by Emma Wildes
“I’m for it.”
The woman who sauntered over was young, her generous breasts nearly spilling out of her soiled bodice, her gap-toothed smile widening as she approached their table. Bright red hair curled around her plain face in unrestrained abandon. “Lawd, heaven is smilin’ on Kate today with two such beautiful gentlemen gracing the premises.”
“Two ales.” Jack grinned back. “And nothing else, my dear, I’m sorry.”
The barmaid gave Alex a broad wink. “What about you, lovey? With those golden looks and your fine figure you must know how to give a lady a good time, eh?”
“Just ale would be fine.” He laughed at her obvious disappointment.
She shook her head and walked away, deliberately swinging her hips.
Jack lifted an ebony brow from across the stained table. “Some things never change, do they?”
Alex knew exactly what he meant. At one time he and Jack had shared a youthful appetite for the pursuit of wine and willing bed partners. Becoming close friends at university, they had both chosen commissions and been assigned to Spain, though in very different capacities. He said noncommittally, “As I recall, you were hardly a novice when it came to women, Rivers.”
“Ah yes, but I am a somber, well-behaved married man now. You are still causing legions of whispers whenever you appear in town.” Jack grinned.
“I don’t know why. I’m as tame as a housecat these days.”
“That’s not what I hear.” Jack snorted in disbelief.
Sordid gossip not an interest. Alex lifted a brow, arrested by his friend’s announcement. “Married did you say? When was this?”
Jack glanced away, his expression instantly shuttered. “I suppose you know I was captured by the French. I operated behind their lines for over a year, working for Wellington doing intelligence, getting away with it far longer than I expected. I finally ran afoul of a patrol.”
“I heard.”
Rivers lifted his head and looked Alex in the eye. His dark gaze was very direct. “Though a prisoner, I fell in love with the wife of a French captain. Ironic as it may be, in the midst of all that chaos and death and the fear of execution, I actually fell in love. All those years I thought the emotion a myth and the truth comes slamming down on my head in the middle of a French camp.”
Their tankards of ale arrived with another flurry of swaying skirts and several more enthusiastic winks. Fingering his glass, Alex said, “And so?”
With a shrug of broad shoulders, Jack picked up his pint and lifted it to his lips. “And so her husband was killed during a skirmish with the Spanish resistance fighters and the lady set me free at great risk to her own person and accompanied me over the border into Portugal. I resigned my commission and we married. End of story.”
“Sounds like something they should put on the stage. How easy can it be to have a French wife during these times?” Alex casually elevated his own glass to his mouth.
“We socialize in certain circles,” Jack admitted. “Attend only those social engagements given by very good friends, as a rule. Luckily, Eloise could charm the feathers from a peacock.”
“Your wife sounds like a brave lady. I believe I would like to meet her.”
Rivers smiled. “Eloise is very resourceful and definitely worth meeting. Now, tell me. I knew several men killed in rifle brigades at Badajoz. Their families just got word recently. What happened?”
“It was a hard fight.” Alex took another swift pull from his cup. “Their defenses were good, it rained like the very devil, and we were bombarded by shells thrown from the town into the trenches. It was damned miserable.”
“Is that where you were hit, in the trenches?”
“News does travel, doesn’t it?” Alex shook his head. “It was after we broke through, when we were taking the city. I am ashamed to say so, but our men were running wild, sacking the place. I was wounded three times, friendly fire or enemy, not even I can say.”
“And they sent you home?”
“It was bad enough—shoulder, leg and hand.” Alex was evasive, but hopefully not overtly so.
Jack, once a very fine intelligence officer, seemed to sense that oblique questions were fine, but others would be met with resistance. Spain loomed well enough in his dark memories, Alex thought moodily as he drank his tepid ale, he didn’t want to live it now. “So,” he said, “tell me everything. I want to know about your life, Jack.”
With a nod and smile, his friend replied, “With pleasure.
But we’ll need another glass of ale. Or, maybe two.” “I’d like nothing better.”
* * * *
Jessica nervously tapped her fingers on the door handle of the carriage, consciously stifling the urge to scream. The Greene townhouse was just ahead, and for whatever reason, she had grown unaccountably nervous to see the people she had almost considered to be her family for the past year.
“Here we are,” Ariel announced unnecessarily as the vehicle rolled to a stop. “I feel certain that Nathaniel is pining to see you, as you are him. It’s all very romantic.”
“Yes.” It was barely a mutter of response.
“Pardon me for saying so, but I thought you might be more excited.”
Biting her lip, Jessica whispered, “I guess I’m just feeling a little uncertain.”
Fashionable and stunning in green silk, her red hair coifed perfectly, the duchess lifted her fine brows and leaned back against the squabs. “Uncertain? In what way?”
“Everything that’s happened…I mean, Robert and his scandalous financial mistakes… It is undeniable. I am a pauper bride.” The confession was difficult to make.
Ariel leaned forward and lightly touched her arm. “I’m sure none of it matters. The Greenes don’t want your dowry, they want you. And you look so lovely, my dear. I adore that color on you. It brings out those incredible rich highlights in your hair and makes your skin glow. Nathaniel will be absolutely bemused.”
Hopefully so. Her fiancé probably would not mind the money as much as the whispers over her brother fleeing England because of his atrocious debts.
Smoothing the amber satin of her skirts in a self-conscious gesture, Jessica felt a lump rise in her throat over the generosity of the Ramsey family. “I have to thank you again for being so very generous…all those new gowns—”
“What nonsense.” With an airy wave of her hand, Ariel dismissed that sentiment. “I adore visiting the dressmakers; you simply gave me an excuse to follow my whims and dress you accordingly. I should thank you for indulging me and giving me carte blanche with your new wardrobe. Thinking of it that way, the debt is mine.”
Jessica couldn’t help it, she laughed out loud. “That is ridiculous, if you’ll pardon me, Your Grace.”
“Perhaps.” Ariel grinned, looking all at once not in the least like a dignified grand lady, but like a naughty young girl. “But at least you’re smiling at last and not looking like a condemned prisoner on his way to the dock.”
The door swung open.
Jessica swallowed hard, trying to hold on to that smile. As she alighted, she gazed up at the elegant building in front of her—a place she had visited often—and she felt the awkwardness flood through her again. It wasn’t, she reminded herself silently, like she had changed. Just her circumstances.
Jessica squared her shoulders and accompanied the duchess up the steps.
There wasn’t a choice, was there? It was good she very much wanted to marry Nathaniel. Now she had no choice.
To her dismay, they were all waiting for her and Ariel in the formal parlor. More than just the immediate family—which would make for a comfortable reunion—assembled were Nathaniel’s father, his mother, his three sisters, two younger brothers, and several aunts, uncles, cousins and other unknowns, presumably even more distant relatives.
And he was there, of course. Nathaniel was tall and slim and immaculate as always in a finely fitted beige coat, snowy and elaborate cravat, and black breeches, his wavy hair swept back
off his forehead and secured in a queue with a dark ribbon, his dark eyes meeting her gaze. A smile of polite welcome was on his well-shaped lips, and diamonds glittered at his cuffs and the white folds of cloth at his throat.
Rebecca, so dark and petite, was the first one to cross the room, throwing her arms around Jessica with a glad cry. “Oh, Jess, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Jessica hugged her back with genuine affection. “Thank you, Beck. I’ve…I’ve missed you. Do you know Ariel Ramsey, the Duchess of Grayston?”
“Your Grace.” Sweeping a low curtsy, Rachel looked a bit sheepish over her lack of decorum. “Welcome to our home.”
Ariel smiled in her dazzling way that made Jessica feel so gauche and young. “Thank you.”
The next hour passed in a flurry of polite conversation and innumerable introductions. Several times, though, she was sure it was just nerves that prompted the impression, Jessica got the feeling that some of the older ladies in the room didn’t approve of her. The occasional sniff or whisper behind the hand as she murmured polite greetings and fought to keep the nervous smile on her face, made her uneasy. She was eternally grateful when Nathaniel pointedly stood and walked over to offer Jessica his arm. “Pardon me, but I think,” he said to his assorted family, “that I’ll show Jessica how lovely the roses are in the garden.”
Rebecca giggled. Jessica stood and put her hand on his sleeve, feeling heat infuse her cheeks. She saw that Ariel hid a smile in her teacup.
They left the room, hearing the low rise of conversation stir behind their departure.
Once outside, she lifted her face to the breeze and swallowed hard. Glancing down at her, Nathaniel said, “You’re blushing, Jessica. I know that was a somewhat public exit but don’t you want to be alone?”
“I…no, well, I mean, yes, I do.”
“Good.”
They strolled along the path, arm in arm, and she felt a certain sense of peace replace her earlier trepidation. Nathaniel’s very practical approach to life was the thing that had drawn her to him in the first place. Thanks to Robert, she’d known insecurity enough in the past years. Maybe all the old dragons in the Greene family would hold her brother’s foolish behavior against her, but she was hopeful Nathaniel would not.
The day was hot, and tendrils of unruly hair escaped her chignon and wisped around her cheeks, beginning to curl wildly in the humidity. True to his word, Nathaniel led her through a maze of paths to where dozens of white roses bloomed in pure glory, a mass of creamy color against glossy green leaves. The air smelled heavy and deliciously sweet.
“You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
Jessica glanced up at that softly uttered speech, seeing he was gazing down at her and paying no attention whatsoever to the banks of flowers surrounding them. His hands came up to lightly rest on her shoulders, his fingers warm and firm even through her clothing. She waited for it. For the increased rhythm of her heart, the special curl of excitement in the pit of her stomach because thanks to Alex, she now recognized that look in a man’s eyes. He was going to kiss her.
She said, “Thank you.”
He laughed lightly. “No, indeed. Thank you. You will be such an asset to me, my dear. Every man will envy me my lovely wife.”
For whatever reason, the compliment lost its gloss put that way. Jessica had to swiftly remind herself that the Greenes were very much involved in their various business ventures, and as the oldest son, Nathaniel had been raised to think in exactly such a way. Her lashes lowered slightly. “I am glad if you find me pleasing.”
“A woman should please her husband.”
That arrogant, smug statement roused a flicker of irritation that she had to tamp down. In recollection of the way some of his aunts looked down their long noses at her, she swallowed, and her tongue stole out to lick her lips. She might as well address the issue now, though it was humiliating to do so. She was penniless but not a coward. “I suppose you know by now that Robert squandered everything, even my portion.”
Nathaniel’s fingers tightened and he chuckled. “Darling, if you even think that was a consideration when I proposed marriage, think again.”
A certain tightness in her chest seemed to loosen at the obvious sincerity in his voice. Jessica gave him smile of relief. “I’m so glad to hear you say so, I mean—”
“Your dowry was hardly much of a loss. I spend more on diamond shoe buckles in the course of a season. Don’t give it another thought.”
Blinking, she fought against a feeling of complete insult. Her father had been a reasonably wealthy man and had put the funds aside for her. It had seemed a great deal of money, to her mind. True, her husband-to-be had a vast fortune at his fingertips and a somewhat of a showy sense of style, but he didn’t need to belittle her legacy. She stiffened.
He was oblivious. Lowering his head, he said huskily, “I’ve missed you.”
His lips touched hers lightly.
That strange excitement was apparently eclipsed by her nervousness this afternoon, for it didn’t happen.
The kiss was chaste and undemanding and over very soon. The slightest pressure of his mouth on hers, closed and soft. When Nathaniel lifted his head, he looked triumphant and she felt a little bemused. It had been very like the other few stolen kisses they had shared in the past. Always before, she’d been exhilarated.
Somehow, after that wild, forceful embrace she’d experienced with Alex Ramsey, all she felt was a certain unreasonable sense of disappointment.
Her face warmed as she recalled the sensuous thrust of his tongue in her mouth, the unrelenting clasp of his arms drawing her against the hardened planes of his body, the way his fingers wove into her hair…
Of course—it was a razor-sharp reminder—the man was a notorious rake. Nathaniel was more polite and refined. How could she resent that he kissed like her a gentleman would the woman he intends to be his bride?
“I’ve decided we’ll announce our engagement at the party the duchess is throwing for us, and we will marry as soon as possible. Just leave it all to me. The arrangements will all be taken care of to every last detail.”
Clearing her throat, she stepped back. “That sounds wonderful.”
Brown eyes gazed down at her with an unmistakable air of possession. “I cannot wait to make you mine.”
Bride…or asset? Immediately Jessica banished the ungrateful suspicion. “I can’t wait either.”
* * * *
“You missed dinner.”
Alex turned his head at the soft sound of his sister-in-law’s voice and came swiftly to his feet. As the hour was very late, he’d been certain the whole house was abed. “Please pardon me, Ariel. I ran into an old friend, Jack Rivers to be precise, and we did some catching up on not only his life, but the current gossip. We talked rather longer than I anticipated and ended up dining together at our club.”
Slim and graceful in a pale robe that covered her nightdress, Ariel came into the library and crossed over to drop into an opposite chair, settling comfortably and tucking her legs underneath her. “Jack and his French bride haven’t been in town long themselves. You are forgiven, of course. Er…is that brandy?”
Alex grinned. “It is indeed. Would Your Grace enjoy a small sample before she retires?”
Ariel laughed. “Yes, I would. It’s deplorable, isn’t it, but I enjoy brandy much more than those insipid sherries I am expected to drink.”
When he moved to retrieve a glass from the sideboard, Alex asked in a light tone, “Marcus isn’t going to come downstairs and have me on the carpet for socializing with his wife in the wee hours, now is he?”
“Your brother indulges me notoriously, and besides, Marcus is sound asleep, oblivious to the world.” Ariel gave a small sigh. “One of the children had a nightmare and has just now drifted back to sleep, so I thought I’d come downstairs and perhaps catch you before you retired.”
His brows elevating in real surprise, Alex handed her the brandy and settled back down in hi
s chair. “Me? May I ask why?”
She took a solid sip of her drink and gave a delicate shudder. Her green eyes lifted and met his with genuine challenge, her lovely features drawn into an expression of disapproval. “I want to know why you seem to be avoiding Jessica as diligently as she is avoiding you.”
Casually crossing his booted feet at the ankle and making quite a business of it, he said, “What makes you think I’m avoiding her?”
“Because I have both eyes and ears and the ability to make deductions from the information they perceive. Something is afoot.”
Her prompt, tart reply made him laugh. “I see.”
Ariel frowned. “Do you? Alex…you’ve not eaten a meal with us once in the past five days. You rode outside the carriage on the way here from Grayston and have made excuses for any suggested social engagements if she is included. Considering how short your time is with us before you return to Spain, and Jessica’s seeming aversion to your company, I can only draw the obvious conclusions.”
It was his turn to take a large mouthful of his drink. He didn’t care to explain to his sister-in-law what began the rift, not any more than he had wanted to tell his mother when asked. “And those conclusions are?”
“I do not think the two of you dislike each other at all. Quite the opposite. You are both trying to fight the attraction, which is commendable since she is already promised, but you cannot avoid each other forever.”
Maybe not, but he was making a damned good effort at it. “Besides,” Ariel commented dryly into the silence, “I must inform you that my daughter has a tendency to tell me everything. At eight years of age, she wasn’t sure exactly what she saw that night in the garden, but her description was clear enough to me.”
That damned reckless kiss. He felt his face tighten and had to consciously relax or betray his irritation. Idly swirling the liquid in his glass, he said, “It was nothing. A foolish moment.”