But he’d given his word, so he forced a smile and said, “Tell me about your pet. I promise I won’t tease. Much.”
“We kept a few hens where we lived and one of them, Mimi, was just lovely.”
“You had a pet chicken,” he said, and then held up both hands when she scowled. “Sorry, not mocking.”
She looked unconvinced.
“Tell me how one has a pet hen? My own experience with hens is limited to—” he stopped, deciding she wouldn’t like any mention of axes and chopping blocks. “Never mind about that. Tell me about, er, Mimi.” He could tell by her smile that she was pleased that he’d remembered the name.
“Mimi would sit on my lap and take bits of biscuit from my hand; she’d follow me around while I gardened; she’d come beg at the kitchen door for scraps—things a dog or cat might do.”
Her eyes had softened and her smile was gentle as she remembered her hen. Juss wanted to tell her that he’d follow her around and eat from her hand if she smiled at him that way. Luckily he said nothing of the sort.
He shook himself. Lord, he was becoming a sentimental fool in his dotage.
Just then the carriage shuddered and slid to the side before grudgingly rolling to a stop.
“Is this it?” Oona asked.
They peered out the window, barely able to make out a building beyond, the snow too thick to see much more than a big, dark shape.
Rather than use the window when Beekman came to talk to him Juss opened the door and hopped down, the snow almost to his knees.
“The old fella said the barn around back could take the carriage, guv.”
Juss nodded. “You get the team settled and then bring the luggage to the house. We’ll go help Charles after.”
“Aye.” Beekman turned and trudged to the head of the team.
Juss held out his hand. “Come. I’ll carry you.”
Oona opened her mouth—no doubt to demur—but then glanced at his legs. She hesitated and then placed a small hand on his shoulder and lowered herself into his arms.
As he recalled from a few nights before, she was as light as a child. But despite her spencer and cloak he could feel her soft curves; she was not shaped like a child.
“Pull a couple of those rugs onto yourself and then take the lamp,” he ordered. If his voice was a tad bit husky that was probably due to the cold, wasn’t it?
∞∞∞
Oona hadn’t been so warm since the last time she’d been cradled in Juss Taylor’s arms. Thankfully she was so bundled up he wouldn’t notice either her body heat or the inconvenient quivering that came over her whenever he touched her—even through four or five layers of clothing.
She forced her attention toward the small farmhouse just ahead. The closer they came to it, the more she could see little details, like the charming rolled roof and the glossy black shutters that only allowed slivers of light. There was a covered porch and Juss set her down gently. It was lucky they’d brought the lamp because the one in the holder beside the door was dark. Likely the couple only used this entrance for guests, which they’d not expected tonight.
Juss knocked and they waited.
“It seems very nice,” she said softly, her words accompanied by fluffy clouds of steam.
“It seems very small,” he said, glancing down at her. “As much as it might pain you, I think you’d better be Mrs. Taylor.”
Oona glared up at him, her body thrumming at the meaning in his heavy-lidded gaze. “If you are trying to warn me that we shall likely have to share a room, I had already discerned as much. I am hardly a—”
The door creaked open to expose a wizened old woman who was even smaller than Oona. As she blinked up at them Oona saw her eyes were clouded almost white. She smiled uncertainly. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Cantrell?” Juss asked.
Her expression shifted from confusion to fear. “Did something happen to Jon—”
“No, no, your husband is fine,” Oona hastened to assure her.
“He is out with my footman looking for your cat, ma’am. He is fine,” Juss reiterated. “I’m afraid we got caught in the blizzard and—”
The old lady opened the door wide. “Of course, of course—you must be frozen half to death. What am I thinking to keep you standing outside—come in, come in.” She squinted up at them, her expression one of awe as she looked all the way up at Juss. “My, but you’re a big fellow.”
Juss chuckled and shut the door behind him. “I am Justin Taylor and this is my wife, Mrs. Oona Taylor.”
Oona felt a frisson of excitement at the sound of her name coupled with his.
“Welcome, welcome,” Mrs. Cantrell said. “I’m afraid I don’t see as well as I used to, so I have to use this old thing,” she tapped her cane on the floor. “I wasn’t expecting visitors so the parlor is as cold as a grave. But the kitchen—”
“The kitchen sounds wonderful,” Oona assured her.
Mrs. Cantrell smiled with relief. “You can take off your coats in there and get warm by the stove.” She turned and began stumping her way toward the back of the house, leading them through a series of cold, dark rooms. “I apologize for all this gloom but the light doesn’t help me much so I don’t light candles when it’s just me and Jonathan here. Usually my daughter and her husband would be here, but they went to see his family since they won’t be with them at Christmas this year, so it’s just the two of us.”
“You’re all alone?”
“We have two young folks from town to help, but I daresay they’ll not be here tomorrow with all this snow.”
“Oh, that smells delicious,” Oona murmured as they approached a doorway with light leaking out around the edges.
“I was just getting some baking in when I noticed Winnie wasn’t laying in her favorite spot near the stove.” She opened the door and Juss sucked in a deep breath
“Mince pies?” he asked hopefully.
The old lady chuckled. “And two apple.” She set her cane into a holder by the door, her actions more confident in a room that was clearly her domain. “Go warm yourselves,” she gestured to a huge stove shimmering heat. “I’m going to put the kettle on.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Juss said, lifting Oona’s cloak from her shoulders and hanging it on a peg before removing his own scarf and coat. “I don’t think we could have made it to Henley tonight.”
“Oh goodness gracious!” she said, turning away from the tea pot, which she was filling with tea leaves. “You’re a good hour away on a clear day and probably four or five on a night like tonight.”
Juss pulled a chair closer to the stove and gestured to Oona. “My coachman was having difficulty finding the road. He was lucky he saw your husband’s—”
Sounds came from the small room just off the kitchen.
“Is that you, dear?” Mrs. Cantrell called.
A slight, bent figure appeared in the doorway, stomping heavy boots on the straw matt. The only part of his face Oona could see were twinkling sky-blue eyes and fluffy white eyebrows.
“It’s me, Mother.”
Mrs. Cantrell moved with remarkable speed toward him, her hands finding his scarf as if they had eyes of their own. “Jonathan, did you—”
“I didn’t,” he said, as he tugged off his thick woolen mittens. “But the young man found her.”
“Oh thank goodness.” Her slender body sagged with relief.
“You go sit down, Mother,” he urged gently as he took the ends of his long scarf from her hands and unwound it to expose a face so crisscrossed with age you could hardly see his features.
Mrs. Cantrell straightened suddenly. “I’m in the middle of making tea for our guests, Jonathan Cantrell. Plenty of time to sit and chat after.”
Jonathan Cantrell grinned at Oona and Juss, unchastened. “After sixty years you’d think I’d know not to come between Mary and her tea.”
Sixty. Years.
Just how old were these people? And why were they alone?
Oona
met Juss’s gaze and knew he was thinking the same thing: this man might not have made it back home if Charles hadn’t been there to help.
Mr. Cantrell’s gnarled hands were surprisingly nimble as he unbuttoned the big wooden toggle buttons on his coat. “That’s a nice young man you’ve got working for you, sir. He carried Winnie inside his coat and said he’d bring her from the barn once he’d helped your coachman with the horses.”
“I’m pleased he could be of some assistance,” Juss said. “My wife and I are grateful for your hospitality.”
The old man waved a dismissive hand. “Dreadful night to be out on the road.” He shuffled over to hang his heavy coat. “Smells like heaven in here, Mother,” he said, dropping into a chair with a sigh.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting some pie along with your tea.”
Jonathan winked at Oona. “I’d not say no to that.”
“Why don’t you show Mr. and Mrs. Taylor to Lucy and Donny’s room? I’m sure Mrs. Taylor would like to wash up before tea.”
“Oh, you don’t—” Oona began, not wanting to disturb the old man just after he’d sat down, but he was already pushing creakily to his feet.
“Follow me,” he said, moving so slowly toward the door Oona wondered if they’d be back in time for tea.
“My daughter and her husband are off gallivanting with my two granddaughters,” Mr. Cantrell said as he led them through a different part of the maze-like house. “They have our old room as Mother and I are no longer good friends with steps.” He paused at the bottom of a narrow staircase.
“We can find our way,” Juss assured him, “You needn’t make the trip.”
“Are you sure? Mother will skin me alive if I don’t get your fire going.”
Juss chuckled. “I’m perfectly capable of starting a fire, sir.”
After only a little more debate they were left to find their new quarters on their own.
There was only one room at the top of the stairs. One cozy room with a tiny cupboard, two chairs, fireplace, and one bed.
Juss crossed the tiny room and opened a narrow door that held a washstand and necessary.
They both sighed; thank the Lord for that, at least.
The sound of voices down below made them both turn. “That must be Charles with our luggage,” Juss said to her. Whatever he saw on her face made him smile. “How are you liking your adventure so far, Mrs. Taylor?” Oona glanced at the bed, and he chuckled. “You go wash up first. I’ll start the fire.”
Like a coward, Oona scuttled into the tiny room and closed the door behind her, collapsing against it.
One. Bed.
Oh my.
Ten
Juss rolled onto his right side, but it wasn’t any more comfortable than his left. His knees were bent because the space between the foot of the bed and the fireplace wasn’t quite long enough, thanks to a cupboard jutting out of the wall. It would probably be just as comfortable sleeping inside the cupboard.
Fortunately the wooden floor had a carpet, albeit not a particularly thick one.
“Are you asleep?”
He glanced up at the bed, even though the light from the fire was so faint he couldn’t see his hand if he held it three inches in front of his face.
“No. Are you?”
She laughed and he smiled like an idiot, glad it was dark.
“Can you believe they are both eighty-one years old?”
“They are remarkably spry.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a married couple who like each other so much.” Her voice was heavy with admiration.
“Yes, even after sixty years,” he agreed, rather amazed by the old couple himself.
“Juss?”
“Hmm?”
“How did you become so successful?”
He stared into the darkness, torn. He’d never told anyone how he’d accumulated enough money to buy his first property—a step that had led to another and then another, as he learned he had a sort of genius for determining which part of London to invest in.
“It’s not a very uplifting tale.”
“Oh.” There was a long pause, and then, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”
Juss didn’t tell her that he already knew that, that he hadn’t needed to do anything he didn’t want in years—not since he’d earned enough money to tell anyone who ordered him to do anything to piss off.
But he wanted to tell her, even though he would not come out of it in a very positive light. He didn’t want to look at his reasons for that. Not now.
“Once again I found it difficult to find a job that paid enough to afford a roof and food,” he said. “I’d met a man while I was held in Constantinople, a Prussian who spoke better English than I did.”
Oona chuckled and the sound warmed him.
“Dieter and his brother had inherited a pottery in Cologne and saved their money to buy the building next to it to expand. Before they could do so, they received an offer for the building that was almost twice what they’d paid, so they moved their pottery to a new location and still had money left to buy another building. That’s when they decided that buying and selling properties was more lucrative than pottery. They were doing exceptionally well when Dieter was pressganged one night on his way home from their pottery. He’d not been able to get word to his brother and had been gone for three years by the time I met him.”
“That’s dreadful! His brother probably thought he was dead.”
Juss nodded and then remembered she couldn’t see him. “When I was released I sent a letter for Tomas, so his brother knows the truth.”
“Oh. That was very kind of you.”
“You sound surprised,” he said wryly, not waiting wait for an answer. “I thought about Dieter’s story a lot, but couldn’t figure out how to accumulate enough money to even begin. Certainly that would never happen scraping by with part-time work at inns.” He took a deep breath, held it, and then released it slowly. “I knew the name of the man my brother-in-law had worked for. I knew he paid well because the work was both dangerous and illegal.” He paused, but she said nothing.
“I finally decided to go see him. Needless to say he was not a trusting fellow.” Juss didn’t tell her that Crazy Eddie Mayer was the most suspicious, unstable, dangerous man he’d ever met. Nor did he share the fact that Eddie had beaten the shit out of Juss—or had his henchman do it, rather—and then kept him locked up for two weeks before actually talking to him.
“After some consideration Eddie decided to hire me, but I would begin at the bottom.” Juss shook his head; what bloody awful days those had been. “To put it bluntly, Oona, I was a petty criminal. I stole, fenced, and enforced for Eddie.”
“Oh.”
He smiled bitterly. “Oh, indeed. I worked in that capacity for six months or so, steadily moving up, until I became one of his personal guards—the most trusted of his men.” Also the most likely to irritate Eddie in some harmless fashion and end up dead, thanks to his proximity to the maniac.
“That was both better and worse: better because I didn’t have to work the streets, but worse because Eddie liked to throw his weight around.” Or have Juss do it for him, which earned him a reputation as one of the most dangerous men in that part of London. “It was perhaps a year after I’d started for him that he began a turf struggle with another gang—one stronger than his—that ended very badly for Eddie and most of his men. It was just dumb luck that Eddie had sent me to deliver a message at the time of the attack.”
“Did they—were they—”
“Dead, all of them.”
There was a long moment of silence, when Juss was tempted to tell her about the boys’ school he’d started—his way of making amends for his criminal past. But the thought of puffing off his good deeds left a sour taste in his mouth.
“What happened next?” she asked, her tone curious rather than disgusted or judging.
“Eddie paid the men who guarded him well, and we lived and ate for free
because he kept us with him. That meant I’d saved most of my money. I didn’t have enough to buy an actual building, but I had enough to invest in a small bakery.” He didn’t tell her that it was a business Eddie had all but ruined by squeezing it for “protection” money.
“Even with investing in the bakery I had enough money left to play the ‘Change.”
Nobody had been more surprised than Juss when it turned out he was a bloody wizard when it came to trading. It was a skill he’d never expected to find in himself, and one that made him a very, very, very wealthy man.
“And so you bought more properties?”
“No, I wasn’t good at what Tomas and his brother did. I was more successful with business investments. I’ve since purchased a few places—the one on Cork Street, for example—but I generally keep them as I’ve not got the knack for buying and selling them.” He shifted his body to find a more comfortable position, failing to do so but banging the top of his foot against the bed leg in the process. “Bloody hell!” he muttered under his breath.
“Juss?”
“Hmm?” He rubbed the top of his foot, grateful his toes were too frozen to feel much pain.
“Are you comfortable down there?”
“Very droll, Oona.”
“There is room enough for two in this bed.”
Juss froze and then said, “I beg your pardon.”
She sighed. “Come up here. It’s foolish to stay on the floor when there is all this room.”
“Are you sure?” His cock was certainly sure.
“Yes, of course.”
There was no of course about it, but Juss didn’t have the decency to turn her down. He stood and spread the blanket he’d been using over the bed and then hesitated. “Which side do you want?”
“Oh. Well, I don’t know. Do you prefer a side?”
He’d not slept in the same bed with a woman since Clara, preferring to visit his lovers and leave once they’d finished their business. He couldn’t recall what side of the bed he’d slept on. Hell, he could barely remember Clara’s face after so long.
“I’ll take the right side,” he said, just because he was on the right side.
A Second Chance for Love: A Bachelors of Bond Street Novella Page 6
