“I will look at you any way I wish, but if I embarrass you, we can retire to an upstairs room,” he suggested.
“No!” She took a breath to steady herself. “Please, just let me have the book.”
“You did not wish to read last night,” he reminded her.
He gave her hand a tug, pulling her off-balance into his lap. She tried to wriggle free, but he would not let her up.
“Damien, please, let me up.”
“No one comes in here unless they are bid.” His voice soothed as his hand slid up her side and cupped a breast. “There is no need to worry about discovery.” His free hand went to the back of her neck and slowly brought her lips down to meet his.
Wonderful sensations coursed through her body at his caress, but she knew that unless she did something immediately, she would end up making love to him right there. Gently, she pushed herself upright.
Running a finger down his cheek and over his lips, she sighed with a pout. “Oh, Damien, you do not play fair.” When she saw that his attention was on her touch, she jumped up quickly and moved out of his reach. “Neither do I.” She laughed, blowing him a kiss as she hurried out of the room, taking her book with her.
As she closed the door behind her, she heard Damien call, “Witch!”
Chapter 11
Later that morning, as Jessica sat reading by the window of her room, a coach arrived. When she saw the Wyndham crest emblazoned on the door of the coach, she wondered who could be inside. She watched a woman descend from the vehicle. Her hair was streaked with grey, yet she had the bearing and figure of a younger woman. Who was she?
Jessica couldn’t recall hearing any gossip about any female relatives, nor was a wife ever mentioned. The women at Madame ’s spoke of Damien as if he were an eligible bachelor. But only immediate family rode in the ducal coach. Perhaps his marriage was only one of convenience, an arranged marriage between families. Perhaps Damien and his wife had an agreement, each going their separate ways and taking lovers, certainly not unheard of in the London ton. She hugged herself as reality settled like a chilly cloud about her. It didn’t matter in any case. Jessica’s relationship with him would now change. He was her jailor, nothing more. She could no longer hold onto the dream that someday he would marry her. She laughed bitterly to herself. Marriage. As though that had been an option after her arrest—or even before it.
Jessica watched to see if there were any children who followed, but there were none. Perhaps the woman had left them at Wyndham, or perhaps there were no children. If his wife were barren, then at least Jessica could give him the gift of a child. She would at least be comforted by the thought that her child would be cared for after…She swallowed…after she was gone. She hoped that his wife would accept the child of another woman. She shook her head, realizing the depths she had sunk to—unmarried and carrying the child of a married Duke. What kind of woman had she become? How had she gotten herself into this situation? Silly, naïve fool!
She straightened her spine and turned away from the window. Now more than ever, she had to be strong and resist his charm, his seductive touch. No more secret trysts.
Uncomfortable in her situation, Jessica remained in her room, but by the middle of the afternoon the sunshine and spring weather began to beckon to her. If she were careful, she could get to the enclosed garden in the back of the house without being noticed. She took her book and slipped out. The garden was lovely, even now before the flowers were in bloom. She always enjoyed the spring and summer months. Everything was so alive.
She had been reading for a while when the woman she had been trying to avoid walked into the garden. The woman had not seen her, for Jessica was sitting partially hidden by a bush. The woman was much older than she had guessed at first, but she was quite lovely, a woman of ageless beauty.
She looked up suddenly, surprising Jessica into a blush for staring.
“You must be the house guest whom Damien mentioned,” the woman said with a smile as she advanced and held out her hand. “I am Lydia, Duchess of Wyndham.”
Jessica took her hand and curtsied. “It is a pleasure, Your Grace.” She wondered fleetingly if Damien had informed this woman what type of house guest she was.
“We missed you at lunch,” the Duchess went on kindly. “Were you not feeling well?”
“I did not wish to intrude. I understand that you have not seen Da—His Grace for some time.”
“How thoughtful! Yes, I have not seen him for a very long time.” Her tone was wistful, and Jessica wondered at that. “But, we will have plenty of time to catch up on each other’s news. Promise me that you will not stay away at dinner.”
As Jessica agreed, she noticed the fine lines around the woman’s eyes and mouth, indicating the maturity of middle age. The Duchess also had the same uncommonly green eyes as Damien. Something about the woman’s smile reminded her very much of Damien. The physical resemblance was remarkable. A little spark of joy erupted near Jessica’s heart. The lady had to be his mother. Not his wife.
“Damien will be pleased,” the Duchess was saying. “He was disappointed that you did not come to table. I will see you at dinner then.” She began to turn away to leave, but turned back with a laugh. “I am very sorry. My manners are not usually this bad. I did not give you a chance to tell me your name.”
Jessica smiled as she tried to control the giddy rush at discovering this woman was Damien’s mother, not his wife. Her response to the question was automatic. “Jessica Carlton, Your Grace—” She caught herself too late. She didn’t know what had prompted her to give her full name. It slipped out so easily because the older woman had been so kind.
The Duchess stared for a moment, then asked slowly, “Daughter of James, Earl of Braeleigh?”
Jessica hesitated, then nodded abruptly. “Yes,” she answered, puzzled and surprised that this woman would know her father.
At Jessica’s response, the blood drained from the Duchess’s face. Her eyes glazed, and she swayed as if she might faint any moment. Jessica rushed to assist her to a stone bench.
“Your Grace. Are you all right?” Jessica asked in concern.
The Duchess did not answer. She only gaped at Jessica.
When she got no response, Jessica patted her hand, “Please stay here. I will get help.”
Jessica ran to the kitchen door and collected the cook and several maids. After sending for Jacobs, the cook followed Jessica out to the garden. The Duchess was sitting where Jessica had left her, her face white and drawn. As the cook and maids fussed about their mistress, Jessica quietly slipped away and returned to her room. She felt terrible, that somehow, she had caused the attack.
About an hour later, Donny entered Jessica’s room, carrying a stack of clean linens.
“Have you heard how the Duchess is feeling?” Jessica asked.
“Aye,” Donny answered grimly as she put the linens in the armoire. “She be fine. Just a touch of the vapors.”
“Then why are you looking so glum?”
Donny turned to face her. “Ye be in fer it, that’s why. When His Grace found out who ye be, his eyes went all hard. Gives a person the creeps, it does. He’s in with her now. Seems they be talkin’ about ye. The Duke is lookin’ t’ tear ye apart. But it seems the Duchess be on your side. I told ye, didn’t I, t’tell him everythin’.”
At that moment, a hard knock sounded at the door. Before either Donny or Jessica could make a move to open it, Damien walked in. His eyes were as Donny had described them, glittering and cold. He turned to Donny.
“Leave us, please,” he said in a voice to match his eyes. “I have some things I would like to discuss with your mistress.”
Donny remained where she was. Jessica knew the woman would defy the Duke and stay if she gave the slightest hint she was needed. Jessica only shook her head. With a glare at the Duke, Donny left.
Damien
closed the door firmly, then crossing his arms across his chest, he leaned against it. No one was going to get in to defend Jessica. Nor was she going to escape.
He was dressed for riding. His breeches fit him like a second skin. The dark green of his jacket contrasted sharply with his piercing eyes. He carried a short quirt. Swallowing, Jessica decided to take the offensive.
“How is the Duchess?” she asked.
“She is fine, now, though a bit shaken, no thanks to you,” he said coolly.
“I am sorry. I don’t know what I did to upset her.”
“Don’t you, Lady Jessica Carlton?” Her name became a sneer on his lips.
Jessica’s head went up proudly. “Who I am does not concern you.”
“I disagree.” Damien pushed away from the door and advanced toward her. “It concerns me a great deal. Not only am I harboring a traitor under my roof, but now I discover she is the daughter of a murderer and the stepdaughter of a whore.” He stopped barely a foot away from her.
Anger at his accusations turned her hot. Jessica’s hand lashed out and connected soundly with his cheek. The blow hardly affected him. A savage smile curled his lips.
“How dare you!” she gasped. “What are you saying?”
“You know what I am saying, my sweet,” he answered with mock gentleness. “Margaret has schooled you well in the wiles of allurement. How she must have gleefully clapped her hands to discover the second brother had fallen so easily into her clutches.”
Jessica backed away in horror at his words. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“No? Playing the innocent to the very end, Jessica? I must admit, you do it very well. You are quite convincing. That little story you told General Drayton was so touching. You even had me convinced you were protecting your family name.” He barked a short laugh. “What a fool I was.”
Jessica took another step back. Damien stopped her with a soft touch of his quirt on her shoulder. “Do not back away, my sweet,” he told her menacingly. “It is too late to run.”
Jessica was dumbfounded and confused at what he was saying. What was going on?
“Damien,” she tried to reason, “I have never lied to you.”
“Perhaps not,” he allowed. “But that is a very small point in your favor. Your omissions are just as damning. Those monthly visits to Monsieur Montaigne were conveniently scheduled to coincide with a visit to Margaret, were they not?”
“Yes,” Jessica answered miserably.
“Ah, now we get the whole truth. She must have gone into fits of laughter when she heard her protegée had made me the fool.”
“She has no idea that I know you,” she protested. “I have never spoken your name to her.”
He whipped his quirt down on the arm of the chair next to him. Jessica flinched. His blow left a sizable mark on the wood.
“Do not play games with me, Jessica,” he warned. “You told me you have never lied to me. Do not start now.”
Jessica’s chin went up defensively. “I have not lied to you. I do not know what this is about, but what I have said is the truth.”
Damien’s eyes narrowed, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Very well, if that is how you wish it.” He spun on his heel and walked to the door. He turned with his hand on the knob. “While my mother is here in residence, you will remain cloistered in your room. There will be a guard posted at your door at all times. Your presence here has greatly upset her.” He yanked open the door and left.
Jessica sank into the chair where Damien had vented his anger. Absently, she ran her finger across the welt as she tried to make sense of what just happened. Damien obviously knew Margaret, and from the way he spoke, he despised her. Because Jessica was her stepdaughter, he held her in contempt as well.
His reasons were beyond her understanding. His condemnation shocked her, turned her cold. Her insides felt like lead.
Donny came back into the room and puttered about, remaining silent. Jessica realized she might know something, for she had been with the family since Jessica had been a babe.
“Damien said my father was a murderer,” Jessica said. Her voice sounded flat to her own ears. “What did he mean? And he said something about Margaret getting her clutches on the second brother.”
Donny stopped her fidgeting and came to sit in the chair across from Jessica. “Aye,” she began. “There was a scandal. Be about four years now, maybe a little more. And Margaret in the middle of it. Seems yer papa found out she be seein’ another man. This time weren’t the first, but he found ‘em together in his own bed. Margaret was the clever one, though. Made yer papa believe she’d been forced. Said th’ other man had some hold over her family. Nothin’ else yer papa could do but challenge th’ other man to a duel. He be a young ‘un, too. Well, yer papa shot ‘im. Didn’t die right away though. Lingered for a few days. Yer papa weren’t never the same after that. The man he killed was th’ Duke o’ Wyndham.”
Jessica eyes widened. She felt nauseous. Faint. She could not breathe. Damien’s older brother had been the man Margaret had dallied with, and her father had killed him in a duel. No wonder the Duchess had become ill when she heard her name. Jessica felt the same.
She got up and wandered to the window. The futility of her situation overwhelmed her. She leaned her forehead against the glass.
“He thinks I am involved in some sort of plot with Margaret to destroy him,” she said.
As she stood there, she watched Damien ride out proudly on his horse. The soldier standing guard at the gate saluted him as he rode past. An ache so deep she nearly sobbed grabbed her heart.
“I have to be alone for a while, Donny,” she said in a strangled tone. “I have to think.”
Without a word, Donny got up and left.
Jessica spent the afternoon in despair. She realized nothing she said or did would convince Damien of her innocence. He was so caught up in his grief and his contempt of her family because of what Margaret had done that he would never see that she had been an unwitting pawn.
A knock came at her door close to teatime. Damien had not returned from his ride, so Jessica knew it was not him. With a sigh, she went to open it. Lucy, the maid, stood there. The soldier standing guard outside her door watched them curiously.
“May I come in, my lady?” Lucy asked. “I think I left my duster in your room when I was cleaning.”
With a nod, Jessica allowed her in. She could not remember seeing any duster, and she could not imagine any maid in this house being so careless. Lucy closed the door carefully behind her once she was in the room. Instead of looking about for her duster, she held out a note for Jessica.
“A messenger brought this for you, my lady,” Lucy told her. “He said it was from His Grace and not to let anyone know about it.”
Jessica took the note. She thought the messenger’s request rather curious. Why would Damien send her a note and be so secretive about it? He could have easily sent the message through one of his soldiers. She opened the note and read:
Jessica,
Damien has been badly injured. He is here with me. Come quickly.
A. du Barré
Her heart slammed against her chest. Her knees went weak. Damien was hurt! She had to go to him. When Lucy turned to leave, she stopped her.
“Please wait,” she said. “I need your help.”
The girl stood by patiently as Jessica’s mind raced. Something about the note raised her suspicions. Why would Damien have gone to Madame ’s? He certainly would not have gone alone to arrest the woman, not when he had all of his men with him when he arrested her at Monsieur Montaigne’s cottage. But how did Madame know where to send the note? Had she already learned that her secret correspondence had been confiscated? Did she know Jessica had been arrested? Perhaps Damien had told Madame. But why? Jessica could not think of any plausible explanation why Damien woul
d be at Madame ’s, whether he was injured or not. Perhaps the note was a trap, and Madame was so furious at Jessica for getting caught that she wanted to punish her. But what if Damien really was injured?
Anxious thoughts and questions swirled in her brain. Even if it were a trap, she had to risk it. She had no choice. Damien needed her. She just had to figure out how to escape from the house.
Jessica glanced at Lucy and wondered how much she could trust her. The girl was her only option. “I have to leave,” she said. “It is a personal matter.”
“But, m’lady, the guards,” Lucy protested.
Jessica waved away her argument. “I know. I am under arrest. I’m not supposed to go anywhere, but I have to attend to this. It is a question of life or death. His Grace is not here for me to ask permission, and the guards won’t allow me to leave if I tell them. You have to help me escape. Do you think you can help?”
Lucy looked doubtful.
“Please,” Jessica entreated.
“Well…” Lucy’s gaze skittered about the room.
“I give you my word that I will return as soon as I can.”
Lucy nodded. “All right.”
“Good. Is there another door to the house that is not so well used as the front or kitchen doors?” Jessica asked.
Lucy thought for a moment. “There are French doors in the salon, and they lead to a veranda, at the side of the house, close to the street.
“Of course.” Jessica remembered them now. “That’s perfect. Now, all I have to do is get there.”
Lucy grinned. “I can take care of the handsome soldier standing outside your door.”
Jessica nearly hugged the girl in her relief. Instead, she smiled and said, “You are very brave for helping me, Lucy. I am sure when His Grace finds out about this, he will reward you handsomely.”
Lucy blushed bright red. As she turned to leave, she said, “I hope everything will turn out all right.”
“I’m sure it will,” Jessica assured her, hoping she was telling the truth.
Lucy opened the door, saying as she did, “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, m’lady. I can’t understand what happened to that duster.” As she began to close the door, Jessica heard her say, “Sergeant, since you’re so strong, do you think you could do me a tiny favor and help me move a chair?”
The Duke Who Loved Me: On His Majesty's Secret Service Book 1 Page 15