by Rue Allyn
The sky had lightened with breaking dawn as Jessica squinted, only partially awake, bent beneath the weight against her back. A man shouted and she roused, alarmed to find people running to them like ants to a sweet.
She tried to shake off the cobwebs of sleep, but could not grasp immediately what was happening.
Figures clustered around talking and moving in a dreamlike state.
An enormous beast of a man stood immediately beside them. The giant’s great paws yanked Devlin’s cloak from their shoulders, exposing her warm body to the early morning chill.
Before she could react, those huge hands pulled the duke from the horse, almost capsizing Jessica as well. The giant caught her companion up in burly arms as if the nobleman were a babe. Then the monster carried his cloak-clad charge up broad steps and into the most superb house Jessica had ever imagined.
Two bustling women reached to draw Jessica from the horse. A groom held the animal’s head, addressing Sweetness in tender tones.
The scene continued as part of a dream. Jessica felt as if she belonged there, returning to a palatial home, greeted by soft hands and strong arms and the unspoken promises of a bath and a clean warm bed where one could sleep for a fortnight.
Her dream ended rudely, however, as she was pulled from the saddle.
Chapter Three
The two ladies, maids judging by their costume, who had broken her fall and grabbed her as she toppled from the horse, obviously had plans for her. They chattered to one another as if Jessica were not there.
“Has his lordship ever brought a doxy into his mother’s home before?” the scowling, middle-aged one said.
The older one returned the frown. “Nay, Nan, this is the first.”
When the women had Jessica generally steady on her feet, they waved the groom to lead Sweetness away. Maintaining their holds on her, they scrutinized their charge. Both reacted with deepening frowns.
Jessica jerked her arms from the women’s grasps. “I am no easy woman from the streets.” Having clarified that, she could not think how to continue. She wanted to establish immediately who and what she was not. The woman called Nan made a face. “My, she’s filthy.”
“Needs a bath,” the older one confirmed.
“What manner of clothing is this?” Nan lifted excess fabric floating about Jessica’s frame.
“Stolen, I imagine,” said the older one. “It doesn’t look to be her own.”
Jessica stared at the older woman, obviously the one to whom she should explain. It was difficult to frame an explanation as indignation exploded within, along with soreness in her backside as she stepped.
“Were I a thief, I would have pinched better clothing, at least something that fit.”
The older woman nodded, and then looked at Nan, who bobbed her head in agreement.
“You need a bath,” Nan repeated, this time addressing Jessica.
“No need,” Jessica said, mellowed by their kinder looks and the fact they were addressing her. “I must be getting home. Which is the road to Welter?”
Each of the three serving women raised an arm, index fingers pointing south.
“Thank you.” Jessica straightened and, summoning what dignity she could manage, working around the peculiar soreness in her bottom, pivoted and set her nose south, intending to follow that appendage until she either arrived in Welter or dropped alongside the road.
“Stop!” Devlin’s hoarse but imperious voice roared from above and behind her.
Jessica turned clumsily to look back as the giant stepped up beside the duke on a second-floor balcony and reiterated his sovereign’s intentions by shouting, “Stop that woman.”
She’d been called girl, child, chit and, on rare occasion, miss, but she had never been called a woman. The term surprised her so that she turned fully around and peered at Devlin and his giant, the top of the master’s head only reaching the other man’s earlobe.
Devlin muttered something and the giant shouted, “Bring her into the house.”
All three serving women grabbed Jessica’s arms and hands as if they expected her to bolt.
“Gently,” the giant amended, apparently prodded by the duke. The house appeared to be a palace, certainly like no dwelling she had ever seen before.
The walls looked to be of pink marble. The sunlight also created blinding glints from the floor-to-ceiling windows on three levels. Jessica jerked free of the women, as she looked to the balcony. “Please, Your Grace, I must be on my way. I have given all the time I can spare you this day.”
Although he still wore around his head the crude wrap made of strips of her petticoat, his face looked scrubbed, his expression calm and he, remarkably handsome. “Jessica Blair, I insist you accept the hospitality of my home as a token of my gratitude.”
The changing attitude of the servants around her was palpable as they withdrew and stared at her with new regard. He continued. “It would be common courtesy on your part to allow a person whose life you have redeemed to express appreciation.”
The bandage impaired the one eye, but he kept the other closed. She assumed the giant and others realized his blindness. “Come inside, Jessica. I want to introduce you to the dowager duchess, my mother. She is eager to thank you personally.”
Jessica was struck dumb. It had not occurred to her that this was a family home. Of course. He had a mother. One who resided here. With him. She should have guessed. She had a mother, one who, in fact, might be frantic at Jessica’s absence, unless someone had stopped by to tend her. There was no one else to feed and bathe her, unless Brandon did. Jessica’s older brother seldom visited the cottage, however, except when he was summoned, and then he rarely arrived promptly. Jessica could not leave her mother’s care to chance.
Devlin called again. “Come inside, Jessica. Bathe, eat, rest a little. Then I will provide a proper escort to speed you on your way.”
She drew a deep breath. Turning to look at the road yawning before her, she saw wisdom in his invitation.
“I cannot tarry long, Your Grace.”
“No, my angel, I did not expect you would.”
“Why are you on your feet?”
“Perhaps you could come inside and we could continue this conversation without inconveniencing the entire household.”
A glance indicated many people, from stable boys to cooks to maids and butlers, were hanging on every word of their rather private exchange. Humbled by the rebuke, she said, “Yes, Your Grace.”
The older serving woman led the way, flapping a hand, shooing the younger girl ahead with instructions.
Jessica tried to maintain some dignity and not favor the soreness in her lower portions as she followed. The tactless maid they called Nan trailed her up the broad sweep of stairs, through the immense doors held by liveried men at attention, men so well disciplined that they did not stare. Jessica had expected to be taken directly to the duke’s salon for an interview with his family. Instead, she was escorted up one of the twin flights of stairs rising from the entry hall and down a broad corridor lined with the portraits of ancestors. A maid stepped ahead to open a door to a bedchamber.
The walls of the room were the color of ripening peaches, the trim painted a glistening white. Throw pillows on the ivory-covered bed and the upholstery of a small chair were embroidered with flowers in peacock blue. She might have designed and decorated this room in her dreams.
Too stunned to remark on the elegant chamber, or even to draw more than shallow breaths, she tried to commit the room to memory. As she did, the older maid busied about, fluffing pillows which were already plump, dusting imaginary wrinkles from graceful draperies siding leaded windows which were so clean they glittered.
Nan dashed about, too, opening and closing cabinets, and directing men who carried pails in and out of an alcove beyond the chamber where Jessica stood.
“I am Sophie,” the young maid said quietly as she scurried by Jessica. “That is Odessa.” She indicated the older woman. Moving officio
usly, Nan scurried from the room. Jessica caught disapproval in Sophie’s voice as she said, “That is Nan.”
Jessica offered to shake hands, but yanked the filthy appendage back before Sophie could accept. Not only was her hand stained with grit and grime, and even the duke’s blood, her dress, too, was soiled so badly that most of the threadbare fabric was no longer blue but a dung-colored brown.
Jessica rubbed her hands down the dress and glanced at her feet. The battered, oversized boots were caked with mud. She lifted onto her tiptoes in an effort not to track from the polished wood floors to the thick rugs. She flinched as the younger maid nudged her elbow.
“Don’t touch me,” Jessica warned, startling the girl. “I am too filthy. I have no desire to befoul this lovely, lovely room or anyone in it.” Wobbling, Jessica tiptoed backward.
Odessa set her robust frame between Jessica and the only avenue of escape.
“His Grace ordered that you were to have a steaming bath, which is just beyond that door.” Odessa indicated a portal at the far side of the room.
Defensively, Jessica gathered fists full of her oversized dress, but the older woman seemed to read her thoughts.
“No need for concern, pet. Sophie and I have seen female forms more generously endowed than yours.” She shot a smile at the younger maid. “Fact is, Sophie and I ourselves have more to display than you.”
Both maids chuckled good-naturedly, drawing a smile from Jessica, who recognized truth in the boast. With these two for allies, her privacy was assured. She bent to remove the boots and release dirty, bare feet before she advanced several mincing steps toward the indicated room. She had heard of such facilities, but had never seen such a thing. This was the only opportunity she might ever have.
At the open doorway, Jessica stopped, closed her eyes, and inhaled. She longed to move closer to the freestanding tub of steaming water, the source of marvelous fragrances wafting about and warming the air.
The biggest, fluffiest towel she had ever seen draped the back of a small wooden chair to one side of the tub.
Drawn by the heavenly scent of roses when none were yet in bloom, Jessica eased forward; following her nose to thrust her face, stiff from dirt and the night’s cold, over the water, thinking to absorb the steam without sullying the pristine surroundings. She filled her lungs, making no effort to hide her pleasure.
Following behind, Odessa said, “The bath is for you, my lady.” Jessica’s eyes popped wide. She saw a round of fragrant soap nesting on a washcloth on the broad rim of the tub. Odessa startled her in the midst of that dream by shouting, “Sophie! Now!”
On signal, both women swooped and tugged at the folds of Jessica’s dress. She flapped at their hands, her efforts halfhearted. She wanted them to win, strip her, and toss her into that steaming tub.
“All right,” Jessica said finally, unable and even unwilling to stay the serving women’s hands. “But what use is it to scrub my body when I have no clean clothes to put on after?”
A knowing smile twitched the ends of the older woman’s broad mouth as she looked to Sophie. “Martha is about her size, wouldn’t you say?”
Sophie giggled and explained. “Martha is with child and not able to wear her frocks. The master insisted that you have fresh clothes.” Sophie grinned. “He doubted we could do worse than what you are wearing.”
Odessa eyed the layers of Jessica’s discarded dress critically as she held it at arm’s length. “Even blind, the man was right.”
“You probably think he’s right about most things,” Jessica said, using her snippy tone, “since he is your lord and master.”
Odessa narrowed her eyes, regarding the young woman who stood before her, arms folded protectively over her chest and wearing only what appeared to be boy’s underdrawers. “He was mistaken about you. He told his mother you were a child of ten or eleven.”
Jessica looked down at her nearly naked body, which had done unconscionable things in recent years. It was when those changes became apparent that Jessica’s mother began begging Muffet’s old clothing, even though other older girls closer to Jessica’s size offered their castoffs.
Her mother insisted that while Jessica served in the manor house, working for Mr. Maxwell, she must wear the oversized clothing. It meant so much to her bedfast matriarch that Jessica saw little reason to object. Now, of course, Jessica had little choice. She would wear whatever was available, as long as it was decent. But why was Odessa staring at her with such open chagrin?
“No one else can know,” Odessa muttered and waited for Sophie’s nod before she grabbed the kettle and stirred a new supply of hot water and suds into the tub.
“Please, I must save these,” she said, patting her underdrawers, making them jingle. “My purse.” Both serving women nodded their understanding. Certain that the secret pocket sewn into her underdrawers was securely tucked; Jessica dropped that last item of clothing, and placed a foot in the steaming water. She closed her eyes and sighed at the pure pleasure of the warmth closing around her foot … her ankle … her calf.
Slowly, deliberately, she submerged the one appendage. The water rose to her knee. She hesitated only a moment before allowing the second leg to join the first. She stood basking in that pleasure for several heartbeats before she lowered her body, luxuriating in the warmth as it embraced her.
Jessica had never bathed in a tub, and considered herself lucky to dip in an occasional trough. In the summer, she swam as often as she could in the river. She loved feeling clean, loved having her long, thick hair free of debris and dust and accumulated filth.
She continued lowering herself into the tub, her chin, her nose, her forehead, the crown of her head. Completely submerged, she felt an epiphany, a baptism so thorough that she did not want ever to leave the watery confines. In moments that passed too quickly, she had to surface to breathe. One necessary gulp of air and she returned to the silence beneath the water.
A rap at the door to the bathing chamber startled all three occupants. Jessica’s head popped out of the water as Odessa went to answer the knock.
“Is the child all right?” A woman’s deep, melodic voice floated into the room.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“May I see her?”
Stiffening, Jessica heard Odessa hesitate before she stepped aside, swinging the door wide to admit an unusually tall, strikingly beautiful woman of advanced years.
Although matronly, the visitor did not seem to be nearly the age of Jessica’s own mother, who was the ancient age of forty and four.
“Hello,” the woman said, gazing at Jessica’s face. “Welcome to our home, my dear.”
As Jessica said, “Hello” and “Thank you,” the woman’s eyes drifted. She looked startled and dismayed as she surveyed Jessica’s body, particularly studying the swells of her breasts that hinted of more hidden beneath the suds.
“But, my dear … I mean to say, my son said … Well, it’s just that I thought you to be much younger. A child of nine or ten or eleven.”
“Your son?”
“Devlin. The duke. Forgive me, darling. I am Lady Anne Miracle, the Dowager Duchess of Fornay. Devlin’s mother.”
Jessica realized she should stand and curtsy to a duchess, yet here she sat in a tub of water and bubbles, naked, displaying too much of herself, and no manners of any kind.
The dowager bit her lips and, for a moment, appeared to be overcoming good humor. Hastily she waved aside all thought of curtsies, obviously reading Jessica’s mind.
“You are fine where you are, my dear. Perfectly fine. We don’t seem to be observing any of the amenities. I would never have dreamed of barging in on a young woman guest while she was bathing. It’s just that I thought you … Well, that a child might need reassurance.” Her gentle words and pleasant smile dwindled, leaving only a frown. “How in the world did Devlin determine your age?”
“I don’t know, Your Grace. He dismissed my repeated denials that I was a child. I told him rather persiste
ntly that I was a woman fully grown.”
“It should have been obvious.”
“He couldn’t see and wouldn’t listen.”
“How old are you, Jessica Blair?”
“Eighteen, ma’am … er … that is, Your Grace … ma’am.”
“Eighteen? Oh, but my dear.”
Jessica was momentary perplexed before she had a thought. “Oh, please, Your Grace, don’t be alarmed. I didn’t come expecting reward or seeking work.”
“Ah … well, no … of course I wasn’t concerned about that, particularly.” The duchess looked to Odessa, apparently seeking guidance.
“I believe our guest is unusually — charmingly so, of course — naive.” Odessa shot a warning glance at Sophie, as if signaling. Jessica couldn’t help wondering at the exchange.
What did that mean, unusually naive? She might lack formal schooling, but Jessica’s parents were learned people. They had diligently taught her and her brother and sister to read the classics and to do their sums. Further, Jessica could tat, knit, cook, clean a house, and dress a variety of fish and fowl. And she had memorized most of what she considered the important verses of the Bible.
Things like that were not readily discernible when one was sitting naked as a babe. It was hard to make an impression crouched in a tub of water. “Madam, it seems premature and not at all fair for you to pass judgment on me or my abilities with no more information than you have.” She didn’t intend for her words to sound quite as curt as they did.
The dowager’s vivid blue eyes twinkled as she lifted a handkerchief to cover her mouth.
At that moment, a rap on door between the bedchamber and the corridor announced another visitor and the duke called from the hallway. “May I enter?”
“No!” the dowager, Jessica, and both maids chorused.
“What is going on in there?”
The dowager hastened out the door from the bathing alcove, through the bedchamber and to the open doorway where Devlin stood. He sounded tired.