She drew back, feeling cold as his arms dropped away from her. But she straightened her shoulders nonetheless and tried to match his strength.
“Yes, I see. You are right. I will go to Patrick and keep him occupied. How long do you need?”
Nicholas glanced at the pile of papers on the desk. “At least thirty minutes. Can you do that?”
Jane swallowed hard. “Do you really think he checks?”
“For hating the man so much, you are certainly reluctant to make him a villain,” he said with a tilt of his head.
Jane dipped her chin. It was one thing to think the man had manipulated the system in order to obtain the title. It was another to think he might be as evil and twisted as Nicholas’s theory implied.
“I suppose it is because I know that if there was some kind of outside assistance in my brother’s disappearance then Marcus must be…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence and blinked hard to control the sudden tears that stung her eyes. Nicholas reached forward, and his big hand cupped her cheek. The warmth and comfort she had experienced when he embraced her returned instantly.
“I am probably wrong,” he said softly, but Jane could tell he remained apprehensive. “But I want to be sure. Now go and speak to your cousin. Half an hour and I shall meet you back in the carriage. My driver has instructions on where to pick me up.”
She nodded and began to turn away, but then moved back. She caught one of his hands, rough and hard from years of fighting. She held to it tightly as she stared up at him.
“Please be careful.”
His face softened, and the bright blue eyes that normally sparkled with mischief were suddenly serious. “I will be, Jane. Don’t worry about me.”
She nodded slowly, then scurried into the hallway to find her cousin.
Jane was wound as tightly as a ball of twine as she watched the butler knock at her father’s office door. Inside, Patrick’s voice called out the order to enter.
She clenched her fists as she stepped into the room around the servant. Her cousin was situated behind her father’s large oak desk, going over a line of figures in a ledger in front of him. He had a pair of spectacles balanced on his nose. She was struck, once again, by how much he looked like family. He had the Fenton air, the Fenton look.
And she despised him all the more for it.
“Jane,” he said, waving off the servant as he got to his feet. “Gregory said you were here looking at your father’s paperwork another time. I hope you found everything in order.”
She folded her arms, but resisted her urge to lash out. Nicholas needed time, and if she caused a row she might not create enough of it before her cousin asked her to leave in that infuriatingly quiet manner of his.
“Yes. Thank you for allowing me to look at the papers at my convenience,” she managed through clenched teeth.
He drew back with an expression of surprise. Then he nodded. “Of course, Jane. I hope you know you are welcome here at any time. Someday I even dare to hope we will be friends again, as we were when we were children.”
Her jaw set, and she remained silent. For the first time in a long time, she truly observed her cousin, beyond the family resemblance that troubled her so greatly. Nothing about his appearance said that he could be so twisted as to arrange her brother’s disappearance. But did that mean it wasn’t so?
“Jane, is something wrong?” he asked, stepping forward. “You seem very odd today. Is there anything I can help you with?”
She frowned. “You, help me? I think not.”
His mouth thinned and his eyes shut briefly, as if having this conversation with her was a trial. “Great God, Jane, are we going to do this again? It is childish and foolish.”
“Perhaps,” she said, moving a step away from him, her anger notching up. “Or perhaps it is very wise of me to keep away from you. After all, if you would have my brother declared dead so easily, perhaps you would do something equally vile to me.”
“What have I done that is vile to you?” he asked, and his voice actually elevated a fraction before he controlled it. “Offered you assistance? Offered you a respectable marriage? Offered you free access to my home to continue a fruitless search for something that doesn’t exist?”
Jane bit back a gasp of pain and fury, and promptly abandoned her vows to remain calm. “If it doesn’t exist, then why not give me my father’s property?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off by lifting her hand.
“No, don’t. You will only feed me more lies. It doesn’t matter anymore, Patrick. You see, you did not think that I would ever get help, but I have.”
She shut her eyes the moment the words were out of her mouth. Damn her temper! Once again it had made her say something she should have kept secret.
Now he stared at her, eyes wide. “Help? Who are you mixed up with, Jane?”
She shook her head. “No, you will get nothing more from me.”
“Please,” he said, and his eyes were almost wild with emotion. “Do not do something foolish. There are men who would prey on you, pretend to help you when they were really stalking your virtue…or even worse. They are dangerous men, and you should not put yourself in their path.”
Jane snorted her derision. “Do not pretend concern, I do not believe it. Especially now.”
“What do you mean?” Patrick said as he moved forward.
This was the first time in any of their encounters that she had managed to break past his calm, restrained demeanor. Now his raw emotion, which she couldn’t fully decipher as anger or fear or something else entirely, frightened her.
She stepped away, but he closed the distance, and suddenly she found herself against the wall with little room to maneuver.
“What do you mean ‘especially now,’ Jane?” he repeated.
She swallowed hard. Nicholas was in the house. If she screamed loud enough, he would come. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name. This was her only opportunity to confront her cousin. And she had to know, to see his face when she questioned him. That would tell her more than any evidence Nicholas uncovered.
“Did you have anything to do with Marcus’s disappearance, Patrick?” she asked, her voice low but in no way masking her disgust. “Is that why you’re so positive he is gone, because you made certain of it yourself?”
Her cousin’s face crumpled, the calm wall he kept up falling as if it had been blown apart with explosive power. He grabbed her upper arms in a grip as powerful as a vise and gave her one shake.
“How dare you?” he growled. “How the hell dare you speak of such a despicable, disgusting thing? What do you know, little girl, of anything I have done in regard to Marcus?”
Jane’s heart pounded so hard she feared it would burst from her chest, and her blood roared like a waterfall in her ears. She struggled, but Patrick’s grip did not lessen, nor could she escape it. His face was close to hers, angry and wild with emotion. She realized, in that moment, that even if she did scream, Nicholas might not make it in time to save her if her cousin did mean her a harm.
“Patrick, release me,” she said, low and firm. “You are hurting me.”
Instantly he loosened his grip and stepped back, hands up in surrender. In his eyes, she saw a flicker of horror, as if even he could not believe he had lost control in such a manner.
“I apologize, Jane,” he said quietly. “I allowed my frustration with this situation to overwhelm me. I never should have done such a—”
Jane sidestepped away from him, freeing herself from being trapped between her cousin and the wall. She backed up, keeping her eyes on him as she willed her pulse and shaking hands to steady so he wouldn’t see how terrifying his sudden attack had been.
What time was it? She glanced at the clock on the mantel beside him. Exactly one half hour had passed, which meant she was free to escape him entirely.
“I must go,” she said, hating how her voice shook.
“Jane—” he began, but didn’t stop her.
She raced from the room and down the hall. Ignoring the servants who offered to assist her, she rushed outside into the cool spring afternoon. A light rain had begun to fall, and she reveled in the damp splash against her skin. After what had just transpired, she had a powerful urge to be washed clean.
Down the street, Nicholas’s carriage awaited her, safe. She stopped running so as not to draw attention to herself and walked as briskly as she could. A servant opened the door, and she threw herself inside. When the door closed behind her, she covered her face with her hands and allowed one sob to escape her lips.
Patrick had always handled her with almost frustrating calm. Never had he been so angry, never had he dared to put a hand on her, not since they were squabbling children! But today she had seen a wildness to his expression. A frightening anger that made her believe, for the first time, that Nicholas might be right. Her cousin could very well be hiding a secret. Perhaps even a deadly one.
But now she had to calm herself. She didn’t want Nicholas to see how shaken she was. Although the idea of his comfort was pure temptation.
When Nicholas slipped from the dark shadows in the alley behind Patrick Fenton’s home and stepped into the carriage that had just pulled up to the curb, he felt a high. There was nothing better than the freedom of being unknown and uninvited in someone’s home. A thief’s life had actually appealed to him once, before he found his true calling as a pugilist.
Today had been the first time since his return to Society that he hadn’t felt utterly confined.
He settled back into the seat across from Jane and looked at her with a smile. One that almost instantly fell when he saw her expression. She was sickly pale, and although she shoved her hands beneath her knees, there was no denying how they shook. He had never seen her like this, even when she first came to ask him for his help.
Instantly he moved to her side of the carriage. “What is it?” he asked, absently pushing a shiny lock of damp hair away from her face. When it was wet, the red highlights were even clearer. “Did something happen? Are you injured?”
She shook her head, but her gaze darted from his. “Nothing. I was simply worried about you. How did your search go? Did you discover any new information?”
Nicholas frowned. “You are lying to me.”
Jane jerked her face up toward his with a gasp. “No!”
“You are.” He caught her shoulders and felt her flinch so he gentled the touch, lightly stroking his fingers along her arms. “I don’t like to being lied to, Jane. Tell me what happened.”
She shook her head, and still she would not meet his eyes. “No.”
“Did your cousin do something?” Nicholas asked, alarm rising in his chest. “Did he touch you?”
The way her chin jerked down gave him all the answer he needed. Alarm turned to pure rage in an instant. Rage so deep and dark that he could hardly see as it fell in a veil over his eyes.
With great effort, he reined the anger in. Jane was trembling in the seat beside him, and her fears, her upset, were far more important than revenge and wrath. At least for now. As much as he wished to have the carriage turn around, this was not the time to beat her cousin to a bloody pulp.
Gently he wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. Her fingers came up to clutch at his jacket, and she fisted the fabric there, holding tight to him as she shivered in his arms.
“Did he hit you?” he asked, low and even, although the idea made him so angry he could scarce control himself.
“No,” she whispered.
“Grope you?” he continued, and that idea infuriated him even more.
She jerked her head in the negative. “No, nothing like that. He just…grabbed me, trapped me against the wall. He was angry at something I said. Normally he is so calm. Nothing I do or say can make that mask fall away.” She swallowed. “Today it fell, and it made me wonder if what you believe is true. Perhaps he did do my brother a harm.”
Nicholas tilted her chin up. “I want you to hear me, Jane. Are you listening?”
She nodded, slow and timid, nothing like the normal strength she had in her gaze. He hated the fear in her eyes and hated her cousin for putting it there. But he also loathed himself. He never should have put the idea in her head of her brother being murdered by her cousin, without solid proof. He should have known that strong, honest Jane would not be able to keep herself from a confrontation. Her cousin could have harmed her, and it would have been Nicholas’s fault.
“I found no evidence in your father’s papers to suggest your brother was harmed in any way by your cousin. It is still only speculation.”
She hesitated, but then nodded again. “One I hope is not true with all my heart. But I have never seen Patrick like he was today.”
“But you are safe now,” Nicholas soothed.
She smiled shakily. “Yes. I’m with you.”
That statement hit him in the gut like a sucker punch. Moved him beyond reason. Without hesitating, he tilted her face up and then kissed her. She leaned into him, hungry and innocent passion pouring from her like the sweetest wine he had ever tasted. But behind that he tasted her fright. And he wanted to make it go away. To never let it return.
Breaking the kiss, he brushed more stray locks away from her face before he pulled back and withdrew his pocket watch from his waistcoat.
“Damn,” he said as he snapped it shut. “No time. You must go back.”
She nodded. “Yes. Lady Ridgefield will be home soon.”
He thought for a moment. “Will you be able to return to me tonight? Perhaps after Lady Ridgefield has retired?”
Jane dipped her chin. “Today has been very long and trying and confusing. I’m not certain I’m going to be much of a teacher if I return to you tonight.”
“If you come back, there will be a lesson,” he said softly. “But you will not be forced to teach it. I want to instruct you. I want to teach you how to defend yourself. Will you come back tonight and let me do that?”
Her lips parted in surprise. “Defend myself? Do you mean physically?”
He nodded. It was something he should have done from the beginning.
She shook her head. “I don’t know, Nicholas, I—”
He caught both her hands, and the motion silenced her. “Please, Jane. Please let me do this for you.”
The ardor in his words and touch seem to astonish her, but she nodded slowly. “Very well. I will come back tonight if it means that much to you.”
And as she settled her head against his shoulder and they rode back to Lady Ridgefield’s home, Nicholas sighed. For some reason it did mean a great deal to offer Jane protection. Whether or not he would remain in her life when their lessons were over.
Chapter 15
Jane stepped into the foyer of Lady Ridgefield’s home with a grimace. She was late, despite her attempts to arrive before her employer returned home. There were three fine carriages lined up outside in the turnabout. Even if there hadn’t been, the laughter and gossipy voices raised from the nearby parlor were proof enough.
Jane straightened her shoulders before she moved toward the room. It wasn’t that she feared Lady Ridgefield would care that she hadn’t been there when the ladies arrived, but some of the others might make remarks. After today, which had started out with Nicholas nearly making love to her and ended with her cousin’s shocking behavior, she was too shaky to deal with their scorn and distain.
But there was little choice. This was her life now.
With one final sigh, she pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Lady Ridgefield was seated on her favorite chair before a roaring fire, laughing. Beside her in another chair was Lady Bledsoe, her own smile wide and genuine and sweet. Three more ladies perched on the settee across from them, and Jane groaned. Her employer’s old friends Lady Campbell-Carlile and Lady Abebowale were two of them and the third was Lady Kirkwood, one of the most influential duchesses in Society.
“Ah, Jane,” Lady Ridgefield ac
knowledged her with a wave into the room. “We were just talking about you.”
Jane’s heart sank as she trudged forward. That was exactly as she feared, but she forced a smile.
“My apologies for not being here when you arrived, my lady. I lost track of the time.”
To her surprise, it was Lady Kirkwood who rose to greet her. She dismissed Jane’s apology with an elegant wave of her hand. “Posh, my dear. You are allowed to have your day off as your own, aren’t you?”
Jane wrinkled her brow in confusion, but managed to maintain her expected servant’s politeness. “Thank you and good afternoon, Your Grace. Is there anything I can do or fetch for you ladies before I withdraw and leave you to your conversation?”
“Leave us?” Lady Abebowale gasped as she leapt to her feet, shooting a quick side glance at both Lady Kirkwood and Lady Bledsoe. “Dear Jane, no. You must join us. We have something very important to discuss with you.”
Jane couldn’t help her stare now, despite how inappropriate it was. She expected kindness from Lady Ridgefield and even Lady Bledsoe. And she didn’t know Lady Kirkwood, so she could be no judge of her behavior. But Jane had sat in many a room and ball with Lady Abebowale and Lady Campbell-Carlile, and neither of them had sent her so much as a side glance, despite the fact that the widow Lady Campbell-Carlile had once had designs on her own father!
But now they were being completely cordial to her, as if they had suddenly recalled she once had rank and position. What could she do? Her head was spinning and she desperately wanted to hide, but a servant was expected to serve, no matter how ridiculous or odd the request.
“I-I will certainly join you, if you would like,” she said, stepping away to move one of the more uncomfortable wooden chairs from beside the table across the room.
“No, my dear, take my place on the settee,” Lady Kirkwood said, motioning to the empty place between the other two women.
“I couldn’t—”
“I insist.” The duchess arched a brow, and Jane shut her mouth and took the space on the settee.
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