by Maya Banks
Closing his eyes, he remembered with great detail every inch of her body. How her warm cinnamon eyes sparked when she smiled, how she ran her tongue over her upper lip when she was nervous. The glorious mane of chestnut hair that tumbled down her back when she unpinned it. How she spoke to him like he was the only person in the world.
His body quickened in response, and he cursed his overactive imagination. Rising from his chair in order to ease the growing discomfort in his breeches, he went over to the fireplace and threw in the note from Jenna. He watched as it flared up then shriveled to ashes. Just like the hope of ever having her.
The library door burst open, and he turned in surprise. Jenna stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing. “Jenna! I hadn’t expected you. That is, I received your note saying you weren’t coming.”
“How could you?” she raged as she stomped over to him. She presented a truly glorious sight, her face flushed in anger, her eyes shooting flames at him.
“Whatever are you talking about?” he asked mildly. He worked to keep a smile from his lips, thinking it would only enrage her further.
The anger in her eyes turned to hurt, and his chest lurched. “How could you tell Lady Lockhart about us? She pulled me aside at her ball to thank me for making you smile again.”
He groaned. “She didn’t.”
“Oh yes, she did!” She drew abreast of him and pounded her fist on his chest. “You know how important it is that we practice extreme discretion. If this became common knowledge I would be ruined.”
“I—”
She cut him off. “No matter that she is a close acquaintance of yours, you of all people know how gossip circulates. She makes an innocent comment to a friend, who then makes another comment to her friend. Before you know it, our exploits are plastered all over the gossip rags and it is over!”
Her bosom heaved from exertion, her face was mottled and flushed. Her finger dug into his chest, punctuating each word she yelled out at him. She was glorious, absolutely magnificent. And she clearly planned to do him harm.
“I didn’t tell her,” he said calmly.
“And that’s not all! What of Stuart? Granted, he is a complete nincompoop, but...what did you say?” She stopped and let her finger fall from his chest. “What do you mean you didn’t tell her? That’s worse! That means that someone else told her, which means that everyone will know!”
Unable to control his laughter any longer, he chuckled. He was immediately rewarded with another thump to his chest. “You were angry that I told her, and now you are angry because I wasn’t the one who told her.”
“Gray, this is no laughing matter!”
He took her hands in his before she did more damage to his entrails. “Jenna, she doesn’t know.”
“But...”
He laid a finger over her lips. “You’ve said enough. It’s my turn to speak.” He guided her over to an armchair and firmly pushed her down into it. She glared up at him, and he suppressed the urge to chuckle again. “Lady Lockhart wasn’t referring to our affair, Jenna.”
“But...”
He stopped her with a pointed stare. “Let me finish.” To his satisfaction, she pinched her lips shut and waited expectantly. “I spoke to Lady Lockhart this morning about the children’s home. She is a frequent contributor, and I mentioned that you had visited and that you planned to volunteer some time as well. She knows how important the home is to me, and I confess, I smiled quite a bit while talking about you.”
He watched the slow realization creep into her eyes. “Oh,” she said. A flush crawled close behind. “Oh, how silly of me.” She rose in consternation, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.” She twisted her hands in front of her, her discomfort more evident with each passing second. Clearing her throat, she said in a low voice, “Pardon my intrusion, I must be getting back. I hadn’t planned to come after all.”
“Jenna, don’t,” he began, but she ran out the door. Pausing only to pull on an overcoat, he strode after her.
He took the stairs two at a time on his way down, and met Masterson in the foyer. “Where did she go?” he demanded.
“I tried to stop her, sir, but she was most insistent. I offered to have your carriage take her home, but she said she hadn’t time.”
“How did she get here?”
“A hack, sir, but it left shortly after she arrived.”
“You mean she is walking home?” Stubborn woman. Their agreement was that she was never to walk home. Even in Mayfair, the streets weren’t safe after dark. Throwing open the door, he hurried out to the street and walked in the direction of Jenna’s home.
He rounded the block when a scream turned his blood cold. It was Jenna. Fear swept over him even as rage fueled his steps. He broke into a run, pounding the cobblestone street with his boots. Ahead, the shadows of two men came into view. One held Jenna’s arm. The other gripped Jenna’s neck in his beefy hand.
With a roar, he lunged for the men. Taken by surprise, the man holding Jenna’s arm dropped it and stumbled back. Gray connected with the man at her throat, and the two rolled onto the street.
The attacker reeled from the punch Gray threw at his jaw, and made no effort to retaliate. He barked an order to the other man, and they scrambled away into the night.
Gray picked himself up and rushed over to Jenna. He gently assisted her up from where she sat slumped on the ground. “Are you all right?” he asked urgently. His heart hammered in his chest, and he fought the urge to crush her to him.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. Her voice shook with fright.
He pulled her closer to the streetlamp so he could see for himself that she was unharmed. Anger tore through his gut when he saw her torn bodice. Her shaking hand dropped to the panel of material that drooped over her breasts. “They wanted my locket,” she whispered.
“What locket?”
“The locket I was wearing. They tore it from my neck, but it fell when you surprised them.” Her voice shook more with each word she spoke. “There, on the street.” She pointed to an object almost hidden in the shadows.
He went over and bent to retrieve it. “I’m afraid it’s broken.” He walked back over and handed it to her. “Come, I need to get you home.”
“But you can’t,” she protested. “I mean, you can’t be seen taking me home.”
“I’ll be damned if I allow you to return home alone.” He didn’t care if the whole of bloody Mayfair assembled on the street corner to watch them, he wasn’t allowing her out of his sight until he knew she was safe.
“Who is likely to be home now?” he asked, taking her elbow and helping her down the street.
“No one, well, my brothers are out. My servants are all there.”
“Do you trust them?”
“If you are asking if they will say anything to my brothers, the answer is no.”
“Then come on, I am walking you home. We can take the servants’ entrance so no one passing out front will see us.”
They walked in silence, Gray all but carrying her against him. Jenna began to shake beside him, and the rage built inside him again. Filthy bastards. How dare they touch her, hurt her. He should have killed them. They deserved no less.
Making a sudden decision, he turned them around and started back in the opposite direction.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Taking you home with me. We’re closer to my house anyway.”
She didn’t protest, just settled against him, but he could still feel her slight tremble at his side. He stopped once more and swept her up in his arms, holding her tightly against him. He resumed his progress, rounding the corner to his house.
Once inside, he issued orders for a pot of tea then carried Jenna up the stairs to his bedchamber. Kicking the door open, he shouldered his way into the room and deposited her onto the bed.
“I’m fine, really,” she said sitting up.
“You wouldn’t be if I hadn’t come a
long,” he growled. Now that the initial fear had worn off, he was more than a little annoyed at her for going off on her own.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “You could have been injured.”
He swore, and she looked at him in surprise. Trust her not to have considered what could have happened to her. “I was not concerned about me. You could have been killed, Jenna. Or raped.”
She paled, and he kicked himself for frightening her further, but he had to make her understand just how dire her situation had been. He sat down beside her, taking in her tattered dress and fear-stricken eyes. Cupping her cheek with a gentle hand, he looked deeply into her brown eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.”
“But nothing did.” Her tongue flitted nervously over her top lip. He followed the damp trail with his eyes, tempted to suck her top lip between his. “Thanks to you.”
“Promise me you’ll never do something so foolish again.”
“I promise.”
He kissed her softly, forgetting his earlier resolve to distance himself from her. He kissed her lips, her nose, her eyes, and her cheeks.
“I should go,” she murmured.
“I’ll summon my carriage.”
“Can you hire a hack? It’s too early and I would surely be seen in your carriage.”
“Yes, of course. I hadn’t thought of the hour.” With regret, he got up and called for Masterson. It would take a half hour for the hack to be summoned and arrive. Plenty of time to make sure Jenna had recovered from her fright. Masterson arrived with the tea and promptly left to summon the carriage.
Gray returned to where she still sat on the bed and offered her a cup of the steaming brew. She shook her head and he set it aside. Then he bent to pick her up. “Gray, I am fine,” she protested.
“Yes, I know.” But he didn’t relinquish her. Instead he carried her to the large armchair in front of the fire. He settled down into the seat, holding her securely in his arms. He stroked her hair and ran a hand over her cheek.
“Gray?”
“Yes, Jenna?”
“We need to talk,” she said in a small voice.
“Yes, I know, but not tonight. We’ll talk later.” Emotion knotted his chest, but he refused to give way to the heaviness in his heart.
They sat in silence, Gray holding her closely to him. He stroked her hair, and kissed the top of her head, wishing he could suspend time and remain in this moment forever.
Several minutes later Masterson knocked at the door and informed them the hack had arrived. Gray kissed the top of her head and helped her from his lap. “Come on, I’ll walk you down.”
Before they left the room, he reached into his wardrobe for one of his dressing shirts. Carefully he draped it around her, covering the torn bodice of her dress. She smiled up at him as he finished.
Once outside, he helped her into the carriage. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine, Gray. Don’t worry over me.”
“Goodnight then, my lady.” He kissed her lingeringly, wishing he could take her back to his bed and keep her there long after the sun came up. Drawing back, he closed the door and gestured the driver away. He watched as the carriage disappeared into the night, a hollow ache plaguing him.
Jenna sat back in the seat after he closed the door. Only as she rolled away did she realize that he hadn’t said until midnight. An odd squeezing constricted her throat and a dull ache began in her head. She closed her eyes tiredly. The events of the night, as well as nearly a week without sleep, were catching up to her.
She trudged into her house and up to her room. She waved Margaret away, not wanting any intrusion. As she sat down at her dressing table, tired eyes looked back at her in the mirror. Faint smudges marred the smooth skin underneath her eyes, and her cheeks were pale. She looked bloody awful.
With a sigh, she dropped the locket onto the table. She’d be damned if she wore the thing again. Stuart and his father could go to the devil. As she rose to undress, something caught her eye. The locket was broken. Upon further examination the back appeared to be cracked. Funny, she hadn’t noticed the front and back were two separate pieces.
She picked it up, and to her amazement, a tiny folded piece of paper slipped out and fell to the floor. She bent to pick it up and padded over to the bed. Kicking off her shoes, she sat down on the covers, pulling her feet up underneath her. She unfolded the paper and saw neat handwriting. It was signed by the viscountess.
Such sadness I cannot bear
to know someone I loved beyond
measure could betray me. What
loyalty can exist if there is none
between family members? Ahh Jenna,
it is with heavy heart I burden you
with my request. But you must make
it right, my dear, for only you know
of my pain. You are my only hope. I
can trust no one. Go to my sister’s
home in London. She lives at number
twelve Stanhope Street. Tell her I
sent you. She will have a box for you.
Tell no one, trust no one. I am counting
on you.
Sophia Dudley
Jenna sat in stunned silence. Whatever could the viscountess be talking about? The entire letter was puzzling. The aching in her head increased. She was too tired to decipher the cryptic note. Perhaps it would make more sense in the morning.
But sleep eluded her. What could the viscountess mean no loyalty among family members? And why had the viscount been so adamant about her wearing the locket? Was it a coincidence that someone had tried to steal it? Could they have known what was hidden in the locket?
But who would know, and what did the letter mean? She tossed restlessly, staring at the ceiling. She could ask the viscount, but she had never liked the man. He would likely think her forward for asking impertinent questions at any rate.
Suddenly she sat straight up. The opera. She’d nearly been robbed at the opera. Could there be a connection between the two events? Surely no one else had such miserable luck.
Her hand went to her throat, rubbing absently at the spot where the necklace had lain. Who could she trust? More than that, who could she confide in who wouldn’t think she was a hysterical ninny?
She was going to ignore it. Yes, that was it. She’d put it out of her mind. Her life was complicated enough without worrying over some box the viscountess left for her. The last thing she needed was something else for a desperate attacker to try and wrest from her.
Stuart was proof enough the entire family wasn’t exactly normal. Maybe Lady Dudley wasn’t in her right mind in the years leading up to her death. Either way, she’d be advised to put the entire matter out of her mind.
No, she wasn’t going anywhere near Stanhope Street.
Chapter Seventeen
Jenna paused outside the gate of number twelve Stanhope Street debating whether or not to go in. Despite her determination not to go to Lady Dudley’s sister’s house, there she stood. It wouldn’t hurt to see if there really was a box. Then she could satisfy her curiosity and forget about it.
She glanced worriedly over her shoulder, fearful that someone was lurking, just waiting to apprehend her. Her anxiety was making her nauseous, but after last night’s attack, she could ill afford to be lax in her attention. Finally, convinced that no one was going to pounce, she opened the rusty gate, wincing when it protested with a loud creak. The overgrown walkway to the front door needed attention badly, and cracks dotted the faded stones. When she reached for the knocker, it nearly fell off in her hand. Easing it back into place, she opted to rap on the door with her hand.
An aging butler opened the door and smiled at her. Jenna presented her calling card and said, “I am here to see...” Oh dear, what was Lady Dudley’s sister’s name? But the butler stepped aside and gestured her in before she could decide upon the best way to explain her p
resence.
“Come in, my lady. I’ll summon Miss Somerset at once.”
Jenna tucked away the name for future reference and followed the butler in. He ushered her into a sitting room that sported faded, threadbare furniture and dim light. The furnishings were outdated, all reminiscent of the last century. Few paintings adorned the walls and were covered in a light sheen of dust and cobwebs.
As she sat and waited, Jenna looked curiously around. Miss Somerset appeared to have fallen on hard times. Surely the viscount would have provided for her. Wouldn’t he? She glanced up at the sagging chandelier that was liberally covered with spider webs. An assortment of flies hung suspended in the thick silk, and she wondered if there was no maid to clean them.
Her attention was drawn to the doorway where an elderly lady entered the room. She was petite, with silver hair and warm, gentle eyes. And she looked delighted to have a caller. “Lady Jenna is it?” She crossed the room, a welcoming smile on her face. “I am Evelyn Somerset. I am so pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Jenna returned her smile. “I am pleased to make yours as well.”
“Would you care for some tea, dear?”
Not wanting to refuse, she nodded, and Miss Somerset rang for a tray. “I realize my arrival is unexpected, but I was hoping you could help me with something.”
“Yes, of course, dear. What is it you need?”
“I understand that your sister is the late Viscountess Dudley.”
Sadness shone in the older woman’s eyes. “Yes, she was my sister. Did you know her?”
Jenna cleared her throat. “I am engaged to her son Stuart.”
“How delightful!” she exclaimed. “So you will be a new family member. Congratulations.”
The butler returned with a tray of tea and began pouring for the two ladies. Miss Somerset took up her cup and looked at Jenna over the rim. “I hope your marriage will be a happy one.”
Jenna smiled politely and accepted the cup of tea the butler handed her. “Thank you, ma’am. Now as to the reason behind my visit. I don’t know how to say this, but I found a letter from the viscountess last night. She asked me to retrieve a box from you. Would you know anything about it?”
