Jewel longed to be outside, but knew she would have to wait until she felt stronger. Even this short walk had left her legs feeble and unstable. Turning back to look at the room, she marveled at the wealth of the man who’d saved her. Lavish Queen Anne furnishings accented the feminine decor. The Oriental carpets had deep greens and golds with just a touch of black.
This room probably belonged to the lady in Lord Trent’s life, Jewel mused. She remembered Annie saying he wasn’t married, but since the first day, she hadn’t said anything else about him.
Jewel wondered about the man who’d saved her. Evidently, he wanted nothing to do with her because she’d yet to see him. If that was the case, then Jewel decided she’d treat him with the same indifference. She hadn’t asked to be here. He’d brought her to his home. She would get well, thank the duke for saving her, and then get out of his life. But where was she going to go? She couldn’t go home. She didn’t even know where home was.
A gnawing fear of the unknown seeped through her body. Her eyes started to moisten, and her stomach twisted with apprehension at not knowing what the future would bring. What if he threw her out?
“What ye be doin’ out of bed?” Annie scolded from the door. “Are ye forgettin’ what the doctor done and told ye? Here, let me help ye!” She hurried over and took Jewel by the arm, guiding her back to the bed. “You’re doin’ well for the first time up, but I wouldn’t be overdoin’ it,” Annie said more gently.
“Annie, what is the duke like?”
“Like no other mon I’ve ever known,” she answered with quiet authority. At Jewel’s look of surprise, she added, “Of course, I’m a wee bit prejudiced. He’s fierce like a lion on the outside, but if you can break past his hard shell ye’ll see a kind mon.” Annie smiled as she straightened the bed linens. “Ye’ll meet him soon and can judge for yerself.”
After that description, Jewel wasn’t sure how much she looked forward to the prospect. “What if he doesn’t like me?”
Annie cocked her head to one side and gave Jewel an appraising look. “He’ll be likin’ ye, lass. I’ve no doubts on that matter.”
Jewel wasn’t so sure. Why should he like a perfect stranger? He probably wouldn’t like her at all. Exhausted from just those few minutes, she appreciated Annie’s assistance more than she knew as Annie helped her into bed.
“Tomorrow we’ll be gettin’ ye up and dressed. I’ll show ye the house, but I want ye to promise ye’ll let me know the minute ye tire.”
“But Annie, I have no clothes! I have nothing.”
“Don’t be a-frettin’, child. Remember the wrinkles,” she teased. “I’ll find ye something to wear. That ye can be sure of.” Annie fluffed the pillows as Jewel climbed up on the bed, then pulled the covers over her. “Rest now. Tomorrow will be here before ye know it.”
Jewel’s temples throbbed as she snuggled gratefully under the white comforter. She knew she wouldn’t try to get out of bed again, but tomorrow would be different. She couldn’t wait to get back to her old self again—whoever that was, and she also found her apprehension growing at the thought of meeting this mysterious man who sounded both formidable and kind and whose house she was living in. She sighed, and her heavy eyelids drifted down, but her mind wouldn’t rest as she pondered all the unanswered questions.
She had to find her knife.
Jewel’s eyelids flew open.
A knife? Why in the world had she thought of a knife?
Maybe something evil did lurk in her past. Or maybe she was the evil
Chapter Four
Jewel awoke bright and early to a slight nip in the air. Today she was going to leave this room and see just how big Briercliff was. Stretching her arms overhead, she felt a tightness in her back that soon gave way to a nagging itch. Another good sign her back was healing.
She slid out of bed and found her legs were not as weak as the day before. Grabbing a lacy shawl, she made her way to the French doors. The glass doors swung open and moist, salty sea air poured in. The stone of the balcony floor chilled her feet. Pulling her shawl closer to ward off the brisk air, she glanced to her left and saw the white misty fog beginning to separate, leaving in its wake a view of the sea. Behind the wispy curtain of mist, the sea roared as it flung itself against the rocky shore.
Wrapped in her solitude, Jewel shut her eyes and found she felt very much at home with the sea. But that tranquility was soon erased as she envisioned two ships: one the victor, the other the prey. The remains of a broken ship surrounded by smoke, blood, and death half-crystallized before her eyes. Memories.
“No!” An agonized whisper slipped passed her lips and she covered her ears, trying to block out the screams of death. Her eyes flew open. She gripped the railing so hard her knuckles had turned white. She didn’t want her memory back if it was anything like what she’d just envisioned.
“And a good morning to ye, missy. How would ye be feelin’ this morning?” Annie asked cheerfully as she walked into the room.
Jewel took several deep breaths. By the time she’d turned away from the railing, she’d managed to regain her composure. Her gaze lit on the clothes Annie had thrown across her arm. “Good morning, Annie. I feel much better,” Jewel lied. “I see you’ve found something for me to wear?”
“Now, ’twould seem all the women round here are a wee bit larger than ye.” Annie held up a pair of trousers and a shirt with a shame-faced look. “However, the cook, Marie, suggested that I be tryin’ some of her son’s clothes on ye— that is, if ye don’t mind?”
“Mind? Of course not. I’d wear anything to get out of this room.” Jewel found herself getting caught up in the kind lady’s merriment. She absolutely didn’t want any more flashes of gruesome memories.
“Speaking of clothes . . . what happened to the ones I had when I came here?”
“They were no better than rags, lass, so we burned ’em.” Speaking matter-of-factly, Annie laid the garments on the end of the bed. “Adam would not like findin’ ye in men’s garb, him bein’ of the gentry, but he’s not due back till tomorrow, so we thought ’twould be all right.”
“Thank you, Annie. I don’t see why His Grace would care. Besides what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him or us.” So that was why Jewel hadn’t met His Lordship. She had thought he was purposely avoiding her. What kind of man would take the time to save her, then leave before he found out if she would live?
“Now, for a bath.” Annie pulled the bell cord, signaling the servants to bring the water up from the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, the hip-tub was filled, and Jewel lay back in the steamy water, enjoying the scent. She was thankful the water didn’t burn her still-tender back.
“This soap smells wonderful.”
“ ’Tis the fragrance of lavender, and ’tis Elizabeth’s favorite, too.”
So Elizabeth was the lady in the duke’s life. Jewel wanted to know more about this person, but since Annie didn’t say anything else, Jewel hesitated to ask. Of course, it was none of her business. However, it explained the female decor of this room. Perhaps His Lordship had gone after Elizabeth. That could be his most urgent business.
And where did Jewel fit in once they returned? She wondered about that as she lathered her arms. Would she be sent to the servants’ quarters or sent away? And how the hell was she going to get home? She slid under the water to rinse off the soap, then emerged thinking of the unknown. Scared, she pushed her worries aside and patiently sat while Annie washed her hair. Jewel reached up, and for the first time she realized her hair was short.
“You know, Annie, I don’t even know what I look like,” Jewel admitted.
“We’ll be fixin’ that shortly. To be sure, a few weeks ago ye wouldn’t have wanted to see yerself, but yer bruises have faded now, so I think it’ll be all right.” Annie helped her from the tub, providing a soft sheet for drying off.
After dressing in the clothes provided, Jewel walked over to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t recognize the person star
ing back. Placing her hands on her cheeks, she sighed. This definitely wasn’t the face she remembered. Again her memory was jarred as she recalled her carefree days on an island daydreaming over the fashionable magazines that her tutor, Mr. Lovall, had provided, hoping that one day she might be as beautiful as the grand ladies. But look at her! She had a boy’s figure and the one thing that had been pretty was now gone—gone was the silky, black hair that had hung to her waist, and there was no memory of the face that stared back at her.
“What happened to my hair?” Reaching up in dismay, she fingered the strands that just touched her shoulders. Then she remembered a man ... no, a captain lacing his fingers through her long black hair as he jerked her to her knees and savagely hacked off her long hair, throwing it at her feet. When Jewel opened her eyes, two tears had run down her cheeks. She didn’t know who she had been before today, but she knew some terrible things had happened to her. The question was, what part did she play in all these scenes?
“I didna mean to upset ye, lass. Yer hair will grow back.” Annie squeezed Jewel’s arms.
“It—it’s not that. It—it’s just that for a moment I could see a man cutting off my hair.”
“Did ye recognize him?”
“No.” Jewel shook her head.
“ ’Tis a good sign. Yer memory will be returnin’ ’fore long and ye’ll have all yer questions answered to be sure.”
Jewel couldn’t stop staring at the stranger’s ... no, her reflection. Just who was the woman who stared back? She pinched her cheeks to bring out a soft pink color. Shrugging her shoulders, she decided there was not much she could do about her appearance until she was completely well.
She felt a vague familiarity about the clothing she had on. She didn’t feel the least bit strange in pants, but she didn’t comment as they headed slowly down the stairs. According to Annie, ladies would never dream of wearing such garments.
Looking at portraits of the Trent ancestors that hung along the walls, she noticed they all had cold and unhappy countenances. She could truthfully say she was glad she didn’t have to meet any of these men. The present duke would probably be bad enough.
First, they entered the sitting room, where the rich cherry-wood paneling smelled of beeswax and a large white Persian rug sprawled across the oak floor. Jewel stepped on the thick carpet, skirting the family crest boldly dominating the very center of the rug.
Sapphire blue surrounded the outside edge of the crest, and in the center a bold knight dressed in armor sat astride a mighty black stallion. The mantle draped above the helm was blood red. Under the knight was sprawled the Latin for the motto one so bold.
Velvet drapes of the same sapphire blue hue covered the windows. Everything in the room proclaimed the wealth of the Trent family.
“It’s beautiful,” Jewel finally said.
“I think so, too,” Annie admitted. “This carpet took over two years for the weavers to finish. I daresay there’s not another like it.”
Just how wealthy was this man? He must have paid a small fortune for a rug of this quality, Jewel thought.
“Lass, I’ve some things to be doin’ in the kitchen,” Annie explained. “Ye can stay in here if ye like or ye can come with me.”
“I’d like to see the cooking area, if you don’t mind. I promise not to get in the way.”
The place reminded Jewel of a beehive with so many people coming and going. The aroma of freshly baked bread scented the air as a big, gray-clad woman stood in the center of the room, swinging a leg of lamb as if it were a mere chicken bone. Jewel decided quickly that the cook wasn’t a woman to be crossed. Jewel glanced around the kitchen and noticed an abundance of everything. It appeared they were preparing enough food to feed an army.
“Are we having company?” she asked the cook.
“Not company, but His Grace.” The cook picked up a pot full of hot broth and a big spoon and moved to the fireplace. “A messenger just arrived with a note from His Lordship. He sent word he’ll be here tonight for dinner, so there are many things to be done.” When she finished basting the lamb with broth, she looked at Jewel. “His Grace insists his staff eat as well as he does; that’s the reason you see so much food,” the cook explained as she carried the roast over to the fireplace.
“Annie, let me help here. I feel strong enough.” Jewel smiled hesitantly. She felt useless just sitting and watching others work.
“Nay. Besides, ye have just gotten out of bed.”
Jewel straightened her shoulders and prepared herself for an argument. She knew she’d have her hands full convincing Annie. “I promise I’ll tell you if I get tired. There must be something easy I can do,” she suggested hopefully. “All of you have done so much for me, it’s the least I can do.”
“Adam would have my head and ye would hear the roar of the lion himself.” Annie shook her white-capped crown. “Now, be a good lass and go on back to the sittin’ room. I’ll check on ye later.”
“Go to the sitting room? And do what?” Jewel mumbled. “No, I don’t think I will.” She wandered down the hall past the stairs to what she thought would be the study. Her curiosity about the duke had to be satisfied.
The sharp odor of cherry tobacco pricked Jewel’s nose as she opened the door. How masculine the room appeared. A sense of power and strength emanated from the dark, massive furniture. She wondered what His Lordship was like. “Probably old and ugly,” she murmured to herself.
Bookshelves lined the wall behind the desk, reaching from floor to ceiling. Hundreds of leather-bound tomes on every conceivable subject filled the space. Pulling down a text, she carefully opened it to the first page and scanned it swiftly. She could read, so she must have had some kind of education.
Putting the volume back in its place, she began cleaning with the feather duster she’d found. Jewel stretched up high, but the pain in her back reminded her all too quickly that she wasn’t fully recovered.
A pair of blue leather wing-back chairs soon glistened from her efforts. Next she tackled the mantel, carefully picking up each vase. When she’d replaced the last one, she glanced up and noticed a large portrait hanging above the mantel. She had to back up to get a better look. An older, distinguished man stared down at her. His finely chiseled face had strong aristocratic features. However, his strange coal-black eyes dominated his attributes, and compelled her attention as his black piercing pupils seemed to stare right through her so much so she found it impossible to glance away. How silly, Jewel thought. The painter must have been in a hurry because no one had eyes the color of midnight.
Casting off the eerie feeling, she turned back to the task at hand, moving over to the large, mahogany desk. Its rich colors matched the bookcase perfectly. She picked up a paper lying on the top, trying to get some feel for the man. The sheet she held was a ledger from a farm that was probably on his estate. Putting it back, she shook her head as she looked at the messy desktop. It was hard to decide where to start. Her knees buckled, and she could tell her legs felt just a little wobbly. She’d just finish this last thing, and then she’d find a chair where she could rest.
Stacking all the documents to one side, she began to dust. In her haste, she bumped the largest stack of papers, and watched as they scattered in disarray over the floor. “Damn,” Jewel swore as she got down on her knees to retrieve the papers. Annie’s words came back to her and Jewel bit her lip in consternation. Hadn’t Annie warned her how particular His Grace was? That was all Jewel needed ... to anger a man she had yet to meet.
She rose with her arms full of papers and glanced at the painting. If he looked anything like this painting, he stayed in a bad mood. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice the documents were out of order if she just spread them across the desk.
Engrossed in her task, she didn’t hear the door open.
Chapter Five
Adam’s eyes narrowed as he watched a young lad going through his papers. A muscle twitched in his cheek. By God, no one entered his study unless invited!
Pulling out the gun he kept tucked in his belt, he eased across the room with a quietness that years of training had taught him.
Catching the lad off guard, Adam wrapped his arm around the boy’s neck and jammed a revolver into his back. He felt a smug satisfaction when the boy yelped.
“What are you looking for, son?” Adam growled in a low, menacing voice. “I assure you that everything in this room belongs to me, and you better damn well have a good excuse for being here. I strongly suggest that you slowly turn around.”
Adam felt the boy stiffen, and it took a moment before the lad spoke. “You’re hurting my back! For an old man, you sure have a mean grip. Remove that damn gun, and I’ll do as you request.”
“As I request! Bloody Hell!” Adam’s shouts vibrated the windows. “You’ve some nerve, son.” Not waiting for the boy to move on his own, Adam grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around.
The angry words Adam was about to hurl at the boy caught in his throat as a pair of angry brown eyes looked up at him. Eyes that he’d seen only briefly before. Eyes that now held him spellbound.
Jewel? No, it couldn’t be. Surely she was still in bed, he reminded himself. Wasn’t that why he had ridden so hard from London? Was it possible? Could this be the same person?
“Jewel?”
A young woman stared up at him, her anger having vanished, and he could see she was as shocked as he. “Yes,” she replied softly. “A-are you His Grace?”
Adam nodded slowly. His gaze rested upon the feather duster she held in her hand and his temper flared once again, but this time for a different reason. Did she think she had to earn her keep? She couldn’t possibly be well and should be in bed regaining her strength . . . not playing downstairs maid. He had a staff quite capable of cleaning.
The Duke's Lady (Historical Romance - The Ladies Series) Page 4
