“Come to breakfast, dear. Life is so much easier to bear on a full stomach.” She headed down the hallway, and Morgan could swear he heard her laughing.
***
Afternoon warmth spread over the gardens of Trevethwick House. The scent of late roses and lilies drifted, mingling with the sound of conversation and laughter. Jessa played beneath the dappled shade of the wisteria trellis. A small audience occupied the chairs arranged on the lawn in front of her, but the rest of Morgan’s guests strolled and chatted—or sat in the parlor, with the French doors open, drinking sherry.
Still, a handful of listeners was better than none. Although one gentleman at the front was clearly intent on ogling her body instead of listening to the music.
Ignoring him, she gave herself over to the tunes. Her own mood was sifted light and shadows, and her choice of music reflected that. A fast-paced dance let her express her joy and relief over Louisa’s good fortune. She was going to be Lady Agatha’s companion! Over the last week, the two had formed an undeniable bond, and Jessa felt certain that Louisa would be well cared for—perhaps even unduly spoiled—as the older lady’s companion.
Yet Jessa’s own fate was far murkier. It was unsettling, to have her sister’s future more stable than her own. She was not accustomed to being the vulnerable one. And although she still remained beneath Morgan’s roof, he’d made no assurances he would protect her.
How could he? Even now he escorted Lady Anne beside the rose garden. Had Jessa known how imminent his betrothal was, she would not have tried to seduce him. Since their conversation in the garden, she had attempted to avoid him as much as possible.
It could not be helped at mealtimes, and she felt the undercurrent of tension flowing between them. He never met her gaze directly, though he had unbent enough to assist her in navigating the cutlery correctly during the long, multi-course dinners. Once, his fingers had brushed against hers as he indicated the proper fork. She had shot him a look, only to find his expression tight, as if he found the contact unsettling.
With Louisa spending much of her day with Lady Agatha, Jessa had made use of her unexpected free time playing her violin. A quiet drawing room at the back of the house suited well enough, and the touches of red brocade pleased her eye, bright notes among the mostly blue-and-ivory hued room.
So she claimed it as her own and played, finding refuge and solace in the notes. Her fears spoke through the low rumble of a tightly-wound sirba, and her yearning flew free with the high, clear melodies of a love song.
A song that she played for Morgan, if he but knew it. She glimpsed him now, standing across the garden with Lady Anne at his side.
Ah, she was the worst kind of fool, that her treacherous heart should carry such an unwavering flame for him. She chased the notes high up on her violin, hoping the trembling sweetness would ease her soul. Then, when she could stand it no longer, she let the melody descend, falling like sunlight through the forest, down, down, fading, until at last there were only shadows and mossy ferns and the memory of light.
She brought her current piece to a close and made a brief bow to the applauding listeners. It was time she take a break. Lady Agatha had expressly told her not to overtax herself—as if playing were something difficult. Still, Jessa was ready to retreat to the haven of her drawing room, where she would not have to watch Lady Anne laugh up at Morgan, her arm tightly wound through his.
“Miss Lovell.” The gentleman who had been leering at her stepped up, too close. “Lord Cranton at your service. I must say I enjoyed your performance.”
His dark hair was receding from a bulbous forehead, and his lips were overlarge and fleshy. He made to take her arm, and she moved back quickly, holding up her violin.
“I am glad to hear it, my lord,” she said. “Excuse me, I must put my instrument away.”
“You’re skilled with the violin,” he said. “Are you equally skilled with the male instrument?”
She felt her eyes widen. “I beg your pardon?”
It was not the first time she had been propositioned, but it was certainly the clumsiest.
“You know what I mean.” He licked his lips. “Once Silverton tires of you, pay me a visit.”
Before she could move away, he set his hand on her shoulder and drew a thick finger suggestively down her arm. The touch made her shudder.
“I am not anyone’s doxy,” she said. “And most especially not yours. Good day, sir.”
She whirled and strode out from beneath the trellis, her fingers cold around her violin. What a distasteful man. Even the scent of roses could not erase the oily smell of his cologne from her nostrils, and she felt his gaze heavy on her back all the way across the lawn.
Once she reached the house, she glanced over her shoulder, but thankfully he had not followed her. Letting out a breath of relief, she went to the back drawing room, where she had left her violin case.
The soothing colors enfolded her as she tucked her violin away. She should go find Louisa and see how her sister fared. Hopefully she was not unduly affected by the storm of gossip that her proposed role as Lady Agatha’s companion had evoked. That news had deflected much of the attention from Jessa—but no doubt the sharp tongues of the ton would fasten back upon her soon enough.
She turned to go, then started as she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Had that odious fellow snuck in from the garden?
It was not Lord Cranton, however, who stepped from behind the door, but Mr. Burke. Panic stabbed through her, and she darted for the door.
“My dear Jessamyn,” he said, blocking her path. His fingers closed hard about her upper arm. “We must have a chat, you and I.”
“Let me go.” She tugged, trying to free herself. “I’ll scream.”
“And I’ll accuse you and your sister of stealing from the earl. I’m sure the trinkets stowed in your valises will support my case.”
“We’ve done no such thing!”
“And yet I know for a fact that a number of small yet valuable items will be found in your possession.”
“You are hateful.” She wanted to spit upon him, rake her nails over his face.
He towed her toward the door, shut it firmly, then locked it and pocketed the key. “My girl, you are always so impetuous, without considering the consequences.”
“How did you get in?” She finally yanked free of his grasp, then shot a glance at the locked door.
No one would come to her aid. Fear slid icy fingers about her ribs.
“It’s simple enough to breach the houses of the ton. Especially during a party. One might say it’s my specialty.” His expression darkened. “You were clever, I’ll grant you that. I wasted nearly a week tracking down those cursed Gypsies, to find you were not with them. Ambitious of you, to take refuge with Silverton. Luckily, the gossip rags are full of useful information.”
With one stride, he was upon her. He grasped her chin and glared down into her face. She was certain his fingers would leave smudged bruises upon the morrow.
“I’ll have you thrown out,” she said.
“Ha! I don’t advise it.” His oniony breath gusted over her face, and she closed her eyes.
“I’ll tell the earl everything, unless you leave.”
“Remember this, my girl. There’s no proof, and I will name you my accomplice. If Scotland Yard takes me, we’ll go together. And there is the little matter of your petty theft.”
“With evidence you planted.” She clawed at his fingers, finally breaking his hold, and stepped back. “At least Louisa is safe from you.”
“And you owe me even more for that. Your sister might have slipped away, but I still have you.” He raised his fist, and she scurried away, putting the low-backed settee between them.
“I’m not coming back,” she said.
“Oh, I think you are. Silverton will put you out on the street soon enough.”
Her guardian sounded so confident that a cold shiver slid down her back.
“He wouldn
’t.” Despite her words, however, she was unsure.
She knew the earl had little concern for her. And kind as Lady Agatha was, one Lovell sister was more than enough for her to take on.
“If that pretty nose of yours was broken, he’d lose interest.” Violence humming off him, Mr. Burke rounded the settee.
Jessa sidled away, her heart beating a crazed rhythm. If she screamed, would anyone hear?
He lunged for her, and she ran to the mantel and snatched up one of the heavy silver candlesticks displayed there.
“Stay away from me.” She shook the candlestick at him. Perhaps she could get one or two good whacks in before he overpowered her.
Behind her guardian, the door opened so violently the handle thudded into the wall. Mr. Burke spun about, his fists clenched. Jessa almost dropped her candlestick in relief when she saw the earl standing there, flanked by two of his footmen.
“Mr. Burke,” he said, his voice icy. “You are not welcome to set foot in Trevethwick House.”
“I’ve come to reclaim what’s mine.” Her guardian’s voice turned oily. “I’ll just take my niece and go.”
He advanced upon Jessa, but she slid around the edge of the room, toward Morgan. The earl’s expression was impassive, but she could see the rage blazing in his eyes.
“Miss Lovell will remain here,” he said.
A sneer curled Mr. Burke’s lips. “What you could want with a clumsy Gypsy maid in your bed, I’ve no idea. The lure of the exotic, I suppose—”
His words cut off with a garble as Morgan strode forward, took Mr. Burke’s collar in one angry fist, and twisted.
“Miss Lovell is a lady, and your insinuations bore me. Leave, now, and I’ll not press charges of housebreaking.”
Morgan shoved Mr. Burke back a few paces, and Jessa’s guardian coughed and rubbed his throat.
“She’s a thief,” he wheezed. “Her and her sister both, stealing from you. Go ahead and check their room. You’ll see.”
Jessa froze, candlestick heavy in her hand.
“I find that highly unlikely.” Morgan turned to his footmen. “Escort this vermin out of the house. The entire neighborhood, in fact. Use force if necessary.”
“Don’t think you’re immune simply because you’re a lord. I’ll bring you down.” Hatred flared in Mr. Burke’s narrowed eyes.
A muscle in Morgan’s cheek twitched, but otherwise he appeared unmoved. “I brought myself down long ago. There’s nothing a worm like you can do to me. And if you attempt to contact Jessamyn again, I’ll have you flogged.”
Mr. Burke straightened his rumpled coat and gave the earl a look filled with venom. “Just wait, Silverton.”
The earl looked to his men, and they stepped forward, corralling Mr. Burke between them. As they led him from the room, Jessa’s guardian glared at her.
“We’re not finished,” he called. “You’re mine, by blood and family debt.”
She waited until their footsteps faded down the hall, then slowly set the candlestick on a nearby table. She was surprised to see her hands were shaking.
“Are you all right?” Morgan took her fingers in his warm grasp and drew her close. “Did he hurt you?”
He scanned her face, and she shuddered, thinking of what might have happened.
“He did not,” she said. “But he wanted to. Thank you for coming to my aid.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” His expression hardened. “Damn the man, for daring to threaten you in my very house. I’ll be having words with my butler, you can be assured of that. Your guardian won’t be able to enter Trevethwick House again.”
“And what about when I leave these walls?” It had to be asked. “What will become of me then, my lord?”
A shadow darkened his eyes. “You cannot leave. My lady aunt has some plan, though she has not seen fit to divulge it.”
“Perhaps she means to marry me off to her son.” She said the words mockingly, in jest, and was not prepared for his response.
“I forbid it.” His words cracked through the air.
She pulled her hands from his. “Am I so distasteful to you?” Anger pressed hotly against her throat. “Lord Cranton did not seem to share your opinion. Perhaps I ought—”
Her words were stilled by his mouth descending over hers. Morgan gathered her tightly against him, his lips hungry and demanding, and she yielded in an instant. All her anger, all her fear, swept away in the wave of desire that crashed over her. This was what she wanted—his embrace, his kisses. Nothing else mattered but the insistent beat of their two hearts, the close press of their bodies.
***
Morgan could not pull away from Jessa, though his good sense demanded he stop. He could no more stop than a man dying of thirst could keep from plunging into the pure waters of an oasis.
When he had seen Mr. Burke threatening her, red rage stormed through him. He’d barely been able to restrain himself from beating the man to a pulp. She had looked so ridiculously beautiful, clutching that candlestick, and all he had wanted in that moment was to protect her.
And then to suffer her jests about other men… The heat in his blood overrode every caution, and he pulled her into his arms. The only man he wanted to imagine her with was himself.
Her lips parted, ripe and sweet beneath his mouth, and he swept his tongue into that warm hollow, tasting. Claiming. She molded her body to him, all curves and softness, and he was lost. One hand came up to cup her breast, while the other held her against him.
She sighed, her hands clutching his shoulders. He could take two steps, and lay her down on the settee, pull her gown off her shoulders, and…
A burst of laughter from the garden finally cut through the fierce concentration of his desire. Breathing heavily, he set her at arm’s length, while his body pulsed with frustration. Take her upstairs, to his bed. See her midnight hair unbound upon his pillows, caress and taste her full breasts—
For God’s sake, he must leash himself!
She stared at him, her dark eyes bright, and he did not know what to say. There were no promises he could make her, no assurances of her future. No reason he could give for his unrestrained behavior where she was concerned.
“I beg your pardon,” he finally said. The words were stiff and formal, but they were better than nothing.
Her eyebrows rose. “Are you sorry for kissing me? It does not seem like something either of us should regret.”
“I am sorry for placing you in a compromising position.”
Pink tinged her cheeks. “If you recall, it is a position I applied for. And one that many of your guests assume I have already taken.”
“They are idiots.” His fingers curled at the thought of what Cranton might have said to her.
“For thinking me desirable?” Her voice held a bite.
Damn, she was impossible.
A soft knock came at the door, and then Lady Anne peeked inside.
“Oh, there you are, my lord,” she said.
His shoulders tightened, and he moved away from Jessamyn. “I apologize for leaving you, Lady Anne. I was just fetching Miss Lovell from her intermission.”
How much had Lady Anne overheard? He studied her face, but her expression was serene, no sign of mistrust in her eyes. Either she suspected nothing, or she was a consummate actress.
Jessa had turned back to her case, and was busying herself with her violin.
“I will be out shortly,” she said.
“Good.” He offered his arm to Lady Anne. “Shall we return to the garden?”
“Nothing would please me more. I believe the servants have brought out cakes.”
Her innocent comment made her seem nearly as young at heart as Jessamyn’s sister, and Morgan’s conscience twisted. How could he call himself a gentleman? He had all but ravished Jessamyn in the drawing room, behind the backs of the ton and the sweet-natured girl to whom he was intending to propose marriage.
And that, too, was beginning to seem a less than gentlema
nly endeavor—especially as the wildness he had thought purged from his soul reemerged. Could he truly inflict himself upon Lady Anne when he felt his façade of the proper earl crumbling more every day?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After supper, Jessa retired to her room. Earlier, with Betts’s help, she had managed to return all Mr. Burke’s pilfered treasures back to their proper places. Touching the items he had handled made her feel grimy, and she’d washed her hands thrice over with lavender soap before she felt cleansed of his presence. The events of the afternoon still whirled madly through her thoughts.
She closed the door firmly behind her, removed her boots, and lay across the bed. The coverlet was soft under her palms, the delicate embroidered flowers a faint texture beneath her cheek.
What should she do? Trevethwick House was not a haven—at least not for her. For once, Louisa had been the lucky one. An unexpected dart of jealousy pricked Jessa’s heart. With a deep breath, she smoothed it away. Her sister’s good fortune was something to celebrate, not cry over.
But still, the question remained. Where was her own place?
She had pulled Lady Agatha aside after the garden party, firstly to thank her for taking Louisa under her wing, and secondly to demand an answer to her own plight.
“Don’t fret, my dear.” The older lady had patted her hand. “I’ve something brewing for you, as well. You must be patient just a short while longer.”
Even when pressed, Lady Agatha simply smiled and shook her head, her eyes glinting with a touch of mischief.
Jessa rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, painted a pale blue with a few puffy white clouds. Patience was not her strong suit. And every time she had trusted someone else to determine the course of her life, she had foundered on the shoals, or wrecked horribly on the rocks.
Her throat tightened with memories. Mama, before she had fallen ill, smiling as she took the girls on an outing. Papa whirling about the fire, then taking her hands and dancing with her to the wild, pulsing music. Dear Louisa, innocently believing a fairytale and stepping out into the night in search of a precarious refuge.
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