by Brenda Joyce
Jane gripped his lapels. “It’s him! The earl! He found out about Nicole and now he’s gone to Brighton to get her! Please! You must help me, I beg you!”
Lindley stared, comprehension slowly beginning. He put his arm around Jane. “We’ll talk in my study. Richard, bring us some tea and toast.”
“You don’t understand! There is no time to lose!”
Lindley led her into a large, magnificent library and steered her to the couch, pushing her down. He sat beside her, taking her small, cold hands in his. “No, I don’t understand. Take a few deep breaths, Jane, and explain what has upset you so.”
Jane closed her eyes briefly. “Jon, I sent Nicole to Brighton with Molly. I was afraid the earl had found out about her—why else would he have suddenly tried to see me? But he hadn’t! I don’t know why the sudden interest in me. He came to my house tonight. He found out about her. Now he’s gone to Brighton to get her. You must help me! Please—will you?”
“Of course I will. But I still don’t understand.”
“He will take her away from me, don’t you see?” Jane pleaded. “I must get to Brighton first, take Nicole and hide.” She gripped his hands. “I need your help. Will you come with me, help me, lend me money to go to France?”
He stared.
Jane closed her eyes again, in frustration and prayer.
“Jane, this is not the way to act. Has Shelton said he’ll take Nicole from you?”
Jane looked at him. “No.”
“Then—”
“But he will! You know the kind of man he is! And he hates me so!”
“All right,” Lindley said. “We will go to Brighton. We will get Nicole. But then you and Shelton must talk.”
Jane opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. One step at a time. They would go to Brighton and get Nicole. Let Lindley think she was willing to talk to the earl. Once she had Nicole she would run—to India if she had to.
Lindley smiled, squeezing her hand. “We will leave first thing in the morning.”
“We must leave now! Please!” Again she gripped his lapels.
Her face was so close, he could have kissed her. And, unable to restrain himself, he did, briefly, softly, once. “All right. It seems I cannot say no to you.”
Jane slumped against the couch, relieved. It was what she had been counting on. Yet when they arrived in Brighton by midmorning, it was too late. Nicole and Molly were gone.
By the time Jane and Lindley arrived back in London late that afternoon, Jane was white-faced and gaunt. No amount of reassurance from Lindley as to the earl’s intentions could reassure her. Her frame of mind worsened when she was told at the Shelton residence that the earl had not been seen since yesterday evening, and his whereabouts were unknown.
“He’s taken her to Dragmore,” Jane moaned.
Lindley grimaced, for it certainly looked that way. “Go home, Jane, eat something and get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow we will go to Drag-more and talk to Shelton. What the hell is wrong with him!”
“He wants to hurt me,” Jane flashed. Then she groaned again, sinking deeper into the plush seat of Lindley’s coach. Lindley ordered his driver to take them to Gloucester Street
.
“I want to go to Dragmore tonight,” Jane said, turning to Lindley. She placed her hand on his forearm. “Please? I need only to get a few things.”
“Jane, you’re exhausted. You’ll make yourself sick.”
“I don’t care. My daughter is at stake!”
Lindley fought with himself, and lost. “All right. But we need fresh horses, for these are finished. Get what you need. But for God’s sake, Jane, have a hot soak and eat supper. I’ll pick you up later.”
Jane agreed, compromising. “Thank you,” she said seriously, gratitude in her eyes. Again she touched his arm.
He touched her chin, lifting it. He waited, and she did not flinch away. He knew it was only gratitude, but he hoped it was more, and he took advantage despite better intentions. He leaned forward and kissed her, for a long moment, sensually, softly. Jane didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. “Give me a chance,” Lindley said, drawing back.
She didn’t say anything.
The coach stopped in front of her plastered house. Lindley walked her to the front door and waited until she had unlocked it. “I’ll pick you up at ten,” he told her.
“Thank you so much,” Jane said huskily, kissing his cheek. He smiled and left, and she closed the door behind him.
“Mum, where have you been!”
Jane jumped, stunned, to find a joyous Molly behind her. “Is Nicole here?”
“Nicole is upstairs, asleep,” the Earl of Drag-more said, from the doorway of the parlor.
Jane went white.
“Where have you been?” His tone was casual.
Jane stood very still. Her heart was racing wildly. “Mum?” Molly questioned. “Are you all right?”
Jane sagged against the door. He hadn’t taken Nicole to Dragmore. He hadn’t stolen her away. He had gone to get her—and had brought her back here to Gloucester Street
. Slowly, her eyes filling with tears of fatigue and relief, Jane slid down the wall to sit on the floor.
“Mum!” Molly cried, kneeling. “What is it, are you ill?”
Her exhaustion was so great, she could not move. She closed her eyes, her head against the door, and managed to shake her head negatively. She felt Molly’s hand on her forehead, seeking a fever.
He hadn’t tried to abduct Nicole.
She felt the earl’s arms as he lifted her. Jane tensed, opened her eyes, and tried to protest. His face was white, his body big, solid, hard, and warm. All thoughts of protest died. Jane let her lids fall shut and leaned her cheek against his chest, her chin touching the bare flesh exposed by his open shirt. She smiled.
He hadn’t tried to steal her daughter from her.
The earl stood outside Jane’s bedroom door, the waiting endless. What was wrong? Was she ill? And why the hell did he give a damn! He reminded himself of her deceit, but still, he remained glued outside her door.
Molly appeared, and the earl strained to see past her into the bedroom. Jane was curled up on the bed, fast asleep, her profile toward him. Platinum hair spilled from the bed to the floor. She looked like an angel and his entire body tightened at the sight of her. Molly shut the door in his face.
“How is she? What’s wrong? I want you to go and fetch a doctor,” Nick said.
Molly smiled. “She’s just tired is all. She went all the way to Brighton and back, my lord.”
“What!”
Molly nodded. “Didn’t sleep a wink, she said. She’s fine, just worn right out.”
“Why in hell did she go to Brighton when I told her I’d get Nicole?” the earl asked, turning away. Wisely Molly didn’t answer.
The earl ran a hand through his hair. He felt some of the tension draining from him. He’d expected to confront Jane today with his decision. Now it would have to wait. He tried, for the hundredth time, to imagine her reaction when he told her. Anger, tears, stubborn opposition? Inanely, he pictured her face lighting up with joy.
He grew grim. Why was he indulging in foolish fantasies? Jane clearly hated him—and he bore her no fondness. She was a liar and a cheat, and he would never forget it. She had tried to keep him from his daughter, from his flesh and blood. She was his enemy, and he would remember this well.
She was also the mother of his child.
He refused to feel the thrill.
He paced to the nursery and looked in. His daughter was sleeping peacefully, but the earl did not smile. No, Jane would not be happy when he gave her his decision. He had not a single doubt that she would fight him tooth and nail when he told her they were getting married.
And it was just too bad.
32
Jane was not surprised when she awoke the next day and found the Earl of Dragmore in her house. Spotting his gloves and riding crop left carelessly on the tab
le in the foyer, Jane’s heart leapt. “Molly!”
The maid came running from the kitchen. “Good mornin’, mum. Feelin’ better?”
He was not in the parlor. “Quite, thank you. Where is Nicole? Where is the earl?”
“Out back.”
Swallowing, feeling heated, Jane hurried into the kitchen. She paused at the screened door leading to the back garden, opening it but not going through. An impossible sight greeted her.
The big earl dwarfed the little pink swing. He looked positively silly sitting in it. In fact, it was distinctly possible that he’d break it if he continued to use it. He held Nicole in his arms, moving the swing back and forth with his muscular, breeches-clad legs. Nicole wiggled and made noises and said a few words, including her favorite one—“Mama.”
Jane couldn’t help it. She smiled. Warmth stole through every fiber of her being. Worse, tears filled her eyes, blurring them. She was unbearably touched, and suddenly so ashamed for keeping father and daughter apart.
It was clear that he wasn’t taking her daughter from her. Was it possible that he would just ask to be able to visit as he willed?
She must have made a sound, for the earl looked up, saw her, and jumped to his feet. Nicole squealed in protest. The earl’s face had taken on that sunburned look. His gaze melded with Jane’s. “I was just giving her some air,” he said defensively. “She likes the swing.”
Jane carefully wiped the smile from her face. “Yes, she does,” she said levelly. But, God, her heart felt as if it would burst with nameless need. Politely she said, “Would you care to come in and share breakfast with us?”
He was startled. His eyes flashed silver, and then he came forward, Nicole wriggling like an imp in his arms.
Today he wasn’t angry and Jane wasn’t threatened. She was very, very aware of the earl. Of his size—she had forgotten how tall he was. Of his strength—she had forgotten how broad were his shoulders, how thick his legs. Of his power— he filled up the tiny yard, and as he approached, his presence overwhelmed her. She had forgotten how handsome he was. His silver eyes, the thick, slashed brows, the high, high cheekbones, the hard, square jaw and straight, flared nose. He was a magnificent man. And he still ignored decorum.
His shirt was casually buttoned halfway. His chest and the black hairs there were visible. She noticed a sprinkling of gray ones as well. His breeches had dirt on the knees—had he been playing with Nicole on the lawn? And they were tight, as tight as she remembered, hugging his form, hugging everything. She glanced at his groin before she could stop herself, and quickly turned to let him and Nicole pass inside.
Color had flooded her. And she was warm, so warm. God, she ached. She remembered, too perfectly, yesterday evening. His body, pinning hers to the wall. His strength, his power—his heat and hardness.
She still wanted him.
The realization was a shock.
Lips pressed together, Jane followed them into the cheery blue-and-white kitchen. “Molly, the earl will be joining us.” She gestured for him to follow her to the dining room. She would not meet his gaze. She took Nicole from his arms and set her in her baby chair. Nicole laughed with happiness, clapping her plump hands. She loved to eat.
Jane sat in her customary place at the head of the small table, which sat eight. The earl awkwardly sat on her left, across from their daughter. Neither spoke. Jane fiddled with Nicole, talking with her, while the earl folded his muscular arms across his chest and watched impassively.
She couldn’t help the thought. It was as if they were man and wife. If only he had wanted to marry her …
He couldn’t help the thought. If she hadn’t left him, they would be married, and sitting here as man and wife right now …
Molly served them buttermilk pancakes with fresh berries and cream. Jane ignored her own plate to help her daughter eat. The earl finished his food, watching them constantly, the only conversation between mother and daughter. He shoved his plate away. “Eat,” he said to Jane. “I’ll do it.”
Jane froze, holding a spoonful of pancake to her daughter’s mouth. She did not look at the earl. “It’s all right, I’ll eat afterward.”
The earl got up, came around the table, wedged between them, and took the spoon from Jane’s hand. He smiled at Nicole. “Aren’t you hungry, darling?” he coaxed softly. “Open for Papa.”
The sound of his voice, the heat of his nearness, and the sight of him feeding their daughter assailed Jane with such powerful desire she couldn’t move or breathe. Nicole laughed and the earl fed her a spoonful. Jane looked at her plate. This was intolerable. Would he ever speak to her in such a warm, low tone?
She toyed with her food. The earl continued to coax Nicole into eating rather than playing, and Nicole responded better to her father than she did to Jane or Molly or anyone else. Finally the earl set the spoon down and looked at Jane. “There’s something I would like to discuss with you when you’re finished.” His tone was level and boded neither good nor bad will.
“I’m through,” Jane said, rising. “Molly! Please take Nicole.”
The earl walked into the parlor and Jane followed him, trying not to stare at his broad back and small hips and worse, lower. He reached behind her to shut the door. His stare was hard. “We’re going to get married, Jane.”
Jane couldn’t believe her ears.
“No objection? Good, this is better than I’d anticipated,” he said easily, still pinning her with his gaze. “We will be married next week, and you and Nicole will move into my London flat.”
Jane recovered. Her very first reaction was a primal elation, which was quickly swept away by rationality. Jane was no longer naive, and did not even pause to think he was marrying her for any reason other than their daughter. Did she want to be married to this man, who had broken her heart? Who would marry her again out of duty? The answer was a resounding no.
But, logically, she considered Nicole and what was best for her. And knew the answer was still no, for the earl had been providing abundantly for her when he didn’t even know about his daughter, and he could certainly continue to do so. She grew angry. “No.”
“It wasn’t a proposal,” he said in a mocking tone. “I was telling you what we are doing.”
She gasped at his audacity. “You cannot force me to marry you! I have no wish to marry you—I have no need to marry you. I am not marrying you, and that is that.” She turned to go.
He reached over her shoulder and placed his palm flat on the door, preventing her from opening it, should she try. She did not. “Please remove your hand,” she said calmly, although she was beginning to perspire and tremble.
He turned her around, and she gasped again. “You have no choice. Look at the bright side, it will be best for Nicole.”
“Best for Nicole! What do you mean, I have no choice? I am telling you, I refuse to marry you.” She was shouting.
“Have you forgotten?” he said softly, so softly she had to strain to hear. He smiled. “I am your guardian, Jane, and you are under age. We are getting married next week.”
Understanding dawned. Horrified, Jane could only stare. He was going to marry her whether she liked it or not—she had no choice.
The earl had left. Jane sank down into a plush chaise, still shocked. She knew the earl well enough to know that if marrying her was within his power, and this was his desire, he would accomplish it no matter who objected, no matter the cost. She did not stand a chance.
Her head began to pound with the beginnings of a headache. She rubbed her temple, trying to think, trying to sort out her feelings and what must be done.
Only one fact was clear. He had broken her heart, bastard that he was. And she wasn’t indifferent to him, not at all. To the contrary, at the very least she was physically attracted to this man. And she still suffered bouts of compassion for him. To be married to him under these circumstances would be intolerable. He would probably break her heart again.
She tried to hate him. She couldn’t, bu
t she was angry, so very angry, and so damn frustrated …
There was one single bright spot to the entire rotten tangle. Nicole would have a father and would not grow up a bastard. Maybe this was for the best. But what about their relationship?
Suddenly Jane was swamped with the realization of just what marriage entailed—and she was terrified.
She would be his wife. Caring for Chad and Nicole, caring for his house, caring for him. An image of them in bed together assailed her. Shaking, she rose abruptly and went upstairs.
The earl had said he would come back tomorrow to see Nicole. Tomorrow was not soon enough.
Jane changed her clothes and was on her way to Tavistock Square
. She was so determined and so preoccupied she did not have a smile for Thomas when he let her in and ushered her into the morning room to await the earl.
She paced. She was flushed, her blood pounding. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides. When the door opened Jane whirled. The earl smiled. “So eager to see me that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“Eager? Not quite,” she said coolly. She marched to the door and slammed it behind him. He regarded her with interest.
“I realize that we are getting married no matter how strongly I object,” Jane said. “True?”
“True.” He watched her.
“We have not discussed the terms of the marriage.” He raised a brow.
“Firstly,” Jane said, “I am continuing my work. You will not interfere in my career. Is this understood?”
“You may have your goddamn career,” he said easily, but his eyes were diamond hard. “We will reside in London during the run of your performance. However, you will take a few months off between each performance to come to Dragmore and behave as a mother should.”
Her fists tightened. “Are you insinuating that I am lacking as a mother?”
“I am merely pointing out that Nicole is your first priority.”
“So far I have been the best of mothers, even while working full time.”
“It is impossible to be the best of mothers while working full time.” He smiled irritatingly with superior knowledge.
