“Then step inside, my lady. Join me.” He moved back to allow her to come in.
The kitchen was empty except for the two of them. A fact that startled Jane almost as much as Nicholas’s appearance.
“Were you waiting for me here?” she asked, her mouth dry.
He nodded as he motioned her toward a seat at the plain, serviceable table and took his own place to stand before the stove with his back to her. Jane sank into the chair and watched in wonder as he gently stirred a pot of something that smelled like chocolate.
“I saw no need in making my servants stay up waiting to let you in and show you out. You are later than I expected.”
“Yes. Lady Ridgefield had a letter from her eldest daughter. She was so excited that she asked me to read it to her tonight and write one in return immediately.” Jane smiled as she thought of her employer’s excitement. “Unfortunately, Lady Ridgefield dictates just as she speaks, in one uninterrupted sentence. She also tends to want to include everything that comes to mind in her letters without filter. Her correspondence can take hours to compose.”
“Ah,” Nicholas said as he added a bit of spice to whatever he was concocting. “And yet you still like her.”
Jane straightened up, protectiveness making her heart pound a little stronger. She knew what some people said about Lady Ridgefield behind her back, and it angered Jane to no end.
“I do like her,” she said with no hesitation. “She is as kind and decent a woman as I have ever known.”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “I recall her from my childhood.”
Jane laughed despite herself. “She recalls you, as well. And always speaks of you with much affection.”
“Of course she is talking about me,” he groaned.
“Everyone is talking about you,” she replied.
Slowly, he turned and looked at her full-on. “Everyone?”
Jane cleared her throat. “You know that full well, for it is why you have asked for my assistance.”
“Indeed, it is,” he replied, his voice faraway as he turned his attention back to the stovetop. “Perhaps I should visit Lady Ridgefield, then. Give her something to talk about with those biddies she calls friends.”
Jane shoved to her feet in surprise. The idea that Nicholas would bring himself to the home where she lived, insert himself into the society of her employer, was terrifying. What if someone guessed about their clandestine meetings? What if all was revealed and ruined?
Then she noticed him toss a wink over his shoulder at her.
“You are teasing me,” she said with relief as she sank back down.
“You make far too easy a target. So serious.”
He turned and brought a steaming cup of chocolate to set before her on the table. He took a seat across from her with his own mug. She couldn’t help but notice that neither cup matched. Hers actually appeared to be fine china, and she could well imagine the cook’s horror when she noticed that the next day.
She stared at the mug before her, breathing in the delicious smells of thick, rich chocolate. She hadn’t indulged in this pleasure since before her father died. Carefully, she lifted the mug to her lips, blew on it, and took the first sip.
Whatever he had added to the concoction gave it a heady, spicy flavor that melded with the rich chocolate. She shut her eyes and let out a low moan of pure pleasure as the brew slid down her throat.
When she opened them again, she found Nicholas staring at her, his cup lifted halfway to his lips, eyes wide and focused on her mouth.
“Good?” he asked, but his voice was suddenly strained.
She nodded. “Delightful,” she admitted. “I cannot believe you made this yourself.”
He shrugged, lowering his cup. “The world of the ton is very sheltered. Those of our class never learn to do anything for themselves. Leaving this world showed me how little I was actually capable of. So I learned to take care of myself in every way. Including the occasional cup of chocolate.” He winked at her again, and the tension that had hung between them faded a fraction. “I can also sew a button and make a broth that will help speed away a winter cough.”
Jane smiled. “You are a man of many talents.”
“You have no idea.”
Her smile faded as another blush heated her cheeks. Nicholas was incapable of not flirting. He had to make everything an innuendo. Which only taunted her with two facts.
One, that she was just another in a long series of women with whom he had played this game. And two, that she couldn’t stop herself from reacting to the way he looked at her, the warmth of his skin, which was so close that she could have touched him if she dared.
She cleared her throat, hoping it would help clear her mind. “H-have you made any headway with your investigation into my brother’s disappearance?”
Yes, that was right. She needed to refocus on the matters at hand. Keep her mind on Marcus and on her promise to help Nicholas. Everything else had to be forgotten. Ignored. Crushed down where she would no longer think or want it.
Nicholas frowned as he downed his chocolate in a few great gulps. He wiped his lip with the back of his hand and said, “Indeed, Rage and I went into the hells last night after you departed and spoke to an old friend. She will be getting in contact with those who might have known your brother.”
Jane nodded, waiting for happiness and relief to wash over her. It didn’t. All she could concentrate on was the fact that Nicholas had turned to a woman for help. Probably a beautiful one, too. And in trade for her assistance, he had…
“It will likely take a few days for any real information to reach us.” Nicholas took her empty cup and set them both away. He remained standing, leaning against the lower cabinetry with one ankle crossed over the other.
Reluctantly, Jane pushed to her feet. “And this woman, you think she has connections enough?”
He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded slowly. “She is not the only person I will make inquiries with, but she’s the best start. She didn’t recognize your brother when I allowed her to view the miniature, but that doesn’t mean someone else won’t.”
Jane’s heart lodged in her throat. Some stranger had pawed over her precious miniature. Looked at Marcus’s face and dismissed him. For the first time, the full weight of that washed over her. And the weaknesses she always fought so hard to control took hold of her.
With a gasp, she grasped the back of the chair she had vacated and clung. Tears stung her eyes, threatening to humiliate her in the kitchen of this man who inspired such a strange mixture of feelings in her.
He stared at her, his expression a combination of understanding and discomfort. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and placed a remarkably gentle hand on her shoulder. His long fingers curled around her, soothing and lightly stroking before he drew her against his bare chest and held her there.
Propriety dictated that she pull away, but Jane found she couldn’t do that. It had been so long since someone offered her tenderness or reassurance that she ached for it. A few tears slipped from her eyes, touching Nicholas’s hot skin. Yet he didn’t pull back, and still he did not speak.
She allowed his embrace a few moments before she gathered her composure, remembered her place, and stepped back. He made no move to force her to stay close to him, and for that she was equally relieved and disappointed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, grasping for a handkerchief in the pocket of her plain pelisse. “I don’t know why I did that.”
He frowned, but then said, “I understand.”
Jane looked up at him and saw the wealth of true empathy in his expression. He, too, had lost a brother. He might be better at hiding it, but her sorrow and pain mirrored his own. Only she still had hope for Marcus. Nicholas could have none, for his brother was already cold in the ground. Lost to him forever.
“Yes, you do.” She dabbed her eyes. “This is enough nonsense. Thank you for the update on your search. I can accept that it may be a few days before y
ou have more information for me. In the meantime, we have our training to attend to.”
He seemed as relieved as she was to get away from the tender subject of their lost siblings. “Where would you like to begin, Jane?”
“Your wardrobe.”
She looked him up and down, concealing a shiver at the utter beauty of his masculine frame. Certainly he could not go out half naked, as pleasant an image as that idea created. And so far she had not seen him in anything approaching appropriate attire. Even when he attended the Glouchester ball, he had not looked totally correct.
The spark of mischief returned to Nicholas’s stare, and Jane almost wanted to smile at it. Until he said, “That is absolutely agreeable to me. All you must do is accompany me to my chamber.”
Nicholas couldn’t help but grin at Jane’s outraged expression. He much preferred that to the crumpled nature of her earlier anguish. Especially since he had no illusions that his “investigation” would bring her relief. She was pinning her hopes on a fool’s notion. And it wasn’t one he could disabuse her of.
“I will not go to your chamber, Lord Stoneworth!” she snapped.
He flinched at the use of his brother’s title, but ignored it this time. “Then how do you propose you examine my wardrobe, my dear?”
She sputtered and blinked as she pondered that question. A few times she parted her lips, but then snapped them shut as if she had come up with an idea, but reconsidered it. Finally, she pursed her mouth in frustration.
“I suppose it is the only way. But I cannot teach you to be gentlemanly and then allow you to do something so ungentlemanly as taking me to your room alone.”
Nicholas smothered a smile. He didn’t think any other woman had ever argued so strenuously against joining him in his chamber. Which made Jane utterly tempting.
But after his loss of control the last time he kissed her, he supposed she was correct in her assessment of their situation. If he was alone with her, with no chance of being caught, and passion struck him…well, it might not end with a mere kiss.
“My valet of sorts is upstairs and not yet asleep like the remaining servants. I could have him stand by in the room with us to ensure that I do not ravish you.”
She stiffened at his choice of words, but then nodded once. “Yes. That would suffice. For future reference, though, an ideal chaperone would be another woman. Normally she would be older and married. But under these strange circumstances, I would accept a servant of any kind. As long as you feel you can trust him.”
Nicholas motioned to the door and led her down the hallway and up the stairs toward the bedchambers. “Oh yes,” he murmured as he paused at Rage’s door. “I trust him.”
Jane blinked as he knocked. “You have your valet sleep in a family chamber?” she whispered. “Honestly, Nicholas, we must talk about—”
But before she could finish her admonishment, the door to Rage’s chamber opened.
Jane broke off as she looked up and up at him. Nicholas had never uncovered many facts about Rage’s upbringing, but had always assumed his friend was raised on the streets. Despite the fact that he was well-spoken and highly intelligent, Rage had a rough, wary quality that most street folk had. A wan, sad knowledge of the world and all its evils.
But unlike some, who became beggars or were crushed by the experience entirely, Rage had become strong. He and Nicholas had only fought in matches a few times, but even when they sparred, Rage was a handful for Nicholas. Powerful, skilled in his knowledge of where a punch could do the most devastation.
Rage’s nose was a bit crooked from one too many fights, his skin was dark with sun, and his hair was close cropped to his head. Jane shot Nicholas a glare, and he realized she recognized his friend for what he was.
And that was no servant.
“Miss Jane Fenton, may I present to you Ronan ‘Rage’ Riley. He is my best friend, my sparring partner, and yes, occasionally my valet. And Rage, this is Jane.”
“Miss Fenton,” Rage said coolly. Nicholas saw his brief, blunt appraisal and then the quick, roguish grin of approval.
“Good evening,” she said, hardly looking at Rage. Instead, she folded her arms and glared at Nicholas. “You know this still isn’t proper! This man is no ordinary servant. In fact, he’s not really a servant at all, is he?”
Rage remained silent, even when Jane sent him a quick side glance, as if her question were for him, not Nicholas. But she didn’t quite understand how loyal the men were. Rage wouldn’t reveal anything until he was certain of Nicholas’s motives.
“Perhaps not,” Nicholas answered instead. “But since most of the other servants are off doing personal business or sleeping in their warm beds, you have few choices. We either use Rage as chaperone or we wake everyone else and line them up so you can choose the correct one, and thus expose yourself to their remarks and questions later.”
Jane let out a sigh so loud and low that it seemed to vibrate from her chest. Then she threw up her hands in surrender.
“Very well. I suppose you would not try to ‘ravish me,’ as you put it earlier, with your friend standing by.”
Rage flashed a quick smile since that had never stopped either of them before, but Nicholas sent him a look to keep him quiet.
Luckily Jane hadn’t noticed and continued, “Have I mentioned to you before that you are utterly impossible?”
Nicholas grinned as he motioned for Rage to accompany them down the hallway to his own chamber. “At least once, my dear. But it never hurts to hear a compliment over and over.”
Chapter 8
Nicholas flexed his fingers at his sides, clenching fists and releasing them as he breathed. He never should have asked Rage to “chaperone” him and Jane. He’d done it to annoy her in one way, and in another it had been a chance for his friend to meet Jane and garner his own impressions.
But now all that was flying back in Nicholas’s face because after her initial shock at encountering yet another uncouth boxer, Jane seemed to have fallen under Rage’s sway. Every time the other man spoke, she smiled. His ridiculous jokes about the “sad state” of Nicholas’s wardrobe made her laugh. And she seemed endlessly interested in his fighting career and past.
In short, everything that irritated her about Nicholas seemed to delight her in Rage.
Jane turned to him for the first time in what felt like an hour.
“It is clear to me after examining your attire that you need an entirely new set of clothing.” She motioned to his open wardrobe with one hand. “Most of your things are befitting your activities in the underground, but will not suit in the life you will now embark upon. And those things that you have that are more sophisticated seem to be from the time before you left Society. They no longer fit you well, and fashions change, even for men.”
Nicholas set his jaw. The last thing he wanted was to waste some ungodly amount of time standing for a tailor. But there was nothing to be done about it. Even before they had come upstairs, he’d known what Jane would say.
He just hadn’t realized it would amuse Rage so damned much. His friend was grinning like a fool.
“Fine,” Nicholas said through clenched teeth.
Jane acted as if he hadn’t spoken and turned to his friend. “Mr. Riley, can I depend upon you to ensure that Lord Stoneworth arranges for a tailor to come here tomorrow? And if I leave a list of items he will require, will you see to it that those things will be measured for and ordered?”
Nicholas moved between them with a growl of displeasure. “I said yes. I do not require supervision in such a simple task.”
Jane shrugged as she snapped his wardrobe shut. “If you want to convince anyone that Mr. Riley is your valet, then these are the sorts of things he will be required to arrange. You are no longer living in the underground, gentlemen. A man of Nicholas’s stature does very little for himself.”
Nicholas felt all the fire bleeding out of him at that comment. That was what he hated most about this entire situation. If he fully acce
pted the burden of his brother’s life, he would be subject to all manner of rules, regulations, and expectations. His independence would be torn away, leaving him nothing more than a dressed-up tiger in a circus. Caged, toothless, unable to change his fate.
“Are we finished here?” he asked.
His feelings must have been reflected in his voice, for both Jane and Rage looked at him with twin expressions of surprise. Then Jane’s look softened.
“Yes,” she said. “It is very late and I should be going. Lady Ridgefield is planning a party in three days. Until it is over, she will likely keep much closer watch on me.” She sighed softly. “In these situations, she sometimes even comes to me in the night with new ideas.”
Nicholas shot his friend a look and Rage held out a hand to Jane. “Miss Fenton, it has been a pleasure.”
She extended her own hand without hesitation and even blushed when Rage lifted it to his lips instead of shaking it. Nicholas’s humor dropped even further as his friend left them alone.
“Well,” she said softly, moving toward the door. “Good night.”
“Wait,” he said, suddenly loath to have her go since they would not see each other for a few days. “Let me accompany you.”
She hesitated. “But—”
He cut her off. “It is late. I would feel better if I saw you to Lady Ridgefield’s. I won’t exit the vehicle, simply wait until I see you go inside.”
Jane worried her lower lip a moment. “Very well.”
Jane wasn’t exactly certain what she had expected when Nicholas offered to take her home, but it wasn’t this. He was slouched down like a petulant child on the opulent leather carriage seat across from her. He wouldn’t even look at her, and an undefined tension coursed between them.
Was he angry that she couldn’t come back to him for a few days? Did he think she was trying to renege on their agreement? And if he was, would he go back on his end of the bargain?
Well, there was only one way to find out.
She straightened up and looked him in the eye. “Are you angry with me because I cannot return tomorrow?”
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