by Julia Kelly
Lord Hollings cleared his throat. When she looked up, she realized that he’d hung back in the doorway.
“I’ll find a maid to light the fire,” he said.
She nodded and focused her attention on folding her coat. She heard the door close behind her, and then she was alone.
She pressed a hand to her stomach and tried her best to settle her nerves. This would be fine. It would all work out, and soon she’d be back on her way to Yorkshire, Lady Margaret in tow.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she called as a girl shuffled in hauling a coal scuttle.
The maid moved with impressive efficiency, and in no time there was a fire glowing in the grate and two more lamps lit.
When she was alone, Jane swiftly unbuttoned her dress and pulled out her change of clothes.
The soft, dry cotton against her skin was as sinful as silk, and finally she began to feel a little more like herself again. She did up the back of her dress with her little hook but left her boots off to dry next to the fire, stuffing them full of newspaper that the maid had left behind. She reached up to unpin her hat that had done absolutely nothing to protect her hair from the rain—not that it had done too much damage to the style. She’d always settled for simple knots because no one ever noticed what the governess looked like as long as she was neat and tidy.
But as she smoothed a few strands away from her forehead and twisted them behind her ear, she dared hope that at least one man would notice just a little bit.
Chapter Four
Lord Hollings seemed to stay away for hours, although in truth it couldn’t have been long. It was just that his absence left Jane with nothing to do but roll over and over again in her head the unquestionably stupid situation she’d put herself in.
While she waited for his return, she fanned her hands out in front of the fire, casting glares over her shoulder at the bed. Glower though she might, she had no one to be cross at except herself, for she was the one who’d suggested they travel together. When she’d proposed the plan, she hadn’t once thought about the fact that it might thrust them into close proximity in private. She’d simply assumed that Lord Hollings would play the gentleman and find her a second room. She hadn’t counted on a storm or a local wedding. She hadn’t counted on having no walls to separate them while they slept.
Over the years, Jane had been propositioned several times. A reprobate cousin of Lord Rawson had once chased her around the schoolroom until he nearly collapsed from the exertion. There had been friends of the earl, bold enough to flaunt her position as a member of a powerful man’s household, and once the earl himself when he’d returned from his club so deep in his cups it was a wonder he could climb out the next day. She’d run into him while fetching a book from the library, and he’d made a grab at her hip but come away with only a handful of dressing gown. Jane had received no apology, but she noticed that Lord Rawson never again allowed them to be in the same room alone.
Fending off the advances of men who looked to take advantage of a young, vulnerable woman was a part of her position that she hated, but she’d remained vigilant over the years. What made this situation different wasn’t the fact that she was alone with a man she hardly knew and in an inn without a friendly soul around. It was that she liked this man.
It was his manner that was seductive. He was attentive, caring, and perhaps even a little tender. No matter how much he might grump, he was always at her side when she needed to dismount. When they’d walked in and out of inns from Flore to Crick, he’d taken care to escort her, and he’d run down a boy in Yelvertoft to make sure that she had a proper place to sit and eat her luncheon. Lord Hollings seemed to forget that the woman he was with was a governess, instead treating her as the lady she’d never been.
And then there was the air about him that made her want to depend upon him. Misguided or not, it was pure instinct, and she hoped she was right about his decency.
But for all she trusted Lord Hollings to play the gentleman, she couldn’t help the voice in her head that asked if she trusted herself.
A gentlewoman—or a governess, for that matter—wasn’t supposed to have lascivious thoughts about anyone. She was supposed to be demure and delicate, wilting like a stiff collar on a hot summer day at the thought of anything untoward.
And Jane’s thoughts were anything but innocent.
As they’d ridden north, she couldn’t help but steal little glances at Lord Hollings. He was a wonder, sitting straight-backed in the saddle, his arms flexing in little intricate movements to guide his horse. Watching him had made her imagine what it would be like if he cast off his jacket and pushed up his sleeves so that she could see the small twitches of muscle in forearms she already knew were strong enough to lift her with ease. Then, because she was cursed with a rather active imagination that wouldn’t be stopped, she thought about what it would be like to watch those arms engaged in an entirely different action—reaching for her, fingers skimming up her arms to her elbows and then her shoulder and then to the little exposed patch of skin where her collar met her neck.
She touched the spot delicately. The heat of the blood just under her skin was seductive, but the steady thump of her pulse grounded her like an anchor to reality. Her imagination had her caught somewhere in the uncomfortable middle—wanting what she couldn’t have and yet dreaming of lips and hands and touch and taste.
A rapid knock on the door made her gasp.
“It’s Hollings,” came the muffled call from behind the solid wood planks. “Your husband.”
Her husband. The very thought.
She smoothed her skirts with hands still trembling from the need to touch and then went to open the door. He filled the doorway, the lamplight picking up the sun-stained gold of his hair.
“I wanted to be sure it was safe.” He lifted a bottle of some amber liquor and two glasses. “I brought provisions.”
“Provisions?” she asked with an arched brow as she stepped back to let him into the room and swiftly shut the door.
“I hope you don’t object to a little brandy,” he said, setting the glasses down and pulling the stopper out of the bottle.
“Not for medicinal purposes, no.”
He glanced up at her as she came around the other side of the table. She couldn’t be sure if candlelight or roguishness lit his eyes. “Will making sure that we don’t freeze to death count for medicinal purposes?”
She could feel the start of a smile lift one side of her mouth. “I think so.”
He handed her a glass. “Well, then, here you are.”
She took it and tipped her nose into the bell of the glass. The brandy smelled sweet and strong. She raised it to her lips for a dainty sip, aware that he was watching her. It burned in the most pleasant way.
Lord Hollings scrubbed a hand over his mouth and cleared his throat as though he’d been the one swallowing the fiery liquor. “How is it?”
“Very good, although I don’t have much to compare it to.”
“Never stole sips of your father’s liquor when he wasn’t looking?” he asked before taking his first drink.
“I don’t really remember my father.”
His hand froze in midair and the smile slid from his lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” She tipped her brandy and watched the legs of alcohol cling to the glass. “In London I have two friends, Mary and Elizabeth, who used to be governesses too. Mary’s always wanted us to sit down with a bottle of whiskey and see what all the bother is about.”
He chuckled. “Mary sounds adventurous. What does she do now that she’s not a governess?”
“She’s the Countess of Asten.”
Lord Hollings sputtered. “I beg your pardon?”
Jane grinned a little more than she probably should have at his shock. “She married her employer, although it certainly was
n’t her idea. Eric had to practically beg her, though he’ll never admit to that.”
“Eric?”
“Lord Asten. Her husband.”
Oh yes, she was enjoying Lord Hollings’s confusion very much. Now that Lord Asten’s only daughter, Eleanora, was happily married to Lord Blakeney, Mary reveled in shocking the ton with how freely she spoke about her humble beginnings. Jane couldn’t help but relish her friend’s bravery as well.
“Well, I suppose it would be very hard to deny her whiskey now that she’s a countess,” said Lord Hollings, pulling himself together admirably.
“It would’ve been hard to deny her before as well. Mary is something of a force of nature.”
“And what are you, Miss Ephram?”
The question stilled her. “I’m just Jane.”
He cocked his head to the side, as though trying to read the thoughts that flashed through her mind. “People are always more complex than they seem.”
“I’m a governess. I’m afraid I’m no more exciting than that.”
He shook his head. “The woman I met today is much more than just a governess.”
Her cheeks flushed, but it wasn’t from the spirits. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
“You’re brave. Clever too. You bargained with me until I agreed to come with you. You got on a horse even though I can tell you’re not entirely comfortable or experienced with riding. You’re even standing in a private room with a man you don’t know.”
“That doesn’t strike you as foolhardy?” she asked, setting her glass down so he couldn’t see the trembling of her hand.
“I’d wring my sisters’ necks if I found out they’d done something similar, but no.” He moved around the table, her breath coming a little faster with every step he took, until he was just inches from her. When he stopped, he didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. All this man needed to do was stand close and her body responded with a heady rush of desire that threatened to knock her flat.
“I think you did all of this because you’re more loyal to Lady Margaret than she deserves and you don’t want her to cast her life away on some rake,” he continued, his voice low. “And you’re facing down these things that should frighten you. I think that’s very brave indeed.”
She knew she should say something, but the words wouldn’t come. He hadn’t guessed everything, but he’d shown more understanding of her than anyone outside Mary and Elizabeth had in her entire life.
“Lord Hollings—”
A knock on the door snapped the tension in the room, and a maid bustled in carrying a tray laden with food.
“Supper’s here,” he said, shooting her a little smile before stepping away. With his back turned, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on slowing the rapid pounding of her foolishly hopeful heart.
They ate quickly, speaking only of the sort of things that a gentleman and a lady might converse about at a dinner party. It helped Jane keep her eyes from sliding over to the bed every few seconds as she wondered how the awkward question of sleeping arrangements would be settled.
Shortly after they finished their meal, the maid came back to collect the tray. The door shut behind the young girl and then there was nothing left to distract them.
Jane set her chin and said in a firm voice, “I’ll make up a bed.”
Lord Hollings’s brows knit together. “Why? It looks perfectly well made to me.”
“Another bed. So that we don’t have to—”
He stared at her. “You’re not suggesting that you sleep on the floor, are you?”
“It can hardly be less comfortable than the cots I’ve been on during this trip.”
“Cots?”
“Yes,” she said, not bothering to keep the grumble from her voice “In Lady Margaret’s room. Lady Rawson didn’t trust that her daughter wouldn’t bolt, so she insisted we sleep in the same room.”
“And Lady Margaret took the only bed?”
She cocked her head in confusion. “Well, yes.” Hadn’t she been clear? It hadn’t made for the most comfortable accommodations, but it wasn’t as though she hadn’t dealt with discomfort before.
“You won’t be sleeping on a cot or the floor or anywhere but that bed tonight,” he said, his voice tight.
“Really, it isn’t a bother. And besides, you’re—”
“I’m what?” he asked, his arms crossed firmly across his chest. “The sort of cad who would make a woman who’s just ridden for hours sleep on the floor?”
“I was going to say that you’re a baron,” she said, mirroring his gesture and crossing her own arms.
He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “For all the good that title’s done me.”
It was her turn to frown now. “What do you mean?”
“Do you know why I’m on the road, Miss Ephram? I’m down to my last funds, and putting Merlin out to stud is supposed to pay for a season and a couple of suitable dresses for my two sisters, Effie and Helen. I’m not even doing it out of the goodness of brotherly love. I need them married.”
“I don’t understand,” she said quietly.
He pushed a hand through his hair, gripping it at the roots so that it stood up a bit, mussed and disordered.
“I’m hard up for cash,” he finally said. “I can’t continue to support my sisters and myself for much longer, let alone the tenants who rely on me. There are improvements that have to be made to my estate, Madeley, and the only lifeline I have is a half-full stable of horses with good racing stock. Breeding Merlin will cover some of our immediate expenses, but it won’t fix everything. I’m trying my best to rebuild my family’s fortune with horseflesh. If I can hold on for a few good seasons, I might give myself enough time to make the estate sustainable again. That’s why it matters so much that your charge stole my horse.”
“I didn’t know,” she said, realizing that he hadn’t told her about his own journey because she hadn’t bothered to ask. She’d been so wrapped up in her own troubles that she hadn’t thought he might be burdened with something other than a wealthy man’s annoyance at having a prized animal stolen.
“I know you didn’t,” he said, his shoulders sagging a bit as he came down from his anger. “What man would want to admit to a pretty woman he’s just met that he’s broke and his luck perpetually feels on the verge of running out?”
He thought she was pretty? The possibility bloomed in her with the same warmth as a long drink of that brandy.
“Please, Miss Ephram, let me do one thing right today. Take the bed.”
She pursed her lips and then nodded. “Since you insist.”
He barked out a laugh and shook his head like a weary man. “I do. Now, if you don’t have any objections, I’ll ready to retire as well. I’m discovering that spending hours in wet clothes is uncomfortable.”
Her eyes widened as he grabbed his small leather traveling bag. “You didn’t change?”
“I didn’t want to inconvenience you.”
The thought that he’d sat there across from her eating his supper in wet clothes and she hadn’t even noticed increased her guilt. “You should have told me. I would’ve been happy to step outside.”
He looked up. “And told people what when you were found standing outside the door? We’re a married couple, remember?”
The word shouldn’t have made her blush so deeply, but there was no helping it. Luckily he was busy pulling a bit of cord from his bag, so he didn’t see the flush that rose up from the neck of her dress.
“That’s just the thing,” he muttered to himself.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he strode over to a lamp mounted on one wall.
“I’m building battlements.”
She watched him loop the cord around and tie it off before walking it over to the opposite wall and doing the same.
“Do yo
u think you can spare that quilt from the bed?” he asked.
“Of course.” She hurried to pull it off and hand it to him.
“Stand back,” he said.
She stepped away as the quilt flew over the cord. A few tugs here and a pull there and Lord Hollings had erected a perfectly serviceable curtain.
“Your castle, my lady,” he said, poking his head around the curtain.
“That’s quite clever of you.”
“ ‘Quite clever’ is exactly what I was aiming for.”
She glanced at it again, and he must have interpreted that as trepidation, for he said, “Don’t you know that castles are built to be impenetrable?”
“Even ones made of cloth?” she asked.
“Those are the most secure.” He grinned before disappearing behind the curtain again. “They keep the virtue of the damsels locked away in their towers safe.”
“I’m a poor substitute for a damsel, sir,” she said with a little laugh.
“That,” he said as he poked his head around again, “is where you’re very wrong. Now, when I told the innkeeper that my wife tends to be very cold at night, he informed me that he keeps an extra quilt and linens in the chest of drawers. Would you be so good as to check?”
Sure enough, the linens and a quilt were tucked away in the bottom drawer. She pulled them out and brought them to the curtain. “Do I have permission to enter the castle?”
When he stuck an arm around the end of the curtain, it was bare except for his shirtsleeve. “I think it’s best if you pass them around this way. No testing the fortifications tonight.”
She couldn’t help her smile as she blindly handed him his supplies.
“Thank you, my lady,” he said as the last sheet disappeared around the impenetrable wall.
As Jane undressed to her shift and slid between the covers, all she could hear from the other side of the room was rustling. She clutched the bed linens, forcing herself to stay on her side of the curtain even though curiosity chipped at her resolve. Even a dozen feet away from one another, this was the closest she’d ever been to a man in a state of deshabille, and the whole thing made her tingle with awareness from head to toe. It would be so easy to peek, but no. He’d laid down the rules clearly so she’d know he didn’t harbor any ill intentions. Now she had to abide by them as well.
