He also seemed to be developing a bond with Jake, who still worshipped him. Will never made Jake feel left out or awkward or different. Very few people were capable of those feats with the young boy.
By the time they arrived in Prescot on the third day, and the carriages pulled up to the house—a box-shaped white structure—late in the morning, Meg was softening toward Will. She had never been one to hang on to anger and bitterness. What was the point when neither of them could change the past?
In any case, it was the Will of today who mattered, not the Will of eight years ago. And she had no reason to believe that the Will of today would repeat such a mistake—in fact, all of his actions since he’d found her led to the opposite conclusion.
“We’re here!” Meg told the boys, both of whom had been looking glumly out the window for the past hour and a half after Will had told them that if they didn’t stop saying, “Are we there yet?” they’d be sent to bed tonight without any dinner—or any of the candy sticks he’d bought for them in Prescot.
“Finally,” Thomas groaned.
“Candy!” Jake exclaimed.
Meg and Will exchanged a smile. The coachman opened the door and pulled the step, and the boys scrambled out, leaving Will to help Meg step down.
The house was very small and pretty, with trimmed yew box hedges lining the path to the front door.
Benson, their man-of-all-work, had the keys, and he opened the doors for them. The place wasn’t as cold and musty as one might expect of a vacant house. Instead the air smelled fresh, the furniture appeared recently brushed and cleaned, and the floors sparkled.
Will watched her looking it over and grinned. “Harper told me he’d sent word ahead and ordered the place cleaned for us.”
“They did a lovely job,” Meg murmured. Between the spotlessness of the house and the group of servants filing in behind them carrying their luggage, how on earth would she keep herself occupied in this place?
The boys had already run upstairs, and Meg lifted her skirts and hurried after them, Will following closely behind. Jake appeared at the landing above her. He pointed to his left. “Thomas and I sleep there.” He swung his pointing finger to his right. “And you and Captain Will sleep there.”
“Ah”—Meg quickly assessed the two doorways at the top of the stairs—“No, I don’t think so. I’ll sleep with you, and Thomas will sleep with Captain Langley.” Reaching the landing, she maneuvered Jake toward the smaller of the two bedchambers, ignoring the buzz that seemed to vibrate through her body in response to the boy’s innocent suggestion.
Jake pouted. “I want to sleep with Thomas.”
“I know, darling, but it’s just not going to work. Perhaps when we return to London.” Whenever that might be.
She looked over her shoulder at Will. “But where will the servants sleep?” she whispered.
“There’s a loft in the stable for the men, and there’s an area off the kitchen where there’s a pallet for the women.”
“Is that enough space?”
“It’ll have to be.”
Meg sighed. Clearly this house had not been built with the expectation of housing four servants.
They spent the next few hours settling in—unpacking their luggage while stowing away the fragile items around the house that two active young boys might break. Two servants were sent into Prescot to buy enough food from the inn there to sustain them until the next market day—which they discovered was the day after tomorrow.
They’d eaten dinner by eight o’clock, and in an effort that was met with much celebration, Will had successfully pulled Jake’s loose tooth with a string one of the servants found in the stable. When they had the boys settled in their respective rooms and the servants had disappeared for the evening, an exhausted Meg and Will sat on the velvet sofa in the small parlor together, sharing a bottle of wine.
Meg glanced at Will. “Would you mind very much if—” She hesitated, then sighed.
“If…?” He took a sip of his wine, his dark eyes meeting her gaze over the rim of his glass. “I can’t readily think of you doing anything I’d mind, Meg.”
“Oh, goodness, you must be sotted. I can think of several things.”
“Such as?”
“Falling overboard in the Atlantic, for one.”
He sobered. “Yes.” He reached across the small space separating them and gathered her hand in his own. “I’d mind that very much.”
She gave him a faltering smile. “My feet… they hurt terribly. Would you mind if I took off my shoes? Just for a moment,” she added hastily, not knowing how to interpret the serious set of his mouth.
“Why would I mind that?”
“I… don’t know.” She looked toward the fireplace—a simple brick hearth. The fire burned with an orange glow, emitting a lovely heat that washed over her body. “Caversham… he would become enraged if I ever behaved as anything but a perfect lady in his presence. He threatened to toss me overboard and find a real lady to properly teach his wife.”
A breath hissed through Will’s teeth. “I’m not Caversham.”
She met and held his dark eyes in her gaze. “When I last knew you, I don’t believe I behaved as anything but a perfect lady.”
“You didn’t… Well, except…”
She tore her gaze from his. “Right.” Stupid of her to forget that.
“Take off your shoes, Meg.”
Feeling awkward, she did as he said. Sitting in the carriage all day had made her feet swell a little, and her shoes had been pinching her feet during all the running up and down the stairs this afternoon. She couldn’t resist a groan of pleasure as she curled her toes and they gave a few appreciative—but very unladylike—cracks.
Will leaned down and gathered one of her feet in his hands, pulling it up to his lap.
“What are you doing?”
“Relax,” he murmured, and then he began to rub her aching feet. Meg could do nothing but make little moans of appreciation when he pressed the worst of the aches away.
“Oh, that feels so good.”
He rubbed one stockinged foot for several minutes and then kissed her toes and gently lowered it and retrieved her other foot, beginning the process all over again.
“Thank you, Meg,” he said, his voice so quiet she hardly heard over the crackle of the fire.
“For what?”
“For being kind to Thomas. Most women in your position… wouldn’t.”
“Thomas is a lovely child,” she said truthfully. “He’s becoming a good friend to Jake.”
Still rubbing her feet, he looked up to gaze at her, his face infused with the softest expression she’d ever seen. She relaxed back into the sofa, her eyes half-lidded.
“Better?” he murmured, focusing on his task again.
“Infinitely.”
“You’re tired.”
“Yes.”
He continued his blissful rubbing in silence for several more minutes. She was half-asleep when she felt him lowering her foot and then scooping her into his arms. She clung to his neck as he carried her upstairs, where he gently deposited her into bed beside Jake.
He smoothed back her hair, tucked the covers up around her, and kissed her on the mouth. His lips were so soft and warm, like the most comforting blanket. “Sleep well, my love.”
She didn’t remember him leaving the room, because by the time he reached the door, she was already asleep.
Jessica tore open the seal and let her poached egg grow cold on the table while she read the letter. Finally, she looked up, grinning. “They have safely arrived at their destination,” she told Serena and Beatrice, mindful of not giving away Meg’s exact location with the footmen hovering about.
Serena pushed out a relieved breath. “Thank the Lord. Now to keep them safe.”
“Exactly.”
“How is the house?” Beatrice asked. She’d spent a short amount of time in the same house with Jessica just last year. “Have they settled in well?”
&n
bsp; Jessica nodded. “Very well, but she’s afraid the boys will cause damage, and she thinks Sebastian might be angry.”
“Oh, goodness. Sebastian has a child of his own. He understands how curious little ones can be,” Serena said.
Jessica snorted. If you asked her brother-in-law about his own daughter, little Margie, he’d say she was the most intelligent, talented child in the world. More like the most spoiled, Jessica thought wryly, and more than capable of expensive destruction. In fact, just before they’d all left Sussex this spring, Margie had destroyed a vase that a friend of Jonathan’s father had excavated in Egypt. Sebastian had just shrugged and cooed at her. Good thing the rest of her family was so tolerant, Jessica thought. Still, after that, Serena had stowed away most of the more expensive relics in the earl’s house.
Serena set her toast down and leaned forward across the breakfast table. “Listen, both of you. I think the Marquis of Millbridge, and maybe some other people, will be sniffing around us, asking about Meg.”
“Meg?” Jessica cocked her head. “You mean my sister, the Countess of Stratford? She’s very well, thank you.” She grinned.
“Oh,” Beatrice added, “Meg is my bosom friend’s older sister. She’s married to the Earl of Stratford.”
“Right. I’m Meg. We have no knowledge of any other Meg.”
“Although our sister Serena, Meg’s twin,” Jessica said, putting on a sad voice, “was lost at sea when I was a little girl.”
Serena nodded. “We can’t let them know anything. I’ll remind the servants again this afternoon. No matter how they try to trick us into revealing that Meg is here, we cannot allow anyone outside of our family to know.”
“Except Mr. Briggs,” Jessica said. The ever-so annoying—and annoyingly fascinating—Mr. Briggs.
“Right. Except Mr. Briggs.”
After breakfast, Jessica and Serena went upstairs to change into their walking dresses. They planned to spend the afternoon shopping in Bond Street—Serena wanted a new pair of shoes and Jessica needed new evening gloves for the Season.
Beatrice cried off the shopping trip, as she usually preferred to stay at home. Today, she wanted to work in the kitchen with Cook—they were perfecting a new dessert that Beatrice planned to try on the family at dinner tonight.
When she knocked on her sister’s dressing room door, Serena emerged in her new spring dress—a bright coral-colored confection that made Jessica blink in surprise. “Oh, my goodness.”
Serena whirled, her voluminous skirts billowing. “Do you like it?”
“Of course I do. But truly, I think it’s more me than you. Don’t you?” Serena usually opted for more somber colors.
Serena shook her finger good-naturedly at Jessica. “Oh, no you don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“This is my dress. Order your own if you want one for yourself.”
“Well, I will,” Jessica said. It still seemed odd that Serena would tell her to order a brand-new, ridiculously expensive, utterly fashionable dress so flippantly. Jessica had to constantly remind herself that her brothers-in-law were a duke and an earl, and the Donovans would never suffer for lack of funds again.
She remembered the day Mother had slaughtered their last sheep, remembered how quickly the mutton had disappeared between four hungry sisters. Mother hadn’t eaten any of it—it was right before Serena and Phoebe had left for England, and Mother had wanted them to look healthy and presentable to the ton.
Jessica would never eat mutton again.
“Well, you needn’t have such a sour look on your face,” Serena said crossly. “I was just saying that you’ve no need to pine after my dress.”
Jessica closed her eyes, then looked at her oldest sister. “I was just remembering the sheep. The last of the sheep,” she said with emphasis.
Some of the color drained from Serena’s pink cheeks. Of all of them, she had been most attached to the sheep—especially the lambs. “Ah,” she murmured. Then she gave Jessica a curious look. “Why?”
“It’s just…” Jessica shrugged. “Well, things are so different now.”
“Yes, they are quite different.”
Just then, one of the maids appeared, running down the corridor from the direction of the stairs. “Oh, my lady, oh, Miss Jessica. There’s three constables downstairs talking with his lordship. They’re going to search the house for Miss Meg!”
“What?” Jessica exclaimed. Serena was already hurrying down the corridor, and Jessica rushed after her, followed by Beatrice, who must’ve heard the commotion. In the entry hall, Jonathan was facing three uniformed men.
“What are you talking about?” he snapped at the men.
The one standing in the middle, a hairy, massive man with a thick black beard, held out two sheets of paper. “We’ve a search warrant and an arrest warrant here, sir, issued by the Privy Council, for the arrest of Miss Margaret Donovan.”
“I am Margaret Donovan.” Serena stepped forward with Jessica at her shoulder. Jonathan threw her a dark look of warning, but she continued. “At least I used to be Margaret Donovan. I am now the Countess of Stratford. What is this about?”
“Good morning, ma’am, miss.” The constable gave Serena and Jessica a curt nod. “We were told this might be a problem. Apparently, there are two Margaret Donovans who look very much alike, one of whom is a newcomer to London and the other who married Lord Stratford. You’re twins, I believe?”
Now Serena’s face flushed red. “My twin sister drowned eight years ago, and her name was Serena, not Meg.”
“Apparently, she has been using your name as an alias,” the man said.
“That’s absurd!” Serena snapped.
Beatrice slipped her hand into Jessica’s and squeezed tight. Jessica glanced over at her friend, who stared at the men with an expression on her face that was utterly blank. Jessica nearly smiled—Beatrice had been so weak and so vulnerable for so long. Watching her show backbone like this was a welcome, wonderful sight.
Jonathan held out his hand, preventing the men from moving forward. “You’re upsetting my wife, sir. I must ask you to leave.”
The bear-like man shrugged, undaunted. “We will search this property, per our orders. If Margaret Donovan is not here, then we’ll go on our way.”
“I am—was—Margaret Donovan!” Serena exclaimed. Jessica, standing just behind her, laid a calming hand on her shoulder.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mr. Bear-man said. “You are the countess. We’re searching for a woman who looks like you and has attempted to steal your identity. Your twin. There is some speculation that you have been hiding her here.”
“What utter nonsense,” Serena spat.
“What crime is this alleged woman charged with?” Jonathan asked.
“Kidnapping,” Mr. Bear said.
Jessica sucked in a harsh breath before she could stop herself. Despite what Jessica had told him that night at the ball, something had caused the Marquis of Millbridge to suspect that Meg was here. If they found her… they’d arrest her. Prosecute her for kidnapping Jake. Hang her.
Thank the Lord she and Captain Langley had left for Lancashire a week early.
Jonathan turned to Serena. “We have nothing to hide here. Let them perform their search and be on their way.”
Looking numb, Serena nodded. They stepped aside, and Mr. Bear-man gave instructions to the other two men. Jessica, Serena, Beatrice, and Jonathan stood in a tight cluster in the entry hall as the three men went in separate directions. None of the residents spoke. What could they say, after all, that wouldn’t reveal they knew about Meg?
They stood there for several minutes, a span of time that felt like hours to Jessica. Dimly, she heard the men in the house questioning servants, who she prayed would hang on to their loyalty even when faced by the intimidating Mr. Bear-man.
They must have, because when Mr. Bear-man and the two smaller constables returned to the entry hall much later, he tipped his hat to them.
“I ass
ume you found nothing,” Jonathan said dryly.
“Indeed, sir. We will continue our search for the woman elsewhere. Thank you for your cooperation.” With that, he and his two constables left the house, leaving Serena, Jonathan, Beatrice, and Jessica staring at each other.
As soon as the front door closed behind them, Jessica’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God,” she whispered, “what if they find Meg?”
Jonathan released a breath. “I’d send Langley a letter, but I think we’re being watched. I’ll have Briggs find a way to send him a message. He will need to take her somewhere else. Somewhere safer.”
“Who did this?” Serena whispered.
“It must have been the Marquis of Millbridge, if the Privy Council issued the warrant. Something must have tipped him off that Meg was here.”
“We know he’s been having the members of our household questioned,” Serena said darkly. “Maybe he just received one too many awkward responses.”
“I responded awkwardly,” Jessica said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not your fault,” Jonathan said. “He’s just outsmarted us.”
They’ll find her,” Jessica whispered. “And kidnapping is a hanging offense, isn’t it? They’ll hang her.”
“No,” Jonathan said firmly. “They will not. We will gather evidence on Caversham, and even if they do find Meg, she’ll be able to prove that she took Jake away to protect him.”
“But you haven’t found any evidence yet, have you?” Jessica pressed.
“Not enough yet. But we will.” Jonathan sighed. “Jessica, I promise you, Langley and I aren’t going to allow anything to happen to your sister.”
Langley and I. What about her? Jessica was Meg’s sister. She should have a hand in keeping her safe.
“Now, we should all go about our day as we originally planned. You must go shopping. Above all, we can’t draw attention to this family right now.”
Pleasures of a Tempted Lady Page 16