First, he wrote back to the earl and countess. Then he wrote back to Jane. His hand trembled on the quill.
5 July 1823 London
Dear Jane,
I could never deny you anything. If you wish to speak with me, then I wish it as well. I can only hope I am not a disappointment to you.
If you wish to speak to me only out of gratitude then I beg of you… Jane, please do not. My heart could not take it. I have never wanted your gratitude.
I doubt you remember the day when you knighted me, after I had just dubbed you Queen of the Fairies. You had flowers in your hair and you giggled as if you were having the most splendid time. And then you told me as queen you would have to knight me. I had swept into, what at the time, I considered a bow and told you that I was unworthy, that surely I would disappoint you as a knight, that there were much finer people to knight than I. You stopped laughing and told me very seriously, “You could never disappoint me, John.”
I have never forgotten that moment. I doubt I ever will, as long as I live, no matter what happens.
I have just sent my response to your sister and brother-in-law’s request. Lord Marlington and I should arrive on the fifteenth of July.
I fear that I have written and said too much. But I also admit that I do not know what to say. I have not known what to say to you for a long time and that lack is in me, not in you. I should have been a better friend to you but I am afraid I did not (and perhaps still do not) know how to be a friend to you when I also thought (and think) of you as more.
So much more.
Yours,
John
Lord Marlington and John arrived as promised, and Lord and Lady Wembley and Jane welcomed them as the coach pulled was pulled to the front door. John could not believe that he was returning to Pritchford and staying at Pritchford Place, welcomed by the earl and countess. As he peered out the small window, he noticed two more figures. He recognized them as the Duke and Duchess of Sermont. What business did John Christopherson have with these people?
He had been born in a two-room house and shared a bed with all four of his brothers. He could not remember a time when his mother’s face had not looked defeated. Every now and again, she would offer one of the boys a wan smile, but even these were rare because she was used to the bone-crushing temper of a husband who only grew more enraged when he consumed alcohol. It was an unending cycle, since he often was angry at how little money they had but what little money they did have was spent on that very alcohol that seemed to fuel him. They were allowed to keep the farm because of John’s hard work and the generosity of the late Earl of Wembley, who had understood the situation but had not intervened. After all, what was to be done? Would it be better to remove the children from the household and separate them?
He could remember the Watsons’ manor house and how pretty it appeared to him, not because of its size but because of the pride with which it was kept. Even the other tenant families looked at the Christopherson boys out of the side of their eyes. They swept their porches and they pulled their weeds. They kept their farms as productive as possible. They cared for what little they had. After his mother died, it had been John who had forced his brothers to bathe weekly and he had been last into the dirty tub. He had set his brothers in front of the fire during hard winters and he had picked the lice from their heads.
And whenever Jane asked him how bad it really was, he had sworn he would never tell her. He hid everything he could, except for the things he could not, like the bruises, the black eyes. She had been the only good and pure thing in his life. He would not mar that. Long before he even knew he loved her, he would often fall asleep thinking of the purity of her blue eyes, simply because they were the brightest thing in his life.
As for that day by the tree two years ago, he had never quite made up his mind whether it had been a mistake or not. On one hand, their friendship was irrevocably changed. But on the other, for one brief moment, he had felt what it could be like to be loved by her and he was sure it was as close to heaven on earth as one could get.
“Put a smile on your face, boy,” Tom told him, nudging his knee with his cane before exiting the coach. John followed, the bright sun of the day forcing him to squint. When he could see, he took in the eager faces of Lord and Lady Wembley, and Lady Wembley’s shaking hands. Jane looked hesitant but a smile briefly winged up as she said hello. It was not the greeting of a stranger. It was far from that. But it was not how she would have greeted him two years ago, although they had never been introduced in front of a countess, an earl, a duke, and a duchess before. Everything felt different now.
“Thank you so very much for coming,” Lady Wembley told him warmly. “I am so sorry I was unable to thank you properly when we last saw one another.”
“Please,” John insisted. His collar felt tight. “Lady Wembley. Thank you for having me at your home. You do not owe me any apologies.”
She shook her head, holding tears back. “I owe you much more than an apology. I owe you my life.”
He pressed his lips together. He was so uncomfortable with this kind of praise, with any kind of praise. The only people in his entire life who had offered it had been Jane and later Tom. “You are too kind. I was just in the right place at the right time.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “We can talk about it later. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. But it is important to me that you know exactly what you did for me and therefore for Jane and my parents and also my husband and children. I promise not to bombard you, but at some point, I would like to discuss it.”
“Very well, Lady Wembley.” He bowed slightly, aware of Jane’s gaze on him. Her face was the same as when she was helping him to solve a difficult math question, as if he himself was something to be figured out.
“He is so humble,” Lord Marlington said with a chuckle. “It is so good to see you all again. And I am acquainted with the duke and duchess, though it has been some time.”
“Hello, Tom.” Shep patted him on the back. “I know you prefer that to your title. Please, call me Shep.”
“I believe you are the most casual duke I have ever known,” Tom replied with a grin. “You look lovely as always, Duchess.”
“Please. If you insist on being called Tom, then I must be Julia.” She raised a brow at him. “I am always one to stand on ceremony. Please do not misunderstand me.” She laughed. “But as you consider John family and because of what he has done for our family, I must insist on the familiar. And that goes for you as well, John,” she called to him.
John blushed. For as long as he could remember, Lady Julia, as she had been known back in the days of his youth in Pritchford, was as unreachable as the sun. He could not imagine calling her by her first name. She seemed to read his thoughts. “John. I insist,” she stated, with a warm smile.
“I hope that this is a nice visit for everyone,” Lord Wembley said as they entered Pritchford Place. “After everything that has happened, it seems pointless to stand on ceremony.”
“And we know manners are very important to you,” Jane said. She grinned at the man she considered a brother before pinching his side. It was the first time John had heard her voice today but for her quietly murmured hello upon seeing him again. “You are the master of etiquette, are you not?” she asked Ben. Her impishness reminded him of the girl he had taught to climb a tree.
“You are trouble,” Ben insisted with a laugh of his own that broke up any tension that anyone might have been feeling.
“You always tell me I do not cause enough of trouble,” she replied with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Well, that part is true,” Ben admitted. “You are much too well behaved.”
“I feel the same way about John,” Tom guffawed. “No wonder they are such life-long friends.”
John flushed and looked up at Jane. Her cheeks reddened as well. But for the first time, she met his eyes directly, her blue eyes as clear as he could ever remember them, even in his dreams. For a moment,
he held his breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
A smile bloomed across her face.
She was still his Queen of the Fairies.
* * *
9
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* * *
DO NOT FOLLOW ME. I DO NOT
WANT TO BE AROUND YOU …
* * *
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CHAPTER NINE
Some Things Stick Forever
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J ane had spent a restless night, knowing that John was staying in one of the rooms of Pritchford Place. His official stay would begin tomorrow and all she could think about was that day by the tree and the feeling of his arms around her, his lips on hers. He remained the only man she had ever kissed. A part of her wondered if that was where the fascination came from. Maybe if she kissed someone else that moment by the tree would not be so important to her. Somehow she doubted Cat or Julia would approve of a plan like that. But she knew that was not it. No man had ever meant anything to her apart from John.
She tossed and turned, wondering how she would ever be able to talk to him alone when it seemed like everyone was lined up to speak with him. Ben and Cat wanted some time alone with him and she understood. She would never want to infringe on that. But she also wanted privacy with him to finally talk things out, privacy that was not often given to young ladies in her position.
In the end, she rose earlier than normal. There was no point in trying to sleep. She dressed herself without the help of Trent and though her hair pins were not as secure as they would have been with the lady’s maid’s help, they would do for the day, as long as she did not participate in any strenuous activity. The thought made her laugh. A lady in her position did not seem to do anything strenuous. She smiled at her reflection, determined to be cheerful and kind today.
She was shocked when she ran into John as she came down the stairs, just a few steps below her. It seemed they both had gotten an early start. “Good morning,” he told her quietly. “I did not expect anyone else to be awake.”
“Nor I,” she concurred with a smile, hoping to put him at ease. “I doubt anyone else will be down for breakfast for another hour or so at least. Would you like me to have something prepared for you now?” she asked as pleasantly as possible as they continued down the stairs together. “If you are hungry, that is.” She took a deep breath, determined to go on. Perhaps this was her chance. “Or we could take a walk outside and I could show you some of the grounds. The light at this time of day makes everything even more beautiful.” She had the courage to suggest it but not quite the bravery to look him in the eye until he answered.
“I think you know, or I hope you know, I would prefer the latter,” John told her once they reached the bottom of the stairs.
Jane raised her eyes to his. “I do not mean this as a criticism but I am afraid I am all mixed up. I do not know anything anymore, not when it comes to you. Perhaps we could talk about it as we walk.” She had never had to make the effort to be straightforward with John before, but it did take effort now. She had watched Cat and Ben circle around one another. Then it had been Shep and Julia. She would not do that. Moreover, John had once been her closest friend other than her sister. There was no reason to circle around him.
His gray eyes took in the seriousness of her countenance. He nodded. “All right,” he agreed.
They exited under the watchful eye of Carlisle, who was awake, along with the rest of the servants. He bowed, murmuring a greeting to Miss Watson. Just like with her older sister, the servants had a soft spot for Jane.
“There is a lovely hill just a bit of a walk from here that has a lovely view of everything,” she explained to John as they walked. “I think you might like it.”
He turned to look at her, trying to read her feelings on her face. But somewhere along the way, she had learned to hide them or at least become more circumspect than she had been two years before. “That sounds nice.” He took a deep breath. “I know you would like for us to talk and I would like that, too. It is so strange to be here, I must admit, knowing my family is only a few miles away and I am at the big estate. I do not even know what to call you. Miss Watson? Jane?”
She glanced up at him through her lashes as they began to climb the sloping hill. “I hoped I would always be Jane to you.”
He wanted to touch a hand to her shoulder, her cheek, but knew it would not be right. He wanted to make promises he had no right to make. “Do you understand what I mean though? I know you are the same person you have always been. But it feels different here, at this place. I always knew you were far better than me, but now it is as if you are leagues away.”
“I have never been better than you,” she insisted. Her nose twitched with a fit of anger. “And you know I always hated when you said such things.”
“But the truth is—” he began.
“The truth is, aside from Cat, you were my best friend,” she interrupted with a level voice that could not be persuaded to think otherwise. “I do not like to hear people speak ill of my friends, not even my friends themselves. I did not like it then and I do not like it now.” She paused. “When Papa died and you left, everything changed. I do not care about the trappings.” She gestured toward Pritchford Place. “You came to the ball and wanted to speak to me. I would like to know why. I am afraid, as I said in my letter. I was not prepared. And I did not treat you fairly. But removing all the trappings…” She stopped walking for a moment and looked up at his face. A bit of wind had caught a curl behind her ear. “You are still John and I am still Jane. And I…” She closed her eyes as he took a step closer to her, sliding his palms against her cheeks to cup her face. “Would like to…” She could barely finish her murmured thought.
“Would like to?” he asked gently as he leaned closer to her. “Would like to what exactly?”
She wet her lips, her eyes still closed. “I cannot seem to recall what I was planning to say.”
His chuckle was low and full of levity, like a happy secret between the two of them. “So you had a plan.”
Her eyes opened. “Of course I did. I practiced and everything.” Her eyes darted to his lips and away. “I wanted…” Again, she lost her train of thought.
“You wanted?” he replied. “As I said in my letter, I could never deny you anything, Jane. Tell me what it is that you want.”
She remembered a very similar conversation two years ago by the tree, which had ended in his admission that he would like to kiss her. This time, something seemed to be holding him back. He was leaving her in complete control. She had a choice. So, feeling very much the novice, she shocked them both by taking a step closer to him so that both her hands could rest on his chest while she lifted her unpracticed mouth to press sweetly against his. He raised both his eyebrows in surprise even as he returned the kiss, his hands sliding to the back of her neck.
Jane flushed, realizing what she had done, and also feeling stupid because she did not know what to do now that she had done it. “Help me,” she whispered against his lips breathlessly. “I am afraid I have no idea what I am doing and I am not very good at it.”
His forehead touched hers gently, and he opened his eyes to look at her with a great deal of love and affection. “Trust me. That is not the case,” he murmured. His nose rubbed against hers as he tilted his head to take her mouth with his own this time. As she clutched at the material of his coat, he wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her even nearer and nibbling on her bottom lip. She sighed with pleasure as he soothed that same spot with his tongue. The kiss went on and on until she was breathless, until she once again did the unthinkable, taking his lips into her own mouth and nipping at them.
She was horrified at what she had done as soon as it happened. “I am sorry,” she whispered with mortification.
But it apparently only increased his amorous feelings, because he held her more tightly, touching his mouth to the corner of he
r lips, her cheek, and then her ear where he replied, “Do not be sorry. Anything but that.” His breath was hot against her skin as his mouth moved lower to pay some attention to her throat. She could feel his tongue and lips. One of them trembled. The other moaned. She had no idea which one of them it had been because they were as close as their bodies could allow them to be. She did not care, not if he kept kissing her.
“John,” she groaned with pleasure, her hands clutching his hair.
The sound of her voice saying his name seemed to affect him as he immediately stopped the attention he was paying to her neck. His finger tracing the line of her clavicle paused its caress. He took some deep shuddering breaths against her, his mouth still against her neck. “Jane,” he whispered as if he was tortured. “We cannot.”
She trembled against him, burying her face against the fabric of his cravat. “That is what you said that day two years ago. I want to know why we cannot.”
“Because the way we are kissing.” He pulled away so he could hold her face in his hands, his gray eyes fierce. “We are not married. We are not engaged. We are not promised to one another. And I cannot kiss you this way when those things are unsettled.”
“Unsettled?” she asked. Oh, how she wished she could raise her brow like Julia. “Then let us settle them now.”
He shook his head, suddenly looking very sad. “That is not what I meant to say.”
“Then say what you mean to say,” she insisted, pressing herself nearer to him to make her point.
“No matter how much I wish to be with you,” he began, his voice full of regret.
“With me how?” she interrupted stubbornly. “With me for an hour behind a tree? A night?”
“Of course not!” John cried, nearly shaking her. “I want a life with you, a marriage, children.”
Regency Romance: The Viscount's Blazing Love (Fire and Smoke: CLEAN Historical Romance) Page 7
