She turned to him, astounded. Why did he think that his kiss was something potentially unforgiveable? What should she do? Did he expect her to react like some highborn lady, and be offended by his actions? She did not know how to act like a highborn lady…
And… why would a man do such a thing, kiss a woman, if he was not serious about his intent, and at a point where he expected her to respond favourably? She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassed confusion. Was he, then, not serious, if he could so easily suggest that she might refuse to speak to him?
Was her attraction to him not returned as strongly as she had thought that kiss indicated? Perhaps it was best that she made herself clear, without openly declaring how engaged her feelings had become.
“Nicholas, I am not a highborn lady with fine sensibilities, nor am I a green girl. I do not see your actions as something so terrible that they require forgiveness. And our agreement… to my memory, it had nothing in it about the expression of affection, only a constraint on bringing the strains of the outside world into our space. I see no reason not to continue with our conversations.”
That was as direct as she could be, without exposing herself to the risk of rejection. She watched him, waiting for his response, deeply uncertain. His hands lay on his knees, his fists clenched, as if he fought some internal fight, his eyes held hers, and a cascade of emotions flitted across his face. She did not understand what she saw, what struggle he fought internally. But she could not simply let him suffer so. She reached out, taking his hand in hers, gently uncurling his fist, and twining her fingers through his.
He released a sigh, tension suddenly leaving him, as if he had given in to something, had simply stopped fighting. His other hand came up, to brush her hair aside from her brow, and to slip down to cup her cheek.
Her breath caught, and her heart beat far faster than it should. He drew her to him, and she went, willingly, suddenly desperate in her desire for the touch of his lips. The kiss began butterfly soft, and deepened into something far more, with an intensity that stole her breath completely. Warmth spread through her, and desire rose – a desire she had not felt, nor even considered, since some time before her husband’s death.
When they finally drew apart, his hand still held her cheek, and he smiled, his spring green eyes holding hers.
“And am I still forgiven, now that I have doubly stepped beyond the bounds of normally acceptable behaviour?”
She laughed, suddenly carefree, giddy, and happy.
“Of course, you are. I believe that behaviour beyond the normally acceptable has much to recommend it.”
He laughed in turn, and they sat in companionable silence, watching the stream flow past, their fingers still entwined, and a vast scope of possibility unspoken between them.
Jane ached to tell him about Gervaise, but her promise not to stopped her. Let that wait, let there be a time, soon, when she could convince Gervaise to change his mind. For now, this wonderful moment was enough, just as it was.
~~~~~
Nicholas sat, his body warm, and Jane’s fingers soft in his, whilst his mind whirled with uncertainty. He still felt disloyal to Clara, and he still feared the pain that any association could lead to. But he wanted to kiss Jane again, and again.
Chapter Nine
“Mr Pensworth?”
“Yes, how may I help you?”
“Good day to you. My name is Manning. I deal with the accounting for Morton Empire Imports. I believe that you are man of business for one of our investors, Viscount Woodridge?”
“I am, indeed. The Viscount is out of town, but left me instructions, for when this day arrived. At least… you are here because the ship has returned, are you not?”
“Yes, that is correct. The ship has returned, with an excellent cargo, which has sold for a better than expected profit. I hope that Viscount Woodridge will be pleased - he is receiving fifteen times return on what he put in.”
“That is excellent news! I have his detailed instructions on the disbursement of funds – do, please take a seat, and let us arrange things. I’ll send my clerk for some refreshments.”
“Thank you.”
Manning settled into the seat, and things were soon arranged – some funds to be delivered to Mr Pensworth in cash, and most to be deposited to Viscount Woodridge’s bankers.
~~~~~
The following day Mr Pensworth began a series of calls to the less salubrious parts of London, accompanied in each case by three hired guards – large men, and men he knew he could trust, from past experience. Each time, he carried only the necessary sum of money to address the particular debt.
The moneylenders were not happy about the guards, but soon calmed upon seeing cash in hand. In some cases, it took the application of threats to get them to write out the required receipts, and the declarations that Viscount Woodridge’s debts were completely cleared. Mr Pensworth stood firm, and the guards’ looming presence convinced the moneylenders that attempts to extort more than was owed were not viable. The receipts and statements were written, cash was delivered, and Mr Pensworth returned to his rooms, with one more thing crossed off his list of instructions.
When all of the debts were paid, the amounts remaining in Viscount Woodridge’s bank were substantial, and Pensworth was happy in the satisfactory performance of his duty. Happy all but for one thing. He did not, at present, know Viscount Woodridge’s direction. Last he had heard, the Viscount had intended to visit his friend, Lord Northdown, but Pensworth had expected him returned by now.
It was essential that he inform Lord Woodridge of the completion of the assigned tasks – but how?
The only option seemed to be a letter, sent via Lord Northdown, in the hope that Viscount Woodridge was still visiting him, or that he knew Viscount Woodridge’s current location, and could send it on.
Pensworth settled to his desk, and wrote a long account of his actions, and of the funds now available to Viscount Woodridge, and the fact that the receipts and statements from the moneylenders were now locked away in his safe, to ensure their availability if needed. Once the ink was dry on that, he folded and sealed it, then wrote a letter to Lord Northdown, asking that he pass on the enclosed missive to Lord Woodridge as a matter of urgency.
Two of the guards were then engaged to travel to Northdown Park, to deliver the letter directly into the hands of Lord Northdown. And, should he need to then send it on further, to carry it then wherever it needed to go.
Satisfied that he had done all he could, Mr Pensworth closed up his office for the day and went home.
~~~~~
Lord Northdown was startled when two large and somewhat rough-looking men arrived on his doorstep, asking after Viscount Woodridge. Once they explained their mission, and he had read the letter from Mr Pensworth, he looked at them with a worried frown.
“Gentlemen, Lord Woodridge never reached here. His valet, who had come on ahead, was rather distraught, and, after some days, went to Lord Amberhithe with his concerns.”
The two men looked at each other, brows furrowed.
“Then we had best go to Lord Amberhithe with this too.”
“I believe that would be best. Try his country estate – Amberton Grange – it is but two or three days ride from here. But first, let me offer you food and drink, and a place to stay – for it is too late in the day to travel on.”
“Thank you, my Lord.”
~~~~~
Three days later, the Butler at Amberton Grange looked at them with equal uncertainty, until they explained their mission. He too shook his head sadly.
“Lord Amberhithe is not in residence, gentlemen. He has expanded his search for his son, who is missing, and has gone to stay with the Duke of Windemere, whilst he does so. Perhaps you could seek him out there?”
“If you can give us the direction, we will do so.”
The Butler was happy to provide details, and the two men set off again, beginning to be utterly wearied of this chase after a Lord who seemed not to e
xist, anywhere. And… the butler had said something about the Earl’s son being missing – was there another son? Or had their task just become harder?
They would not know for a week, for the directions provided by the Butler would take them a long way from Amberton Grange. All this for a letter! They hoped that its contents were worth all this fuss. Still – they were being very well paid, in the end, it made no difference to them. They rode on.
~~~~~
Jane sat in the parlour at Windemere Towers, watching as Daniel played on the priceless rug at her feet. The first of the toys from the woodcutters were scattered everywhere, and he was thrilled with each and every one of them. Marion made sure that the toys stayed at least vaguely constrained, so that no-one fell over them. The Duchess, Sylvia, formerly the Viscountess Pendholm, was sitting on the floor with Daniel, helping him play. She was a most unusual woman, whom Jane had become fast friends with almost on first meeting.
Julian and Nicholas were discussing the ongoing search for Nicholas’ son. It seemed that nothing further of use had been achieved, since the discovery of the Inn he had stayed at one night. Jane could see the pain in Nicholas’ eyes, as he discussed where they might look next, spreading the area of search ever wider. He sounded dispirited, and almost beyond hope, kept going only by Julian’s determination that they would succeed.
Jane’s mind was in turmoil. She longed to leap up and rush to Nicholas, to tell him that she knew where Gervaise was, but she did not. She had given her word that she would not. How much longer she would be able to be true to her word, she was not sure, given how much it distressed her to see Nicholas so distraught.
A knock sounded on the front door, echoing in the marble hall of the entryway, and everyone looked up, startled – no-one was expected – who could it be? The Butler’s footsteps tapped across the marble, and the slight creak of the opening door followed.
Moments later, the sound of more footsteps was followed by the closing of the door, and a tap on the parlour door.
“Your Grace, there are two… gentlemen here, with a letter which they insist on handing to Lord Amberhithe, in person.”
“Show them in, Fordham.”
The two men shown in were large, and somewhat rough looking, showing signs of the dust of long travel. Julian waved them to a seat, and sent for refreshments.
“Gentlemen,” he waved towards Nicholas, “Here is Lord Amberhithe. You may deliver your letter directly to his hands.”
“My thanks, Your Grace,” the larger of the two men spoke, in surprisingly educated tones, then turned to address Nicholas, “My Lord, the letter we bear is for your son, from his man of business, Mr Pensworth. As Mr Pensworth did not know Lord Woodridge’s current direction, he sent it, originally, with an explanatory note, to Lord Northdown, who he believed Lord Woodridge had intended to visit. Lord Northdown advised us to seek you out, as Lord Woodridge had never reached Northdown Park. We went first to Amberton Grange, where we were told that you were here.”
The covering letter, and the letter addressed to Gervaise, were passed to Nicholas, whose hands shook a little as he took them. There was silence as he opened the covering letter first. After a moment, he looked up, and addressed everyone.
“Apparently the letter to Gervaise is with respect to the satisfactory completion of some tasks which he had directed Mr Pensworth to complete – tasks related to funds. Mr Pensworth believes it critical that Gervaise hear of this immediately.”
Nicholas weighed the other letter in his hands, as if unsure whether to open it. Julian spoke gently.
“Gentlemen, Lord Woodridge is, at present, missing. Amberhithe, my friend, whilst this is addressed to Woodridge, I feel that you must open it, for there is the possibility that its contents have bearing on your son’s disappearance. You cannot afford to leave any possibility for information untouched.”
Nicholas nodded, and lifted the letter, breaking the seal and unfolding it carefully. The clicking of wooden blocks against each other as Daniel played was the only sound to disturb the expectant silence in the room.
Nicholas paused, giving a little gasp, then turned to the next page of the letter, and continued reading. Finally he looked up, the glitter of unshed tears in his eyes.
“Gentlemen, you have done me, and I must hope, my son, a great service in bringing this to me. Please, accept the hospitality of this house for the night. I will pen you a response to go to Mr Pensworth, so that you may depart tomorrow.”
The men were shown from the room by the butler. The door closed, and Nicholas looked at the expectant faces surrounding him, and took a very deep breath.
“It seems that I have grossly misjudged my son. After my wife’s death, he did not cope well. He assuaged his grief with drink and gambling, and I thought him hopelessly mired in that. We argued, and I cut off most of his funds, in the hope that he might change. But it seems that he was far more sensible than I believed – just too proud to tell me what he had done.”
“What had he done?”
Julian’s voice was soft, encouraging his old friend. Nicholas stared blankly at the paper in his hands, his voice a little shaky as he continued.
“He had actually won a large sum, and rather than pay off all of his debts, he invested it. He was trying to survive until the investment paid off – and I cut off his funds for survival – I feel such terrible remorse, now. I suspect that is why he went back to gambling, and why he ended up disappearing. I know that the moneylenders were trying to collect on his debts – that is what Gervaise told Hattam. I must pray that he has hidden himself somewhere, rather than that those thugs have found him, and done him harm. For, what this letter from Pensworth tells me, is that Gervaise’s investment has, indeed, given a good return, and handsomely so. Pensworth has done as instructed by Gervaise, and paid off all of those debts, using the funds from the investment. And he has obtained signed receipts and statements of debt clearance from every lender. Gervaise is safe from pursuit, and a rather wealthy man. If we could but find him…”
Jane stifled a gasp at his words – surely, now, she could convince Nicholas’ son to come forward, to come out of hiding? Or would Gervaise’s pride hold him back in some way? She did not know, but she had to convince him to come away from the woodcutter’s cottage, to reveal himself to his father. Nicholas continued speaking, unaware of Jane’s reaction.
“If Gervaise is hiding, it is critical that we find him, so that he may know that he is safe – but how will we do that, if in near three months of searching, we have failed? We cannot give up – either he must know that he is safe, or I must know, for certain, if I have lost him forever.”
Chapter Ten
By the next morning, Jane was sure of what she needed to do. She began her day with that purpose in mind, and, by late morning, she was on her way.
Carrying a basket of her cook’s best pies, she made her way through the forest towards the woodcutter’s cottage. All around her, the bright evidence of spring made the landscape beautiful, and there was birdsong everywhere, the birds seemingly unconcerned by her presence. She picked flowers as she went, laying them in the basket, that Jess might have something beautiful to brighten her home.
Now that she knew the path, it seemed much shorter than it had before and, soon, she was approaching their door. As she did, a wave of doubt assailed her. What if Gervaise would not listen? What if he did not believe her? What would she do?
She paused, thinking, and then, chiding herself for worrying about things that might never happen, she pushed herself into movement again.
As she reached the stoop, the same dog came trotting around the side of the cottage, tail wagging, as it watched the basket she carried with hopeful eyes. She shook her head at it, amused, and reached out to knock on the door.
Moments later, it opened, and Jess looked at her, startled.
“Good morning Jess. I’ve come to thank you again for the toys – Daniel is obsessed with them – and I have only given him less than ha
lf of them so far! I’ve some flowers and some of cook’s pies for you too.”
“Why thank you! Please, come in.”
Jess stepped back, and Jane entered the dimly lit cottage, where the only light came from one dusty curtained window. She was pleased to see Gervaise, just lowering himself into his chair by the hearth. That he was moving, however small a distance, by himself, removed a load of worry from Jane’s heart. He turned those green eyes, so like his father’s, towards her and frowned.
“Mrs Canfield, delightful to see you again.”
His tone carried more of doubt and concern than delight, but Jane understood that. She smiled at him with as much cheerfulness as she could express. Placing the basket on the table, she settled onto the wooden bench.
“It is good to see that your leg is improving, James. Seeing you able to move by yourself is wonderful.”
He grimaced, shifting in his seat.
“True, it is good, but I am still most limited in my movements – more than a tiny distance is painful, and my leg is so weak!”
She nodded, sympathetic.
“It will improve with time. You are lucky that Mr Carver is a man skilled in many things – if someone less skilled had moved your leg, you might be far worse off.”
“Indeed, and I am most grateful to him.”
Jess had been busily removing the pies from the basket, to store them away, and had fetched a small pottery vase for the flowers. Once she had settled onto the other bench, Jane took a deep breath – there was no point putting off the difficult conversation.
“Jess, I must ask you to forgive me in advance – for what I am about to say will seem, I suspect, like the veriest nonsense to you, at least at first.” Jess looked puzzled, but nodded to her to continue. Jane turned towards Gervaise. “James, I have also come here today to tell you something. You will remember our conversation on my last visit.”
Gervaise looked worried, his eyes wide with fear.
Falling for the Earl: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 12) Page 6
