by Alice Gaines
“Stubborn to the last.” He dismounted from behind her. “I’ll walk. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
He didn’t walk, though. He stood there, gazing up at her out of his remarkable green eyes. Though he wore his coat, it hung open, and his unfastened shirt revealed some of the smooth skin of his chest. With the tails hanging out of his pants, he looked rumpled, as if he’d just risen from his lover’s bed, which of course he had. Though they’d never share each other’s bodies again, they had been lovers the night before. They were lovers still, at least until they reached the house.
“You will let me know if you’ve conceived a child, won’t you?” he asked.
“I doubt that’s likely at my age.”
“Women older than you still bear children.”
“Not first children.”
He stared up the lane toward the house, even though it wouldn’t come into view until they’d gone for some distance. “What will we tell them?”
“The truth.”
His head snapped up again.
“We’ll just leave out a few details,” she said.
“Tiny bits of information like the fact that we made love?” he said. “Twice?”
“Would you rather tell the whole story?”
His jaw tensed, and a muscle jumped at the corner of his mouth. “No.”
“It happened. It was lovely. It’s over.”
“Right.” Taking the horse’s reins, he led her up the lane. Though she’d passed through this countryside hundreds if not thousands of times, it seemed different. Such a cliché and yet true. Of course, the fields and hedges hadn’t changed. She had. He’d taught her a few lessons about being a woman—being human, actually. Lessons about passion and yearning. Lessons she wouldn’t forget any time soon.
He went slowly. They’d made a large burden for the horse, but the animal bore her alone easily enough. He obviously didn’t relish arriving at their destination any more than she did.
Eventually, the lane ended, and the house came into view as they went up the drive. Curtains fluttered at an upstairs window. Anna’s bedroom. She and Rose would have been worried, so naturally they would have watched for her return. She’d never had any chance of getting inside undetected. They’d question her closely, and she still had nothing convincing to tell them. They could see through her lies if they wanted. As much as she loved them, she didn’t owe them an explanation.
Before her friends could intercept her, her dear butler, Upton, came out of the house at twice the speed a man of his age should attempt.
“My lady,” he cried as he approached the horse. “Thank heaven you’re home.”
Jason handed the reins to Upton and reached up to help her down from his mount. The moment her feet hit the gravel, he released her and bowed. “Lady Rushford.”
She’d be damned if she’d curtsey. Instead, she straightened her dress. “Thank you for your help, Captain Northcross.”
“Oh yes, sir,” Upton said. “We’re so grateful you took care of her.”
“Nonsense. She had things well in hand,” Jason said. “I was merely underfoot.”
“To the contrary,” she said. “I felt much safer with your company.”
Curse him if he didn’t appear ready to bow again. This whole charade would advance from awkward to painful in a moment, and he didn’t seem likely to end it. She’d have to.
“Would you have a bath drawn for me?” she said to Upton.
“Certainly, my lady. Immediately.” Upton rushed away and into the house, leaving her looking up into Jason’s face.
She extended her hand. “Thank you again.”
He took her fingers and bent over them. “My very great pleasure to be of service.”
“I’ll go inside now, I think.”
“Of course.”
“Good-bye, Jason,” she said softly.
“Right.” He mounted his horse, turned it, and headed down the drive. She would simply have to get better at dismissing him and staying well away from him.
Before she could get into the house, two fluttering females burst down the path and caught her up between them. In a moment, they’d propelled her inside and into the sitting room and deposited her on wingback chair. Anna stood towering over her while Rose stood off a bit to the rear.
“The story,” Anna said. “All of it.”
“I rode off to the circle of stones in response to a note,” she said. “You’d never believe who’d sent it.”
“We know that part,” Rose said. “Skip to the rest.”
“When the storm broke, I took shelter in the gamekeeper’s cottage.”
“That tiny place?” Anna asked.
She stared up at Anna. “How large should a gamekeeper’s cottage be?”
“And Captain Northcross found you there,” Rose said.
“He could hardly have found me anywhere else given that’s where I was,” she answered.
Anna glanced over her shoulder at Rose. “Testy. That means she’s feeling guilty about something.”
“I’m tired,” she said. “I was caught in a storm and spent the night in a cramped bed.”
All three of them froze. They might have suddenly become a tableau. The word “bed” had gotten out, and she couldn’t pull it back in. So she sat like a statue in hopes the meaning would evaporate into thin air.
Anna turned back to her slowly. “Bed.”
“Who else was cramping it?” Rose demanded.
“I’m going to get ready for my bath.” Bess tried to rise, but Anna raised a hand to her shoulder and held her in her chair.
“You shared the bed with Captain Northcross, didn’t you?” Anna said.
She didn’t answer that. She didn’t have to. The rising heat of her cheeks would serve as answer well enough.
“Look at her face,” Anna declared. “She’s done the deed.”
“Did you, Bess? Did you really?” Rose fairly jumped up and down with excitement.
“I can’t hide anything from you two.” She most likely didn’t want to, in any case. In the days ahead, she could use their help putting the man out of her thoughts and into her memories.
Anna gave her an evil grin. “Was it good?”
“It grabbed me by the throat, hurled me off a cliff,” she said. “It drowned me.”
Rose squealed. There was no other word to describe the ungodly noise. “So when shall we have the wedding?”
“Wedding?” Bess repeated. “I’m not going to marry the man.”
“Why ever not?” Rose demanded.
“Because he needs a young, virginal wife, and I don’t want another husband,” she said. “Besides, he’s younger than I am.”
“That’s no kind of reason,” Rose said.
She stared at Anna. “You understand, don’t you?”
Anna gazed back evenly. “Are you saying you don’t love him?”
The woman was far too perceptive. Still, she didn’t have deep feelings for the captain—Jason. They had some kind of physical connection that she could no longer deny, but one couldn’t base a marriage on that alone. A union between them would be neither a social connection nor a love match. And, of course, she’d jeopardize her independence, both financial and legal, by marrying him.
“I think we’d best leave Bess alone about this,” Anna said after a bit.
“Thank you.”
“But it isn’t right,” Rose protested. “They love each other. I can feel it.”
“You’re far too romantic about these things.” This time when Bess got up, Anna allowed it. She rose as well and touched Bess’s elbow lightly. Just enough contact to reassure her. Between them, her two friends offered the perfect combination of idealism and practicality. And all the affection she’d ever need. With all of that, who required a man?
*
Peter was wearing the devil’s own grin when Jason entered the house. “Done playing rescue, are you?”
“You’ll get that smile off your face, if you know what�
��s good for you,” Jason said.
Peter chuckled. “Touched a nerve, did I?”
“It was a mission of mercy.”
“Beyond a doubt. You galloped up on your charger to save the damsel in distress.”
He glared at Peter. “Something like that.”
“I only wonder . . . how did your lance fare?”
“I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue.”
“By Jove, you did manage.” Peter clapped him on the shoulder. “I should never have doubted you, old man.”
“I found Lady Rushford where she’d taken shelter in a cottage of some sort. We spent an uncomfortable night trying to stay warm.”
“Warm.” Peter laughed outright at that. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“As soon as the sun came up, I escorted her home. That’s the total of it.”
“As you say.” Peter leaned toward him. “Just between us, how was she?”
Jason did his best to slice the man up with his glare. “Nothing happened. Do you understand?”
“For public consumption, of course,” Peter said. “Between the two of us, does she ride as well as she shoots?”
“Not funny.”
“If you won’t tell me, I suppose I shall have to find out for myself.”
Enough. Jason grabbed Peter by the neck cloth and dragged him until he was off balance, their noses nearly touching. “If you touch her, I’ll cut off your fingers and shove them down your throat.”
Grinning again, Peter eased Jason’s hands open and stepped back. “I’m only nettling you.”
“And you do such a wonderful job of it.”
“I’m glad the two of you enjoyed yourselves,” Peter said. “My lips are sealed.”
“You’d bloody well better keep them that way.” Jason ran his fingers through his hair. It had gone wild in the night, and he needed a shave. “How are things here?”
“About as you’d expect. Your family has faith in you. Lady Deauville is beside herself. She’d like us all to think it’s with worry.”
He groaned inwardly. Sarah would have several dozen questions for him, all of them impertinent. He’d better steel himself for that.
“That Montgomery fellow doesn’t seem much happier,” Peter added.
“His happiness is no concern of mine.”
“I thought you’d feel that way, but you do have a bit of a problem.” Peter inclined his head toward Jason. “Swan’s displeased with you, too.”
“I see.” The man had every right to his displeasure, of course. Jason had made his interest in Swan’s daughter obvious. Scandal would upset things with the Swans and with any of the other parents, as well. That would topple any hopes of a good marriage for him, taking the prospect of Lily’s match with the young duke with them. And heaven knew how Mrs. Oxley would react. She’d probably take to her bed with the ague.
“I’ll talk to Swan as soon as my valet has finished with me,” he said.
“I rather think you’ll do it now, Captain,” a voice said from behind him.
Sure enough, his intended’s father stood at the entrance to the sitting room. He must have only just now come upon their conversation, because he didn’t appear disturbed enough to have overheard the part about Lady Rushford and his lance.
“Mr. Swan.” Jason bowed briefly. “I do wish a word with you, but I’d prefer to make myself presentable first.”
“Now, Northcross,” Swan said with the authority of a man who had a duke in his family. He stepped aside from the doorway, gesturing for Jason to go ahead of him.
When they’d both gone into the sitting room, Jason did his best to regain some semblance of control over the situation by directing Swan to a chair and closing the door behind him. Swan sat and waited, his hands folded over his stomach, until Jason took his own seat. Although the man was of small stature, he nevertheless had a keen gaze and commanding presence.
“I’m sorry if my absence last night caused you any discomfort,” Jason began.
“You mean my daughter, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, Alice. Of course.”
“You’ve made your interest in her rather plain,” Swan said.
“I had planned to speak to you about that,” Jason said. “My father’s dead, and I don’t suppose you’d like to deal with my brother.”
“Your brother’s a hindrance to a good match. You can’t afford more missteps,” Swan said. “I hope I make myself clear.”
“Quite clear.” Disagreeable man. Jason would rather live with a dozen Thomases than the sort of person society considered respectable, but he didn’t have that choice. Once he’d set up his own household, his wife would learn to love her brother-in-law like the rest of the family did.
“I’ve become attached to Miss Swan,” Jason said. “I’d hoped to make her an offer if I could have your blessing.”
“Shall we speak plainly?” Swan said.
“Please.”
“In the usual course of things, my wife and I would look kindly on a match with another noble family, but there is this business with the viscount’s eccentricities.”
Damn it all. The man only said what they both knew, but it galled to hear him speak about Thomas in that insulting manner. The fact that he’d expected exactly this didn’t make accepting it any easier. Lady Rushford—Bess—never looked on people in such a shallow way. She made judgments based on someone’s character. If only Jason had the same freedom.
“There are other considerations, however,” Swan continued, “that make the match appealing.”
Namely, money. Swan’s lofty family had suffered financial setbacks lately. They both knew it. Everyone knew it. The Northcrosses were a wealthy brood, and if you added in what he’d made in India, the whole amounted to quite a fortune, indeed.
“You won’t be dissatisfied in that regard,” Jason said.
“Good, now to this other business.”
“I felt obliged to help my neighbor,” Jason said. “People do that in the country.”
“I have an estate of my own and know the customs.” Swan steepled his fingers together. “In this case, your neighbor is a woman and a rather notorious one.”
Now, that really curdled his stomach. This same fellow had enjoyed the hospitality of the notorious woman only the day before. He’d shot at her birds and eaten her food without complaining. He’d probably drunk her whiskey, too. Oh, for the luxury of telling this blighter what he could do with his attitude toward her.
“I won’t have my daughter involved in any scandal,” Swan said.
“Of course not.”
“In fact, if Alice has become as attached to you as you are to her, I won’t have her heart broken, either.”
“I would never do that,” Jason said.
“Good, then. We understand each other.”
“We certainly do.” He understood Swan far better than he cared to, actually. Nothing to be done about that except to marry his daughter and get bloody well away from him.
“So, do I have your permission to make my intentions clear to Miss Swan?” Jason asked.
“You do.”
“Thank you.”
Before Jason could rise, Swan leaned toward him. “Let there be no repeat of last night.”
“You have my word.” And with that, he’d sealed his fate.
*
Bess soon learned that Captain Northcross’s sister had a sharp mind and caught onto the basics of fiction writing after only a few sessions with Bess and the others. Because she’d already read Jack Sterling’s entire oeuvre—absorbed it, rather—she already knew the characters along with their histories and understood what sorts of plots readers most enjoyed in their “horrid novels.” And more, her enthusiasm for the project infected the rest of them—almost, but not quite—distracting Bess’s thoughts from the girl’s brother.
A few days after the huge storm, the four of them sat around a table under an oak tree working their way through a thorny problem toward the center of
their work in progress.
“I think Nell should show her courage more,” Lily said. “Yes, she’s young and innocent, but that doesn’t mean she can’t also be brave.”
“Lily could be right about that,” Anna said. “If young women read our books, they might enjoy that.”
Lily waved her pen about with a flourish. “It’ll teach them to be strong and independent, not docile.”
“Don’t your brothers want you to be docile?” Rose asked.
“They want me to be happy,” Lily answered.
True enough. Both the viscount and the captain seemed to dote on her, but they’d most likely prefer for her to be happy in marriage, not on a pirate ship.
Anna tapped her lips. “How might Nell show her strength?”
“By standing by her hero’s side in battle,” Lily said.
“A pirate attack,” Rose declared.
“Foul Walter is a pirate,” Bess said.
“It could be a rival pirate,” Rose said.
“No, a terrible sea creature.” Lily jumped from her chair and wrapped her arms around herself and then thrashed about as if to free herself from her own limbs. “A horrid octopus monster with long tentacles and a beak that drools blood.”
“Oh, my,” Rose said.
“Walter could let his crew go if they’re too terrified of the creature,” Lily said.
“How could they leave in the middle of the ocean?” Anna asked.
“Life boats,” Lily answered.
Rose frowned. “Do pirate ships have life boats?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Lily now lowered her arms and took up a wide stance of battle. “Only Nell stays to help Walter save his ship from being sucked under. Into the dark, cold deeps of the sea.”
“Yes, well. That’s very . . . brave,” Bess said. “But would readers believe it?”
“If we show it properly, I think we might manage to convince them,” Lily said.
“While Walter has lashed himself to the wheel, Nell will use a harpoon to slash at the monster’s arms until the octopus howls with pain and rage,” Rose said.
