A Stolen Kiss (Victorian Love Book 1)

by M. A. Nichols

  The fellow gave a good show of it. Truly, he did. Mr. Ashbrook looked as though he was of a mind to do battle with Jack, but he turned tail and fled, leaving Jack doubly disappointed. Neither Mr. Ashbrook nor Miss Kingsley was proving to be what they claimed.

  Returning to his ledger, Jack grabbed the pen and rolled it between his fingers. His eyes followed the numbers, but they made no impression on his mind.

  “I see your mood has not improved,” said Silas, leaning against the door frame.

  “It has been a trying day,” said Jack, forcing himself to pay attention to the figures.

  “And a trying night if what I hear is correct,” said Silas.

  “You are not going to lecture me as well, are you?” asked Jack, slamming his pen to the desk, and Silas dared to smirk at that and slide onto the chair opposite.

  Resting his elbows on the chair arms, Silas steepled his fingers and watched Jack with a hint of a smile. Having spent much of his life aboard ships, Silas Byrnes was as weather-beaten as one would expect of a former sailor, but there was a lightness in his eyes and a paternal air to him that belied the shrewd mind that lurked beneath his greying hair.

  Silas chuckled. “You are in a fine temper today.”

  “And you are not helping it,” replied Jack, crossing his arms.

  “That was not my intention,” said Silas. If not for the years of camaraderie they shared, Jack would be quite tempted to give the fellow a setdown that would have that smirk fleeing for cover.

  “You are trying my patience.”

  “Growl all you like, Hatch, but I have no intention of leaving until I get a civil word from you,” said Silas. “I rather like our staff at present and have no interest in finding new clerks after you run off this lot.”

  Jack’s expression pinched, his brows deeply furrowing. “I have never mistreated anyone in my employ, and I do not mean to change that.”

  Silas’s own brows rose at that. “I am well aware of that. I simply wished to remind you of that fact, for you seem quite determined to forget it this morning.”

  Letting out a gust of a sigh, Jack scrubbed at his face. “As I previously stated, it has been a trying day.” Reclining in his armchair, he folded his arms and allowed his gaze to drift off into nothing.

  Silas allowed him a few moments of silence before Jack finally asked, “What do you know of the Kingsleys and the Ashbrooks?”

  With a thoughtful nod, Silas said, “We’ve had dealings with them in the past.” When Jack gave a surprised look, Silas added, “Mr. Ambrose Ashbrook owns Newland Mills in Lancashire. His brother-in-law, Mr. Simon Kingsley, is invested in it.”

  Jack cast his thoughts back and recalled that particular Mr. Ashbrook. He had reminded Jack of Silas in many ways. Both gentlemen were at ease with others and had a knack for the more social aspects of business, which was precisely why Jack left Silas to handle the public side; sailors and engineers were far more to his liking than politicians and investors.

  Though not well acquainted with Mr. Ambrose Ashbrook, Jack knew the fellow’s reputation. Not so much his social standing—which meant little to anyone other than Society—but his business dealings. Those indicated a fellow’s true nature far better than how he navigated a ballroom or treated his peers. Many a “gentleman” acted the part when it came to bowing and scraping at the altar of Society, but when investments were involved, scruples became a fluid thing. Or non-existent altogether.

  But not with Mr. Ashbrook. If Jack’s sources were to be believed. And they were. Hatcher & Byrnes’s shipping contract with Newland Mills was one of their least profitable but working with a gentleman who truly deserved that appellation was worth the meager earnings.

  Jack knew nothing of the fellow’s brother-in-law but knowing that the Kingsleys were closely aligned with Mr. Ambrose Ashbrook brought a modicum of relief. Though the Ashbrook he’d just met did little to recommend the family, Mr. Ambrose Ashbrook’s connection made Jack think kindlier about his niece. Perhaps she was as honest and forthright as her uncle.

  “I know Miss Lily Kingsley is not one of society’s darlings, but she is generally respected,” said Silas with an air too pointed to be anything but a direct jab at Jack’s current situation.

  “Then I suppose you’ve heard about last night’s debacle,” grumbled Jack. “It is empirical proof that I should never mingle. I blame you for abandoning me to my own devices.”

  However, even as he expressed that regret, thoughts of Miss Kingsley eroded any such sentiments. His fingers brushed against the leather arms of his chair, as though feeling her. The memory of her lips pressed to his brought back the same warmth that had coursed through his veins the night prior.

  It was ridiculous. He was no lad to be so undone by a lady, but Jack could not deny she was alluring.

  When he emerged from those thoughts, he found Silas watching him with eyes that held too much of a challenge to be ignored. Though Jack certainly tried.

  “If you have something to say, then out with it,” grumbled Jack.

  “You will not offer for the young lady?”

  Jack huffed and shook his head. “I would think that you, of all people, would understand how unappealing a marriage of duty is.”

  Silas’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, tapping the edge of Jack’s desk with a pointed finger. “I, of all people, understand how important it is to do one’s duty. My first marriage may not have been a happy one, but I have never regretted doing what I must. Its blessings far outweighed its burdens.”

  Jack huffed. “And it helped that you were at sea for most of it.”

  “Perhaps,” said Silas with a begrudging nod. “But for all the frustration and pain it caused me, I would not undo it, for that would erase my children and grandchild, and I cannot imagine my life without them.”

  Silas’s gaze grew unfocused for a moment as his thoughts turned inwards. “And you might say that without Deborah, I would not have met my dear Judith, who has given me more joy and happiness than any man deserves.”

  Crossing his arms, Jack tried to keep the impatience from his face; Silas had lectured many a time about the virtues of matrimony, and Jack was no more eager to enter that state than he had been the first time Silas had broached the subject. However, Silas’s heartfelt words did not deserve such apathy.

  “You needn’t look so sour,” said Silas, his brows lowering and his lips twisting into an expression that was at once exasperated and amused.

  “Forgive me, but you do like to wax poetic about my need for a wife, and the topic is tedious.”

  Silas shrugged. “You need a wife.”

  “And you think some lady who threw herself into my arms by mistake is the solution?” Jack didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm laden in that statement.

  To which Silas answered with another shrug with a smirk added for good measure. “The situation has you at odds, which is your conscience telling you what you should do. If you felt no guilt over your part in it, you would not think twice about it. And you certainly would not be growling at the clerks and scowling like a miser facing down a bill collector.”

  Jack caught himself before his scowl deepened, though he greatly desired to do so; in part, due to the smug way Silas spoke, but also because the fellow was right. Life had taught Jack prudence and caution, and for him to act rashly or behave in a manner that bestirred his conscience was a rare thing. Though there were plenty who attempted to inspire that emotion in him, he was not one to be easily swayed by the uninformed and narrow opinions of others. Yet, he could not deny that he was troubled by a niggling of guilt concerning Miss Kingsley. If not for that, he could simply bid her adieu and continue with his life without a second thought.

  Perhaps.

  “She was meeting a beau,” said Jack, waving aside the errant sentiment. “That fellow can repair her reputation in a trice.”

  A single eyebrow crept up Silas’s forehead. “And many a silly beau has been frightened off by a sullied reputation. What
then?”

  “Then he is not a lover worth having. Any fellow who allows himself to be driven off by nothing but a bit of gossip is a coward.”

  Silas gave a decisive nod. “Too right. And I suppose if that is the case with Miss Kingsley’s gentleman, she will be better off without him, and all the others who will shun her. It was her mistake, and it is only right she bears the consequences alone.”

  Jack’s chest burned at that unhappy picture Silas painted. His fingers tapped against the desk in a rapid staccato as shame took root in his heart and spread.

  “You are goading me,” he muttered.

  “There would be nothing to goad if I were not in the right,” said Silas, getting to his feet and giving Jack a final look so full of stern disapproval that Jack felt like a lad being dressed down by his father. There was no doubt that in this instance, he had been found lacking, and that thought haunted Jack as the gentleman abandoned him to his thoughts.

  Chapter 4

  Twirling the stem of a leaf in her fingers, Lily examined the trees lining the pathway, feeling altogether grateful for the cover. Though the rain had cleared, clouds choked the skies, threatening yet another downpour. This spring was determined to be wet and miserable, and Lily hoped her parents were enjoying finer weather in Italy. And that her umbrella would be sturdy enough if the heavens opened once again.

  The park was surprisingly busy for a day with such questionable weather, but it had been the first rainless afternoon since Lily had arrived in London, and everyone was taking advantage of it.

  “Only a fool would sit at home when the Park beckons,” Aunt Louisa-Margaretta had declared as they mounted the carriage steps.

  In truth, Lily was grateful for the time out of doors. The city air was by no means fresh, and this was one of the few patches that was not as clogged with the foul stench of humanity. It was not as pristine as the grounds around her home in Bristow, but the rain had cleared the perpetual fog clinging to the city, and Lily could pretend that she was once again in the country.

  They had taken the obligatory turn in the barouche, but Aunt Louisa-Margaretta was quite determined to do more than the obligatory today. Scandal and gossip could be curtailed, and their resultant damage healed—with the right steps. However, Lily had not the skill nor the interest in joining that delicate dance.

  Watching her aunt and two cousins-in-law holding court, Lily wondered why they were so fractious about the situation. Her cousins had rallied around their mother-in-law, to do all they could to repair the damage that had been done, but neither they nor Aunt Louisa-Margaretta recognized that the others’ detached treatment of Lily was precisely what it had been before that ill-fated kiss. The rumors about last night’s debacle had done nothing to alter Lily’s standing among them. She had been beneath their notice before and remained so now.

  As is, Lily was left to follow them about the park, strolling along the tree-lined pathways, as the ladies called out to anyone with whom they could claim even the slightest acquaintance. The new arrivals always gave Lily the proper nods, bows, and curtsies, but then treated her with the same detached disinterest they always displayed.

  Stepping apart from the group, Lily stared at the trees as she twirled the leaf in her fingers. No one noticed her distance, for which she was grateful. She could hardly stand another quarter of an hour listening to their jabbering. Scowling at herself, Lily sent out a silent apology for that uncharitable thought. Aunt Louisa-Margaretta and her cousins-in-law were doing what they thought best, and it was unkind of her to resent it.

  Pretending to find the tree especially interesting, Lily turned her face away from the crowds and stared at the canopy of green to hide the blush spreading through her cheeks. What had she been thinking? Lily recalled all her reasons to kiss Mr. Farson, but they seemed ridiculous at present. This whole trip had been a mistake.

  She should be touring the continent with her parents. Having accepted an invitation to travel with Uncle Graham and Aunt Tabby, Mama and Papa had attempted to cajole her into joining them, but London had been so alluring. A final Season to say farewell to her life as an eligible young lady.

  Lily huffed at the ludicrous thought, for she had never been “eligible.” Unmarried, yes. Available, most certainly. But eligible denoted a level of desirability that Lily had never possessed.

  Fluttering her eyelashes to stave off the tingle of tears, Lily blinked as though nothing were amiss and dropped the leaf to the ground. A covert glance around her, and she was certain no one was noticing her.

  Spinster. The word haunted her.

  Like a clever predator, it had shadowed her steps, drawing ever closer until ready to pounce. It was an unwanted description of an unwanted woman. Something impossible to ignore when the world around her fixated on it. Lily was no fool; she’d known her chances of marrying had never been great. How could she find a partner for her life when it was nigh impossible to secure a partner for a dance?

  Yet still, she had hoped. It was a silly, unrealistic sentiment, but Lily had clung to it. Somewhere, somehow a gentleman would see her—the real her. See past the outer shell that so many found unappealing to the beauty of her heart and soul.

  Of course, there were times when Lily dreamt of a gentleman falling madly in love the moment he laid eyes on her, but even she knew that was too fantastical to happen. No, the gentleman would start as a friend or acquaintance, but as time passed, that relationship would deepen and grow into the type of love her parents shared.

  But now, it was time to accept that she inspired no such sentiment, no gentleman desired her, and she would be forever Miss Kingsley.

  For one moment, Lily had allowed herself to pretend. In Mr. Hatcher’s arms, those wild imaginings had become a reality, but when the passion had faded, Mr. Hatcher had fled as readily as any gentleman who had been conscripted into an unwanted service.

  Lily’s heart hung heavy in her chest. Though she had spent many an hour wondering what it was that others found distasteful, Lily was no closer to understanding why others found her so distasteful. In her family’s eyes, she was beloved and precious, but so many others were intent on reminding her of her worthless state. Even Mr. Hatcher.

  Wandering along the lane, Lily found herself delving deeper into those maudlin thoughts until they overwhelmed her. For once, she was heartily grateful that no one paid her any heed, for she was in no fit state for conversation.

  *

  There was something particularly calming about a stroll through nature. Jack preferred to do so at night when others were in for the evening and only the moon and stars were there for company; then his feet could march mindlessly along as he mused about the goings-on in his world without distraction. It was as though the world were his alone.

  However, there was nothing particularly calming about a stroll through Hyde Park in the afternoon. In his haste to find a bit of solace, Jack had set off for his next appointment on foot, hoping a few minutes alone in that verdant patch of earth would calm the tumult consuming his mind. But the lanes and roads were filled with people, coaches, and horses. Like a teeming anthill, they charged about their world with endless energy for their meaningless tasks.

  No matter how he avoided attracting their attention, the toadies of Town invariably attempted to engage him in conversation. As they had nothing of import to occupy their time, they assumed all others were the same, but Jack refused to waste precious moments engaged in empty babble. With a nod of acknowledgment, Jack plowed ahead, never allowing his steps to lag; the upper class had not the determination to bother chasing after a moving target and soon abandoned their quarry.

  But one lady had the power to alter his course. As he turned onto a new path, he spied Miss Kingsley standing to one side. His feet veered back, returning him to the straightaway before Jack realized he was beating a hasty retreat.

  The last thing he needed was another scene. Not that he feared one; if the Kingsleys or Ashbrooks chose to push matters, it would not be he w
ho felt the sting of embarrassment. However, he had not time to deal with such matters. His appointment with Mr. Bendimore was fast approaching, and he would not be late.

  Jack continued his march along the detour, but through the trees to his right, he caught a glimpse of her green skirts. His steps slowed.

  Her companions were too engaged in their conversation to notice him, and while the lady in question stood silently in their midst, she did not turn his direction. Jack did not recognize most in her party, but he recognized the clear distance between them. One of the older ladies, whom Jack thought to be her aunt, smiled at Miss Kingsley from time to time but remained ignorant of the physical distance Miss Kingsley put between them.

  With a few steps, the lady removed herself from the conversation and stared at the canopy above her. Shifting to observe her more fully while remaining unseen, Jack watched as she fought to hide away her heart. Miss Kingsley turned her face away from the others, but it was impossible to miss the tears in her eyes.

  Jack’s chest tightened.

  Shaking his head, he went on his way, abandoning that distraction. Miss Kingsley had made her bed. It was her assignation with a gentleman that had brought her to that library. And her mistake had thrown her into Jack’s arm. This was her doing, and it was not Jack’s duty to alleviate her suffering.

  But the whisper of guilt tickling his neck spoke of a different truth. Miss Kingsley may have initiated the first kiss, but the ill-fated second had been Jack’s doing.

  ***

  “That was an afternoon well spent,” said Aunt Louisa-Margaretta as she took Lily by the arm. Her daughters-in-law trailed behind them, chattering about some dinner or ball they were to attend.

  Her aunt shook her head with a laugh, making the mass of blond curls gathered on either side of her face bounce. Lily tried not to be jealous of the lady’s gorgeous hair, but it was difficult not to when so many of the styles required such curled perfection while Lily’s hair had a desperate aversion to holding even the slightest wave. But then, Lily also wished she had her aunt’s petite figure as well. Though well into her sixtieth decade, Aunt Louisa-Margaretta showed little sign of it apart from slight wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth.