When to Engage an Earl

by Sally MacKenzie

  She’d thought in the back of her mind that redecorating would banish Alex’s ghost, but it hadn’t. He was everywhere she turned—here, the kitchen, the sitting room. She couldn’t escape him.

  She led Cat back downstairs to show her the kitchen and the music room/study.

  Imogen corresponded with Diana and had gossiped a bit about Lord Evans when she and Jane weren’t comparing shades of yellow or discussing window treatments. She’d said Diana was worried about him, that he’d been morose about something since February. She’d given Jane a very speaking look at that, but Jane had just smiled and expressed sympathy—and tried to convince herself it was worry he might have to marry her that disturbed his peace.

  Though since Imogen had told her this in April, when Alex should have been leaping and capering about with joy that he was a free man, Jane had not been very successful in persuading herself.

  And then just last week Imogen told her Lord Evans had shocked his family by not going up to London for Bea’s come-out, which Jane agreed did seem very odd, Lord Evans being so close to his niece and so supportive. One would think he’d make a point to be on hand to smooth Bea’s way if he could.

  “You’ve done a wonderful job with the place,” Cat said as they finished the tour and returned to the sitting room.

  Jane laughed. “It was a lot of work, but I do think everything turned out well.”

  “Will you hold William?” Cat asked before Jane sat down. She gestured to a bag she’d brought. “I want to spread his quilt on the floor.”

  “I can spread the—”

  Too late. William was already heading Jane’s way.

  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll drop him?” she asked, as her arms closed round him. She held him close and watched Cat smooth out the brightly-colored cloth.

  “No. Holding babies isn’t hard once they can manage their own heads.” Cat smiled at Jane. “You held him when he was first born and did fine.”

  “Yes.” His little body was so soft and yet sturdy, too. And he smelled so sweet—at least for the moment.

  She looked at him a bit warily. He stared back at her and grinned—another big, toothless smile—and then began to suck on her dress. She was going to have a large wet spot, not that it mattered. None of her dresses were fragile and no one but Cat and William would see her.

  Apparently her dress didn’t satisfy him. He moved on to her neck, just as Diana’s baby Christopher had at Chanton Manor when she’d been sitting by the field with Alex. She’d been so nervous then—but Alex had calmed her fears. He was so good with children.

  Cat straightened and laughed. “It looks like Wills is hungry.” She checked her watch. “Right on schedule. The little devil eats every two hours, but at least he’s sleeping more at night.” She sat down and opened her dress very matter-of-factly. “There we go. Give him to me.”

  Jane handed her the baby, and watched as, with a sound of apparent glee, he lunged for Cat’s nipple and latched on. One small hand, its tiny fingers spread out, rested on Cat’s breast, patting it from time to time while he fed.

  Oh! Longing hit her so hard she could barely breathe. Suddenly she remembered—vividly—the exquisite sensation of Alex moving deep within her, the contentment—the love—of being so close to him.

  “So you aren’t swaddling him?” She didn’t know the first thing about infants, but the ones she’d observed were usually wrapped tight.

  Cat laughed. “No. He howls if he can’t get to his hands. He likes to suck on them.”

  Wills must have felt Jane’s regard, because he stopped nursing for a moment and grinned at her, milk dribbling from his mouth, before resuming his meal.

  If only we’d made a child together.

  No! Remember how uncomfortable Cat was when she was pregnant! Remember the mess and confusion of the birth! Think of how Cat’s life is ruled by this tiny tyrant, how she can’t be away from him for long because she’s his source of food.

  None of that mattered now, looking at this perfect, beautiful baby.

  Likely there was some scientific explanation for the silly infatuation she felt. If one focused on the discomfort, the pain, the inconvenience, and the mess of childbearing, no sane woman would consent to subject herself to it. The species would die out.

  Well, all right. Likely the sensual attractions of marital relations would overcome even the most sensible woman’s reservations.

  Wills let go of Cat’s nipple, and Cat lifted him to her shoulder, patting his back as she looked around the room. “It’s odd not to see Poppy here.”

  “I guess she decided she prefers the castle.”

  Cat frowned. “That’s odd, too. She’s come and gone as she pleased since she first showed up at the Spinster House almost a year ago. Why move to the castle now?”

  Perhaps Poppy disapproves of sharing quarters with a fallen woman.

  No, that couldn’t be it. Given the timing of Cat’s wedding and pregnancy, Jane was almost certain she wasn’t the first Spinster House spinster to fall into bed with a man she wasn’t married to.

  The first Spinster House spinster besides Isabelle Dorring, that was.

  “Perhaps now that the curse is broken, she doesn’t feel the need to stay,” Jane said.

  “But why come to the castle?”

  “Because that’s where the Duke of Hart lives?” Jane laughed at the absurdity of the exercise. “Why are we trying to comprehend Poppy’s thoughts? She’s a cat. She has no thoughts beyond those dealing with feeding and grooming.”

  “True.” Cat didn’t sound completely convinced of that, however. Clearly, Jane wasn’t the only one who thought Poppy had a touch of the supernatural about her.

  “I can’t see her living in the stables,” Jane said. “Where has she installed herself?”

  “That’s the oddest thing of all. She insists on staying in the room you had while I was here with Marcus and William. And even odder, the housemaids tell me she sniffs around on the coverlet and always settles in the exact same spot.” Cat shook her head. “The housekeeper insists the bedding has been washed many times since your visit.”

  “Ah.” Please, God, don’t let me turn bright red.

  Fortunately, little Wills emitted an impressive belch at that precise moment.

  Cat focused completely on her baby. “Oh, what a good boy you are, Willsy-poo,” she said in the high, singsong voice adults often use when they address infants. “That was a big one.”

  The baby grinned as if he, too, was very proud of his achievement.

  Cat offered him her other breast and then rubbed his fuzz-covered head with a completely fatuous expression.

  Jane heaved a cautious—and silent—sigh of relief. It looked as if she’d worried needlessly. Cat had come by only to see the refurbishments. Of course the duke had skipped the visit. He wouldn’t be interested in such things. She could relax—

  “I love seeing what you’ve done to the Spinster House, Jane, but I stopped by with another purpose in mind.”

  Every one of Jane’s muscles tensed while her stomach dropped to keep her feet company.

  She cleared the panic from her throat and tried to sound calm, even slightly bored. “Oh?”

  Cat examined her rather too closely. “Yes. Well, I suppose I have two other purposes.”

  Worse and worse.

  “Really?” Don’t react. Don’t anticipate. It might be nothing.

  “Yes.” Cat smiled at her. “The first is to ask you to be William’s godmother.”

  “Oh!” She hadn’t expected that. “Yes, of course, I will. I’m very flattered, but I thought you’d ask Anne.”

  “Anne will be busy with her own baby. And you were there when Wills was born. I can never thank you enough for everything you did for me—for us.”

  Jane felt herself flush with embarrassed pleasure. “Oh, I don’t think I did a thing but pray for your mother and Mrs. Danford to come as quickly as possible. We were just fortunate Lord Evans arrived when he did and could
go for help.”

  Jane smiled, remembering with stark clarity the relief—and happiness—she’d felt that day when she’d realized whose hard male body she’d run into.

  “Yes,” Cat said. “Which brings me to my second purpose for visiting.”

  Jane’s smile froze as anxiety danced a reel up and down her spine. Oh, no. Here it comes.

  She’d gladly face an attack of mouse-mounted spiders rather than Cat right now.

  “Did something happen between you and Alex at the castle?”

  Yes, something happened.

  She was not about to tell Cat that. What she’d done was shocking, shameful—except shame wasn’t what she felt. She had absolutely no regrets about any of the wonderful things she’d done with the earl.

  Well, she did have one regret—that she wouldn’t be able to do them all again.

  Why not?

  She ignored that shocking whisper. She’d decided. She did not want to be a countess and leave Loves Bridge.

  And that’s making you so happy, isn’t it?

  It was rather sad when one’s internal voice turned to sarcasm.

  “Lord Evans was all that was honorable.”

  “Oh.” Cat looked extremely disappointed. “I was hoping he’d seduced you.” She grinned. “Or you’d seduced him.”

  “Cat!” Dear Lord! She was beset on all sides.

  For good reason. You’re being an idiot.

  Cat frowned. “So then what’s amiss? I’ve never seen you so blue-deviled.”

  “I’m not blue-deviled.” Deny everything.

  “And I suppose you’ll insist you weren’t crying when I arrived?”

  “I told you I-I’d got something in my eye.”

  Cat made a scoffing sound. “Jane, everyone knows you’re in the dismals. You’ve been walking around quite Friday-faced since February.”

  Now it was her turn to make a scoffing sound—even as anxiety took to jigging in her stomach. If people were indeed speculating about her and Lord Evans . . .

  Absurd. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  Cat didn’t look surprised. “Everyone else is afraid to mention it to you, you glower so when someone tries to approach you.”

  Jane snorted. “The Boltwood sisters aren’t afraid of anyone or anything if they suspect there’s a tasty bit of gossip to be had.”

  “Not in this case.”

  “Oh, please!”

  “I mean it, Jane, though I’ll grant you it does sound ludicrous.” Cat frowned. “Miss Cordelia, in particular, is very worried about you.”

  Jane felt her jaw drop. Her eyes couldn’t widen any more. Cordelia Boltwood was worried about her? It was beyond ludicrous. It was . . . it was . . .

  There was no adjective to describe how unbelievable it was. She examined Cat. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

  “Of course not.”

  William made a little squeaking noise and they both looked down at him. He’d dropped off Cat’s breast and was now fast asleep. As Jane watched, his eyes seemed to roll back under his eyelids and his half-opened little mouth wavered in and out of a smile. It looked rather alarming.

  “Is he all right?”

  Cat smiled and smoothed his fuzzy head again. “Oh, yes. He does this often. We think he’s dreaming, though what a little baby could have to dream about, I don’t know.” She looked at Jane again. “But to get back to Miss Cordelia.”

  Oh, blast. She’d hoped they’d not get back to Miss Cordelia.

  “She took a special interest in you and Alex when he used Mr. Denton’s stage and puppets at the fair. Apparently, she’d been in love with Mr. Denton, but declined his offer of marriage because she hadn’t wanted to leave her sister alone. He died a year or two later, and she’s regretted her decision ever since. It’s rather tragic, really.” Cat sighed—and then caught and held Jane’s gaze, speaking very deliberately. “She made a special trip to the castle to tell me the story. She wants to save you from the same mistake.”

  Jane tried to laugh, but she was only partially successful. “She probably just wanted a tour of the castle.”

  Cat frowned.

  Yes, that hadn’t been a kind—or a fair—thing to say. Miss Cordelia had come up after the puppet show to give her vague, unsolicited advice.

  Well, the woman’s story was sad, but sadder still was the fact that she had allowed herself to wallow in regret. She’d made her decision. She should have embraced it and moved on.

  As you’re doing?

  Of course.

  “I don’t see how Miss Cordelia’s situation has anything to do with me.”

  Cat’s right brow arched up skeptically. “Don’t you?”

  “No,” Jane lied.

  It’s only been three months. I’ll get over my . . . my infatuation soon.

  Mr. Denton’s been dead at least twenty years, and Miss Cordelia hasn’t got over him yet.

  “Imogen’s mentioned your low spirits too,” Cat said.

  “Oh?” She was surrounded by spies. “She never said anything to me about it.”

  But had she said something to Diana and had Diana told Alex? If so, he hadn’t taken that information as a reason to come see her. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know where she lived.

  Yes. And you told him in no uncertain terms you wouldn’t marry him. Why would he come?

  “She was afraid to push too much,” Cat said, “since she’s so new to your family, but she was concerned enough to seek me out.”

  Jane emitted a short, sharp breath. She had to nip this meddling in the bud at once.

  “Cat, listen. I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I can take care of myself. There’s no need for anyone to worry about me.”

  Cat ignored her. “Alex is in very low spirits, as well,” she said as she carefully transferred sleeping William from her arms to the quilt. William startled briefly at the change in location, his arms going over his head, his tiny perfect fingers splaying wide, but he settled down again almost immediately. His long lashes fanned out over his chubby cheeks, his perfect little mouth moving from time to time as if he were still suckling at Cat’s breast.

  “Imogen did mention Lord Evans seemed a bit out of sorts,” Jane said. “Not that it is any of my concern.”

  “A bit out of sorts?!” Cat snorted—and caused William to startle again. “He didn’t go up to London for his niece’s come-out.”

  “Yes, so she said. I was sorry to hear it, but I don’t see what it has to do with me.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. “It has everything to do with you, Jane. The man is in love with you—and I think you’re in love with him.”

  Jane pressed her lips together. Blast it, her heart had leapt at Cat’s words—or at least the words about Alex. She struggled to speak dispassionately. “Has Lord Evans confessed his feelings to you or the duke?”

  Cat frowned. “Of course not. Men don’t talk about their feelings.”

  “I see.” Jane’s stomach sank. Fool! Clearly she needed to face facts. She thought she’d been doing that, but this sinking feeling just proved that what she’d really been doing was building air castles. “Has it occurred to you that Lord Evans may be distressed—if he is indeed distressed—over something completely unrelated to me?”

  “No.”

  “He might have had a financial reversal.”

  “Marcus says Alex is like Midas—everything he touches turns to gold.”

  “Perhaps he . . . he had a falling out with his m-mistress.” It hurt to say that, but she couldn’t be naïve. Yes, Lord Evans had said he didn’t have a Mrs. Conklin, but he was a member of the ton, a peer. She’d read enough gossip columns to know mistresses were common among that set.

  “He doesn’t have a mistress.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Marcus knows.”

  “Then perhaps . . .” Jane tried to think of another possible excuse.

  “Nor does Alex have a dog that died or a ruined pair of boots or an
y other ridiculous thing you can come up with.” Cat leaned forward, her eyes catching and holding Jane’s. “Alex didn’t even stay to see the baby, Jane. Marcus was surprised and a bit hurt by that. Instead he left directly from the castle the morning after William was born—after you and he had spent the night there quite unchaperoned.”

  “Oh.”

  She could use a distraction. She looked down at William, but he was, unfortunately, still sleeping peacefully. Didn’t that baby ever cry?

  Cat touched her hand. “I want you—and Alex—to be happy, Jane. And neither of you is happy now.”

  “But—”

  Cat raised her brows, clearly waiting to refute Jane’s next argument—and suddenly Jane was tired of arguing. The truth was she wasn’t happy and she was growing more and more afraid that she’d never be happy again.

  “And there’s more, Jane.”

  “More?” What more could there be?

  Fortunately, William finally started to fuss. Well, and Jane suspected the duke and Mr. and Mrs. Hutting might be starting to fuss, as well. Cat had been here quite a while.

  Cat scooped up the baby, flipped him over, and sniffed his bottom. “I think I can wait to change him until I get to the vicarage.”

  Some good news for once!

  “I’ll help you pack up.” Jane stuffed the quilt into Cat’s bag and then they headed for the door.

  “Marcus wrote to Alex a few weeks ago,” Cat said, “asking him to be William’s godfather.”

  Jane’s heart started thudding painfully. Alex will be here next week.

  “We got his reply this morning.”

  She swallowed and tried to sound calm. “Oh?” What am I going to do? I can’t miss the christening, especially now that I’ve agreed to be William’s godmother.

  Alex will be an adult about it. We’ll both ignore each other. That will work.

  That would be a little hard to do in such an intimate setting.

  “Jane, did you hear me?” Cat looked very serious. Even William was frowning at her.

  “Oh. No. I’m sorry. I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”

  Cat shook her head. “No. You were panicking because you thought you’d see Alex again.”

  She forced herself to shrug nonchalantly. “Why would I care if I saw Lord Evans?”