She plopped herself down on the sofa with a heavy sigh, half a room away from him. He pushed his chair out from his desk and walked over to her, his hands in his vest pockets as he studied her.
“It wouldn’t be a risk,” he assured her.
Jez threw her right arm over her brow dramatically. “I don’t want to think about this at the moment.”
“This is your reality, Jez.” He didn’t finish his diatribe, as he didn’t want to lecture her any more than she wanted to be lectured. Another time perhaps, but not now. “We’ll discuss this when you’re in better spirits, then.”
She peeked at him from under her arm. “I doubt that’ll be any time soon. The only thing I care about right now is what our plans are for this evening.”
“Cards. Here, of course.”
She needed to stay out of sight for a while, let the gossip surrounding her appearance at her husband’s funeral die down; by wearing scarlet to the funeral of her late husband she’d dared society to censure her. Hayden wondered if society would ever look at Jez in a kinder light than the one that currently shone upon her. Only time would tell.
“It’s dreadful being a widow. I haven’t received one invitation since Fallon kicked the bucket.”
“A week is hardly a long time. And just because you don’t care for society’s rules, you know most others play by the book.”
Besides, she didn’t look as though she could endure an evening of fanfare despite her insistence. She looked frail, and as the week had progressed she seemed more unlike herself—“distant” and “less vibrant” were the only descriptions he could come up with. He wasn’t foolish enough to bring that to her attention, or the fact that she could feel better from a week of self-imposed rest.
It didn’t matter what anyone else thought of her; he knew exactly what was going on in that pretty head of hers—she was hiding from the truth of her circumstances. She constantly pushed herself too hard, and while he understood her need to distance herself from reality, it was time to put the reins back on her life and figure out her future.
After living under the reign of her husband for so long, it must be odd to finally be free, to do as she pleased without any repercussions from Fallon.
There were so many things Hayden wanted to show her that would make her smile. He wanted to be the one to give her that second view on life. And he would. But now wasn’t quite the time for that.
“What are you thinking so intensely about?” she asked.
He shrugged. “This and that. Nothing of import, unless you want to discuss a few of the ventures I’ve been lucky to invest in.”
“I’d tell you how insufferable you are, but you already know that about yourself.”
“Do I?” He smiled a little with her assessment of him.
“Oh, stop being so cavalier. Please sit with me. You’re liable to start pacing and I have a megrim coming on. I don’t want to grow dizzy watching you think out my problems.” She rubbed fitfully at her temple. “I think I should remind you again: my situation is my problem to sort out.”
He sat heavily on the sofa and put his feet up on the ottoman next to her ivory-slippered ones.
“What a pair we are,” he observed aloud.
He turned his head and stared at her with her arm flung over her eyes. She didn’t see him, which he was fine with, since it gave him an opportunity to scrutinize her carefully. The sleeves of her dress were loose around her shoulders and upper arms, her skin had an almost translucent quality, and the light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks seemed faded—if such a thing was possible.
“What am I going to do with you?”
She lowered her arm and turned to look at him. “There’s nothing to be done, Hayden.” She took his hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. The cool press of her fingers could not keep the desires within him banked for long. “Trust that I’ll work out my problems on my own. You can’t always save the day when one of us makes a mess of our lives.”
She referred to their other friends, Leo and Tristan, not just herself. And it was true; he usually had all the answers … except, it seemed, when it came to Jez. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to fix what was currently wrong in her life.
“It’s something I have to do. I’ll always want the best for you.”
“I know.” She smiled, the contentment reaching her blue eyes this time. “You’re the best friend anyone could ever ask for.”
And there was the crux of it: in her eyes he would always be just a friend. She really did make him believe that opposites attracted, for there was nothing similar in their characters, yet he wanted her to himself. She’d always been brazen and daring, him steadfast and cautious. Yet he still wanted to protect and cherish her as his own. And he would. There was nothing to stop him now that Fallon was dead.
“Are you sure you’re up for a hand of cards tonight?” he asked cautiously. Jez hated to be told she shouldn’t do something.
“I haven’t anything better to do, so yes. I’ll send Tristan a note to stop at my townhouse; we can walk over together.”
“I really think we should escape to the countryside for the remainder of the summer. It’ll be too hot to stay in the confines of the city for much longer and I can only bear the smell of the Thames for so long.”
“You know I love London too much to move away for any length of time. Besides, I need to work out a few arrangements with Warren tomorrow.”
Hayden snapped to attention and sat up straighter on the sofa. “What business does he have with you? You should have told me, Jez.”
She sighed more loudly than she needed to. “I knew you would react exactly this way; that’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“What’s the purpose of the meeting?” he asked. “Warren treated you with contempt at the reading of the will. There is no reason for you to have to endure his company alone.”
“Give me some credit in dealing with him. I can be charming if the occasion warrants it. I want to ask him for the dower house, to live there at least until he’s married.”
“You know he won’t allow it. Hell, I’d be surprised if the man actually took the Ponsley chit as his wife.” In fact, Tristan and Leo were both trying to win the favor of the woman set to be engaged to Warren—which had started at Jez’s insistence. “Warren is above reproach, and you know that he can’t possibly entertain the idea of keeping you on.”
“I know I’ve been a dreadful role model of how a proper lady should act since I married, but it will hurt his reputation to throw me out too soon. Surely there are enough men who hated my husband that they’ll side with me in this. I know Warren has it in him to show some compassion.”
“This doesn’t sound like a good idea to me.” In fact, this was an outright bad idea. He didn’t want her near another Fallon for the rest of her days. Hayden decided then and there that if Warren so much as raised his hand to her his life would be forfeit. “If you want to negotiate the dower house as part of your marriage settlement, let me do it with my solicitor.”
“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Hayden.”
“If he mistreats you in any way, you’re to come to me immediately.”
“You sound like an overbearing father.”
That was not a character he wanted to be equated to in Jez’s life.
“You’ll have to live with that,” he said, brushing his hand through his hair. Perhaps he should pay a visit to Warren, tell him that should anything happen to Jez then Warren would be held personally responsible.
Even knowing that he was stepping out of bounds by seeing the man behind Jez’s back, he resolved to have it done first thing in the morning.
He changed the subject to a more pressing issue. “How have you been feeling?”
“Why do you ask?” she said cautiously.
He raised one eyebrow sardonically. She knew exactly what he meant.
“I’m starting to find the happiness I had before I married.”
“Truly?” He had
known her long enough to smell a lie when she fed him one. He didn’t for one second believe her.
She nodded. “It’ll be a long process.”
“And what of your health?”
She sat up a little straighter, chin jutted out and full of pride. “Fit as a fiddle.”
“Don’t lie to me, Jez. I can see the weariness in your face. And it’s more than evident that you’ve shed a good stone in the last couple of weeks.”
She slumped back against the couch with a frustrated air. “It’s not polite for you to say so. And you know I’ve been under more pressure than the average person might have to face in all their life. Don’t worry about me. I promise I’ll fill out my clothes again in no time.”
“Consider it my duty to worry about you.”
Her smile faded from her lips as she pushed herself off the sofa to stand. “If I’m to be ready for this evening, I should head home.”
As Hayden stood he reached for her hand to ask her to stay longer. She shook him off before he even had a chance to touch her.
“I can have a carriage brought around for you,” he offered, even though it was only a few blocks to the Fallon residence.
“I think I’ll walk since it’s such a beautiful day.”
He pulled his hat from the hook near the door, intent on walking with her since he wasn’t ready to part ways.
Jez placed her hand over his chest to stall him. “I wanted to take in the fresh air and think for a while before I’m home. You needn’t walk with me. I’ll be fine on my own.”
Her head was bowed where she stood, her finger fiddling with a button on his shirt—so he couldn’t pull on his jacket, he thought.
“Jez…”
When she looked up at him he was struck speechless by the sadness clouding her vision. “I promise you I’ll be fine, Hayden. And if I’m not, you’ve always been my rock when I’ve needed you, haven’t you?”
He gave one succinct nod, but wondered whether she would really come to him if she needed his support. Their friendship seemed strained … maybe strained was an incorrect assumption, but she’d certainly been avoiding spending any great length of time with him alone since her husband’s funeral—ever since confiding exactly what length her husband had gone to in order to cut her out of the Fallon fortune.
“I know I’ve been out of sorts from all the changes in my life. I promise you that I’m working on being my old self again.”
He didn’t say anything, just let Jez take the hat from his hand and put it back on the peg next to the door.
When she stepped away from him, the footman opened the door at his nod. Hayden stood at the threshold, thinking he should follow her home, knowing that would anger her.
He would do it regardless.
A lady on her own was unacceptable to him. Especially when that lady was Jez.
Chapter 3
The estate of the late F—— has been busy with midnight visitors. With all the ins and outs, I can’t imagine it to be anything clandestine but more a flurry of activity to cover up something much darker than the simplicity of an affair.
Mayfair Chronicles, June 1846
Lady Jessica Fallon, now fortunately and unfortunately the Dowager Countess of Fallon, opened her parasol even though clouds dotted the sky overhead. She turned to her friend one last time before she left him in his foyer.
His blond hair was a little on the long side—he usually kept it clipped short and pomaded as current fashion demanded. Stubble dotted along his jaw and chin, which was unusual; he was so put together that she often found she wanted to rumple him just to see him loosen up a bit. His dark brown eyes, however, were still the same—deadpan and serious as he watched her step outside without him to escort her.
He seemed eager to walk with her, but she needed to be alone right now. She’d delayed too long at his house and now she would suffer the consequences for not ending their time together much sooner.
“Thank you for everything.” She meant it. You could not ask for a truer friend than Hayden and she counted herself lucky to have met and befriended him all those years ago.
“I’d be happier if you’d allow me to escort you.” He folded his arms across his wide chest. He was of formidable height and quite fit from riding and regular fencing, two things he managed to find the time to accomplish every day. And as well he should ride daily, since he bred some of the finest Arabian horses in England.
“Don’t be a ninny, Hayden. I’m not even a ten-minute walk from here.”
His jaw clenched. He clearly didn’t like her insistence in this, but it couldn’t be helped. She blew him a kiss and walked down the steps of his townhouse. She knew he’d follow, and there was nothing to be done about that.
She needed time to herself. Time to think alone. To be reminded about how much of a pariah she was, no thanks to her late husband—and admittedly because of her own antics since the onset of her dreadful marriage. And while she should rejoice at finally being a widow, she simply couldn’t.
With Fallon’s death came uncertainty, and a sad end to the life she’d grown to love even with all the pitfalls she’d met over the last eight years.
She pressed her lace-gloved fingers to her temple to try to relieve the tension that had been building behind her eyes since she woke this morning.
She passed Lady Hargrove and her daughter, whose name Jessica could not recall at the moment. She gave them a cordial nod, but the countess ushered her daughter to the other side of the street, not daring to address a woman of Jessica’s reputation. Jessica would not dwell on how despicable that made her feel; otherwise, she’d be tempted to just stop and sit on the nearest set of stairs and cry out her frustrations for all to see.
That would be too delicious of fodder for the Mayfair Chronicler not to give their twopenny’s worth of thought on.
It was as Hayden suggested; Jessica’s lack of widow’s weeds did not help her in the eyes of society, but she refused to don black for Fallon. He was no true man. Real men did not require brute strength to instill their sense of justice and order in a marriage.
Society had welcomed a monster into their homes with open, trusting arms. She was the only person to ever see the ugly side of her husband.
As she approached her townhouse the first twinge of pain she’d been expecting for days stabbed deep inside her womb. She reached out to the railing and dropped her parasol as she tried to remain standing. Why now? Had she not been humiliated enough these past weeks that she now had to lose the babe in front of everyone? In front of Hayden, who trailed not twenty paces behind? This could not happen yet. Odd how the door was so close yet so far all at the same time.
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath as she weathered the nausea that came with the next wave of cramps. There were too many witnesses to show any weakness now. She needed to remain strong, determined.
She needed to reach the door and find a way into the safety of her home.
She forced a laugh past her lips and took in a deep breath as she picked up her parasol from the stone stairs of her townhouse. With every ounce of strength left in her, she climbed the rest of the way up the stairs without looking back to see whose eyes were upon her, witnessing her shame. Each step was more agonizing than the last as she pulled her weight up the last few steps like an anchor too long at sea and laden with kelp.
If she faltered now, everyone would see and guess at the truth. Not a day had gone by in her marriage when Fallon hadn’t humiliated her; she would not be disgraced on the street for her inability to carry the Fallon heir to term.
She would not.
If anyone so much as guessed that the rightful heir to the Fallon title was being ripped slowly from her body, then she might as well admit defeat now and leave this cursed house behind once and for all. But it was hers. And she would hold on to what was left of her life and she wouldn’t relinquish one miserable second to Mr. Warren before she had to. He’d have to pry her grip away from this house one st
ubborn finger at a time.
God, how she wished Hayden were at her side to help her, but she did not want him to see her so weak, so empty of the vivacity she normally prided in herself. This was her humiliation and loss to bear alone. Besides, she’d already told him too much.
On opening the door, the butler looked over her shoulder—probably to see how many enemies were watching her exposed back. She’d never seen a more welcome sight as he discreetly took her by the elbow, helped her over the threshold, and hastily closed the door to the outside world, cloistering them in the darkness of the foyer.
She must appear far worse than she thought, for his concern was etched deep in his old, wrinkled face.
“My lady?”
She patted his weathered cheek affectionately. “I’ll be fine, Wilson.”
Her teeth clenched tight against the next wave of pain that was far sharper than the last. Her knees buckled and she nearly collapsed before Wilson and a footman caught her around the waist to hold her upright.
And then she felt it. Warmth seeped between her thighs as her body finally let go of the babe it had nourished for nearly five months. She bit her lip hard against the sobs building in her throat.
There was no sense in feigning that everything was all right, not when it so obviously wasn’t.
As calmly as she could, she said, “Please take me up to my room.”
“Of course, my lady. Shall we send for the doctor?”
She shook her head vehemently. “Have Mrs. Harper come up to my room at once. She is all the assistance I require.”
Jessica made it to her private bedchamber with the footman’s help. Wilson wasn’t far behind, the worry growing in his expression as whimpers of pain passed her lips and a trail of blood trickled across the hardwood flooring, staining her ivory slippers. Once in her room, she crumpled onto her bed as another jolt of stabbing cramps tore through her body. She rolled to her side and pulled her knees up to her chest as she clutched her arms around her legs.
Wilson ran from her room calling out to Mrs. Harper as he took the stairs faster than Jessica had ever seen him move.
The Scandalous Duke Takes a Bride Page 2
