He is not courting me, she berated herself.
~~//~~
Daniel pulled himself from his coach, wishing Harold did not drive quite so swiftly. The coachman closed the carriage doors behind him with a firm snap. Daniel nodded to him as politely as he could, trying not to look at the red brick house on the corner.
“Should I stay, my lord?” Harold asked as Daniel started forward. Daniel turned back to him and the man looked stricken, sympathetic, his thick eyebrows furrowed for him. Daniel glanced behind himself at the house on the corner, standing stark and quiet.
“That sounds wise,” he admitted. He glanced back but Harold’s face was blank and expressionless once more. Daniel thanked him with a twopence piece and started for the brick house, pulling the ring of keys from his pocket as he went.
“Henry?” Daniel called out, throwing his hat and keys onto the side table before the door.
“Office!” the man called back, his voice light and glad to greet him. Daniel sighed, unbuttoning his coat as he walked down the hallway past the stairs, toward the office. It’d been a sitting parlor originally, but they’d both agreed the likelihood of entertaining guests in this home was comically low. Henry sat behind his desk, angled in the corner between the two windows. He smiled warmly as Daniel walked into the room, his large fingers dropping the papers from his hand. He was a heavyset, somewhat foppish man with blond hair and striking blue eyes. His smile lit up his whole face.
“How was your -” Henry started, but cut off, his expression darkening. “What’s happened?” he asked, standing up from his desk, shoving his quill into its stand with too much force. Daniel heard the quiet crunch of the tip breaking and moved to sit down in one of the great leather chairs they had in front of the fire. “Daniel?” Henry queried, standing up from his desk.
“You should sit,” Daniel ordered, gesturing to the chair across from him, closer to the fireplace and its coal box. “It shall put you in prime position to lob rocks at me, which you will no doubt want to do.”
Henry frowned, his movements oddly slowed as he crossed the room to join him. He sat down and leaned over the arm of his chair to pull a chunk of coal from its decorated box. He sat back, the black filth covering his fingers and the rock balanced idly on his knee in a quietly reassuring humor. Daniel tried to smile but failed and Henry wordlessly leaned over again to return the coal to its place, the box closing with a loud rattle.
“Just say it, Daniel,” he ordered, his voice hard and uncompromising. The shrewd merchant Daniel had rarely met. Daniel nodded and swallowed.
I dressed my sister up as a man and risked everything we have and I got caught.
“I don’t know where to start,” Daniel admitted, opening his hands widely. Henry’s eyes softened and he leaned forward.
“That’s not going to change. Just start,” he said and Daniel obeyed.
~~//~~
“And Napoleon is gone,” Jac said, standing to join the audience in applauding a second time. The second movement had been repeated for them, and Jac wished the whole concert would play again in full. Aspen stood from his seat and clapped beside her, his large hands thundering.
“Mr. Beethoven deserves all his praise,” he agreed, shouting over the cheering audience.
“Have you not heard his work before?” Jac asked as the audience quieted. He shook his head.
“I haven’t,” he said, straightening his waistcoat and turning to leave. Jac grabbed the program off of the floor, glad for a keepsake, and followed him from the box. She could still hear the rustling, exuberant crowd of the theater below the box seats. The Earl of Blancard strode out of the next box, his wife on his arm, talking boisterously about the concert. His wife gazed up at him happily and Jac smiled, relieved to see them reconciled. The Duke of Mariton and Lady Eleanor Plainsworth strode out of the next box down as Aspen led her down the hallway. They were leaving the proper way, apparently, Jac thought, seeing the servants’ door hidden in the wallpaper. Jacoline smiled at Lady Eleanor but the woman’s eyes slid past her without recognition. Lady Eleanor smiled up at her fiancé genially.
“Oh, surely, but Mr. Beethoven’s music is so beautiful I should think I was dreaming,” Lady Eleanor professed, holding the duke’s arm.
“Surely not,” the Duke of Mariton answered blandly, walking past them. Aspen slowed his steps to fall behind them, apparently unconcerned with joining their conversation. Jac walked with him down the theater stairs, trailing after Lady Eleanor and her palpably bored fiancé.
This is better, Jac thought, watching Lady Eleanor titter stupidly. She had chosen a better lie, to get by in life. It would be over quickly. Lady Eleanor would never escape hers.
“You leave tomorrow,” Aspen said out of the silence, placing one hand on the stair railing.
“Yes,” she replied, trying to figure out how such a trip would form. “I shall travel first to Abingdon, to collect my belongings, and depart from there,” she lied.
“You will return to London for the next season,” he pressed and Jac had to clear her throat.
“Not if I remain in Boston. It is too long a journey,” she replied. She looked up at the duke and caught him scowling.
“I can attempt to visit you in Abingdon before you leave but I had been joking when I said that I have little to do with my time. I have thousands of acres of land that need managing and -”
Jac shook her head.
“It's no problem; I understand,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady and trying not to panic at the idea of him coming to call on her in Abingdon. What would they do?
Pay the servants double and have a week with the man, she thought, imagining eating breakfast with Daniel and Aspen together. The servants would be scandalized. She’d go to the lake and show the man where she'd tripped Daniel into it as a child. She wanted it, Jac realized, wanting to curse herself. She was a fool.
“I shall attempt to return to London soon,” she lied to keep the man from following her. Aspen nodded.
“You should,” he answered. The large staircase emptied out in the grand theater entrance hall. It was still packed with men and women desperate to see and be seen.
“Your Grace! We are very pleased to see you here, very pleased indeed,” Lady Musgrave called out, already gesturing to her daughter as Aspen turned toward her. The woman practically dragged her daughter across the room to curtsy to them. Jac glanced at Aspen, understanding why he’d decided to take the back way up to his box before. Aspen arched an eyebrow at her, meeting her gaze for a moment.
“Terrifying to behold,” Jac mumbled and Aspen chuckled, still on the wide steps, towering over the short, frail looking baroness. The young Miss Musgrave glanced at her mother in obvious uncertainty before curtsying in greeting. Aspen nodded back, politely ignoring the girl’s disturbance at looking anywhere above his neck. Still he glanced away from her too quickly and Jac knew that he’d seen it.
The baroness smiled, looking rather hawklike, and moved her gaze to Jac. Her eyes flickered over Jac’s ill fitting clothing. She smiled blandly, revealing no recognition and Jac allowed herself to exhale.
“Lady Musgrave, Miss Musgrave, allow me to introduce my good friend, Mr. Jack Holcombe.”
Lady Musgrave frowned at the name but curtsied deeply. Jac bowed, knowing she was horribly exposed. The Musgraves were a well connected family; they could spread a rumor faster than could be believed. How long would it be before they learned what Mrs. John Clarence’s maid had seen? Miss Musgrave curtsied to her, smiling genially.
“What is your relation to Lord Holcombe, sir?” Lady Musgrave asked her sharply. Jac did her best to smile easily, though the question was rudely put.
“I am his cousin, my lady,” Jac replied. The mother smiled tightly, her eyes suspicious.
“You must be very close,” she stated, peering into Jac’s face as she spoke.
This will not take long to get out, Daniel had promised. Jac glanced
over the baroness, trying to imagine how she had heard a maid’s rumors in a matter of hours. Surely the woman was simply curious.
“We inhabit very different spheres,” Jac answered carefully and turned to Aspen, hoping to end the conversation but Aspen was frowning at her now, looking concerned.
“Of course,” the baroness answered, sounding rather snide. Jac nodded uneasily, hoping the woman was simply unhappy with Mr. Jack Holcombe’s poor family relations.
“But that allegretto was lovely,” Jac said, hoping to change the subject.
“The which?” Aspen asked, tilting his head.
“The second movement. It sounded like an allegretto,” Jac explained. Aspen frowned, looking only more curious. The baroness turned her eyes on Aspen, angling her body away from Jac. Jac relaxed, uncommonly glad to be slighted. Miss Musgrave’s eyes were scanning the room, apparently unconcerned with her mother’s intrigues.
“You know music,” Aspen said, his gaze sharp and curious. Jac closed her eyes briefly, kicking herself. She did not need to be drawing any more connections between Mr. Jack Holcombe and Miss Jacoline Holcombe.
“Yes, I … do,” she answered awkwardly.
“You need not be alone to watch Mr. Garrick’s grand performance next week, Your Grace. You are quite welcome to join us,” the baroness offered, breaking off the uncomfortable conversation and apparently dismissing Jac’s company entirely.
“You are very kind,” Aspen stated harshly and moved to walk past the woman. Jac followed awkwardly, sure the room full of aristocrats were staring at them, though she saw no sign of it. Still, she reveled in the feeling of Aspen slighting a woman for her.
Aspen strode through the crowd, heading toward the door to the outside. Jac followed, pushing her way through the din of noise and smothering layer of perfumes. She walked out into the cold air behind the duke, the silence stiffening between them. She had to leave. People trickled out of the doors onto the steps around them and started to disappear into the city streets beyond. Daniel’s carriage was waiting for her, as promised, her brother likely inside it. Jac forced herself to continue walking, wishing she could stay with the duke all night, go home in his carriage, spend time in his home, run her hand down his chest and have him welcome it. Harold jumped down from the coachman’s bench at the sight of them. Jac did her best to look confident and capable, unwilling to look weak before the duke. Harold pulled the carriage door open and stood aside, his gaze barely flicking between her and the duke. The carriage was empty, Jac noted, staring inside for a moment, absurdly grateful.
“Goodbye, then. Safe travels to Abingdon and on to Boston,” Aspen said, dragging her attention back to him. He stood on the last step, looking rather uncertain. Jac turned to face him fully and Aspen held out his hand. She shook it, trying to keep her grip firm and strong but his huge palm enveloped hers all the same.
“Thank you,” she answered. Aspen dropped her hand and swallowed heavily. Jac watched his throat tighten and release and wondered what to say.
“You should come to my house party before you travel,” he stated. “My mother is hosting it, to start in three weeks’ time. It's at the Aspen estate, not far from Abingdon,” he offered. Jac smiled grimly and shook her head. She'd accepted the invitation in the guise of a different person entirely.
I cannot lie to him again.
“I cannot,” she answered and Aspen nodded. But how was she supposed to spend a week in the man’s home, pretending not to know him?
“I understand,” he said, stepping back. Jac nodded, unsure how men departed from each other. She turned and climbed into the coach. Harold gripped the door, ready to close it.
“Farewell,” she said and the coachman hesitated, glancing at Aspen.
“And you,” he answered. Jac nodded to Harold and he closed the door firmly. It closed with the hard snap of the lock catching, leaving her in darkness. Jac did not touch the window curtains, not wanting the duke to see her peering out. The carriage jerked forward.
And it's over, she thought, trying to hold back her tears. It was foolishness, she scolded herself. She’d be sleeping in the Duchess of Aspen’s country residence in barely three week’s time. She’d see him there, it was certain. But he’d not know her at all. Jac choked on a breath, unclipping Mr. Charington’s cravat pin. She needed to change back into her gown. The carriage had barely pulled into the street before she’d started weeping.
~~//~~
Halfway through his story Henry leaned forward and moved his elbows to his knees, his fists clenching. By the time Daniel stopped he was sitting back in his chair, his limbs relaxed, sucking his lips up against his teeth as he thought. Daniel didn’t know which was worse. Henry stared off into the room for a moment, his gaze unfocused and Daniel stared at his hands, unable to face him.
“I will begin by berating you, I think. Would you like to get a drink first?” Henry asked, his voice soft and even. He was one of the biggest textile merchants in the country; he knew how to flay a man with quiet words. Daniel closed his eyes, feeling ill. He would remember this conversation for the rest of his life, he thought.
“No, thank you,” he whispered, his voice caught in his throat.
“Very well. I’ll start. I am going to ignore the risk you took with your sister’s reputation. That was your responsibility and hers. I trust that that risk, at least, was well considered by you both. It is too blatant to be ignored. But let us consider what you did not have the right to risk. That would be our exposure, which jeopardizes not only my life but my business and my daughter. Who would marry Laura, if this comes to light? The Buggery Act carries a death penalty, Daniel! Who precisely would care for her, when I am gone and the name Miss Charington holds such an implication? And that is something we have discussed on too many occasions for you to be ignorant of.”
Daniel kept a fist in front of his mouth, unable to open his eyes.
“How did you disregard that?” Henry asked, his voice thin and furious. Daniel felt his heart drop further and he forced himself to look up at where Henry sat, almost unmoving, staring back at him.
“I did not think of it,” he whispered finally. “I saw no risk at all. I thought only of making sure she was not discovered. I thought of her only as a woman. I did not think of what others would see, if they did not find her out,” he answered honestly.
Henry nodded and gazed into the fire, his expression hard. Daniel chose instead to stare at him, trying to memorize every detail of him. His round face and wrinkled, pensive mouth, his ridiculous dyed and embroidered waistcoats and matching trousers. His left hand, calloused from holding up too many quills. It was just like him, Daniel thought fondly, to write with his left after years of training otherwise. And he never smeared the ink.
“I will not come here again. I will not risk Laura any more than I have done. The inquisition, should it come, will not find you,” Daniel promised, keeping his voice steady as he stood up to leave. He still had his overcoat on. It hung heavily on his shoulders.
“You could do that but they will find me anyway,” Henry commented, glancing up from the fire, his blue eyes meeting Daniel’s. “Sit down, Daniel. My neck will ache,” he ordered and Daniel obeyed again, his heart starting to race though he could not fathom why. Henry leaned back in his chair and Daniel took the cue to relax into his own. “Very well. So the berating is over. Let us move on to damage control,” Henry stated. Daniel nodded cautiously. “If they do not find me, they have nothing on either of us. They will not convict you of sodomizing yourself, I daresay. And self abuse, as I recall, is still unlegislated,” Henry commented. Daniel snorted out a laugh.
“Give it time,” he replied and Henry’s eyes softened slightly with amusement. Daniel felt something like relief shoot through him. Perhaps they could survive this.
“Regardless, if a sodomy charge is raised, they will be looking for Mr. Jack Holcombe. We know they will not find him. They’re chasing a lie. But they will find th
is house and my belongings,” Henry continued. Daniel felt his eyes widen, realizing the implication. They’d find a single man living in a home purchased by Lord Holcombe. That would be brought before the court, published as public information, in the context of a charge against the Buggery Act. There wasn’t a single peer in the ton who wouldn’t read between the lines and know Henry Charington’s name.
“I will be gone by tomorrow afternoon. Clearly you purchased this home for your sister, for when she tired of the marriage search," he stated. Daniel nodded uneasily, feeling as if the man had punched him in his gut. They were going to lose their home. “As long as we remain entirely unassociated, this will not be life-threatening,” Henry finished.
Entirely unassociated.
“And when my reputation is destroyed? If the rumors of Jack Holcombe do not go away?” Daniel asked, feeling ill. If Henry’s reputation was spared, but Daniel’s was destroyed, would the man stand by him? Henry met his gaze, his frown heavy. He looked prepared to weep, Daniel thought, wanting to rush to him. He held himself in his chair. He had known this would be the end, he told himself, struggling to swallow. He simply had not known it would happen so calmly, with so little anger to give him hope of redemption.
“You are asking me to risk my business and my daughter’s security,” Henry stated, his words falling like stones. Daniel nodded heavily. Henry shook his head and glanced down at his hands. “No, Daniel,” he pronounced finally, looking up. Daniel scanned his eyes over the man’s gentle, stricken face, unsure whether he wanted to remember it forever or forget it immediately. He thought he might throw up. “After the season, Laura and I will go to Bath,” he stated. Daniel nodded, clenching his teeth together to protect his dignity. He forced himself to swallow and felt bile rush his throat. He did not share Henry’s optimism, he thought.
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