A Secret Passion

by Sophia Nash

  Theo watched Jane gallop away without responding to him. He let out his pent-up breath and shook his head as she disappeared around a bend on the beach.

  He did not go after her, as he did not want to suffer further abuse, even if he did deserve it. He had gotten off lightly. If she had been a man, he was sure he would have been challenged to pistols at dawn or, at the very least, fisticuffs. But his soul felt lighter by the admission. Maybe he would sleep better this night, far from the madding crowd of London and the devils that plagued him. He vowed to do everything in his power to ensure the future happiness of his sister. He would move heaven and earth for her.

  Chapter Eleven

  A FORTUITOUS excuse arrived by courier in the form of a letter from Rolfe’s solicitor in London. He was even spared the unpleasant duty of informing Lord Fairchild in person of the necessity of his hasty departure, as Fairchild was still abed when the party assembled and departed for Lizard Peninsula in the morning. A simple written note would do. Graystock had avoided Jane’s father all day yesterday, with the exception of the dinner hour. His lordship had been so much in awe of his future son-in-law that he had been better behaved than usual. And while Fairchild had been unable to refer to the upcoming nuptials less than three times in an overfamiliar way, Rolfe’s monosyllabic replies had stopped his further comment. The older gentleman was probably reasoning with himself that he should curtail his caustic remarks at least until his daughter was safely married. What joy then!

  It was under gray skies and a cold westerly wind that the party of ten departed for Lizard in three carriages—one regal and polished, the second large and serviceable, and the other small, rusted, and chipped. Harry took up Jane and Clarissa in his deteriorating equipage while Lord Graystock invited William, Fanny, and Miss Dodderidge to join him in his ducal traveling carriage. Theodore Fairchild brought up the rear with Lillian and Sarah Thompson rattling around in the large conveyance meant for six passengers.

  Jane refused to look back at Pembroke as they departed. William had discreetly loaded her trunk next to Harry’s smaller one behind the picnic baskets on the back of the old carriage. Jane took comfort that they were finally on their way as they moved northward from the bustling town of Land’s End.

  “You’re leaving, are you not, Jane?” Clarissa asked.

  “I will not lie to you, Aunt.”

  “Oh, are you sure, Jane? Do nothing rather than make a mistake. Your happiness is my only concern, my dear.”

  “And yours, mine. I am so happy for you. Sir Thomas is everything I could dream of for you. With your betrothal, my last remaining doubt is removed,” Jane said with emotion.

  “But Jane, you change the subject. Why not wait a bit? Things will right themselves. You have been so happy back here, among your horses and in the country.”

  “Father would toss me out on my ear if he knew I had refused Lord Graystock. No, I must make my own way, and it is with Harry. Oh, but please don’t let us argue about this anymore. Let us just enjoy this last day with each other. It may be many months or even years before we have the means to visit again.” Jane reached for the handkerchief in her pocket lest the tears she felt forming in her eyes should spill over. “I shall miss you, Aunt. And you must promise to visit me at university if you are ever inclined. That is, once we have a place to call our own—or rather, if we can afford a little place. I am afraid we will be staying with Harry’s mentor in the beginning. An assistant’s income is but a pittance. But I do have high hopes, too, for my scribbling.” Jane twisted the handkerchief in her hands and avoided her aunt’s sympathetic gaze. “While I haven’t quite finished the third part of the manuscript, I know I will be able to finish it once we are more settled. I shall send it to you first, you know.”

  Jane felt impelled to argue her case further. She tried not to sound defensive. It made her sad to have all of the people she loved feel pity for her. For that they undoubtedly did. One could read it in their eyes if not hear it from their lips.

  She took a deep breath and faced the concern in her aunt’s pale eyes. “Oh, Aunt, I am happy. I love Harry. I always have.” She gazed up at Harry’s profile in front of her. His hat was askew, but he was trying to make a show of formality by wearing his only “good” coat, made of faded black wool with unfashionable narrow lapels. It was marginally better than his brown patched everyday coat. He was humming as he focused on driving the team. She turned once again to her aunt. “He is the one for me. I care naught for finery, property, and jewels, or especially for the haute ton. I shall be happy not ever again to have to mingle among the society ladies with their sharp claws and even sharper tongues. They will be pleased by my formal removal from London as well. I am sure that my unexceptional marriage will delight them.”

  Her aunt raised her eyebrows. “You will send me your directions once you have settled, Jane? Promise me that, at least.” She moved to hold Jane’s hand. “And I shall promise not to reveal them to my brother if you request it.” Clarissa leaned forward and brushed her other hand against Jane’s cheek.

  Jane struggled not to cry.

  “And promise you will write to me if you are ever in distress or in want. I know your prideful ways will fight against this, but if you care at all for my sensibilities, you will honor me and your mother, by promising me.”

  “I promise,” said Jane, looking across the grassy cliffs to the sea beyond. She could not deny her aunt this assurance.

  The occupants of the second carriage were arguably more agreeably engaged. Miss Dodderidge was at her best, preening before William and Lord Graystock. She had arranged to be seated next to the earl and had not given him a moment’s peace. He tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere, but with little success.

  Miss Dodderidge presumed to entertain him with trite stories of her girlhood hidden between self-serving little smiles and fluttering lashes. It was many minutes before he realized she didn’t have a fan, but used her gestures in a manner not unlike a coquette’s favorite device. She asked no fewer than three times for his lordship to rearrange the summer blankets to better protect her pastel dress, trimmed with too many flounces and bows. Rolfe sighed in exasperation during the last request when she exclaimed his lordship must not be shocked by her ankles, which she had “mistakenly” revealed. Graystock cursed the plan that had put him in this ridiculous scene, and he was grateful that he would have nothing further to do with young people apart from this one last afternoon.

  The two sisters occupying the third carriage looked rather irritable. If only the heir had not insisted on driving the carriage himself, they would have been much more cheerful in his company.

  The party from Land’s End was quite famished by the time they reached their destination. They found themselves on a small cliff not unlike their picnic site of just a few days ago. The sea oats swayed in the cool breeze and framed the larger fishing village and port in the distance. Most of the fog had burned off the coastline during their advancement. After the luncheon of cold meats, cheeses, and a large plum pudding that had survived the ordeal of the trip, the group was unanimous in the desire to inspect the rock wall below. Miss Fairchild explained that the area was famed for the dark green rock veined with red and white. Harry added that Lizard was home to many rare species of plants and minute reptiles.

  “Many an afternoon was spent here in my youth chasing down butterflies and lizards,” Harry said with a smile. He continued almost to himself as his smile faded, “I shall miss it.”

  “But, Harry, you will be back during your breaks at school, shall you not?” Fanny inquired.

  “No, Fan. Maybe every now and again in the next decade. But you know it is too much to undertake very often.”

  Miss Dodderidge picked several spores of spent dandelions from Harry’s sleeve as Jane smiled at him. He glanced back at Jane and grinned. Then he caught at Miss Dodderidge’s hands and tickled her under the chin.

  “You must stop picking at me, Miss Dodderidge. This will not do. This job is
for my mum, not for a dainty young miss like you.

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” Miss Dodderidge said with a coy smile as she wiped a small spot of pudding off of Harry’s chin. “You know I am only too happy to help whenever I can.”

  Fanny giggled and leaned against William in her post-meal fatigue.

  “Come, Miss Dodderidge, let us lead the way on an expedition to the grotto on the beach,” Harry ordered as he hauled himself up with his cane and offered an arm to the young lady.

  “Is not your ankle too weak for the descent?” Miss Dodderidge asked.

  “Oh, my, no. I shall be fine with your steady arm.”

  The group paired off, as the small path was just wide enough for two to pass comfortably. Lillian and Sarah Thompson were left to descend without the aid of a masculine arm as Fanny grasped Theo’s arm, their elder brother assisted Clarissa, and the earl, Jane.

  Jane was not comfortable in the disquieting presence of Lord Graystock, but their earlier communication, which had cast away all of her doubts concerning his continued pursuit, had also removed almost all of her anxiety regarding his possible actions. But his hawkish features, when she dared peep at him, were imposing and serious, which made her feel self-conscious. Aside from a cautionary word or two from the earl during their climb down, not a sentence was uttered.

  Finally they were on the narrow beach, and they fanned out to examine the walls of the grotto at the end of the strip of sand. Small pools of water were trapped in the rock formations during low tide. The water further illuminated the intricate patterns of colors on the unusual rock. Water dripped from the low ceiling. Farther back, the grotto divided into two tunnels. Harry and Miss Dodderidge disappeared into one tunnel, laughing, followed at a slower pace by Clarissa, William, Theo, and the three sisters.

  The earl pointed to the other tunnel. “Where will this side lead us?”

  “Well, the other winds around and ends on a beach the other side of this cliff. This path goes straight into the cliff but is illuminated at the end by a natural blowhole.”

  “Ah, shall we see it, then? It sounds most intriguing.”

  “As you wish.”

  Lord Graystock took the lead and moved forward along the damp passage. He grasped Jane’s hand when she stumbled in the shadows. His hand was so large, and her fingers felt so small in his warmth. They reached the end of the tunnel after forty yards. A small shaft of light pierced the darkness above them.

  All at once Jane felt nervous. “I think we should return, my lord. The others will be wondering about us.”

  “That is true,” the earl said, grasping her other hand in his as well.

  In the half-light, he faced her and looked down into her eyes. Waves of light danced on his face, illuminating the pale silver irises of his eyes. A damp mist clung to his black hair. He dropped her hand and smoothed her hair with his palm.

  Jane’s heart skipped a beat while she stared up at his rugged, dark face. She could hardly breathe as she noticed the taut muscles of his cheek. The confined space suffocated her and robbed her of her senses.

  His head dipped forward to within inches of her lips. He hesitated. Then his hand reached to cup her neck as he brought his lips to hers. His tall, powerful frame engulfed her.

  She did not resist at all. In the great silence of the grotto all that could be heard was their echoed strained breathing and the far-off roar of the waves breaking. Jane lifted her arms around Rolfe’s massive shoulders and drank in his kiss like a lost soul finding solace at an oasis in the desert. His essence permeated her senses. He smelled of soap, salt air, and a cologne she had only ever noticed on his person. The whorls of his fingertips teased her earlobe, and she shivered. She did not care what he would think She was leaving, and this was to be her good-bye.

  She was attracted to him, without a doubt, but he was not for her. She struggled to remind herself that he was too domineering, too demanding, and altogether too vexing. Most of all, she forced herself to remember, he certainly did not love her. He needed a docile woman who would mold herself to his autocratic ways. Jane would never allow herself to be controlled by anyone again.

  Rolfe brushed aside the black lace covering the front of her mourning gown and trailed kisses from her neck to the delicate skin touching the lace. Without thinking of what he did, she found he had untied her sash and unbuttoned her back buttons to push down her gown. Jane’s breath surged from her as the earl lowered his lips to the tips of her breasts. He kissed one breast, then took the other between his lips. Jane felt a hard, tugging sensation in her womb and between her legs when she pulled him closer. His arousal strained against his breeches as her hand brushed his thighs and finally pushed at his chest.

  “This mustn’t go any further, please,” she mumbled. He kissed her gently while he arranged the gown back in place. His eyelids were heavy when he faced her now. “Yes, you are quite right. What must have I been thinking?” he said.

  He turned her around and rebuttoned her gown. He retied her sash, but made the loops far too big. Jane’s most private places were throbbing with desire, and she placed her fingertips to her temples to try and bring herself under control. Her hands instinctively went to her pockets when she lowered them to face the earl. The cold, hard outline of his ring reminded her of the last act she must perform before leaving with Harry.

  “I must return this to you,” she said, withdrawing the ring from her gown. The bloodstone looked black in the dim cave.

  “Ah, my ring. I had forgotten.”

  He cradled her delicate hand in his larger one and closed her fingers over the ring. She looked at him with bewilderment.

  “It is my hope you will keep it, Jane. Before you say no. I hope you will listen to my reasons,” he said. She did not protest, so he continued. “You have refused my hand, my name, my protection, and my help. I will take a small measure of comfort knowing you have this one last possession of mine. Use it to send for me if you are ever in need. I could not bear to ever think of you in desperate want. You can seal a letter to me and I will come at once. Or you could sell it. But I don’t want it back.”

  Jane looked at the faintly visible etching of the knight and dragon on the ring and then turned her gaze to him. “As you wish, I shall keep it. But I shan’t sell it. Never that.” It was the first time she had ever acquiesced to a request of the earl’s. She wondered if he would plead his case one more time, to insist that she go away with him rather than with Harry, to kiss her until she relented, but his expression bespoke a negative answer.

  He released her hands. “Thank you,” he answered. He moved past her and felt along the passage walls back to the harsh, bright outside world. He did not offer the guidance of his hand to her again.

  When Jane and Graystock returned, the group was at work, repacking all the food remains in the wicker baskets and folding blankets. William was putting everything into the storage area on the Fairchilds’ carriage.

  At the end of the carriage ride from Pembroke, Miss Dodderidge had given up all matrimonial hopes of securing thirty thousand a year from the earl, for while she was an insipid girl, her primary nature was quite practical. Worse yet, she had been unable to attract even a single glance from Theodore Fairchild during the course of the afternoon.

  As her departure from Cornwall approached at an alarming rate, she had decided on the moment, while in the grotto, to fix the interest of Harry Thompson without dangling after the other impossibilities. He was the only one who showed any promise, she decided with resignation. She was sure his family was good for at least five hundred a year, given the size of the living.

  And his family did boast of an ancient connection to the aristocracy. A third cousin four times removed or so. Her coal merchant father would be impressed if she could attract a gentleman, even a poor one. And he really did give her butterflies in her stomach. No one had ever done that to her, no matter how determined she had been at flirting with her victims. She retied the bow of her hat under her chin when she s
aw everyone moving to their respective carriages. The loss of thirty thousand a year was really too bad, she thought, as she eyed the earl. But then again, her insides jumped when she moved to Harry. He really was divine, even though he was poorer than a church mouse.

  She sighed and walked toward Clarissa Fairchild to detain her. Perhaps she could switch places with the aunt on the ride back? Miss Fairchild arched her brow and gazed at her.

  “I think not,” Miss Fairchild said firmly. “As a matter of fact, I had hoped to have a conversation with you and Fanny during the ride home. Would you mind if I joined your group?”

  “But Fanny and I could join your carriage.”

  Harry turned around from the back of the equipage. “Ah, but that would ruin our plan,” he said to her with a wicked grin.

  “Oh, I just love plans. What plan is that? I insist on being included,” Miss Dodderidge said petulantly.

  Jane, seated in the carriage, sighed and closed her eyes, too weary to play her part. Harry glanced at her, winked, and turned to Clarissa.

  “I shall tell you all about it, my dear, in the other carriage,” Clarissa said. “It is a secret we can rely on you to keep safe. But you must depart with me now.”

  Miss Dodderidge looked first at Harry, then at Clarissa, and finally at Jane. She stomped her foot just the smallest bit and addressed Harry. “All of you are in the know except me. It is most unfair, I insist on hearing what is going on this instant, Harry--er--Mr. Thompson.”

  Harry raised her hand to his lips with a flourish and kissed it. “Miss Fairchild will explain it all on the ride home, my dear,” Harry said.

  Miss Dodderidge lifted her chin a notch higher and flounced off in a huff, mumbling something about rudeness.

  At the last moment, Clarissa reached for Jane’s hand and stroked it. She looked as if she would begin to cry if she uttered a single word. Jane squeezed her aunt’s hand and whispered, “I will miss you so,” before Harry pulled himself into the seat and urged the horses toward Graystock’s coach.