She turned and stalked to the door, into the foyer, and across the floor to the front entrance. At each step, she expected a hand on her arm, detaining her. She did not take a complete breath until she was outside.
Jessica walked down the steps and out to the street. There were no carriages in sight. She resigned herself to a long and possibly dangerous walk back to her rooms.
After several minutes, she heard the clatter of hooves on the cobblestones of the street behind her. They slowed as they came abreast. In the dim light of dawn, she saw a rider on a magnificent black stallion. Of course, he would come after her. She began to walk more quickly.
“It’s a long walk back to the Green Dragon,” Damien said. “May I offer the lady a ride?”
“The lady would prefer to walk, thank you,” Jessica answered coldly. She pulled her cloak closer about her and lengthened her stride.
An arm went about her waist, and she was lifted off the ground. Jessica found herself seated on the horse in front of the Duke.
“As I said, it is a long walk, and I will have nothing of mine abused,” he stated sternly.
“Nothing of yours?” Jessica repeated incredulously as she twisted about to face him. “I told you, I will not be owned like a piece of furniture. You have no right.”
Her words were cut off by his mouth. Jessica fumed and tried to wriggle free, but his hold was too tight. Silently, she called him every foul name she could think of, and she even made up a few new ones. He had no right to do this to her.
He finally raised his head. Jessica’s temper exploded. She whipped out to strike his arrogant face. Just as fast, the Duke caught her wrist, his gaze cool and amused. She was so furious she could have spit. Realizing that it would do no good to struggle or berate him, she jerked her arm out of his grasp and faced forward, trying to ignore the fact that she sat intimately between his thighs.
They rode in silence until they came to the Green Dragon. Before she could slip from the horse, he turned her face to him and lowered his lips to hers again, this time with more gentleness. Possessively, he cupped her breast. It took every ounce of Jessica’s will not to melt against him. His touch was devastating. His kisses could make her forget who she was. Instead, she held herself stiffly away.
“You will be mine, my sweet. Sooner or later, you will be mine,” he whispered against her mouth.
Jessica jerked away and glared. He gazed back at her, those green eyes dancing, then he guided her as she slipped from the horse. She straightened her cloak, and stalked away, past the door of the inn, with as much dignity as she could muster.
After only a few steps, something landed with a clink in front of her. A pouch lay just beyond the toe of her shoe, and the shine of coins peeked through its opening. She scooped it up and swung around to face the Duke as he sat smugly upon his horse.
Her cheeks flamed in indignation. “I will not accept payment for anything I did this past evening. You may keep your money.” She lifted her arm to fling the pouch back at him, but his words stopped her.
He shrugged. “You may throw it back at me if you wish, but I would discover exactly what it is you throw away.”
Jessica lowered her arm and narrowed her eyes.
“The pouch contains your winnings from this past evening at Madame’s. It seems I collected them by mistake,” he said with a grin.
“By mistake!” She remembered the servant, obviously following orders, who had collected both her winnings and those of the Duke. Words failed her. She spun on her heel and stalked away. She never wanted to see the overbearing, cocksure devil again.
Chapter 4
The coach ride from London to Braeleigh was long, and Jessica would not reach home until the next day. She had plenty of time to consider the events of the past evening. She was very confused. Usually, she was aloof and cool, which discouraged men’s advances and kept them at a distance. Those who would not behave felt a sharp rap from her fan and the biting edge of her tongue, her only defense in the unconstrained atmosphere of the gaming hell.
Last night, something had shifted. She had given in to the Duke too easily. She had lost more than just her maidenhood. The Duke had breached a secret part of her that no one else had ever touched before. And it frightened her.
For most of the trip, Jessica kept her thoughts to herself, and Donny dozed as best she could while being bumped around from the ruts in the road. They were the only two passengers in the coach. Not many people traveled out of London at this time of year. The spring social season was coming up soon and people were preparing for the fêtes and balls they would give. The weather was very unpredictable, making travel unpleasant and sometimes hazardous. Just that morning, the sky had been gray and angry and had promised rain before the day ended.
As they stopped to change the horses at a post station, the threatened rain began. Jessica decided that the weather matched her mood perfectly. After a quick refreshment, they embarked again. Dark had fallen by the time they stopped for the night, and they were chilled to the bone. Jessica was very quiet during their supper, and she could feel Donny’s worried looks. When they reached their room, Donny confronted her.
“All right, out with it,” she demanded. “What be yer problem? Are ye sick? Don’t ye feel well?”
“I feel fine,” Jessica protested.
“Ye don’t look fine. Ye be glum all day, hardly said two words, ye did. Aye, and I be thinkin’ it’s got somethin’ to do with that man ye met at that gamblin’ place.”
Jessica forced a laugh. “What man? I have met many men there.”
“Don’t ye be tryin’ t’get out of it. Ye know very well what man I’m talkin’ about. That one that made ye lose.”
“Oh, him.” Jessica pretended indifferent innocence. “Whatever makes you think that? I can’t tell you the last time I saw him.” And that, she thought grimly, was no lie. “Now, are you going to undo my dress, or will I have to do it myself?”
Donny harrumphed and looked like she was about to say something else, but instead, she said nothing. Jessica could tell that Donny did not really believe her. The matter was not discussed any further that night, and Jessica was relieved when they both went to bed without too much more conversation.
The next day dawned sunny and bright, a forerunner of the spring days soon to come. Jessica’s mood lightened considerably. Having slept well, her state of mind was quite different from the day before. She was excited about seeing her brother, Jason, and Braeleigh again, despite the presence of Margaret. The Duke was far away in London, and had no control over her here. She had a feeling of freedom, a feeling she had not felt in a long time.
Jessica made Donny hurry through her breakfast so that they could wait outside for their coach. There was a cool wind, and the older woman grumbled about the cold making her bones ache.
“Oh, Donny,” Jessica laughed. “It’s too beautiful out here to complain.”
Donny scowled. “Hmph. Get yerself in the coach before ye catch yer death.”
Jessica laughed and climbed into the coach, for it was just about ready to leave. In a few hours she would be home. She smiled in anticipation as they started off.
The longer they rode, Jessica began to recognize familiar landmarks. She shook Donny’s arm and pointed. “There’s the Whittington farm. We get off at the next bend in the road.”
She rapped on the roof of the coach, and it slowed and came to a halt. She and Donny descended, and their valises were tossed down. They would now have a long walk to get to Braeleigh, unless someone passed by and could give them a ride. Margaret did not see the need to send a carriage to pick up her stepdaughter and a servant.
Jessica and Donny had not been walking long when they heard a horse and wagon behind them. Looking back, Jessica recognized one of the farmers from the area. He pulled up beside them and stopped.
“Good day to ye, Yer Ladyship, M
istress Donlin,” he greeted them with a bob of his head and lift to his hat. “Can I be givin’ ye a ride to the manse?”
“That would be very kind of you, Mr. Stockham,” Jessica answered.
“Well, then climb aboard. I be on my way there now with a load of eggs.” He helped them clamber to the seat beside him, then clucked to his horse and they started off.
“Home again to visit Her Ladyship, I see,” Mr. Stockham observed. “Yer a good child, Lady Jessica.”
Jessica smiled at him but remained silent.
“Won’t be too peaceful at the manse, I fear,” he went on.
“Oh?” Jessica asked.
“Yep. Her Ladyship be fixin’ the ol’ place over. Workers there all the time.”
“Really?” Jessica said as she exchanged a glance with Donny. “Well, I suppose it needed it.”
“Ye know that better’n I, Yer Ladyship.”
Mr. Stockham lapsed into silence then, and Jessica wondered what Margaret was up to. Several minutes later, the wagon turned into the drive of Braeleigh. It was not an overly large house in comparison to other country manors of the nobility, but it was old and had an honorable history. It had been built by the first Earl of Braeleigh. The land had been bestowed on him by Edward III for the earl’s heroics in the battle of Agincourt during the Hundred Years’ War. The original square stone structure had been added to with a wing on each side, yet it had lost none of its charm. It was built of stones of an unusual tan color, and sitting on a rise as it did, it was visible from a great distance. A parapet topped the roof of the oldest section, where the first earl’s men could stand guard, and a moat surrounded the hill where it stood.
As they crossed the small drawbridge which was now permanently lowered, Jessica’s eyes widened in shock. Workmen swarmed around the house and in and out through the great, wooden door. What was Margaret up to this time? And where did she get the money for all these workmen? Certainly, the stipend that Jessica brought her every month was not enough to pay all these people.
Jessica and Donny looked at each other in anger and shock, then back again at the house. Mr. Stockham pulled up in front of the door and jumped down from the wagon. After helping Donny down, he helped Jessica. Tipping his hat, he said, “Good day to ye, Lady Jessica. ’Tis good to have ye home again.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stockham,” she said and smiled through her embarrassment. The villagers were obviously gossiping about the strange goings on at Braeleigh and Lady Margaret’s antics. She even suspected they were aware of why she went to London and came back every month. It pained her to see the dignity of the family title degraded so.
Holding back a sigh, Jessica went to find Margaret to ask her the meaning of all the activity that was taking place. She had to walk around several ladders and groups of paint cans, and climb over piles of rolled-up carpets. She finally found her stepmother in the study. As usual, Margaret’s blonde hair was coifed to perfection, her long-sleeved, yellow and blue striped woolen dress the height of fashion. She was still beautiful despite the passing years, but to Jessica, it was a cold beauty. A mask that hid an ugly heart.
Various swatches of material were spread out before her, and she was studying them intently. Several moments passed before she looked up, condescending to acknowledge Jessica’s presence. Her hazel gaze was cool.
Without a greeting, Margaret said, “Jessica, my dear, come, sit down and help me decide on a color for my dressing room.”
Jessica did not move from her spot several paces inside the door of the room. Instead, she demanded, “Margaret, what is all this? What is going on here?”
“Why, I am redecorating, of course,” Margaret answered, her voice full of amazement at Jessica’s slowness of wit. “Anyone with half a brain can see that.”
“Margaret, don’t play games with me. You know what I am talking about. Where did you get the funds?” Jessica’s voice remained hard.
“My, my, your months in London have certainly made you cynical.” Margaret leaned back and coolly looked Jessica in the eye. “Don’t you have a friendly hello for your stepmother?”
Jessica fought to keep her temper in check. “Believe me, Margaret, when I tell you that any greeting I give you will be far from friendly. How can we afford this redecorating?”
Margaret sighed as if her patience were taxed. “Ah, well, if you must know. It would seem that your father was not such a fool as I thought. He had invested in quite a large parcel of land in that wretched place, America. Land-wise, Jason is a very rich little boy. Since he is too young to control his estate, as his stepmother and guardian, I have taken that worry out of his hands.”
“So, you are using my brother’s inheritance for your own pleasure.” Jessica tried to assimilate the fact that Jason, at least, was no longer poor.
“I am using it only as collateral, my dear,” Margaret explained as if to a slow–witted child.
“When did you discover this land?” Jessica asked suspiciously.
“Why, just several weeks ago, after your last visit. You don’t think I would have kept it a secret from my lovely stepdaughter, do you?” Her question was sly.
“To be truthful, Margaret, I do not know what to think.” Jessica finally sat down. The shock of the news of the inheritance had turned her knees weak. A thought occurred to her. “Why didn’t we find out about this land at the time of my father’s death?”
Margaret raised her eyebrows and asked mildly, “Are you questioning my integrity, Jessica?”
Jessica looked back at her stepmother without saying a word.
With a shrug, Margaret mused, “I suppose the young are always suspicious.” She smoothed her skirt. “The solicitor arrived shortly after your last visit and informed me that your dear father had large holdings in America. Imagine! And he never even told me.”
Jessica thought he probably did not tell her many things. “Then you will no longer require the stipend that I bring you every month?” she asked casually.
“On the contrary, my dear. And let us not quibble over words.” Margaret gave an airy wave of her hand. “Let us call it what it really is: ransom.”
“Ransom?” Jessica repeated, feeling rather stupid for not understanding.
“Yes, my dear, ransom. Ransom for your…ah…freedom.”
Jessica’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Margaret, what are you talking about?”
“Do not be stupid,” Margaret answered in a hard voice. “Do you think I was going to marry you to Sir Percival just for the legal right to get you in his bed? You certainly cannot be as naïve as that. I want you out of this house, you simpering little fool, and I want Jason out of your influence. You can either get married, or you can pay me every month. Either way, it makes no difference to me. Just remember, I am still your legal guardian. If you find some young buck who is willing to marry you, just make sure he has plenty of money so that he can pay for that dubious honor.”
Jessica was stunned by her stepmother’s cruelty, yet her thoughts fastened only on the least of Margaret’s dictates.
“But my father assured me I would have a dowry,” she protested.
“Then you do have a problem, don’t you, my dear?” Margaret’s smile was cruel.
“What of Jason?” Jessica asked, trying very hard to remain calm. “Will you throw him out, also?”
“On the contrary,” Margaret answered. “He is the Earl of Braeleigh. He needs guidance and help in running the estate. Who better to help him than his loving stepmother?”
The conversation was making Jessica feel ill, but before she left the room, she had to ask one last question. “Will I still be able to visit my brother?”
Margaret laughed as though she found her stepdaughter very amusing. “Of course. How else will I get your payments every month? Our agreement still stands as it did before. It is only the reasons which have changed. Now, be a
good girl, and find the cloth merchant for me. I think I will do the walls of my dressing room in yellow silk… or perhaps the pink brocade.”
Margaret leaned forward and studied the cloth swatches in front of her.
Jessica rose slowly from her chair and walked from the room. She ignored Margaret’s demand to find the cloth merchant and climbed the stairs. Her mind was reeling. She could not believe she had just been thrown out of her own house. Somehow, she had thought that eventually she would have been able to quit her life in London and return to Braeleigh. Now, that did not seem possible while Margaret was still alive.
The hard words of the Duke came back to haunt her. No man would pay to marry a woman of questionable reputation, especially one who had been thrown out of her own home. Jessica sighed deeply. The prospect of becoming the Duke’s mistress did not seem such a terrible fate. At least, she would be well cared for. Jessica shook her head to dispel her gloomy thoughts. She would not think of these things now. She would fetch Jason, and they would go riding together.
When she reached the door of the schoolroom, she found Jason in the middle of a fencing lesson. After several minutes, Jason finally scored. The fencing master called out the required, “Touché!” Jessica sensed Jason grinning behind his mask, and then he saw her.
“Jessica!” He dropped his sword, ripped off his mask, and ran to his sister’s side. Jessica gave him a quick hug. He had grown in the month she had been away, the top of his dark head nearly reaching her own.
The fencing master cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, m’lady, but the young lord has not finished his fencing lesson.”
“Yes, I know.” Jessica nodded with a smile. “Thank you. That will be all for today. You may inform the Earl’s other tutors that he will not be at lessons for the rest of the day.”
The Duke Who Loved Me: On His Majesty's Secret Service Book 1 Page 6