by Gayle Callen
To her surprise, her mother pulled her into her arms, something she hadn’t done in years. It was a brief embrace, then her mother plumped the pillows at her side and motioned Jane to sit back. Side by side, they looked out over the courtyard in silence.
Finally, Lady Whittington said, “I had wanted to make this the perfect evening for you.”
“Oh, Mama—”
“No, allow me to finish. I know you’re not happy with this engagement, and I had hoped to give you a pleasant, relaxed evening to see the kind of man Lord Chadwick is.”
“It was pleasant, Mama. Don’t allow the last moments to mar your memories.”
“I knew you’d say that, because you’re such a good girl, Jane. So what did Lord Chadwick mean when he said he’d see you tomorrow?”
“He invited me to ride with him in the park.”
“He is a kind man. Did you notice how he attempted to lighten my concern regarding Mr. Roderick?”
“Yes,” Jane replied, holding back a sigh. “Mama, may I ask you a question about Lord Chadwick?”
“Of course, dear heart.”
“I really know little about him. Has the title been in his family long?”
To her amazement, Lady Whittington did not meet her eyes. “I didn’t think it would bother you, but no, he was recently granted the title from Queen Victoria. He was knighted too, but I don’t know why.”
“Of course it doesn’t bother me, Mama,” Jane said, but it did. Why had she never heard of this man until he was made a baron? Could her own father really be using her only to create ties to another family rising in power? But the pain of thinking that was too great, so she turned her curiosity back to Lord Chadwick. “Do you know why the title was given to him?”
“Your father didn’t mention it in his letters.”
Jane’s mind worked feverishly over this new piece of news. Titles did not matter to her as they did to her mother. But the queen had knighted Lord Chadwick, granted him a barony, and then proceeded to introduce him into society like a long-lost relation. What was going on? Why all this for a man with a simple Yorkshire estate?
Her mother sighed and slid her hand into Jane’s. “Do not think worse of me when I say that I too worried about this engagement until I met Lord Chadwick. But he seems to be a good man, and I must say, you will have beautiful babies with him.”
“Mama!” Jane cried, surprised at hearing such a personal thing from her mother.
“I promise we’ll soon have a talk about babies and husbands—and wedding nights.” With a laugh, her mother covered her red face. “I guess you can tell how I long for grandchildren. Go on, dear heart, go to bed, and leave me to my dreams.”
After kissing her mother’s cheek, she left the room and climbed the stairs in a much more somber mood than before. Her mother’s words reminded her that she would have to share…intimacies with Lord Chadwick, something she foolishly hadn’t considered. And she didn’t even enjoy being in the same room with him.
Chapter 3
When Will left Roderick’s town house, he didn’t bother hiring a cab, for he only lived a few streets away, and the night was warm. There were plenty of gaslights dotting the streets, piercing the pale yellow fog. Carriages rolled past, and at one point, someone called out his name and waved. It was amazing how recognition from the queen could make a fellow popular.
As he took long strides, whistling softly to himself, he felt a vague sensation, a prickle of awareness from his spine up the back of his neck. His senses came alert, and for a moment he was back in Afghanistan, feeling alone and hunted.
But this was London, and he had given up the life of a spy. Yet why was he suddenly uneasy? As he turned a corner, he used the opportunity to glance behind him, still whistling. He saw no one but two men in formal eveningwear walking in the opposite direction, arguing loudly with slurred voices.
Out of habit, he walked a circuitous route home, moving quickly but silently through the alley behind his courtyard. At the high wall hiding his garden, he felt along the bricks for the small depressions that he’d carved himself one dark night: toe and finger holds. After one last searching glance of the alley, he scaled the wall and dropped down into the garden.
He felt a little foolish as he let himself in the kitchen door, because anyone could discover where he lived if they wanted to. And thieves would have simply jumped him in the first well-shadowed area.
He almost would have liked that. Inflicting a good pummeling would have vented a few frustrations that he couldn’t take out on Roderick. Damn the man for provoking a confrontation in Jane’s home. He’d seen how it had bothered Lady Whittington, and it could hardly do him in good stead with Jane. “Lord” Chadwick was obviously not a fighter, so he couldn’t have shown otherwise. Maneuvering to bring about that blow to Roderick’s skull had been most satisfying.
But how had it all looked to Jane? Surely restraint proved his good sense.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while yet, especially now that he was on edge from his walk home. He picked up the lamp that his housekeeper had left lit for him and went to his study. During the day, the room was bright with sunlight from the large open windows. At night, the edges of lamplight showed only the three walls of bookshelves in the shadows. Sitting down at his desk, he pulled out the listing his lawyer had compiled for him of estates available for sale in the countryside. He sorted through the sheets until they were in order by their proximity to London.
Of course he already owned an estate near the town of York. It had belonged to his parents, but he’d never felt that it was his. A very old feeling of guilt made his stomach twinge with uneasiness. There were too many memories in that place of broken promises and dashed dreams.
No, he would start over where the only memories were the ones he would make with his new family.
At dawn, Will was just sitting down to a large breakfast when Barlow limped into the room. The butler had only newly come to the position. He’d been a soldier in India in the Bengal army, where Will had completed his last political mission. Barlow had lost part of his foot on a mission Will had ordered. Though the man was at least fifteen years Will’s senior, Barlow was still one of the best soldiers Will had ever worked with. Will couldn’t stand to see him pensioned off into poverty, so he’d invited Barlow to work for him.
Will sat back in his chair and reluctantly pushed aside his poached eggs and toast. “Yes, Barlow?”
“A messenger delivered this letter just moments ago, my lord,” the butler said, setting an envelope beside Will.
With his usual disapproval and doubt, Barlow eyed Killer, snoring beneath the dining room table. The two never did get along, even though Killer had saved Barlow’s life. At least there was respect between them. With a stiff bow, the butler retreated from the dining room and closed the door.
Will smiled as he recognized the wax seal of Colonel Whittington. He removed several sheets of paper, then took another bite of eggs and began to read. But the letter’s contents made him choke, and he quickly swallowed a mouthful of tea.
That same morning, Jane paced the library, an opened book abandoned next to her favorite comfortable chair. She was home alone but for the servants, since her mother had decided to return calls. Lady Whittington thought she was making Jane nervous—which was foolish, of course, but Jane was doing an inordinate amount of worrying, probably giving her an air of distraction. She was going to be practically alone with Lord Chadwick today. If it went on longer than an hour, she would manage to suffer a debilitating headache.
When there was a soft knock on the door, she literally jumped. A good curse would have helped, but instead she pressed her lips together for control, then called, “Come in.”
Shaw opened the door and stepped inside with a nod. “Miss Whittington, Lord Chadwick is here to see you.”
“Show him into the—”
She was about to say “drawing room” when she saw that Lord Chadwick already stood at Shaw’s back, l
ooking over his shoulder into the library.
“—the library,” she finished.
Lord Chadwick’s eyes lightened, and he stepped around the servant and entered, drawing the butler’s obvious disapproval. As Shaw left, he deliberately kept the door open.
“This is a lovely room, my dear,” Lord Chadwick said, bending forward to take her hand and raise it to his lips.
He kissed her gloved knuckles.
“Thank you, my lord.”
She took a step back as he straightened. He was wearing a vivid green frock coat and thinly striped green-and-fawn trousers so fashionably snug as to make her uncomfortable. His neck-cloth was patterned to match his coat and trousers.
“I imagine you spend much time here,” he said.
“Why would you say that?”
He nodded toward the chair she had vacated. “I’ve disturbed your reading.”
“Of course not, my lord. I knew you’d soon be arriving and was simply passing the time.”
He wore an almost secretive smile, as if he thought there was more than she was saying. Smugness always irritated her.
“And what are you reading?” he asked.
She should have put the book away. “Nothing that would interest you, my lord. It is a history of India.”
His glance at her was sudden and assessing, but that dimpled smile seemed calculated to hide it. Would he begrudge a woman knowledge? He took out that annoying monocle and peered at her through it.
“And why would you be interested in such a cruel and distant land, my dear?”
“My father spent many years there, and I wished to understand its fascination for him.”
“He was a soldier. Surely he was ordered there?”
“At first. Eventually he could have transferred closer to home, but he didn’t. Something must have kept him away from his family.”
“Duty to his country, perhaps,” Lord Chadwick said quietly, although he waved his eyepiece almost as an afterthought. “But perhaps he wishes to make up for his absence.”
“What do you mean?”
“I received a letter from him this morning. He enclosed one for you as well.”
She put a hand to her throat as a feeling of unease raced through her. Suddenly she remembered her mother making the exact movement the previous evening. Jane dropped her hand quickly. “Why would he give you a letter he meant for me?”
“He wished me to speak with you first. Sit down, Miss Whittington, and I’ll explain everything to you.”
It seemed he wouldn’t speak until she complied, so she seated herself on the edge of the sofa before the set of three windows and clasped her hands together in her lap. He leaned back against her father’s massive mahogany desk, not quite sitting, and crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded her.
She was shocked to see that he looked…broad-chested in that pose, quite impressive instead of the sort of silly man she imagined. A man did not become so…physically imposing by just dancing with ladies at balls and lifting an opera glass to his eyes. But surely she was seeing what wasn’t there, because when he smiled that shockingly irreverent grin at such a time, he only made her think poorly of him.
“Miss Whittington, your father has asked that I accompany you to visit him at Ellerton House.”
Jane knew she gaped at Lord Chadwick, but how else could she react? She hadn’t seen her father in so long, and instead of visiting the entire family in London, he wanted her to travel to Yorkshire, to their family estate?
With Lord Chadwick?
He shook his head in obvious amusement. “I can see that this has come as quite a shock to you, my dear.”
Absently, she said, “Please do not call me that. It is quite improper.”
His grin widened, but he nodded his head.
“Lord Chadwick, you must understand how improper it would be for you and me to travel together.”
“We would be chaperoned at all times. And we are practically married.”
She felt her face pale. “We have not even set a wedding date, my lord. And be that as it may—”
He held up a hand. “Before you protest further, I have a question. How would you have me answer your father? That you don’t wish to see him?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Hadn’t she wished for just that thing these past two years? But they had no close male relatives to accompany her, and her mother was frightened of traveling “alone,” regardless of the number of servants in attendance.
“Of course I wish to see him,” she finally said, looking down at her skirts and smoothing them across her knees. “I have—I have dreamed about such a thing. But there is my involvement in the charities to think about—the British Ladies’ Female Emigrant Society, of which I am secretary, and the General Domestic Servants Benevolent Institution—”
She broke off, knowing she was rambling. When she glanced back up, he was looking at her with kindness.
“What is the harm in getting away from London, in finding someone else to take on your duties? Do you care so much about what people think?”
She inhaled swiftly, angrily, and knew her face betrayed her as she glared at him. “My behavior is at all times proper, my lord. I do not have to care about the opinion of others.”
“But you care what your father thinks.”
Her anger faltered, then fled, and she realized that once again—so many times in how many days?—she was near to tears. She blinked fiercely. “You have no need to question my love for my father. I will go with you. And certainly this invitation includes Charlotte.”
She thought he stiffened, but then he lowered his arms and rested his hands on the desk. “Of course, my—Miss Whittington. I can have my carriage ready whenever you are.”
Carriage? She swallowed her disappointment. She had never ridden a train before. Surely she could convince him to travel by railway.
“It will take us several days to prepare and make our good-byes among my friends,” she said. “We will be accompanied by my maid, and arrangements must be made for her.”
He only nodded.
“As for the carriage,” Jane continued, “surely it would be quicker—and safer—to take the train.”
He shook his head. “I have business I need to attend to along the way. And we’ll be safe in the carriage—we’ll have Killer.”
“Killer?” She didn’t even try to hide her dismay. “You wish to bring a dog on the trip with us?”
“Killer is not just any dog, Miss Whittington,” he said as he straightened and began to walk toward her. “Killer is a fierce guard dog with unswerving loyalty to myself. When I was last attacked by brigands while on the road, I was lucky to have Killer with me.”
“What happened?” she asked, telling herself that her curiosity was only for politeness’ sake.
“Killer quite frightened the thieves with his vicious growl and overpowering manner.”
Suddenly Lord Chadwick sat down beside her, closer than was proper, until their knees just brushed. She felt a shock to her system that made her limbs shiver.
“Miss Whittington,” he murmured, again taking her hand, “will you not feel safe with me?”
Chapter 4
Jane didn’t know what was coming over her. She stared into Lord Chadwick’s eyes, which were as warm as a pot of hot chocolate on a cold winter morning. His hand gripped hers urgently, and to her shock, she wished there were not two gloves between her skin and his.
Some part of her knew he must mean to reassure her, but she did not take it thus. He suddenly seemed—overpowering, very male and not at all what she’d perceived him to be.
“Miss Whittington,” he murmured, staring at her mouth, “tell me I do not frighten you.”
Even his voice seemed different, lower, with a harsh edge that caused a feeling of danger to sweep through her. It wasn’t…unpleasant, which was frightening in and of itself. She should force him away, call for Shaw—but she didn’t.
“I do not
fear you,” she whispered, realizing she was watching his mouth as well. He had fine lips that looked soft to the touch. Had she ever dwelled on the texture of a man’s lips before? “As you are a friend of my father’s, I trust that you will prepare adequately for the possibility of thieves.”
He shook his head, and again his gaze strayed to her mouth, then lower, causing her stomach to tighten. He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb in little round circles that made her want to…squirm. What was wrong with her, she wondered, feeling a panicked wave of heat move through her body.
“But you don’t fear me? That I might become…overpowered by your nearness and your beauty?”
“W-we’ll have a chaperone,” she said, amazed that she actually stuttered. “And Killer, of course. Really, Lord Chadwick, I cannot believe such a thing could happen to a civilized man such as yourself.”
“Then you don’t understand your power over me, my dear. You make a man feel decidedly uncivilized.”
He was leaning closer now, and she told herself to get up, to slap him—anything. But moving was beyond her abilities.
“Miss Whittington,” he said in a whisper, “might I have your permission to kiss you?”
A kiss? With Lord Chadwick, a man who couldn’t even count in his head, who cared about only the most shallow of subjects? The absurdity of that thankfully washed every other disturbing feeling out of her head.
She shot to her feet, giving him her most withering glare. “My lord, your conduct is offensive.”
Will felt as shocked as Jane obviously did. He had come here with no physical intentions, had only wanted to begin this journey together, to eventually persuade her that all would be well when they married.
She looked affronted and haughty—and incredible. He sat on the little sofa and stared up at her, where she faced him down like Venus chastising a mere mortal.
He still wanted to remove every layer of clothing and expose the real woman—and he must have looked it, for her face flushed even redder.
He didn’t remember the last time he had felt so out of control. And it was that thought that finally made him regroup.