Rob’s look was quizzical. ‘Why not, sweetheart?’
‘Because we are like to forget ourselves.’
Rob took her hand. ‘And you were afraid of that, as I recall.’
Jemima evaded his gaze. ‘I do not want—’
She stopped. She was shocked to find that what she really wanted to say was: ‘I do not want to fall in love with you…’ and hard on the heels of the realisation was the thought that perhaps it was already too late. She was starting to fall in love with her own husband. Perhaps it was already too late to withdraw. She thought of Jack and Beth, and the misery and utter cruelty of love. That was not what she wanted. But this could be different. She had to take a risk. She had to try and trust.
‘I do not want us to do anything we might regret later,’ she said.
Rob leaned one hand against an oak sapling. ‘Whatever happens, I should not regret it, Jemima.’ He looked at her. ‘Would you?’
‘I cannot answer that,’ Jemima said, in a rush. ‘It is not that I do not care for you, Rob, and I want to trust you, but—’ She broke off. She did not want to hurt him with her words and she knew that as yet she did not trust him completely. If she did, she would not feel so vulnerable.
‘We have as long as we need,’ Rob said, pulling her close again. ‘We can go very slowly, Jemima…’
Despite that, there was urgency in his hands, in the lips that claimed hers in their next, irresistible kiss. Jemima’s lips parted beneath his without question and the kiss became deeper and demanding and utterly overwhelming. It swept her away and she trembled under the onslaught. The silken warmth of his mouth, the ravishing exploration of his tongue, were unfamiliar yet completely seductive. All her defences were tumbling. It was only the small voice of self-preservation in her head that stopped her abandoning herself to him completely. She put one hand against his chest and eased away from him.
‘I do believe,’ she said, a little breathlessly, ‘that you would be the most hardened seducer, Robert Selborne, if only you were free of this stipulation of the will. You sweep all my qualms aside.’
Rob laughed. ‘Acquit me of being a rake. If I were, I should never have let you escape from my bedroom that night, will or no will.’
‘You will notice that I have not been in your bedroom since.’
‘And very wise too. I may not be a rake, but I not a monk either.’
‘I have always thought it must be very difficult for monks,’ Jemima said, slipping her hand through his arm.
‘I have no wish to consider their plight,’ Rob said feelingly, ‘being so taken up with my own.’
‘But you must confess that matters have been very much easier since we have been spending so much time together,’ Jemima said. ‘We have managed to behave with complete decorum—’ She stopped, arrested by the expression in his eyes. It was hot and dark and very dangerous. Her breath caught in her throat.
‘Complete decorum?’ Rob enquired. He slid his arms about her. ‘Is this what you call complete decorum? When I cannot even look at you without wishing to take you to bed—’
‘Robert!’
‘I beg your pardon, Jemima. I was simply being truthful. Would you prefer me to dissemble?’
‘No.’ Jemima broke free. ‘I would prefer you to remember that there are still fifty-one days to go.’ She gave him a wry look. ‘Once you have won me over and are free to make love to me, you may not want me any more…’
‘Fifty days,’ Rob said, ‘not fifty-one. And I do believe, madam wife, that there is not the slightest chance that you will escape me.’
Jemima was caught at a disadvantage when the first visitors called at Delaval Hall the following morning. She was standing in the grate in the library fireplace, staring up the chimney and trying to discover the blockage that was making the chimney smoke. They had started checking all the fires the previous day, for it was traditional to have them all swept by Michaelmas day in preparation for winter. Jemima, having spotted several birds’ nests and other obstructions, had decreed that a sweep needed to be called out from Cheltenham to give all the flues a good clean before the onset of the cold weather. This was the fireplace that concerned her the most. There was something sticking out of the flue obstruction about halfway up. She could see it herself, but it was out of reach.
‘Gracious, child, whatever can you be doing?’
Lady Marguerite Exton’s voice seemed to echo around the chimney causing Jemima almost to bump her head. She extracted herself very carefully, climbed out of the grate and stood up, wiping her hands on her apron. She was not very dirty since the soot was stuck on to the side of the chimney rather than on to her, but she suspected that she had a smear on her cheek and that her bonnet was probably a little dusty. She cursed her grandmother-in-law’s inconvenient arrival.
‘Good morning, ma’am. Pray excuse me—I have been checking on the chimneys in preparation for the arrival of the sweep.’
‘Extraordinary,’ Lady Marguerite opined. She was looking patrician and elegant in a dress of striped brown silk with matching bonnet and parasol. Her immaculate appearance made Jemima feel very grubby.
Letty rushed forward to kiss Jemima’s cheek. She held her at arm’s length and giggled. ‘Dear me, Jemima, Rob must be a terrible slave driver! To have his wife of barely a month working so hard! We have heard the most shocking tales, you know!’
‘Letty…’ Lady Marguerite rebuked. She turned to Jemima. ‘We have given you and Robert quite long enough on your own, Jemima. Indeed, it is quite surprising to me that you have not grown bored with the sight of each other. A month of unadulterated solitude is surely enough to make even the most doting husband and wife quite desperate for other company.’ She looked around. ‘Whereabouts is my grandson?’
‘Robert and I have not seen a great deal of each other since we came to Delaval, ma’am,’ Jemima said, ringing the bell for refreshments. ‘He has been busy about the estate and I have been supervising the improvements to the house. I believe that he is currently building a wall in the lower meadow. I will send a servant to ask him to join us.’
‘Very proper,’ Lady Marguerite nodded. ‘I mean it is proper that you should not spend too much time together. It is not proper that Robert should be working on the estate like a labourer. That is quite unsuitable. If you do not have sufficient servants to do the work, I shall send some across from Swan Park.’
Jemima caught Letty’s eye and tried not to laugh. Rob’s cousin was pulling a face that suggested she was accustomed to Lady Marguerite’s snobbery. It encouraged Jemima to stick to her guns.
‘I do believe that Robert enjoys the work, ma’am,’ she said mildly. ‘He has commented on more than one occasion how stimulating he finds physical work.’
Which he had, she thought, but not perhaps in the way that Lady Marguerite might think.
‘Enjoys it!’ Lady Marguerite looked disgusted. ‘I have no notion what is wrong with the youth of today.’
‘I do believe that Robert once helped build the ramparts at one of the Peninsular forts,’ Letty said, eyes twinkling. ‘No doubt he got his taste for hard work from there, Grandmama.’
Lady Marguerite wrinkled up her nose as though it had a bad smell underneath it. ‘I always said that the army was bad for a man. It spreads moral turpitude.’
She took a piece of cake from the plate that the footman was proffering. ‘This is very good. Please commend your housekeeper.’
‘I shall indeed, ma’am,’ Jemima said, pleased that her mother’s plum cake recipe had been appreciated. She had no intention of laying claim to the praise. No doubt Lady Marguerite would think that cake making was decidedly beneath the Countess of Selborne.
‘We came to make sure that you would be able to join us for my ball the week after next,’ Letty said, stirring her tea. ‘You have had the card? I was hoping that you and Robert would attend, and it would be a pleasant way for you to meet some of our acquaintance.’
Jemima paused. She had no wish
to disappoint Letty, whose friendship already warmed her heart, but it was decidedly awkward. She did not wish to bump into anyone who thought that she looked familiar, either through resemblance to Tilly or because they were at Anne Selborne’s wedding. On the other hand, she could not skulk in the shadows and become the reclusive countess. People would think she was mad. She really ought to speak to Rob, both about her niece and also about breaking the news of her antecedents to his family. She took another look at Lady Marguerite’s face and decided against doing it just now.
‘I am sorry,’ she excused. ‘I would love to be there, Letty, but I fear I have absolutely nothing to wear and I do not believe there is time to purchase anything in Cheltenham now.’
Letty’s face wrinkled with disappointment and Jemima felt mean.
‘Oh, Jemima, I was so looking forward to it. The party will not be the same without you!’
‘Letty is quite right, child,’ Lady Marguerite put in unexpectedly. ‘We must have the new Earl and Countess of Selborne at our party or everyone will think that there is something havey-cavey going on!’
Jemima tried not to blush guiltily.
‘Perhaps we could go shopping in Burford the day after tomorrow,’ Letty said, brightening. ‘There is a very elegant modiste’s shop there, Madame Belinda. If you required anything for the ball I am sure that she could provide it.’
‘Burford?’ Jemima said. She remembered how close it had been to Merlinschase. ‘Oh, no, I do not think—’
‘Splendid idea,’ Lady Marguerite said. ‘Robert!’ She smiled as Rob came into the room. ‘We are all to go to Burford on Thursday. You will come with us.’
Rob came across and kissed her cheek. ‘Good morning, Grandmama! Will I?’
‘Certainly.’ Lady Marguerite sniffed delicately, then drew back from him. ‘It will do you good to get away from all this labouring.’
‘I was telling your grandmother how stimulating you have found your work, Robert,’ Jemima said sweetly.
Rob came across to her side and sat down next to her on the sofa. He gave her a look that was slightly apprehensive. ‘Have you, sweetheart?’
‘Indeed.’ Jemima smiled at him. ‘Remember that you told me that working in the fields made you feel quite—’
‘Jemima—’
‘Active, assiduous and agricultural,’ Jemima finished.
Rob narrowed his eyes. ‘Retribution, revenge and reprisal,’ he whispered in her ear.
‘There is only one drawback in going to Burford,’ Letty said. ‘I fear that Augusta and Ferdie Selborne and Bertie Pershore must be invited to accompany us, for they are arriving tomorrow and are staying for the ball. Not that there is anything wrong with the boys, but Augusta is another matter. She has no sense of humour—’
‘That is the least of her problems,’ Rob said.
‘How unchivalrous you are!’ Letty’s eyes sparkled. ‘I would never choose to inflict her upon you, Jemima, but as she is Robert’s cousin I fear you cannot escape!’
Escape was precisely what Jemima wished to do. She had no wish to meet Miss Selborne again for she had thought Rob’s cousin a sharp-tongued creature at the last meeting. Then there was Ferdie Selborne, who was privy to the wedding, and Bertie Pershore, who was the Duke of Merlin’s nephew. It was all so intolerably complicated and Jemima felt as though she was walking on eggshells and just waiting for the whole sorry mess to disintegrate under her feet.
‘Girl’s a dreadful bore,’ Lady Marguerite concurred. ‘Wish someone would marry her for her money, but almost everyone has realised that if they run through her fortune they are still left with Augusta.’
Letty giggled. ‘Oh, dear, you are harsh, Grandmama, but I fear it is true. And she will insist on joining us on the trip and will probably try to cosy up to you, dearest Jemima, so that she may boast of her friend the Countess of Selborne…’ Letty slapped a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, how cattish of me! But I am afraid that it is true.’
The thought of the dreadful Augusta cosying up to her was almost too much for Jemima when she remembered the girl’s spiteful comments the last time they had met.
She had been afraid that Miss Selborne would remember her and unmask her as a counterfeit Countess, but if what Letty said was correct, Augusta would be too busy ingratiating herself to remember their brief encounter at the wedding. The thought appealed to Jemima’s sense of humour.
‘I am sure that it will be quite entertaining to invite Miss Selborne to accompany us,’ she said.
‘I do not suppose,’ Letty said hesitantly, ‘that your brother, Mr Jewell, would be able to attend my ball? It would be a splendid thing if he were!’
There was a sudden chill in the atmosphere. Lady Marguerite was looking particularly cold.
‘I am sorry,’ Jemima said. ‘I doubt that Jack will be visiting Delaval in the near future.’
Letty drooped and not even a second slice of the plum cake could revive her. Jemima was surprised that a chance encounter had had such an effect on her. Miss Exton was a gregarious girl who must have plenty of admirers. It was malign fate that had made her choice rest on Jack Jewell.
After the ladies had departed to visit their acquaintance in the neighbourhood and Rob had gone back to his work, Jemima returned to the chimney-piece. She could still see the obstruction sticking out into the flue some ten or eleven feet up. By standing on tiptoe in the grate and stretching upwards she was within a few feet of the impediment, whatever it was, but she still could not touch it. She needed to climb up a little.
Jemima hesitated. It was the work of but a few minutes to climb up the flue and investigate, but she knew she should not do it. The Countess of Selborne did not climb chimneys…
With a quick look over her shoulder, Jemima eased off her shoes. The stockings could stay although it was not ideal to climb other than in bare feet. She moved back to the chimney, then paused. Her skirts would hamper her and even though she was only in her old clothes, she should not really climb in her gown. She did not have enough spare dresses to waste this one. Quickly she slipped out of the gown and let it crumple to the floor. Time was of the essence. She hardly wanted the servants to catch her halfway up a chimney.
The climbing came back to her easily. She had never really forgotten it, for at school she would be the tomboy who scrambled up trees and scaled walls in the place of sooty chimneys. Mrs Montagu had never quite managed to persuade her that only hoydens climbed.
This chimney was easy. It was wide, with protruding bricks inside to aid the climber. Jemima set her feet to the lowest step and pulled herself upwards, feeling for hand holds, the skirts of her petticoats brushing the soot from the chimney so that it fell in a soft pile in the grate. She felt her stockings tear on the sharp edges of the bricks, felt her elbow rub uncomfortably against the wall, breathed in the thick smell of soot and felt the familiar press of the chimney stack about her. It was dark and narrow and she was much bigger than she had been when sweeping was her work. Jemima felt slightly panicky.
She put a hand out and touched something metallic, cold and hard. Whatever the blockage in the chimney, it was made of metal. Her searching fingers brushed the edge. It felt like a tin box. She eased it into her hand.
She was about to start her descent into the library when she heard the door open and the sound of voices. Jemima froze, one hand above her head grasping the tin, the other clamped tightly to the wall of the chimney.
‘She must have slipped out for a moment.’ She heard Rob’s voice first. ‘I do apologise. I will tell her that you called, Lady Vause.’
There was a murmur of voices, then the sound of the door opening and closing again. Jemima relaxed. She pulled the tin out of its niche and edged down the chimney towards the square of light at the bottom. Suddenly the light was blocked out.
‘Jemima!’ Rob’s voice seemed very loud in the enclosed space. ‘Come down that chimney at once!’
Jemima lost her footing and scrabbled desperately to hold on. The tin box
fell with a clatter into the grate and Jemima made a grab for another of the brick handholds. She was swinging in the chimney just above Rob’s head and she was desperately afraid she would fall off and flatten him.
‘Robert!’ she said sharply. ‘Pray get out of the way! You are putting me off.’
Peering down, she saw that Rob was looking up at her. Or more precisely, he was looking straight up her petticoats. She saw his face break into a grin.
‘By God, perhaps there is something in this chimney climbing after all!’
‘Please move out of the way!’ Jemima shrieked. She swung her legs wildly to try and gain a foothold and she heard Rob give an appreciative whistle. A second later his hands closed very firmly about her waist and he had pulled her out of the chimney and was depositing her on to the library floor in a little pile of soot.
‘I could have managed perfectly well on my own,’ Jemima flashed, thoroughly ruffled. ‘You should have left it to me. I know what I am doing!’
‘I beg your pardon,’ Rob said, still grinning. ‘I was of the opinion that you might fall at any moment and squash me flat. I thought I was helping.’
Jemima smoothed her hair back with a self-conscious hand. There were smudges of soot all down her bare arms and streaks of it dusting her neck and chest above the line of her bodice. Her cap had come off and her hair was tumbling down. It did not help that Rob was looking her up and down in a positively fascinated manner, his dark eyes lingering on the curve of her breasts beneath the soot-smeared bodice, and travelling lower to consider her shredded stockings and bare feet. Jemima brushed her petticoat skirts down, aware that the material was transparent and that Rob could see her legs through it. Not that that mattered—when he had been standing directly beneath her he had seen her legs and more. Jemima felt quite over-heated at the thought.
‘I came to tell you that Lady Vause had called,’ Rob said, still staring at her with the same strange intensity. ‘Jemima, what the devil were you doing up there?’
Jemima gestured to the tin in the grate. It was covered in a thick layer of soot that had solidified into tar.
The Penniless Bride Page 16
