by Jill Gregory
An inheritance that began to appear overwhelmingly impressive. Not only was there the country estate, with all its accompanying gardens and grounds, the carriages, horses, furnishings, and retinue of servants, but Ethan’s house in Mayfair proved every bit as lovely in its own way as Stonecliff Park. It boasted three drawing rooms, a music room, a ballroom, a dining room where twenty guests could be comfortably seated, and eight bedrooms, including a suite much like the one she and Ethan shared in the country—separate rooms linked by a sitting room, and a private door between.
He hadn’t tried to avail himself of that door, not once the entire week they’d been in London. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again. He’d been like a stranger during all of these days, speaking to her only when it was necessary, leaving her side as soon as he saw that she was able to manage the company in which she found herself. And spending considerable time at his club, coming home when she was already in bed, and though she was wide-awake, she never heard his step come anywhere near her door.
They hadn’t spoken anything but trivial niceties to each other in all this time.
Which was just as well, she told herself as the footman handed her down from the carriage in front of Stonecliff House. If she was to have a prayer of keeping this arrangement with Ethan on a proper businesslike footing, and of saving her heart from being broken when the six months was up and Ethan sent her packing, she would need to keep as much distance as possible between them.
His attitude toward her had altered dramatically, Josie reflected as she mounted the steps, a package tucked under one arm—the new silk gloves she’d just purchased to wear to Lady Cartwright’s dinner party tonight folded snugly inside. Ethan treated her with chilly politeness when they were alone—and with heart-stopping warmth and attentiveness when they were out in society. It was all Josie could do when she looked into his frankly admiring gaze or danced with his arm tight around her waist, to remember that it was all a game, a pretense. All for the purpose of inheriting his title and lands, and Stonecliff Park, which would no more be a part of her life in a few months than Ethan would.
She was about to enter the town house when a flash of movement caught her eye, and she turned to see Miss Perry hastening across the street toward her. There was a bright smile on her face, and she gave a little cheerful wave as she quickened her step, but so intent was she on reaching Josie that she failed to notice the carriage suddenly swerving down the street, bearing down right upon her.
“Miss Perry, look out!” Josie screamed, and in a flash dived off the steps. Startled, Clara Perry froze on the spot, which put her exactly in the path of the horses. She turned her head and shrieked in horror as she saw what was about to befall her.
Josie leapt at her and pushed her from beneath the beasts’ plunging hooves at the last moment. Amid the sounds of the horses’ terrified whinnying and the curses of the frightened driver, they tumbled to the ground.
A moment later Ethan’s white-faced footman reached them. Sweat poured down his face as he helped Josie to her feet.
“My lady, are you hurt?”
“N-no, John. I’m fine.” Breathless, Josie knelt beside the auburn-haired woman. “Miss Perry, are you all right?”
“My goodness, Lady Stonecliff.” Miss Perry’s gown was torn at the hem and there was soot on her face, but she gained her feet steadily enough with the aid of Josie and the footman. “Why, you saved my life!”
“Oh, no, Miss Perry. Of course I didn’t. I only—”
“Don’t argue, Josie.” Ethan’s voice, coming from behind her, made her spin around in shock. Did the man always have to sneak up on her this way?
“Miss Perry is absolutely right. You did save her life—and nearly lost your own!”
He was pale. She’d never seen him look so shaken. With rough strength he grasped her arm.
“I saw everything. Happened to be glancing out my window—” He broke off abruptly, glaring down at her through fierce gray eyes that might have been made of smoldering coal. “And that was the most idiotic—and most courageous—thing I ever saw.”
“It wasn’t courageous. I didn’t even think... it all happened so fast.”
“You might have been killed, you little fool!”
“But I wasn’t. And neither was Miss Perry,” she pointed out a bit smugly.
He gave her a long, incredulous look, then his fingers tightened on her arm as the footman stooped to retrieve the fallen package. “I believe some refreshment is in order, ladies,” he grated out. “To celebrate your narrow escape.” With a grim nod to the still trembling Miss Perry, Ethan led Josie firmly toward the house.
“You’re angry... but I had no choice!” Josie turned to him swiftly as they preceded the others into the hall. “I had to do something....”
“I’m not angry. But if you’d been hurt...” He drew in his breath. “I’d be a hell of a lot more than that,” he muttered, almost inaudibly.
Her eyes widened at this: for a moment it sounded like an open admission that he cared about her—but then she realized how stupid it was to think that—and she understood exactly what he meant. Of course he’d be upset if she was hurt—or killed. It would hamper his precious charade.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, her whole body taut as Miss Perry reached the hall. “Don’t worry—your plan hasn’t been endangered.”
Ethan wheeled on her so abruptly, she took a step backward, but he said nothing, though there was a hard, bitter tension in his face that she didn’t understand. They were both conscious of Miss Perry coming to a halt behind them.
“Oh, dear, I’ve come at an inopportune time—I’m so sorry. Perhaps I should return another afternoon.”
“No.” The smile Josie flashed was brilliant as she spun away from Ethan to take the woman’s arm. “I’m so very glad to see you—and without Miss Crenshaw,” she added shamelessly. “Come into the withdrawing room and have some tea.”
Ethan did not join them for tea, and a short while later Josie heard him go out. She tried to forget that fierce expression in his eyes right after the accident, tried not to wonder what it meant, and concentrated on centering her attention upon Miss Perry, who needed a bit of drawing out before she admitted, even obliquely, that things were quite bad with the Crenshaws.
“Don’t think I am not grateful to them, for I am, my lady,” she said earnestly, and took a quick, nervous sip of tea. “But it is... not always comfortable for me there—I daresay it is of my own doing,” she added hastily, and blushed, before rushing on to say, “How can I be so ungrateful? My relations are kindness itself. If not for them, I don’t know what would become of me—”
“You’d be a good deal happier,” Josie cut in promptly, then gave her a sheepish smile. “I know it’s unladylike of me to say that—and it must reinforce what Miss Crenshaw has already been saying about me ever since that day.”
“No one heeds her, my lady.” Miss Perry patted her hand and smiled. “Everyone I have encountered since returning to London—everyone who has met you, that is—is full of your praises. Most have concluded that Rosamund is simply jealous because you have married a handsome and titled man, while she is still... well, you know...”
“Yes, I know. She is still shopping for a husband—and heaven help the one she selects.” Josie grinned. Sometimes she could no more control her forthright tongue than she could stop breathing, and Miss Perry, though outwardly shocked, seemed beneath it all to be amused by her statements. Not for the first time, she began to suspect that beneath that very shy, pleasant exterior was a woman with a genuine sense of humor and a truly kind soul.
“Well, once again, I’m forgetting to be a lady.” She sighed and set her teacup down. “Forgive me, but sometimes it’s difficult to remember.”
“Oh, no.” Miss Perry set her cup on the small marble-topped table and studied Josie quietly. “In my opinion, you are always a very great lady.”
Josie gaped at her. Then she burst out laughing.
“I
t’s true, Lady Stonecliff. Oh, I know. These days, those who are most fashionable preach and prattle on about ladylike ways—and that is all well and good, but I remember some very great ladies who were never afraid to speak their minds, or to act upon their convictions. And you remind me of them—the ladies I looked up to when I was young, those of the finest birth, who often gave the most lavish parties, who led society and didn’t merely follow it. No, when it comes to heart and sensitivity and courage and wit, my dear, you are every inch a lady.”
When she’d finished this impassioned speech, Miss Perry looked quite as stunned as Josie did upon hearing it.
“My lady, f-forgive me. I never meant to speak so freely,” she stammered.
But Josie was touched. She’d rarely heard praise or kind words in her life, and that they came from someone as sweetly respectable as Miss Perry, overwhelmed her. She moved nearer to Miss Perry on the sofa and touched her hand.
“Thank you. I’m very grateful for that... and very thankful to have you as my friend.”
Glancing down then, she noticed the simple gold-and-pearl ring Clara Perry wore, and it occurred to her to wonder suddenly why Miss Perry had never married. Of course, even she knew better than to broach this most sensitive subject, but the other woman, noting her glance, and with a quick one at the loose gold band on Josie’s finger, spoke in response to her unasked question.
“No, my lady,” she said softly. “I never married. I was betrothed once, though—when I was a very young, very foolish woman.” Her voice broke a little, but she recovered it before Josie could think of anything to say.
“His family made him break it off, you see.”
“Oh, no!”
“It happens that way sometimes.” There was no bitterness in her tone, or in her gentle eyes, only a trace of sadness. “It was all hushed up. They felt I wasn’t good enough for him—he was a viscount, and my father only a country squire, and they wished a better connection, someone with a substantial fortune.”
As Josie made a sound of protest, Miss Perry shook her head. “No, no, it was all for the best. If he had loved me, you know, no amount of pressure could have forced him to break it off. And if he did not... then I am better off not being married to him... for I loved him too much to settle for anything less than that.”
Only the ticking of the mantel clock broke the cool silence of the room. “Yes, I feel the same way. Without love, marriage would be... torture,” Josie said softly.
“I always thought so.”
“And there was never anyone else?”
Miss Perry’s shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. She gave a wan smile. “No one offered. I suppose it was partly my own fault—I withdrew from society after that. I was young and foolish—and by the time I was ready to show my face again, everyone considered me to be upon the shelf.”
“What happened to the young man?” Angry at the unknown viscount, Josie watched Miss Perry’s face closely as she replied.
“Oh, he married an heiress and now there are three grown sons. Our paths crossed a few times over the years and I must say, the whispers were not too unbearable. We spoke civilly to one another—rather like strangers.”
“How awful.”
Miss Perry nodded, then seemed to brace herself, her shoulders straightening. “He died six years ago of some inflammation or other. So it is all in the past now. I have long since come to believe that it was simply not in my destiny to be married—to have my own home and family.”
She sounded so calm, so without bitterness, that Josie couldn’t help but gaze at her admiringly. She knew why she had liked Miss Perry so much, right from the first moment they met. Miss Perry not only had a generous heart, she was a survivor. She didn’t complain, she bore what she had to, and survived.
“I enjoy hearing about the past,” she said slowly, her mind shifting to another subject, and wondering how to broach it. “I would like to ask you... I hope you won’t think I’m prying, but...”
“Go ahead, my dear.”
“Do you know anything about my husband’s past? I gather it’s common knowledge except to me. He loved a girl named Molly once. Lady Tattersall told me a little about her, but we were interrupted before I learned what happened to her—or why Ethan quarreled with the old earl and left London.”
“Now that,” Miss Perry remarked softly, “was a tragic story.”
“You know it then.” Eagerly, Josie searched her face. “You know what became of Molly.”
“I know what most people know—what was guessed at, hinted at.” Miss Perry regarded her soberly. “That the shopgirl loved by the Earl of Stonecliff’s younger son died when she was run down by a carriage after leaving work one night—run down much as I almost was this afternoon, my lady. Only, according to rumor and gossip—that occasion was no accident, but deliberate.”
For a moment Josie could only stare at her. Then she found her voice, though it came out in a hoarse gasp. “Murder?”
“It could never be proved, of course.” Though there was no one else in the room and they couldn’t possibly be overheard, Miss Perry dropped her voice to little more than a whisper. “But everyone knew that the earl objected to his son’s involvement with the poor child, and the night Ethan Savage left England, he—”
She broke off, pursing her lips together in an agony of hesitation.
“Please tell me all of it,” Josie pleaded, her mind spinning with thoughts of Ethan, a younger, more vulnerable Ethan, in love... battling the will and wishes of his father.
“On that last night, Ethan burst into the ballroom of Lady Tattersall’s house—she was sponsoring the coming-out party of her niece—and before one and all, he...” She took a deep breath. “He accused his cousin Oliver Winthrop of carrying tales to his father, and he accused the old earl, his own father—and his brother, Hugh—of hiring scoundrels to murder that poor girl, to run her down and leave her dead in the street. And he threw Hugh across the room, quite shattering a good number of furnishings and valuables, and he told his father, before everyone who was assembled, that with Molly dead, he would never marry, he would leave London and never return... that if he ever saw his father or his brother again, he would...” Her voice dropped even lower, quivering. “He would tear them limb from limb.”
“My God.”
Josie stared down at her hands. Her heart was twisting inside her, twisting painfully like a rag being wrung out to dry. “He must have loved her so very much... so much... with all his heart.”
“He gave up everything because of what happened to her. London spoke of little else for months—though in whispers only, of course.” Miss Perry seemed to have forgotten all about the young countess as her memory drifted back to the gossip and rumors that had swirled through salons and theatres and dining rooms.
“I remember that the earl declared himself well rid of so wildly scandalous a son, and everyone agreed with him—but from that moment on, though I only watched from the corners, you know, and never spoke once to the earl in my life, or to Ethan Savage until his return—I secretly admired that wild, handsome boy for loving with his whole heart. One can’t help but admire it. Oh, dear,” she murmured suddenly, dismayed by the stricken expression on Lady Stonecliff’s face, and realizing in dismay how she had been carrying on most tactlessly about the Earl’s first love to his brand-new bride.
“But that was all in the past, you know—a very long time ago. He obviously loves you now with the same depth and intensity, Lady Stonecliff, or he never would have subjected himself to returning to England, to taking over the responsibilities left to him. A man like Ethan Savage wouldn’t have married for any reason other than love.” She smiled warmly and with encouragement, her words emphatic. “You are a very lucky woman, my dear. As I’m sure you well know.”
“Yes,” Josie murmured, pasting what she hoped was a tranquil smile on her face even as her heart was breaking. “I’m lucky indeed.”
She cast frantically about in her mind for another subjec
t. She didn’t trust herself to speak another word about Molly, or that night when Ethan had made clear to everyone just how much she’d meant to him.
Fortunately, at that moment, she remembered something else she hadn’t yet had the chance to ask Miss Perry.
“There’s a young lady who traveled in America recently,” she said, using the same words she’d voiced nearly a dozen times in the past week when broaching the subject at parties, the theatre, or while riding in Rotten Row. “And I would dearly like to find her again. Her name is Miss Alicia Denby.” She held her breath and watched Miss Perry’s face. “Do you know her?”
To her disappointment, the other woman shook her head. Just as all the others she’d asked had done. “No, I’m afraid not. But then I don’t know nearly as many people, my lady, as Rosamund or Lady Tattersall. Indeed, Lady Tattersall knows everyone! Have you asked her?”
“Not yet.” Trying to hide her disappointment, Josie explained. “She just arrived in London, and I haven’t seen her yet—not since that afternoon at Stonecliff Park. But I’ll ask her tonight at the Cartwright ball.”
“If anyone knows Miss Denby, it will be Lady Tattersall,” Miss Perry assured her, and rose to take her leave.
“You’ll be attending the ball tonight, Miss Perry?”
Within Miss Perry’s doll-like face, her rich brown eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes, the Crenshaws are all going, and I’ve been kindly included in their party. I understand that Colonel Hamring will be there, too. His first outing since his injury.” Miss Perry blushed. “He has been kind enough to call on me, to thank me for caring for him that night.”
“Has he?” Josie studied her intently, noting the high color rushing into her dainty cheeks.
“Well, that seems only right,” she pointed out. “Your concern and care for him that terrible night was admirable.”
“No, no, it was the Colonel’s actions that were admirable. He risked his life. I never saw anything as brave as what he and your dear husband did that night.”