shoes clacked against the wooden floor and Cora feared that he would rouse the whole household, but they reached the other side without being challenged by either servant or lord. Perhaps the occupants of the house were used to wanderings about in the night.
Cora felt the eyes of the portraits staring at them, disapprovingly, she was certain, and she was only too happy when Jack stopped by a partially concealed door.
‘It’s a storeroom,’ Jack explained. ‘The captain is a bit of a black sheep, I’m afraid. There was a scandal,’ he added.
‘It’s probably nothing compared to the scandal that will follow when people get wind of your madcap idea. Whoever heard of restoring the illegitimate child of a black sheep to the bosom of a respectable family?’
Jack laughed. ‘I suppose, when put like that, it does sound rath
er witless.’
‘It certainly does.’
The room was small, airless and seemed to be full of all manner of things in need of repair. Not quite what Cora had expected to find, but then again, she had no knowledge of how people like Jack lived. Beckoning her closer, Jack held the candles aloft to allow her to view the portrait, which was propped up on a chair with a broken seat. She bent forward to examine the painting more closely, but then stepped back with a gasp.
‘Dear Lord!’
She was looking into her own eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
‘The likeness is startling, is it not?’ said Jack.
Untamed black curls, very light grey-blue eyes – just like her own. And the other features were remarkably similar too. Swallowing hard, Cora merely nodded. How could this be? When Jack had first mentioned it she had been incredulous, then intrigued, although she never fully believed that it could be true. But after what Ned had told her, she couldn’t deny the truth of it. Now, looking at the portrait, she saw there could be no mistake, and the small similarity in looks she had always felt existed between herself and Ned became mere coincidence. There was no doubt the sitter in the portrait was closely related to her.
The notorious Captain Blythe, cousin to the Earl of Lampton and a member of one of the finest families in England, had begotten a common thief. How strange the world was.
‘Well?’ Jack insisted. ‘It does put a new perspective on things, doesn’t it?’
Cora nodded again but still found herself unable to speak. So much had happened in the last few days, and her world, as she had always perceived it to be, had changed dramatically. Not only were her parents not who she thought they were, there was the added complication of her attraction to Jack. Except attraction was one thing, but the kind of love she’d witnessed in her parents’ marriage was a privilege afforded very few, she knew.
Was it love she felt for Jack or was it merely lust? Either way, there could be no proper association between them, whether she was the captain’s illegitimate daughter or not. First and foremost she was the result of her upbringing, not her blood. Jack didn’t seem to realise that. Or perhaps he was so used to having his way that he merely ignored what was obvious to Cora.
Someone had to knock some sense into his woolly head.
‘I agree that your theory must be right,’ she began, but then she paused, unsure how to proceed. ‘It won’t change anything, though. I may carry blue blood in my veins, but I still feel like Cora, plain and simple.’
‘It’ll change everything! We are without a doubt second cousins. You carry the blood of this family in your veins, and even if the captain’s behaviour was scandalous, that can be no fault of yours.’ Jack ran his hand through his shorn hair. ‘Even my father would agree with that,’ he added with a frown. ‘I’m sure he would, although there was the small matter of embezzlement as well … but that’s neither here nor there. It was done out of love, pure and simple.’
‘But you don’t know?’ said Cora.
‘I know my father well enough to believe that he would agree with me,’ he conceded. ‘He would regard it as his duty to settle some money on you. An annual allowance which would allow you to live in comfort, if not luxury. You’d be able to marry and—’
‘And what about Ned?’ Cora interrupted. ‘The man who brought me up and is my father in almost every sense of the word? Is he to be the hired help while I’m lording it in the fine salons, selling myself to the highest bidder?’
‘No. Ned can … well, he’ll be there with you, won’t he? And as for you selling yourself, I know what kind of cattle market the marriage business is, but surely that wouldn’t apply to you.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Cora.
He led them out of the storeroom and locked the door behind them. ‘You’d be able to marry for love, not convenience,’ he went on. ‘You’d have enough money to live on should you choose not to marry, but not enough to be the object of fortune hunters. And you’d be safe.’ Briefly, he brushed her cheek with his finger.
‘You’re quite mad, you know,’ Cora said, her cheek burning where he’d touched it. But he was right. If her future was secured, so was Ned’s.
She was aware of the terrible risk every time she held up a coach, but the sound of his coughing made her insides clench and she had to do something. The costly tincture from the apothecary alleviated his symptoms a little, although it didn’t cure him altogether. It was only a matter of time before her father’s ravaged body couldn’t take the strain any more, but if she agreed to Jack’s plan, at least Ned could live out his days in comfort without having to worry about money.
It didn’t matter that Ned hadn’t fathered her. She loved him and would do anything for him. Even if it meant swallowing her pride and going hat in hand to the earl.
As if sensing that her resistance was waning, Jack said, ‘So will you go with me to see my father on the subject?’
‘I will. Although he’ll probably send me packing.’
Jack put the candelabra on a shelf and placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘Thank you, Cora,’ he said. ‘It means a lot to me.’
‘How can it?’ she whispered, her whole body tingling from his touch. ‘How can it mean anything to you?’
‘Because I want you to be safe. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’
‘I robbed you. You should hate me.’
‘But I don’t. You … you have bewitched me, Cora. I can think of nothing but you. Day and night. I want us to …’
He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he pulled her close and before she knew it, his mouth was on hers. Flames of lust shot through her and she clung to him, returning his kiss with inexperienced vigour. This was a proper kiss, a man’s kiss, and she never wanted it to end.
He laughed softly against her mouth. ‘Come, let me show you,’ he whispered. ‘Take my lead.’
Cupping her chin with one hand, he stroked her neck and shoulder with the other until her head fell back and her lips parted. Slowly, he covered her mouth with his, teased it open with his tongue and then took possession of it with a sudden urgency which had her gasping. Cora wanted to pull back, aware what this possession was mimicking, but her body seemed disconnected from her will, and instead she ran her hands down his back, pressing him closer to her, enjoying the way he ravaged her mouth, his hot breath, the sweet taste of him, his hard body and the evidence of his lust pressed against her pelvis. Her tongue met his thrust for thrust and her sense of triumph was complete when she felt him quiver with barely suppressed need.
I’m having that effect on him, she thought. The realisation was both frightening and delicious at the same time.
‘I want you, Cora.’ Jack’s breath came in hot staccato bursts against her swollen lips and he held her gaze, hard and fiercely. ‘I want you so much.’
‘I know.’ Drunk with her own power, she wriggled her pelvis against his. ‘I want you too, but this will only lead to grief. Our circumstances … are so different.’
‘Never mind our circumstances. But you’re right, we must wait until—’
‘Jack?’
A shaft of light spilled into the darkened gallery and Cora and Jack leapt apart. A figure entered at the far end of the room and the dogs got up to greet the newcomer, their tails wagging.
‘Jack, is that you?’
‘Alethea!’ Jack said in a strangled voice. ‘You surprised me.’
Cora watched as Jack’s cousin came further into the room, and she wished herself anywhere but here.
Alethea’s eyes went from Jack to Cora, then back again. ‘So I see,’ she said. ‘I worried when you didn’t come home this evening, and when I saw the carriage from the window, I …’ She paused, biting her lip.
‘This isn’t what you think, Alethea.’
‘Oh? And what am I thinking, dear cousin? That you’re making illicit love to your paramour in our home or that you’ve merely chosen an unconventional time to sho
w a young lady our family gallery?’ Cora felt a prickle at the back of her neck at her words.
‘Alethea!’ Jack hissed.
‘Dear me,’ said Alethea with mock sincerity, ‘am I not supposed to know of such matters? What am I? A young ninny? Come on, Jack, is she a lady friend whom I can greet politely or am I required to faint dead away?’
Cora bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. She could not have imagined this: Jack lost for words.
‘A friend, then,’ said Alethea. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’
‘Of course.’ Jack cleared his throat. ‘Alethea, this is Cora, who’—Cora sent him a sharp look—‘is indeed a friend of mine. Cora, this is Alethea, my cousin, who, well, let’s just say you don’t want to enter into a battle of wits with her.’
Cora lowered her eyes and bobbed a curtsey, as convention dictated when in the company of her betters. ‘Very pleased to meet you, miss.’
‘And I you.’ Alethea came closer and extended her hand. Looking up, Cora marvelled at how many rules of convention this girl was capable of breaking in one go. Then something made her step back in alarm.
‘What?’ asked Alethea. ‘What did I say? Oh, my Lord, you look like …’ She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead she brought a hand to her chest and her eyes widened until it seemed they could get no bigger.
Cora covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from crying out as she stared at Jack’s young cousin. There was a likeness again, although not as strong, to the captain. Her ebony hair fell in unruly curls about her face and in the light from the candles Cora could see that Alethea was tall, like her. She was the captain’s daughter and, Cora realised, her half-sister.
A thousand thoughts scrambled through her mind. A sister! How wonderful, and yet terrifying. What could they possibly have in common?
Cora’s eyes flew from Jack to his cousin, and then back again. Had he brought her here, not just to see the painting, but also to meet Alethea? If so, why?
Or maybe … maybe it had been meant as a reminder that despite their obvious attraction to each other Cora inhabited a completely different world to Jack and Alethea, and could never hope to be like them or even fit in. Jack would have his sport with her, and then marry within his own social sphere. Well, if he thought he could treat Cora Mardell like that, he could think again.
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