by Jill Gregory
The sizzling tension left with her, but an atmosphere of stunned horror remained. Miss Perry threw Josie an anguished glance before scurrying after her charge. And before Josie could think of a way to apologize for her behavior, Lady Tattersall, too, rose to her feet, nearly dropping her fan in her haste.
“I must be going, my dear. So sorry... will see you in London no doubt... going to town at the end of the week... good day to you.”
She was gone before Josie could even nod. Josie sank dazedly down upon the sofa.
What have I done? Dear heaven, what have I done?
The answer was all too obvious. She’d ruined everything. Everything. Losing her temper, speaking to Miss Crenshaw that way, shocking everyone...
Miss Crenshaw would no doubt rush back to London and tell everyone that the Earl of Stonecliff’s bride was an ill-mannered witch, not a lady at all. And when Lady Tattersall arrived, she would have to confirm it.
Pressing her hands to her cheeks, Josie remembered what Winthrop had hinted at yesterday. That Ethan would have difficulty being accepted and received in society because of what had happened in the past. And now his “wife,” the one who was supposed to convince all of London, and in particular Mr. Grismore, that she was a lady, and help pave the way for his return, had demonstrated clearly that she was not a lady, but a shrew.
But Miss Crenshaw deserved it, she thought in despair.
Yet she knew that didn’t change what she’d done. Everything was spoiled. Mr. Latherby had made it clear that a lady never displayed her temper or spoke rudely under any circumstances. And Miss Crenshaw’s rudeness would not matter—she wasn’t the one with something to prove.
Josie jumped up to stare sightlessly around the pretty, airy room. Mr. Grismore will hear of it, she realized, and felt sick to her stomach. He’ll decide that you’re not what Ethan’s father would consider a lady, and Ethan will lose Stonecliff Park, and all his money and everything that ought to be his.
She cried out in frustration, unable to bear the scenario unraveling before her mind’s eye.
With a choked cry she raced across the drawing room, threw open the French doors, and rushed out into the gardens.
She needed to run, to flee the oppressive thoughts circling through her brain. Golden sun beat down upon her shoulders and her heavy brown curls as she bolted past the hedges and rose gardens, the neat formal borders and gushing fountains, and gained the stretch of flowing emerald lawn.
Her heart pounding, she kept on. She flew past chestnut trees and orchards, past stands of silver birch and pines, across a meadow that sloped toward the pond, where water lilies floated. At last her breath began to burst through her lungs in painful gasps, catching in her throat. Her steps slowed and she struggled to ease the aching in her sides.
She found herself in a fragrant green clearing that might have been an enchanted spot from a storybook, and slowed to a walk. But though she longed to throw herself down upon the grass and weep, she couldn’t seem to stop moving. Driven, though more slowly now, she came out suddenly through a grove of trees and saw a stream glinting blue and silver in the sun, and a man fishing from the velvet bank that curved alongside it.
In surprise, she stopped dead and stared at him.
He lifted a hand. “Morning, my lady.”
“Good morning.”
She studied him as she approached. He wore old clothes, somewhat baggy and shabby in appearance, but his face with its gray whiskers was scrubbed clean. It was a ruddy, pleasant face, and there was a friendly twinkle in his brown eyes that reminded her a bit of Pop Watson and the way he would wink at her when Miz Dunner was being especially grumpy and particular about chores.
“So you’re the Countess,” the man said, and she realized that despite his smiles and twinkles, he was appraising her as carefully as she was appraising him.
“For the time being.” Immediately Josie wished she could stuff the words back into her mouth. “I mean—oh, damn it—I mean—my gracious, I’m not myself today. You must forgive me, Mister...”
“You can just call me Ham, my lady. And there’s no need to apologize. Knowing Ethan as I do, I’ve seen how the lad can addle anyone’s brains, even a fine and sensible lady like yourself.”
“You know Ethan?”
“Aye, as well as I know this land all the way from the park and the lane to the bracken at its farthest boundary. I once was the earl’s head groom, back in the days when your Ethan was a boy.”
“I see.” Josie settled down upon a fallen log and pushed her hair out of her eyes. The chignon had come loose during her wild run, and half the pins must have scattered across the lawns and gardens. She plucked the few remaining ones from the coil and let it all spill down, knowing she must look a scraggly sight, but too hot, tired, and curious about Ham to care. “You don’t work at Stonecliff Park anymore?”
“No, my lady. I’ve a small farm on the outskirts, not far from here. Took it over from one of the old earl’s tenants with wages I saved up over the years. You see, I quit my position at Stonecliff Park the night young Ethan left London. I left too and found me a job on the London docks. Didn’t fancy working for the earl anymore after that night.”
“What in the world happened that night?” Josie cried, gazing at him with mingled frustration and fascination. She felt the hot color filling her cheeks. How pathetic to be questioning a former servant this way, but she had to know. Everyone else in England seemed to know!
“Have you asked the boy?”
“Yon mean Ethan? No, I can’t.”
“And why is that?”
“Because he won’t answer me. At least, I don’t think he will. And besides, I don’t want to hurt him,” she said slowly, knowing that this was the true reason. “Whatever happened between him and his father—and his brother, too—was painful to him. Deeply painful. And I’m afraid that bringing it all up again will only hurt him, remind him....”
“Ah, so you care about him, lass.”
Though softly spoken, the words were a statement, not a question. Ham’s eyes were fixed upon her with rapt attention.
“Don’t tell him that or he’ll bite your head off,” she muttered, and again was immediately horrified by her own careless honesty.
“I mean, of course I do. He’s my husband and—”
“It’s all right, lass.” The groom chuckled. “I know all about the circumstances. Ethan told me himself. I know why he married you, and why you married him.”
She went very still. “He told you—about Abilene?” she asked with a jolt of shock.
Calmly, he nodded.
So he knew. Knew she was a thief, a dance hall girl, a nobody. Josie plucked a handful of grass and crushed the blades between her fingers.
“Who are you?” she asked again. “Not your name, but who? Who are you for him to trust you so much? It seems to me that he trusts few people, and confides in even fewer.”
“Aye, that’s Ethan.” A small grin twisted Ham’s mouth and he nodded approvingly at her, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I’ve known him since he was a wee lad. Abandoned him they did, that father of his, and his own brother, Master Hugh. Paid him almost no heed at all—too busy they were, to bother with a child. He took to following me about, and you might say, my lady, that we became like family. I was most likely the closest thing to family he’s ever known.”
She heard pity and sorrow in his tone. And remembered what he’d said: he’d left Stonecliff Park the night Ethan had quarreled with his father and fled London.
“You care for him, too, Ham?” There was hope in her tone. “I’m glad. So glad.” Josie scrambled to her feet, tossing down the fistful of crushed grass. “I’m glad that back then—and now—he has someone around him who cares.”
“And what about you, my lady? He has you now, doesn’t he? And you care.”
“Yes, I care,” she said tremblingly. “But...”
She hesitated, then surged on. The man knew the situation, after
all. There was no reason to hold back. “I’ve done something terrible. Something awful. I’ve ruined our plan. You know about the plan?”
He nodded, and set his fishing pole down upon the bank. “Aye, that I do.”
“Well, it’s going to fail now. I’ve done something... said something—” She broke off, despair rushing through her again, filling her with a hopeless sorrow that blocked the words.
Ham stared at the willowy beauty whose glorious violet eyes shimmered with tears. “Tell me, lass,” he urged gently.
And then from behind her came a voice that scraped through the clearing like rock across glass.
“Tell me, too, angel.” Ethan glowered from beneath a tree, his mouth curled mockingly. Despite the sunlight slanting through the clearing, touching her with its golden warmth, Josie was chilled by the icy silver of his eyes.
Before she could move, he strode forward, tall and handsome in his riding clothes, his gait long and smooth and quick as a cougar’s.
“What has my contrary little bride done now?”
Fifteen
Ham broke the long, thin silence. “Aha. Seems to me I’d best be going.”
He picked up the fishing pole and sent Ethan a glance from between furrowed brows.
“Now, lad, whatever trouble there is—”
“I will deal with it.” Ethan’s cold gaze stayed on Josie’s face.
“Well... easy, lad. I taught you that oftentimes wild things need gentling, remember that?” When Ethan didn’t answer, the groom moved off with a quick, bracing nod at Josie. His footsteps rustled in the grass and faded away when he disappeared beyond a thicket of bracken.
Wild thing. That’s exactly what she looked like, Ethan thought, tension twisting through him as he studied the beauty facing him. Gold glimmered in her hair as it streamed in a frenzied cascade around her shoulders, and he longed to touch it, to bury his face in it. She looked half angel, half hellion standing there, slender as a reed, with her eyes glowing defiantly at him. Their color would put the finest sapphires to shame, but it wasn’t only their brilliance that drew him—it was the depths of emotion that shone within. Much as she tried to hide it, they mirrored her thoughts—thoughts that were troubled right now. Troubled and guilty—and worried.
She looked very nearly as distressed as she had back in that Abilene alley, when he’d taken pity on her and let her go. When she’d thanked him by picking his pocket for the second time in a day, he reminded himself.
Don’t be fooled by her again. It was far too easy to be taken in by such large, anxious eyes and trembling lips.
“ ’Fess up. What’s happened?”
“You won’t like it.”
She forced herself to stand perfectly still as he studied her on that lovely green bank with the stream gurgling at her back.
A part of her wished she could lie to him and escape his anger with a clever, believable story—she’d learned to do that while growing up, and though it went against her forthright nature, it had been partly responsible for her survival. Yet even as the temptation flitted through her mind, she knew it would only delay things. Ethan would find out the truth of her blunders soon enough.
Though he didn’t touch her, she felt trapped. They were alone but for the drenching sunshine, the twitter of birds. Stonecliff Park, the house, stables, servants, were a long way off, and here there were only ancient trees, quiet, the sweep of land and wild flowers. And Ethan Savage, handsome as sin.
“If it’s that bad, you’d better get it over with.”
“You’ll be angry.” Her eyes flashed. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but she had it coming. Only now all of London will know that I’m far from being a perfect, mushmouthed, prim and proper lady.”
“You’re stalling, my love.”
He said the words lightly, coolly, but the sound of them on his lips brought heat flooding to her cheeks. He’s mocking you. My love. It’s a turn of phrase, she told herself and she tilted her head up to meet his eyes. Keen and hawklike, they regarded her from beneath those dark slanting brows, seeming to pierce right through her. Some unseen force grabbed her by the throat and squeezed tight, making breathing difficult. Why did this always happen when he was near?
Tell him and be done with it! “I insulted Rosamund Crenshaw.”
To her surprise, his face relaxed and he looked amused. “That’s all? I reckon she deserved it.”
Josie nearly smiled. He only reverted to his western style of talking when he was alone with her. Somehow it made her feel closer to him. He had become very much the Englishman of late—dark, dashing, aristocratic. Except, of course, when he’d thrashed Oliver Winthrop—and Lucian and Pirate Pete and Tiny. Those were the gunfighter’s fists in action.
She found herself grinning up at him.
“As a matter of fact, she did. If you’d only seen how badly she treated Miss Perry. Ordering her about, threatening to tell her mama that Miss Perry had paid more attention to Colonel Hamring and to me than she had to her, flinging it in Miss Perry’s face that the only reason she had a home, and clothes on her back, and food was because of her mama’s generosity.” The words were tripping over themselves. “I know what it’s like to be beholden to other people—to have them rub your face in the fact that without them you’d be nothing and to make you feel as if—” She suddenly fell silent, turning away.
Ethan put a hand on her shoulder and swung her back, “Is that what they told you when you were taken in, Josie? That you were nothing?”
“Some of them tried.” She kept her tone light. “But it didn’t bother me,” she added quickly, a bit too breezily. “I just did what I had to do to stay out of trouble and then if it got too bad, I’d run away.”
“And do what?”
“What difference does it make?” She tried to shrug away, but he gripped both her shoulders and held her still. “What’s important is what happened today with Miss Crenshaw.”
“No. Tell me what you did after you ran away.”
She swallowed. His fingers were digging into her shoulders. His gaze was digging into her soul. She struggled to keep him out. “I found various jobs, in between ending up at another orphanage. Usually cooking. I’m good at cooking,” she said, her chin angling up. “You ought to taste my corn bread. That’s what I did in Abilene, you know. I only filled in at the dance hall when someone was sick—most of the time I worked in the kitchen and...”
“And you picked pockets.”
“Only when I really needed money to get by. I’m not proud of it!” she cried defiantly, trying to twist away from him, but failing. “I only stole from people who looked like they could afford to spare some money—like you. You’d just won the big poker game and I’d given my last dime to a girl who needed to get away from Judd Stickley, but I needed to get out of town, too, and fast.”
“I know. That man who was after you. My question is why?”
She gritted her teeth. His hands were heavy on her shoulders, wearing away at her will, grinding down her resistance. “What makes you so interested suddenly?” she demanded, glaring at him from beneath a sweep of tawny lashes.
His eyes bored into hers. He couldn’t tell her that he’d been interested, been curious for a while now, but had been fighting it—unsuccessfully. Now he needed to know.
“Just answer the question.”
Behind her the wind sighed through the trees. Josie was gazing into Ethan’s eyes, searching his lean, dark face. She was unsure what she searched for. Beneath the rugged masculine features, the cynicism and cool veneer, she glimpsed something more. Something keen and demanding. Something intense that belied the outward calm.
She felt something pulling her to tell him. His will. Strong, dominant, but... gentle. It was the sudden gentleness in the fingers that clasped her shoulders that was her undoing.
“That man who was after me—he was an outlaw. His name is Snake Barker.” The words, held in for so long, just poured out and kept coming. “He and his gang—they�
��d have killed me if they caught me. They’d been hunting me for weeks.” Just saying Snake’s name had triggered a spasm of fear in her stomach, but it faded as she continued to stare into Ethan’s eyes.
They were even darker, more intense than before. They burned into her, hot as ice.
“Why?”
“I stole from him. It was loot—money and things he’d stolen from others. I did it to get away and...”
She hesitated.
“Go on.”
It came out in a rush. “And for revenge. Snake beat me one night, he beat me senseless. He finally passed out from all the liquor he’d drunk, and I woke up on the floor.” The horror of it returned, flashing through her with a wave of nausea, of sick, shaking fear that shuddered through her whispered words. It rocked her so deeply, she didn’t even feel the lash of tension that coiled like a whip through Ethan’s body, didn’t even see the cold, deadly fury clamp over his features.
“I felt like every bone in my body was broken—but lucky for me, they weren’t. I crawled past him, to the door, then I managed to get up. Everything hurt. I ran... I took the saddlebags filled with loot, a horse....”
The lovely grassy streambank faded, the blue dazzle of the English sky, the grandeur of the great house that rose beyond the trees. She was back in that hideout cabin again, the stench of liquor and Snake’s sweat and her own blood filling her nostrils. And the pain blurring her eyes.
“I rode as far as I could... stayed a short time only in each town... knew he was coming after me, there’d be no stopping him the next time. He’d kill me. He wouldn’t stop until I was dead. I crossed him, you see, when I took what was his—I crossed him bad... but I’m not sorry I did, I needed to get back at him for what he’d done. And I needed money, and I needed that—”
She broke off in horror, coming to her senses just in time. She’d been about to say “needed that ring that belonged to Miss Denby....”
What spell had Ethan Savage cast on her? She’d told him too much and what was worse, he’d brought her to tears. Hot, stinging tears had welled up in her eyes, and it took all of her strength to blink them back.