by Rue Allyn
She didn’t care for his tone, but thought it best to disregard it for the moment. “Regardless, Devlin, they are leaving soon, going to the Hardwicks’ country home in Bristol.”
“To Bristol?” He pivoted to face her. “The way is near Shiller’s Green and Welter. They said none of them had been that direction.”
“Perhaps they did not realize the proximity. They are going to deliver a new brougham and team purchased by Marcus’s father, and to visit his family, of course.”
“Does Lattie go to Bristol often?”
“I don’t know, Devlin. If he did, I think he would stop in on us when we are at Gull’s Way.” She glanced away. “Although Lattie says the keep holds too many sad memories. He is terribly sentimental about your father and Roth. Losing them was a terrible blow to him, coming during his formative years.” She looked again to her elder son. “What does it matter who goes to Bristol or when?”
“I was on the road from Bristol when I was attacked.”
“Darling, I doubt one thing has to do with the other.”
“Still, it seems a curious coincidence.”
“People from London travel west all the time. Are you worried about Lattie’s safety? I hardly think thieves would attack three of them. If they did, the brigands probably would get the worst of it.”
Devlin gave a thoughtful frown. “Yes, I suppose.” He appeared to shake off his dark thoughts. “All right, madam, what activities have you scheduled for you and your charge tomorrow?”
“I thought we might take a day or two away from the gadding about and let Jessica rest?”
“Rest? Why? Has she complained of fatigue?”
“No, darling. I thought she might need to recuperate after your brutish behavior.” The dowager was casting a line to test his response.
He recognized the ploy. Did his mother know? Had someone mentioned his inappropriate behavior? He needed to cover his confusion. “If that is your concern, madam, perhaps you should have this conversation with her. She may prefer not to be in my presence after what transpired.”
“Darling, Jessica knows it was an accident.” She drew close and patted his shoulder.
“The thump on her nob?” Obviously the dowager did not know more than that. “Yes, I am sure she does.”
“She has a forgiving nature. Your friendship will endure.”
“I suppose.” Still, he was troubled.
“You did apologize, didn’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Was she aware of your apology?”
He shot her an incredulous look. “What do you mean?”
“Was she addled?”
“When do you mean?”
“When you apologized.”
“Oh, that. Yes. Well, I mean, I think she was conscious and completely aware of … of what I said.” He lowered his voice. “Not, perhaps, of my bizarre behavior.”
Sensing something amiss, the duchess adopted a conspiratorial tone. “What is troubling you, Devlin?” She started to suggest possibilities, but deemed it better to wait.
He dropped into a chair. Deferring to his obvious distress, she forgave his rudeness in not inviting her to be seated first.
“For a few moments today, Mother, I had sight.”
Lady Anne was sweeping her dress to one side preparing to sit, but his words jolted and she remained on her feet. She blinked hard to stanch the instantaneous tears of joy. Noting his troubled look, she swallowed percolating joy, and responded instead with a soothing, “Darling, that is wonderful. How grand to have your sight back.”
“It isn’t back. It merely comes and goes, rather whimsically.”
“Oh.” She had no idea why such happy news had made him so miserable. She decided to delve further. “When did it happen?”
“Today’s occurrence was not an isolated incident. I have had glimpses of light beginning even before we left Gull’s Way.”
“Did you mention this to Dr. Conner?”
“Yes.” He bit his lips. “For the most part, I have had teasing glimpses of light and form. Recently, they are more distinct and last longer.” He shook his head. “This one came when Jessica was injured on the floor, barely conscious.”
“Seeing her in that condition, is what has upset you so?”
“No, Mother. I couldn’t see her at first. She was concealed behind protective gear.”
“Her face too?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, well, I knew you could not be annoyed seeing her face. The child has quite a pleasing countenance.” She waited for him to agree or comment. When he did neither, she continued. “What was it about the incident you found disturbing?” She watched his expression darken. “Darling, she is all right, you know.”
He flapped a hand at her, as if her conjecture were a swarm of gnats. “No. You miss the point.”
“Perhaps you could enlighten me.” She was annoyed by this sparring. “Jessica would be miserable if she thought her behavior had added to your burden.” The dowager crossed the room, moved a straight chair to position it directly in front of his and sat.
As soon as she was settled, he leaped to his feet and resumed pacing. “The glimpse I had enabled me to reach her. I fumbled to remove the protective mask to facilitate her breathing.”
“I see.”
“Yes, well, then I unlaced and removed the breastplate.”
“Was she properly clothed beneath the protective pad?”
“Of course. She is not a wanton, for heaven’s sake.”
Baffled by this even-tempered son’s mounting agitation, Lady Anne held her tongue. Obviously he needed to get this out and seemed to be mincing his way toward it.
“Then what happened?” she prodded.
“My sight failed. I intended to listen to her heartbeat. That was the reason I … ” He stopped pacing and stared at nothing with his sightless eyes, before turning to face his mother.
“Is Jessica … well is she … ah … unusually well-developed for a female her age?”
She was so relieved, she suddenly felt like laughing. Instead, the dowager pressed her handkerchief to her mouth to muffle any telltale sound. So that was what was troubling him. Finally, he had discovered the truth: that Jessica was not the hatchling he had assumed, but was instead, as the girl herself so often declared, “a woman grown.” The revelation was one Devlin was not prepared to face. The dowager had wondered when and how this discovery might occur, yet now that it had, she hardly knew what to say.
Candor was probably best. “How old do you believe Jessica to be?”
“I thought her a child of ten or eleven at first, as I told you. Later I thought perhaps as old as thirteen.”
“Devlin, Jessica told you she was a grown woman.”
“Yes, but I thought she was putting on airs. Her interests — her devotion to her hens, for heaven’s sake — marked her as a person of tender years.”
“Her naiveté provided your conclusion?”
“It was convincing enough, but add to that her behavior. She mounted and rode a strange stallion — astride, mind you. She crawled through brambles, slithered on her belly, to find me. She devised ways to cope with me and persist, in spite of my own obstinacy.” A smile played at his mouth as he detailed Jessica’s efforts. “No mature woman of my acquaintance would have attempted any of that.”
He began pacing again, head bowed, hands locked behind his back. “Once I was on Vindicator, she bid me farewell as if she were glad to be rid of me. I could not allow her simply to go trudging off afoot, unrewarded, but I had a devil of a time convincing her. She resisted, but I had the impression she was frightened, perhaps of being abandoned alone in the dark. Besides my own reluctance to leave, Vindicator refused to budge without her.
“When I finally had enough of bickering, I ordered her to ride. My assumption that she was a child was confirmed when I grasped her wrist to haul her into the saddle. It was like lifting a bag of thistle down.”
As if he thought his descr
iption demeaned Jessica, his voice grew earnest. “She was strong, but sinewy. I even commented about her being built more like a young lad than a girl.”
Again he paused before he continued. “How old is she, Mother?”
Lady Anne lowered her tone to match his. “She looks to be the eighteen years she claims, Devlin, just as she told you.”
Devlin raked both hands into his thick hair and gave an agonized groan. “I thought she was pretending, just as she played at being competent to order me about. I made her vow to stay with me until my sight returned. Sometime during my delirium, I entertained your very thought, that I should make her my ward and provide for her until some unfortunate knave took her off my hands.”
“If it’s a knave you want to marry her to, Devlin, why not the one to whom she is already betrothed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
The dowager was drawing insights. Devlin Miracle, the Twelfth Duke of Fornay, with little knowledge of innocent, unsophisticated females, wanted to take custody of this one. He wanted to make her part of his family, establish her in society, provide a respectable dowry, and find her a proper husband.
At Jessica’s age, she was no waif. She was a woman whose reputation might be sullied by association with an unmarried gentleman. Lady Anne did not speak her thoughts.
“Her reputation is not ruined for rescuing you.”
“How about spending the night in my arms, unchaperoned?”
“On a horse? For the time required to return an injured man to his home? For attending your wounds? If anything, the reputation of a scullery maid would be enhanced by reports of her courageous efforts on your behalf that night.”
He stopped pacing and considered his mother’s words. Since she had him reevaluating, Lady Anne continued.
“Devlin, I want her to stay. I want to spoil her just as badly as you do.”
“I made an agreement, Madam. Gave her my word. As soon as my sight returns — returned — I am, was, to pay her five hundred pounds and provide safe passage home.”
“Darling, we cannot allow that dear creature to go back to Swelter.”
“Welter, Mother. The village where she comes from is Welter, not Swelter.”
Lady Anne dismissed his correction with a wave. “Since Jessica has been with us, I have served as incontrovertible chaperone. Because I have always been aware of her age and of your regard for her, I have made a plan. We will announce that she is a cousin whose family is on hard times. We shall host a ball, a closed affair with carefully selected guests, to introduce her. We shall do it soon, while so many are out of town. We might make a fine match for her in some lesser family.”
“Wed her to some dolt? Absolutely not. Jessica shall have no less than a baron.” He frowned. “He must be a man schooled as a gentleman.” His shoulders slumped. “That was perhaps a better possibility before today.”
“What transpired today to change things?”
“The servants saw me fondle her.”
“Surely you did not touch her intentionally. Besides that, neither Patterson nor any of the household staff would … ”
“A stable boy was there. The one called Latch.”
“What was a stable boy doing in the house?”
“I don’t know. I only know he came running, offering to help when he saw me groping.”
“Do you suppose your handling of her appeared practiced, as if you were familiar with … with a woman’s anatomy?”
He smiled for the first time. “Here I was worrying about her reputation, never suspecting mine might be in jeopardy. You do know, Madam, that I have a reputation as a connoisseur of ladies. Mine will be the one sullied if word spreads that I handle ladies as ineptly as I did this cousin today. I was so astounded as to flush. The shock must have shown in my expression and heightened color.” He spewed an involuntary chuckle, laughing at himself. The dowager gave him a stern look before her laughter joined his, echoing about the room.
Their laughter subsided as mother and son settled into chairs side by side. Lady Anne was first to break the reverie. “I would like to host a ball to introduce her to a few friends.”
Devlin’s good humor dimmed. “To what purpose?”
“To make a match. She would be a lovely consort to any eligible man at court.”
“You think to foist a peasant girl off on a gentleman?”
“Her father attached himself to a German baron’s daughter. We could hint that Jessica has a connection to the aristocracy through that.”
“Strange, I had a similar thought myself.”
The dowager’s smile freshened. “Is the son as scheming as his mother?”
He laughed. “I abandoned the idea. It was too outrageous, linking Jessica to nobility through her father’s mistress. I would say Jessica was a victim of that union rather than a beneficiary.”
“Then, it seems fair that she should get some benefit from his defection in payment for the suffering it caused her.”
Devlin snorted, indicating disregard for such a duplicitous scheme, then he sank low into his chair.
His mother was not usually devious. Except for the shaky claim to nobility, the idea had merit. In London, he, Devlin, would entertain offers for Jessica’s hand. Although he might not be an expert, he was wise enough not to join a flower like Jessica to a brute like John Lout, or some addled, aging gentleman.
“All right,” he said. His mother drew a long breath. “But I will consider only offers from gentlemen.”
“What of his appearance?”
He waved a hand. “Of course, he must be handsome, after a fashion, but his looks or taste in clothing will be of lesser importance than his wit or intellect.”
“Have you told Jessica that your eyesight is returning?”
“Yes.” He raised a hand, palm out. “Do not get out of sorts. I did not tell her first. She caught me staring into her face and guessed. I would appreciate your not discussing it, not even with her.”
“Darling, she will be so pleased about your progress. She has been so certain you were going to get well.”
“When I am, she probably will leave. What then of your plans to see her well married?”
“I cannot bear the thought of her leaving. Oh, Devlin, she has brought sunlight into my life.” She cast a look at him and realized he shared similar thoughts. “That is part of your concern, isn’t it? Does the idea of Jessica leaving trouble you?”
He did not speak, nor did he indicate he had heard her questions.
“It is obvious, darling, that you want her to stay, perhaps as badly as I do. That is correct, is it not?”
Again he didn’t respond, but spoke as if he had not heard. “Perhaps you had better see to your hatchling, Mother. I am a grown man no longer given to sharing his innermost thoughts with his mama.”
Lady Anne started to chastise him, then decided that his grief at the prospect of losing Jessica was punishment enough. She might have a word with Jessica before retiring.
Devlin recovered his manners and stood to escort his mother to the door. Lady Anne turned and he bent allowing her to press a kiss to his forehead.
“Sweet dreams, darling,” she said, then held him as she gazed into his face — a face she had loved since giving birth to him nearly twenty-nine years before. He rewarded her lengthy silence with a smile.
The duchess went directly to Jessica’s rooms. When the door opened to her light rap, Lady Anne marveled that the girl’s troubled expression nearly mirrored Devlin’s.
“How are you feeling, darling?” Lady Anne began as they sat in chairs at either side of the small hearth in Jessica’s rooms.
The younger woman had changed into a dressing gown, but she appeared more stimulated than fatigued.
“Do you have a headache?” the dowager asked.
Jessica touched her injured crown tenderly. “Only a little one.”
“I am certain Devlin will offer recompense for his wretched behavior.”
“He has already
apologized.”
The dowager studied her. “He seemed uncertain about whether you were alert enough to be aware of his apology.”
Jessica stared at the small blaze brightening the room and wondered again at the strange sensations she experienced as she had revived that morning in Devlin’s arms. Had he touched her as intimately as she thought, or had that been a beautiful dream?
She had never allowed any man to caress her as she imagined he had, and she had been shocked by her own responses, whether it was real or a dream. Instead of being offended, as would have been proper, she had felt exhilarated. When he withdrew his hand from her breast, she groaned with disappointment. She had wanted him to continue touching her.
A sharp rap at the door startled both women. Jessica hurried to answer, opening to Devlin. He stood there, still in his clothes, his hair mussed as if he had run his hands through it, repeatedly. She hoped neither he nor the dowager would notice how she flushed. If so, maybe they would attribute it to sitting near the fire.
“Is my mother here?” he asked brusquely.
“Yes. Come join us.” Jessica felt a leap of pleasure when he reached for her shoulder before she realized he only required guidance. As was their habit, she turned her back, presenting the shoulder for his hand so she could lead him to a place by the fire.
“I’ll stand,” he said, aware of the hearth and sliding his hand from her shoulder to the mantle. She chastised herself for her silly sense of abandonment.
Away from him, Jessica tried to regard him critically. Tall and solidly built, he was too handsome by half; too haughty, likely spoiled by his station in life and by women, too. Adoring females included his mother who expressed unmitigated pride in this son. Jessica continued evaluating as his mother filled the silence.
“I was just asking Jessica how she felt. I assured her you would make recompense for the mishap this morning.”
Seeing the look of chagrin on his marvelous face, Jessica burst from her reverie to laugh lightly. “How is he to atone for my abasement, Your Grace?” She threw a lazy glance his way only to see his expression darken at her choice of words. Surely he did not think he had done her any real injury. She needed to heighten the jest to show him she bore him no malice. She giggled, a sound she hoped he would interpret as lightheartedness. “Shall we fit him with a collar and a leash and allow me to lead him about for a time?” Jessica punctuated her taunt with another laugh. “A little subservience might benefit the man.”