She laughed too. “What do you do, sir?”
“Since I don’t know your last name, you should call me Jacques. I invest in inventions and import goods.” He spooned some stew and reveled in the rich flavors and unexpected spice. English food was generally bland to his taste. “This is good.”
Crossing with one hand clutching the blanket, she sat and ate the stew as if it had been days since she’d eaten. Nothing about this woman added up. “What do you do, Diana?”
“Why would you assume I do anything? Ladies don’t have occupations.”
He slid the bowl with his remaining stew across to her.
After a brief hesitation, she devoured that as well before picking up her tea and sipping.
“I do not think you are like other ladies. I suspect you have a past that would be most interesting to hear about. Perhaps one day you will tell me what sent you out into the cold with nothing but a cloak and a shotgun.” Sipping his tea, he watched her expressionless face. She’d been scared when they were in the carriage, and she’d let her fear show. Now, in the warm inn with a full belly, she wore a mask of indifference that seemed well practiced.
“My circumstances are hardly your concern.” She put down the tea and slipped into the bed. Watching him with wide eyes that betrayed her mistrust, her mask slipped, and she looked like a lost child.
He wanted to give her comfort, but of course, she was right. “No. If you would turn your head, I would like to get out of these wet clothes and put on something dry. I would have offered you a shirt, but you seem content with that mummification you created.”
She did as he wished, a dark blush creeping into her cheek.
Once he was in a dry pair of trousers and a blouse, he hung their clothes over the chair and the two hooks in the wall near the fire, so they would perhaps dry by morning. Stoking the fire, he watched her and tried to decide if she would rob him in his sleep or slit his throat.
With a sigh, he doused the lamp and pulled two blankets from the trunk. He made a pallet on the floor near the hearth, lay down, and put his hands behind his head. If she was a murderess and thief, so be it. He was too tired to worry.
“Jacques?”
“Yes, Diana?” His heart sped up at the rasp of her voice in the darkness.
“Can I trust you?” Her back was to him, leaving him to wonder at her expression. Her inflection told him nothing of her motives.
It was doubtless the oddest evening he’d ever spent. “I believe you can. I try to live honorably.”
“I’m afraid.” The first quaver touched her voice.
His gut twisted with worry over what scared this complete stranger. He didn’t know her, but he’d formed an immediate attachment, which he couldn’t explain. Sitting up, he turned toward the bed. “How can I help?”
Rolling over, she faced him. The small fire revealed tears trailing down her cheeks, leaving blotchy streaks. “You don’t want to know what scares me?”
“Only if my knowing will ease your immediate fears.”
She shook her head.
“What would?”
Her pale skin pinked, and she stared into the dark corner near the window. “It’s too much to ask. Even if we knew each other it would be too much to ask.”
Standing, he opened his arms wide. “If you do not ask, we shall never know.”
Clutching her blanket, she sat up. “I have been alone and without friends or family for some time. I can’t tell you why I am in this state, but it’s been quite lonely. I wonder… That is to say… Would you be willing to hold me? And only hold me, for a short while?”
Heart tripping like one of his friend Francis’s inventions before the explosions, he cleared his throat. “I… That is not what I expected you to say.” He laughed.
Bright red now, she turned away and lay back down. “I apologize. It was foolish of me.”
Swallowing a wave of desire, Jacques climbed into the bed.
Despite her request, she stiffened like a board.
“It would be my honor to hold you until you fall asleep, Diana. You are safe with me.” He placed his hand on her back and waited.
After a minute, she relaxed.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. The most annoying thought, of how perfectly she fit him, rolled through his head. His body reacted, and it required concentration to relax, as much as one could relax when holding a beautiful, mysterious woman in his arms in the middle of the night.
A long sigh escaped her lips and she relaxed against him. “I have made you uncomfortable.”
It was no use denying it, as he was sure she could feel his arousal. “Only in the most delightful way. Go to sleep, Diana. Things will seem better in the morning.”
Her next breath heaved with whatever burden she carried. “Oh, how I wish that were true, Jacques.”
When she said no more, he breathed in the warm scent of her and closed his eyes. It was best to let sleep take him lest he drive himself mad with curiosity.
Soft tendrils of her dark tresses slid across his cheek from where her head lay on his shoulder. Her head grew heavy and her breath even.
By far, the oddest evening to date. He closed his eyes and let the tiring day catch up with him.
* * * *
Sun shone bright through the windows, making Jacques squint awake. Warm skin against his chest reminded him that he hadn’t slept alone. Her hair splayed like a halo across his neck and chest, Diana slept. Her blanket had slipped precariously low, though it still covered her. Her arm hugged his waist and his wrapped around her back. Her skin was like velvet, and he longed to touch all of her.
Easing up, he shifted her to the pillow. “Diana, it is daylight. We had better pay Mr. Tinker and get to London. I have a meeting this morning.”
She stretched like a cat after milk and a long nap. The swell of her breast mounded over the top of the quilt, calling to him to return to the bed and take as much delight as she had to give.
That idea of climbing back into the bed and seeing exactly what she looked like beneath that blanket warred with his good nature and gentleman’s status. This was some kind of torture, he was sure. Perhaps it was penance for a misspent youth. The fire was out, but her dress was dry. He gave it to her, tucked his blouse in and finished dressing. He might have time to get home, wash and change before his meeting.
He stuffed his clothes into his bag and went to the door. “I will settle the bill while you dress. Shall I meet you at the carriage?”
Beet red, she forced that look of indifference and said, “I’ll be down in a few minutes, and would appreciate the ride to town.”
With a nod, Jacques left her to dress and went down to pay Mr. Tinker. He found a parcel of warm bread and cheese had been put together for their journey.
Mrs. Tinker handed it to him. “I thought you two would be wanting to continue on your way early since it was the weather that stopped you.”
“You are most kind.”
Jacques paid Mr. Tinker and thanked him as well, before stepping into the cool morning, where he waited for Robbie to deliver Midas and the carriage.
Midas looked fed and happy when he clomped into the yard.
Right on time, Diana stepped out of the inn, calling back her thanks as she closed the door.
The three inches of snow was already melting in the sunshine as Jacques handed her up into the carriage.
“I have been thinking about your problem of where to stay in London, and I have an idea that might serve both our sensibilities,” he said as they took to the road.
She looked at him. Her blue eyes sparkled in the early morning light. “I wasn’t aware I had a problem. To what sensibilities are you referring?”
The sarcasm dripping from her words forced his grin. “I do not wish to leave a lady alone on the streets of London, and you are c
learly in need of a place to hide.”
“Why would you think I am hiding?” She tipped her pert chin up, and the cape slipped from her head.
His longing to touch that mass of dark hair was completely inappropriate, but churned like a whirlwind inside him. He needed to take her somewhere before she got too far under his skin, then he would never think of her again. “Do not insult my intelligence, Diana. You are clearly running. Though I do not know if it is to or from something or someone. You chose locations that are dense with people so that you can hide in the crowd.”
Her shoulders sagged, and she nodded. “What is your idea?”
Oh, he liked her more and more. This was a problem. Drawing a deep breath in an effort to dispel the memory of her sweet body pressed to his, he said, “I think you might get on well at the Everton Domestic Society. I could bring you there and see if Lady Jane might put you up for a few days, perhaps longer if you have some skills and you are interested in the work.”
“I’m not familiar with the Everton Domestic Society.” She frowned.
He tried to ignore her stiff posture. Where had she been that she wouldn’t have heard of the society? Keeping his mind on the facts and getting her to safety was all he cared about. “It is very popular. Lord and Lady Everton run a business where ladies might find respectable employment as assistants in different areas. Sometimes they help young ladies with a debut. My friend’s mother hired an Everton lady as a matchmaker. I understand they have many functions within the boundaries of proper society.”
“Employment for ladies in London society? This sounds scandalous.” Her light comment told him she was not in the least scandalized.
“It should be, but it seems to be accepted. Most of the ladies are beyond their youth and this is preferable to being a burden on their families.”
Lips pursed, she stilled. “Of course, all we can be is a burden or a wife.”
Something about her annoyance made him smile. Actually, everything about this mystery of a woman filled him with delight. “These are not my sentiments, Diana. I know for a fact there are a great many talented and brilliant women in the world, part of the both upper class and lower. I do not make the rules by which we live. As I said, the Everton Domestic Society finds respectable employment for ladies. If you would like, I will take you to meet Lady Jane, and perhaps you can come to some understanding. If not, I will drop you in Piccadilly or wherever you choose.”
She was quiet for several miles. London came into view and she stiffened. “This Society sounds intriguing.”
“Good.” Awash with relief, Jacques flicked the reins and pushed Midas a bit faster for the final mile.
Chapter 2
The Everton Domestic Society looked like any other nice town house in London. Diana didn’t see anything that made it special. She walked up the stairs and let Jacques knock since he was the key to gaining admittance. It might be foolish, but a soft mattress available each night was almost enough to get her to agree to anything. It had been so long since she had even the smallest comforts.
Brushing the thought aside, she steeled herself for whatever might come. There was little sense in hoping for the best. It was better to be prepared for the worst.
There was some noise from inside, but no one answered the door for a long time. Finally, the oldest butler Diana had ever seen appeared and looked them up and down. “How may I help you?”
“Jacques Laurent to see Lady Jane.” He handed the butler his card.
“Follow me. The lady may leave her weapon at the door. I am happy to take your cloak.” Once she’d done as he suggested, he ambled away with her cloak and Jacques’s hat and coat slung over his arm. Tufts of white hair flopped gently as he walked. Opening the door to the parlor, he said, “Please wait here.”
Jacques leaned against the mantel. His long brown hair fell just past his shoulders and he crossed his arms over his broad chest. Tall and lean, Jacques had a sparkle in his dark eyes—he looked like a pirate. “I will need to give Lady Jane your family name, Diana.”
“St. Cloud.”
He cocked his head and watched her. “Is that your real name?”
“It is the only name I’m willing to give.”
His smile warmed her in places she’d rather not think about.
He nodded. “Very well. Diana St. Cloud it is.”
The butler returned. “Lady Jane will see you, sir. If the lady wouldn’t mind waiting here?”
Jacques looked at her to answer for herself.
What an odd man.
“I shall be fine.” She sat on the divan, but as soon as they left the room, she stood and walked to the window. The snow had all melted, and everything looked fresh and clean. It had been a long time since she’d dared enter London. This was probably a mistake, but she needed help to avoid whoever was trying to kill her, and she wouldn’t find it hiding in the country.
An English prison was preferable to running for the rest of her life.
She ran her hand along the keys of the grand piano before sitting and playing a short piece she remembered from her youth. When Father had taught her about alchemy, he never could have suspected it would lead to so much trouble.
“You play well.” The woman in the doorway was tall and thin but not frail. She looked ready to battle any demons.
Diana stood. “I am out of practice, but I thank you.”
Jacques stood behind her. “I will take my leave of you, Miss St. Cloud. I wish you well. This is Lady Jane Everton. She will have you delivered wherever you wish if the Society is not for you.”
Diana knew nothing of Lady Jane, but her stomach roiled. She made a curtsy to Jacques. “Thank you for the transport, Mr. Laurent. You have been most kind.”
Bowing over her hand, he kissed her knuckles. “The pleasure was mine. Do take care of yourself.”
Warmth spread through her, as it did each time he touched her, looked at her, or simply laughed. Lord, she would have to get her wits about her.
Luckily, Jacques bowed to Lady Jane and took his leave. It was a good thing, but Diana missed his presence and the feeling of safety he provided, even if it was an illusion.
Jane cleared her throat. “Why don’t we go to my office and chat, Miss St. Cloud?
Following Jane down the hall behind the grand staircase, Diana noted the house was decorated in a masculine fashion. Very few frills beyond the flowers cut and arranged on nearly every table. This Everton’s must have a hothouse.
Inside the well-appointed office with its desk and wall of books, only the thick rug and curtains gave any softness to the space. Lady Jane herself wore dark gray and kept her hair pulled into a severe bun. She was formidable, yet seemed trustworthy, with her simple style and direct gaze.
Jane sat and offered Diana the chair across the desk. “Is whatever trouble you’re in dangerous?”
The prudent thing to do would be to lie. Yet how could she ask for sanctuary and not be as truthful as possible? “Yes.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
“You would do well to put me on the curb, my lady. I am nothing but trouble for those who try to help.”
Jane’s severe face broke into a glorious smile. “If this is your entreaty to be asked to stay on at Everton’s, you should try something else.”
Standing, Diana wrung her hands. “I want to tell you the truth, but I fear I would be putting you in more danger.”
Raising one of her curved brows, Jane folded her hands in front of her on the desk. “Mr. Laurent told me you hadn’t heard of our Society before he mentioned it as a possible place of employment. Let me tell you a little about the Everton Domestic Society.”
Diana returned to her seat.
“We have between eight and twenty ladies employed here at any one time. Most are young, but by society’s standards beyond their marriageable years. Some have be
en through horrors and needed escape. Some are just trying to remove themselves from being a burden on their families’ finances. Because we house so many young women, and because some come from difficult situations, I employ six guards to discreetly watch the house and occasionally accompany a lady to places where she might be in danger. These men dress as footmen, but all have military backgrounds. It is my duty to see to the safety of the Everton ladies, and I take that very seriously.
“Now, why don’t you tell me what has happened to make you take to the road all alone, Miss St. Cloud?” Jane’s expression was mild, with no sense of accusation.
“My father was an inventor and a chemist. He was a very good one. He, my mother, and I were captured by a French spy and taken to France, where he was forced to work on the development of a better rocket. Whenever he would refuse, they would torture my mother or me to make him comply.”
“Dear Lord.”
“Yes, well… About a year ago, a guard went too far for my father, and in a fit of rage, the gentle man who raised me attacked and was killed. My mother was killed as well. They kept me alive because they suspected I could continue my father’s work.”
Jane raised both eyebrows and spoke in hushed tones. “And could you?”
“Perhaps,” Diana admitted. “However, I escaped before their theory could be put to the test. They found me in Naples, but I managed to stow away on a ship, and then another and another until I was in England.”
“You must be an extraordinary person to have survived all of that.” It wasn’t a compliment. Jane seemed to be thinking aloud.
“I did what I had to do. In Scotland, our home was surrounded. I kept to myself and stayed in barns and hunting shacks. Finally, I read a news article claiming the English agencies were also looking for me. I have no idea what they want, and while prison is better than starving to death on the streets, I would prefer to keep my freedom regardless of the country. If I must go and live in Switzerland, I shall learn to climb mountains. All I really need is a place to rest for a week or so, my lady. I realize my presence is dangerous for your Society. I have no interest in putting you or anyone in danger.”
A Lady's Past Page 2
