“Are you coming?” the butler asked, his tone sharp from the top of the stairs.
Jane rushed forward, ignoring all her remaining fears. None of that mattered now. All that mattered was that Stoneworth was her last hope. Her only hope. And if she concentrated and focused, appealed to him in the right way, she was certain she could obtain his assistance. That would be worth any humiliation.
She scurried behind the butler, struggling to keep up with his long strides as she moved down the hallways. They twisted and turned in a maze. At every doorway she expected the servant to stop, but he never did, passing every lighted room without faltering in his steps.
Until he reached the back French doors that led to the very dark garden behind the town house. They had been thrown open, despite the late hour. But no. They could not be going outside…
Could they?
As if in answer to her question, the butler stepped out onto the veranda and said, “Your visitor, my lord. She would not give her name.”
Then he stepped aside and motioned Jane outside. She swallowed hard, that urge to run filling her yet again. With all her might, she fought it, straightened her shoulders, and stepped onto the stone terrace that overlooked an untamed garden below.
There was no light save for the sliver coming from the door and the full moon overhead, so it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. When she could finally see beyond shadows, she looked around for the man she had come to see. To her surprise, he sat on the stone edge of the veranda wall, arms folded…watching her.
Great God, up close he was a sight to behold. Like no other man she had ever met. Most of the gentlemen in her acquaintance were a bit soft. Even those who were in good physical condition didn’t have the air of danger, animal strength, or unpredictability that this man did.
And the moonlight only magnified that air. It was almost as if he didn’t belong in the house with the civilized people. There he was caged. But here…
He rose to his feet and stepped toward her. Instinctively she turned away, but before she could bolt, the butler returned inside and quietly closed the door behind him, leaving her at the utter mercy of this stranger.
Jane recognized, in that moment, that she was entirely out of her league.
“Well, well, my dear,” Stoneworth drawled. “You are not what I was expecting at all.”
“Yes, sir,” she said on a forced breath. “I am sorry that I did not give your butler my name. I feared you would not see me if you knew who I was.”
The corner of Stoneworth’s lips lifted, but it made more of a snarl than a smile. “And who are you?”
Jane lifted her gaze to his, startled. “Oh, yes. I apologize. My name is Jane Fenton.”
“No, not your name. Who are you?” He tilted his head. “I don’t think we’ve met before. Although you do look…familiar somehow.”
She nodded, thinking of the brief way he had looked at her earlier in the evening. Trying not to think of the shameful thrill his meaningless perusal had given her. Now he didn’t even recall her face.
“Y-you might have seen me tonight at the Glouchester ball,” she explained.
“In that gown?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as if he were examining her serviceable woolen frock.
More heat flooded Jane’s cheeks, but this time it was angry, as well as embarrassed. “Your cravat was crooked and you haven’t shaved for two days, at least. You have no room to judge—”
She caught herself, swallowing back the rest of her heated response to his jab. When she was pressed, Jane often had the terrible habit of letting honesty get in the way of tact. Her father had sometimes joked that she got her temper the moment she inherited the ruddy highlights in her otherwise plain brown hair. Now that “redheaded temper” might have cost her dearly.
She held her breath as she awaited Nicholas Stoneworth’s reaction.
But when he moved even closer, she found he was smiling at her. Something a bit more genuine than the feral snarls and false smirks she had seen him exhibit tonight.
“It seems I have hit upon a sore spot for you,” he said with an exaggerated bow. “I do apologize.”
Hating the heat that continued to rise in her cheeks, Jane shrugged. “I am a lady’s companion. I do not dress in a fancy fashion, I am meant to fade into the background.”
“Ah.” Again his gaze swept over her from head to toe. “I doubt you fade well, Miss Jane Fenton.”
“That is an entirely inappropriate thing to say to a woman you don’t even know,” Jane snapped, hating how breathless her voice sounded.
“As inappropriate as coming unescorted to the home of a man you don’t know?”
He moved on her so swiftly that she didn’t have a chance to back away. Suddenly she was staring at the twisted remnants of the cravat he had apparently wrenched free from his neck after the ball. His body heat surrounded her and overpowered the cooler night air. He was so close that she could have sworn she heard his heart beat, but perhaps it was just her own roaring in her ears.
His hand came up and he pushed a loose lock of hair away from her face. Rough hands with pronounced knuckles stroked over her skin and sent a shiver through her that was unwanted.
“I did not come here for this,” she said, but her words wavered.
“No?” he whispered, his rough voice seductively dark and smoky in the otherwise quiet night. “Are you certain you didn’t come here to test the theories about my prowess? Or perhaps to make your cruel parents sorry that they allowed you to fall into ruin? Or maybe in the hopes that I would make you my mistress and give you enough of a monthly stipend that you could quit the dreary life of a companion in trade for one where you didn’t even have to get out of bed?”
Jane stepped away from him, although it took far more effort than she would ever admit, even under torture. She folded her arms as a protective shield over her suddenly tingling breasts.
“No,” she snapped. “None of those things. I have no interest in theories about your ‘prowess,’ my parents were far from cruel, and I don’t mind being a companion.” She hesitated. For some strange reason, she felt compelled to explain herself further. “My father was a viscount, so I have lived the life of a lady. And although it is not the future I once imagined for myself, serving a lady is not as bad as I once thought it would be.”
Stoneworth seemed surprised at her retort, but not angered. He was still smiling at her, that feral expression that said he could own her if he chose.
“Then why are you here, little one?” he asked. “Tell me before I lose interest.”
Jane clenched her fists. She would have only one chance at this, her plea could be nothing less than perfect.
“I may not know much about your ‘prowess,’ as you put it—” she began.
He interrupted her with a deep, throaty chuckle before he reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a cigar. She watched in fascination as he bit off the end and pressed it between surprisingly full lips.
“Would you like one?” he asked without looking at her.
She wrinkled her nose. “Of course not.” She hastened to continue with her story before he distracted her once more. “But there are many tales circulating about you. Some say that while you were away from polite Society, you existed in the underground.”
He froze, totally still for a long breath. Finally he said, “I see. Well, let me disabuse you of any incorrect rumors.”
Jane’s heart sank. So he had no connection, which meant she was here enduring his mocking for no reason whatsoever.
“I never owned a brothel…or is it a gambling hall that I am supposed to be proprietor of?”
He pressed his lips as if considering the rumor, and Jane’s nostrils flared. His ridicule was almost too much.
He held up a hand as if he’d given up trying to remember. “Either way, I know enough about both their workings to likely do quite well at it.” He took the cigar from his mouth and smiled. “And I have not fathered a hundred children. Non
e that I am aware of, as I am exceedingly careful, you see. When it comes to the underground…”
He looked away, turning his face full into the moonlight, and Jane caught her breath. There was something sad in his expression. Just for a fleeting moment, but she saw it nonetheless.
“That is true. I did box in the underground matches. And made myself a tidy fortune that has nothing to do with my father’s coffers. So you can report that back to whichever lady you work for. I assume she sent you here to find out about me and see if I’m worthy of marrying. Or bedding.”
With heat burning her cheeks, Jane shook her head. “You misunderstand me, sir. I was not sent here by my employer. Lady Ridgefield is not looking for a husband. She doesn’t know I came at all.”
“Lady Ridgefield?” Stoneworth repeated in surprise. “Ah yes, well, Her Ladyship and I are not quite of an age, are we?”
Jane felt her lips twitching with a smile that she suppressed. “My errand is none but my own. You see, four years ago my elder brother disappeared after a series of increasingly bitter rows with my father. Since my father’s death, my cousin has had my brother declared dead and taken over the title, but I do not believe that declaration to be true. I have pored over my father’s papers, but there is little information. Only that Marcus was last seen two years ago in the underground by a man my father hired to bring him back to us. And then…nothing.”
Stoneworth stared at her blankly. “If your father was titled, why do you work as a lady’s maid? Surely your cousin will provide you with some living.”
“He has offered to do so.” Jane lifted her chin with as much pride as she had left. “But I would not take a farthing from that charlatan. Acting like he has the authority to do anything with the title or the money that is rightly my brother’s.”
“Why not marry then?” he asked.
She pursed her lips. “Who would have me? My brother’s reputation is out in enough circles, and then there is the tiny fact that I am essentially a servant now.” She straightened her shoulders. “But even if those things were not true, I could not put my thoughts into marriage, not with Marcus still missing. My whole attention must be put toward finding him. And helping him back to health once he is found and returned to his lawful position.”
Nicholas’s brow wrinkled as if he had some argument with that, but he didn’t press the issue. “And where do I come into this somewhat tragic little tale?”
Jane pursed her lips at his dismissive tone. “If you did, indeed, live in that underground world, then you may have connections with those who knew my brother. I thought that if—”
He held up a hand as he let out a long sigh. “What is your brother’s name?”
She stepped forward, her blood quickening with excitement. “Lord Marcus Fenton. He would have been Viscount Fenton after my father’s death, but my cousin—”
“Stole the title, yes.” Stoneworth stepped away from her, his earlier flirtatious demeanor gone. Now it seemed he did not even want to look at her. “I do not know his name, I am sorry, miss. You will have to find someone else to help you.”
Jane shook her head in disbelief. “N-no. There is no one else! Do you not think I have looked? Since my father’s death last year, since my cousin instigated his treachery, I have searched far and wide and spent what little money I saved from my pin allowance over the years, but with no results.”
“And why do you think my help would bring you more results than you have obtained already?”
She stepped toward him, hands held up in mute entreaty, though she hated to beg. “I never had someone assisting me who actually knew the world Marcus may be trapped in. You are the only one. Please, I—”
Stoneworth reached out and caught her hands. He cupped them between his larger ones, cocooning them in warmth even as he squeezed.
“Jane Fenton, I am not a hero, do you understand?” His voice was low and harsh. “I cannot help you. I will not help you. Now go.”
He released her and stepped away.
Jane stared at him in utter shock. She had been picturing for the entire evening what she would do when she encountered this man. She had run over all the scenarios in her head again and again.
But now that she was staring at him, dismissed like a common lightskirt he picked up off the street and determined he did not want, she realized she had never truly believed he would refuse her. She had thought that as a gentleman, he would be compelled to at least hear her out.
Tears stung behind her eyes, ones that she had forced away time and again over the past year. She blinked furiously, refusing to shed them before this…this…person.
“You are not only uncouth, sir, but you are cruel,” she whispered. “I asked you for help and you dismiss me like I am a bug on your boot. You have no manners, no charm, no niceties in you at all. No wonder the ton despises you.”
She turned on her heel and headed for the house. But as she grasped the door handle with a shaking hand, Stoneworth’s deep voice came from behind her.
“Wait.”
Chapter 3
Nicholas stared as Miss Jane Fenton pierced him with a look so cold and dismissive, he might have mistaken her for an icy queen if it weren’t for her ugly gown and sensible hairstyle.
Despite those things, he could not ignore what a beautiful young woman she was, especially in the intimacy of moonlight. He could well imagine she had been an incomparable when her family provided her with expensive gowns and she had nothing to do all day but take care of her hair and skin in the hope she would catch a titled man.
As he was now.
Only she wasn’t his type. Normally Nicholas was attracted to women with a far different kind of beauty. Something more blatant, a coy turn of the head that said he would find pleasure in his paramour’s bed if he asked. Jane didn’t possess that kind of appeal. Her beauty was more wholesome. Pure.
Entirely out of his reach, even if he had wanted it.
Still, she could be of some use to him. Despite her lowered position as a lady’s companion, Jane was cultured. That was evident in her posture, her voice, even the way she moved her slender hands when she spoke. And she had handled him well when he knew that his forward approach shocked and even frightened her.
“I would like to make a bargain with you,” he said.
Jane’s eyes widened, and then understanding dawned. Followed swiftly by appalled anger. She folded her arms across her chest for the second time that night. Nicholas doubted she realized how the action lifted her breasts ever so slightly and drew his attention to the luscious swell.
“How dare you, sir! I am not that kind of woman. I may be fallen, but I have never in my life considered taking money or help in exchange for—”
Nicholas held up a hand to stop the stream of words.
“Not that kind of offer, sweet,” he interrupted with a grin, although her misunderstanding of his intentions conjured a swift, unbidden thought of this woman spread across his bed, her dark hair with its ruddy highlights down around her and her back arched in offering of those perfect breasts she kept trying to hide. “I don’t pay for that, not with blunt or assistance. No, I want something else from you.”
Her eyes narrowed, and Nicholas found himself looking at her face closely. Even in the dim light, he could see her eyes were very dark, like pure chocolate. And they reflected the depth of her emotions. No pretense here, no pretended offense. Jane Fenton truly did not trust him.
Clever girl.
“What do you want?” she asked, cautious as if she feared he would pounce on her as an answer.
He briefly considered doing just that, but put it out of his mind. Those wayward thoughts were part of what was getting him in trouble.
“If you saw me tonight, then you must have been privy to the, er, exchange I had with my father. As well as my behavior in general.”
Nicholas shifted, suddenly glad for the light breeze that stirred around them. He was surprised by how uncomfortable this topic made him. He wasn�
�t accustomed to explaining himself to anyone, but especially virginal lady’s companions who had come uninvited to his home.
Jane’s gaze flitted over him from head to toe, and from the way her lip curled ever so slightly, he could see she thought very little of what she saw. Which was utterly fascinating. Most women fell at his feet with little urging. This one looked at him as if he wasn’t fit to shine her shoes.
“I did indeed,” she said with a sniff of disapproval. “You drank far too much, terrified half the guests with your glower, and entertained the other half by having a rather loud argument with your father, who is one of the most influential men in the Upper Ten Thousand. All in all it was a devastating night for your reputation.”
Nicholas flinched at her blunt assessment. “I would say thank you, as my reputation amongst the circles I moved in tonight means very little to me. However, it was recently brought to my attention that my actions also could adversely affect both the memory of my…” He hesitated as a stab of pain unexpectedly hit his gut. “…my late brother, as well as his two young daughters. And that is unacceptable. I have begun to realize that I have but two options: to leave Society entirely or to make an effort to fit back into it.”
Jane stepped forward, and her expression had softened a fraction. He saw that she understood his concern for his brother. That was one commonality they shared. Although he feared her hopes that her brother was alive were foolish dreams rather than reality.
Still, she didn’t know that.
“And?” she encouraged, her voice low.
He cleared his throat. Here was the difficult part. He was unaccustomed to asking for help.
“I was raised to be a gentleman, of course, but I was never very good at it. And over the past seven years I have forgotten most of my lessons in good manners and grace. I need a—well, a tutor for lack of a better word.” He tilted his head. “If you will help me to find my way back into Society, I will do my best to uncover your brother’s whereabouts.”
Jane stumbled away from him, her eyes wide. “You cannot mean that.”
Her Notorious Viscount Page 3