“There you go.” He grinned as he shoved the window open. “What do you think of the place?”
She’d been aware of a rumbling in the background, but now she heard the cacophony all too clearly—carriage wheels clattering over cobblestones, people hawking their wares, dogs barking.
“It’s very”—she had to raise her voice—“noisy.”
And dirty with coal dust and smelly with stinks she’d rather not identify. She wrinkled her nose and reached for her handkerchief.
Kit laughed and closed the window again. “You’ll get used to it—or at least you’ll come to tolerate it. I confess on this I agree with my father: I much prefer the country.”
“You really don’t come to London often?” He’d said so, but she’d found it hard to believe. London must be like a sweets shop for a rake.
“I haven’t been here in years.” He looked at her, his face expressionless. “Not since we married.”
“Oh.” She looked out the window to avoid his gaze.
Hadn’t the rumors specified London?
Perhaps not. Perhaps she’d just assumed he’d been in Town to have been able to “entertain” so many women. He could have taken full advantage of the society house parties he’d surely attended. They would be more convenient for his purposes anyway. Each night would offer a new bed with a new lady.
“Look up ahead, Jess. We’re approaching the Thames and London Bridge.”
She leaned forward. Yes, she could see the river; it was larger than she could ever have imagined, with ships of all sorts plying the water. And up above, a dome. “Is that St. Paul’s?”
“Yes.” His voice filled with enthusiasm. “I’ll take you there. It’s a magnificent building, and you can see all of London from the gallery at the top.” He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a fear of heights, do you?”
“Of course not.”
The coach crossed the bridge and started up the hill.
“And what’s that?” A large, stone column stood by itself, towering over the surrounding buildings.
“That’s the Monument. It was erected to commemorate the Great Fire. We can climb all three hundred and eleven steps, if you like. It has a splendid view, as well.”
“That might be nice.” Anything to get above the crowds. She’d never seen so many people, moving in streams on either side of the road—and sometimes in the middle of it. And there were carts and wagons and carriages and dogs and—
“I hope Fluff stays with Darby.”
Kit smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure Darby will stop if there’s a problem. I suspect poor Fluff is glued to his seat, overwhelmed by all the noises and smells and sights.”
As was she.
They turned west and followed the main road past St. Paul’s. The streets gradually got broader, but they were still crammed with people.
“Good heavens, look at that!” A tall, very thin man with an impressively hooked nose and shirt points so high they brushed the corners of his eyes was walking a small pug on a pink lead. “It’s a wonder he doesn’t poke his eyes out with those shirt points.”
Kit leaned forward to peer out, too. “I think he must already be blind to wear such an outlandish outfit.”
He was right. The man’s collar was the least of his peculiar appearance. He was also wearing red and white striped baggy trousers that looked like they’d be at home in a harem, a green coat with very long tails, a pink floral waistcoat, and a large ostrich feather pinned to his high-crowned beaver hat.
“I wonder who he is.”
Kit snorted. “Just another of the eccentric members of the ton. His tailor should be shot.”
“I can’t imagine he’d want people knowing he made those clothes. Perhaps he swore the man to silence.” She looked at Kit. “Are we going to see many such popinjays?”
Kit sat back, obviously tired of craning to see out the window. “I sincerely hope not, or if we do, only at a distance. I believe they tend to flock to the ton events, which we shall be giving a wide berth.”
Their carriage had finally turned off the main road and was now approaching a broad square with a large fenced garden in its center. Another traveling coach—a much better looking conveyance—was drawn up in front of the largest house. The house they seemed to be headed for. The house that was supposed to contain only Kit’s youngest brother.
She did not have a good feeling about this.
“Did Jack travel to London in a large carriage?”
Kit looked at her as though she’d just stepped out of Bedlam. “No, of course not. Why would he do something daft like that? He took his curricle.” He paused, a furrow forming between his brows. “Why do you ask?”
They rocked to a stop.
“Because there’s a large traveling coach parked right in front of us.”
Kit’s head snapped around, and he leaned forward to stare out the window. “Zeus,” he muttered. “It couldn’t be. They’re at the castle.”
“What couldn’t be?” There were only two people who were supposed to be at the castle—the duke and the duchess. Unless . . .
“Might it be Ned?”
“Perhaps.” Kit’s tone, however, said “not bloody likely.”
Mr. Darby opened the door, Fluff at his side. “Sorry, milord, but there’s a coach in my way. Ye want me to see if I can get them to move?”
“No, no, that’s fine, Darby. Lady Ashton and I will get out here.”
Kit bounded out of the carriage and, not bothering with the steps, grasped Jess by the waist and lifted her down just as the house’s front door opened. He kept one arm around her, clasping her close to his side in a shockingly intimate manner, but she decided not to protest. She suspected she’d need the support. Fluff crowded against her other side; she rested her hand on his head.
A footman came out first, dressed in the duke’s livery, and then a man and a woman—she recognized Ned and Ellie. And behind them came Jack with a girl she was fairly certain she’d never met. And then, of course, the duke and duchess themselves.
She must have moaned, because Kit hugged her closer and murmured, “Don’t worry. Perhaps they are all leaving.”
Only if she and Kit suddenly turned invisible.
“Look who’s arrived, Mama,” Jack said. Of course it had to be Jack, though the duke was looking at them, too, his expression inscrutable.
Jess pressed against Kit. She wanted to hide behind him. Yes, it was a cowardly thought, but she wasn’t feeling especially brave at the moment.
“Who’s arrived? What do you mean?” The duchess looked up at Jack, who nodded in their direction.
“Behold,” Jack said. “The Duchess of Love’s family is all in the same place for once.”
The duchess frowned, clearly puzzled, and then her eyes widened. She made an odd sound—a yelp or a squeak—and came hurrying toward them.
“Oh, God,” Jess muttered, and forced her feet to stay where they were, no matter how strong her urge to jump behind Kit. She was not a coward.
And if she told herself that enough times, perhaps she would actually believe it.
Chapter Ten
But sometimes you will want to keep
his family at arm’s length.
—Venus’s Love Notes
Mama had her arms out as if she would hug Jess, but she caught herself at the last moment and merely took her hands.
“Oh, it is so good to see you again, my dear. You haven’t changed a bit.” She looked up at Ash. Good God, were there tears in her eyes? “I’m so happy you two have resolved your differences.”
Jess looked up at him, too, clearly wanting him to clarify matters.
“Er, well, as to that—”
But Mama rushed on like a flooding river. “And how kind of you to join us here. I assume Mr. Dalton told you we were in London when you got back to the castle? He is the best of butlers; he must have hinted we would love to have you come up to Town. Though of course he didn’t know everything that’s been happe
ning—I haven’t had time to send him word.” Mama was still holding Jess’s hands; thankfully, Jess wasn’t struggling.
“Ah. Well, we didn’t actually . . . that is, we never went to the castle.”
Mama laughed and winked. “So you’ve spent all this time at the manor, getting reacquainted, have you? Well, of course you have. You’ve so much time to make up for.” She must have squeezed Jess’s hands, because Jess winced slightly. “Perhaps we will have another grandchild to welcome in the not-so-distant future, hmm?”
Oh, God, could Mama be more mortifying? Poor Jess. He should—
Wait a minute.
“Another?” He glanced at Ned and Ellie. Ellie was blushing, and Ned was trying not to look too proud of himself.
His brother had obviously been extremely efficient.
He looked back at Mama and Jess to find Jess frowning at him, inclining her head toward Mama and wiggling her brows significantly and with perhaps a touch of panic.
What was he to do? Tell his mother he had not, in fact, been sleeping with his wife? Oh, no, he was not going to broach that subject. Just the thought of discussing such a topic with his mother made his blood run cold—and his stomach churn.
“I will tell you, Ash, I was more than a little worried as the days went by and we didn’t hear from you,” Mama said. She looked back at Jess. “But isn’t that just like a man? They are such dreadful correspondents when they have something—or someone”—Mama winked again—“more immediate to occupy their thoughts.”
Jess smiled weakly. She looked a bit ill.
Mama finally released her to put a hand on his arm. “But we’ve been very busy with your brothers, Ash. We have so much news!”
“Which we’d best communicate inside, don’t you think, my dear duchess?” Father had paid off Darby, directed footmen to take Ash’s and Jess’s bags inside, and then come up, hopefully to restrain Mama. Everyone else was wisely staying a safe distance away.
“Oh, yes, what am I thinking? We don’t want to entertain the neighbors with our business, do we? But I am just so happy, I can hardly contain myself! Come, you must tell me how you’ve been getting on, Jess.” She took Jess’s arm and started toward the house.
Jess sent him a look of definite panic. He tried to smile reassuringly. He couldn’t very well wrest her away from Mama. That would look very odd.
Mama paused and glanced down at Fluff, who was following Jess. “Oh, heavens! The coachman forgot his dog.”
“The man claimed the dog was Jess’s,” Father said.
“Oh?” Mama looked slightly disconcerted. “He’s very large, isn’t he? What’s his name, dear?”
“Ki—”
“Fluff!” Ash said quickly. His parents might not use his Christian name, but they certainly knew it.
“Fluff,” Jess agreed while sending him a look that clearly said her pet would become “Kit” again if he failed to protect her from his mother.
Mama was still considering Fluff, who wagged his tail in a friendly fashion. Fortunately, he refrained from barking. “Do you think he’d be more comfortable in the stables? He’s almost the size of a pony.”
“But he’s very well behaved,” Jess said. “He’s lived in the manor with me for years. He won’t cause any trouble.”
“But how is he with other dogs?” Father asked.
“Oh, yes.” Mama nodded. “A very good point, my dear duke. We can’t have him fighting with Shakespeare.”
“Shakespeare?” Ash frowned. Mama had a thieving cat named Sir Reginald who stayed at the castle, but he’d never heard of any creature named Shakespeare.
“A dog I’ve recently acquired,” Jack said, stepping forward to take Jess’s free hand. “Hallo, Jess. It’s been too long.”
“Yes.” Jess smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Jack.”
“May I make you known to my wife, Frances?”
“Wife?” Ash stared at the woman next to Jack. Good God, did nothing make sense today?
Jack laughed. “And this lobcock, Frances, is my older brother, the Marquis of Ashton.”
Jack’s wife smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ashton, Lord Ashton.”
“You must call me Ash,” he said, trying to marshal his thoughts. “Everyone does.” Except, of course his wife. “Ah, no, the pleasure is all ours, Miss—I mean, er, that is, Frances.”
The girl was pretty enough, though her hair was startlingly short and very red. But she was clearly in love with Jack—and Jack seemed to be in love with her, judging by his besotted expression.
“And please call me Jess.” Jess smiled and then turned to greet Ned.
“Ned,” Mama said once Jess moved on to speak to Ellie, “you can’t leave now. Send poor John Coachman back to the mews and come inside with us for a nice cup of tea.”
“But, Mama . . .”
“And don’t dillydally.” Mama reclaimed Jess’s arm and almost towed her along toward the house. “We can all catch up inside.” She looked over her shoulder at them. “As your father so wisely pointed out, we don’t want to give the gossips more to chew on. They will be excited enough that Jess and Ash are in Town.”
Damnation. Mama was likely all too correct about the gossips. Ash glanced around furtively—and thought he saw the curtains on one of the neighboring houses twitch back into place.
Ned sighed and looked at Ash. “This is the second time we’ve had the coach all packed to go back to the country, and the second time we’ve had to stay.”
“And for excellent reasons,” Ellie said. “First Jack’s wedding, and now Ash’s and Jess’s arrival.” She came up to touch Ash’s arm. “I’m so happy you and Jess have mended things between you. I told you she loved you.”
“Ah.” Ellie had indeed said that at Mama’s house party. She was wrong, of course, but he couldn’t tell her that, just as he couldn’t tell her he and Jess hadn’t mended anything. “Er. Yes. Exactly.”
Why the hell did his entire family have to be in London?
Ellie frowned. “You and Jess have settled your differences, haven’t you?”
He hated lying to Ellie, but telling her the truth felt like betraying Jess. “We have . . . that is, we are . . .” He forced a smile. “We’re in agreement.” About trying to come to an agreement. “Frankly, we were hoping to spend some time alone together, which is why we came here instead of going to the castle.”
“Trying to avoid Mama and Father, hmm?” Ned said, having bowed to the inevitable and sent the coach away.
Poor Jess had been swept along with Mama into the house, but at least Jack and his wife—Good God, Jack had a wife!—had gone with her.
“Yes.”
Ellie giggled. “Your expression! Oh, poor Ash. You look so beleaguered, but you know you will just have to accept that you are trapped. You might as well enjoy it.”
“Enjoy it? You know my mother is going to drag me and Jess around to every social event she can find.” He’d never liked the idle, inane chatter that passed for conversation at ton parties. “I’d rather be boiled in oil.”
“I’m sure you would,” Ned said, “but that’s beside the point. Mama believes she knows what’s best, and much as I hate to admit it, she is often right.”
“Not in this case.” Ah, perhaps he saw a way to wriggle free. “Jess doesn’t have the proper wardrobe.”
Ellie laughed. “Frances tried that excuse, and your mother was having none of it. Well, I needed all new clothes also, and, as you can see”—she extended her arms to show off her new dress—“the duchess solved that problem, too. Truthfully, I think she was delighted to look at pattern books. She didn’t get to do that before, having only sons.” Ellie led the way through the front door. “And Madame Celeste will be overjoyed.”
“Who’s Madame Celeste?” Ash asked, following behind Ned.
Ellie looked back over her shoulder. “The London dressmaker. She—oh!”
Ellie stumbled, and Ned lunged to grab her, but she caught her own bala
nce.
“Are you all right?” Ned’s voice was far too sharp for such a minor event.
“Yes, of course,” Ellie said, smiling. “I just didn’t pick up my feet. I’m fine.”
Poor Ned. His tendency to worry had only got stronger with his first wife’s and his son’s death in childbirth. And now with Ellie. . . .
“Did I understand Mama correctly and congratulations are in order?”
Ellie’s smile was blinding. “Yes. We are delighted, aren’t we, Ned?”
Ned looked more anxious than delighted. “I’ll be happier once the baby’s born.”
Ellie shook his arm slightly. “Remember, you promised not to worry.”
With Ned, that was like promising not to breathe.
Ellie must have realized this, too, because she laughed. “Well, not worry too much.”
“I’m trying,” Ned said, putting his hand over hers, the love he felt so clear in his eyes even Ash could see it.
If only his love was as uncomplicated as Ned’s, Ash thought as he watched his brother escort Ellie into the blue drawing room. But then Ned had never had to face betrayal. He’d married Cicely, whom he’d loved and who had loved him as best she could, and when she’d died . . .
Ah, yes, there were some things worse than being cuckolded. As much as Jess had hurt him and as much as her demise would simplify his life, he couldn’t wish for her death. Just the thought was unbearably painful, especially now that he’d seen her again.
“Lord Ashton!” Braxton, the butler, approached from the back of the house, a small—well, small in comparison to Fluff—brown dog with floppy ears and a plumed tail at his heels.
“Hallo, Braxton. Do you have a pet now?”
“A pet? Oh, no.” He chuckled. “This is Shakespeare, my lord. Lord Jack’s dog. Richard—one of the footman, you know—came down to the kitchen to say some cakes and biscuits and tea were needed at once in the drawing room, so Shakespeare, being very interested in cakes and biscuits, came up to investigate, isn’t that right, sir?”
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