by Gina Lamm
A surprised grin crossed her face. She nearly lost the two pins still hanging from her lips. “Thank you, Miss Jamie!”
Jamie winced a little when the maid’s excitement nearly cost her a patch of scalp. It was worth it to make Muriel feel good. Someone should be happy today, and Jamie wasn’t sure if she could put her worries aside enough for it to be her.
Jamie ended up being late to breakfast because of her prolonged soak. She hoped Mike was still there. She wanted to see him, despite her worries and concerns. Maybe he could help her put them to rest.
As luck would have it, she passed him on his way out of the dining room.
“Hey,” Jamie said breathlessly. “Sorry I’m late. I needed a bath.”
His smile was tender as he looked down into her eyes. “Good morning, Miss Marten. I trust you slept well?” His brow quirked slightly.
She rolled her eyes with a wry grin. “Yeah. Great, thanks for asking.”
He clasped his hands behind him, and a ripple of want went through her at the way his tailored coat fit his muscular form. “I must meet with my solicitor this morning. Would you care to ride out with me this afternoon? It is a fair day, and I thought a ride in my phaeton would be quite the thing.”
She smiled. “Sounds great to me.”
Mike glanced around surreptitiously and then brushed a kiss across her lips. He lifted his head, and with a smile said, “Until later, my love.”
Her pulse fluttered like crazy as he walked away. She didn’t even pretend not to check him out as he left. What a man. What the hell was she going to do with him?
Baron stuck with her while she ate breakfast. She felt guilty about abandoning the dog last night. She wasn’t sure where he’d ended up sleeping after he woke Muriel, but since he made a point to stay with Jamie every night, she was pretty sure it wasn’t as comfy as her bed was. She gave him extra ham to make up for it. She thought he forgave her.
Jamie walked in the garden with the hound after breakfast, still trying to wrap her brain around things. She tried to think of herself as Jamie Axelby, Countess of Dunnington, but it didn’t work. When she’d dreamed of marrying Logan, she’d always thought she’d hyphenate. Jamie Marten-Camp had a ring to it. Then again, Jamie Marten-Axelby sounded nice. But there was no way she could get away with hyphenating her name in this time. Women’s lib was still way off in the future. She’d have to have Mike’s permission to do anything. No one would do business with her; no one would take her seriously on her own merits. She couldn’t write music and get paid for it. She wasn’t worth as much as a person here as she had been at home.
What a lowering thought. She’d never been someone with huge self-esteem anyway, but the thought of needing a man’s permission if she wanted to set up a bank account really hit her hard.
She flopped down onto her bench, trying to slouch, but the damn stays wouldn’t let her. She sighed instead.
“Baron, this is really tough.” The dog licked her hand, trying to find any remnants of breakfast. “It’s easy for you, isn’t it? Doesn’t bother you where you are or who’s there, as long as you’ve got a warm bed, lots of food, and cuddles, huh?”
She ruffled his ears.
What was stopping her? Honestly? She had told Mike she was going to give this a shot, and dammit, that was exactly what she was going to do. They deserved a chance to be together.
“Thanks, dog.” She stood and marched purposefully back into the house. She needed to dress for their ride, and she wanted to look her best. Better go ahead and get started. Mike would be back in only a couple of hours, the perfect amount of time to dress to impress society. She hoped.
Mrs. K joined Muriel in dressing Jamie to the nines for her carriage outing with Mike. The housekeeper produced a lilac carriage dress, high-necked with a pointed collar and a lilac ribbon-belt. Muriel piled Jamie’s hair atop her head again, arranging curls to spill temptingly around her face. They perched a white chip-straw hat on top of the curls, pinning it securely atop her head. Mrs. K wrapped a darker purple shawl around her shoulders, tiny tassels dangling from the corners.
“There.” Mrs. K stepped back to admire their handiwork. “No one shall fault your appearance.”
Jamie took as deep a breath as she could. No wonder women were always passing out in the olden days. They couldn’t breathe in these damn deathtraps. Just when she thought she’d gotten used to them, Muriel would cinch them just a little bit tighter. “But what if I do something wrong while I’m out there and somebody sees me? I don’t want Mike’s reputation to suffer because of me.”
“It is simple, Miss Jamie.” Jamie replayed Mrs. K’s words as she descended the stairs to meet Mike, whose face had lit up charmingly at the sight of her. “Be polite. Do not speak with anyone to whom you are not acquainted. Let his lordship guide you. He will not lead you astray.”
“Miss Marten.” He held a hand out to Jamie, and she put her gloved one in his. “You are looking quite fine.”
“You are as well, my lord,” she said with a bashful smile. “Thank you for taking me riding.”
“It is my pleasure.” He pulled her hand through the crook of his arm and led her out the front door to his waiting phaeton.
The gleaming black carriage had a beautiful brown leather seat, which Mike handed her up to. It was surprisingly comfortable, and she was much happier to sit behind the horses than on them. The beasts stamped their feet as Mike climbed in beside her.
“Are you ready?” he asked her with a grin.
“Let’s go, chief. Wagons roll!” Jamie pointed ahead with a laugh as Mike flicked the reins and they were off.
She was grateful for the thick purple shawl that coordinated with her outfit so well. The early spring wind was a little chilly atop the high carriage. She wished she could cuddle closer to Mike, enjoying some of his body heat, but she wasn’t willing to embarrass him. She was testing herself to see if she could do this the right way. So far, so cold, so good.
The horses’ hooves clattered against the cobbled streets as they made their way to the park. Mike nodded to a few gentlemen on horseback but, fortunately, didn’t stop to talk. Jamie breathed a little easier when the phaeton turned into the park’s entrance. There were fewer people around to worry about embarrassing herself in front of.
“Are you enjoying the air?” Mike asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, it’s a little chilly, but it’s good to get out of the house. And the company is pretty nice too.” She winked at him, and he chuckled.
“I must agree. Very pleasant company indeed.”
A second or two passed as they rounded a corner in the path. Jamie realized that she didn’t know as much about her earl as she should.
“We haven’t really talked about family, you know. Do you have any?”
His face darkened slightly. “My mother and father have both passed on. I have no siblings. There are some distant cousins on my father’s side, one of which is my heir. They reside near the Scottish border.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, running her fingers along the embroidered edge of her shawl. “My parents are both dead too.”
Mike looked at her. “We seem to be more alike than not, Miss Marten.”
Jamie nodded, a half smile on her face. “Guess so, my lord.”
After that, they fell into a companionable silence, the only noise the horses’ hooves on the gravel pathways. Jamie scooted a tiny bit closer to Mike, hoping she was still far enough away for polite society. Honestly, she wanted nothing more than to snuggle up under his arm, pressing her cheek against his chest. She sighed inwardly and pulled the purple shawl tighter around her shoulders. It would have to be enough for here and now. She could do this. It wasn’t that bad, honestly. She just had to mind her manners and everything would be fine.
They rode for quite a while. When they rounded a bend, deep in the park, Jamie spied a hound being walked by a uniformed footman. The dog was the same dark gray-blue as Baron but with a splash of white across its nose.
�
�Hey, Mike, that dog looks a lot like Baron, don’t you think?”
Mike’s jaw tightened as he took in the sight of the footman yanking on the dog’s lead. Jamie winced in sympathy herself.
“That is the Duke of Granville’s footman. If I’m not mistaken, that’s the same chap that dumped Baron and his siblings in the river.”
“What?” She turned to Mike, horror freezing her blood.
Mike nodded, turning the carriage down a side path to avoid the man with the dog. “I saw it happen. It was over a year ago, in January. I found out later that the man was not supposed to breed that particular pair, as another stud was to be used, and was trying to cover his mistake by disposing of the pups. He pitched a wicker basket into the icy waters of the Thames. I tried to stop him, but he was too far away to hear my shouts. I ran to the river as he walked away. I plunged into the icy water myself and grabbed the basket. Three of the pups inside had already drowned. I put the two remaining in my waistcoat and rode as fast as I could for my townhouse. The female pup expired before I could get them home. Baron was very weak, but he survived the ordeal. Mrs. Knightsbridge was an invaluable help, devising a way to help the pup nurse. Between the two of us, we saved him.”
“Oh my God,” Jamie said, a palm covering her gaping mouth. “That is so awful.”
Mike nodded. “That was only weeks after Louisa’s death. In many ways, I think Baron helped me to heal. He is a very special hound.”
Blast and damn propriety. Mike was hurting, and she needed to comfort him. She reached over and squeezed his hand softly. “He is, and he’s incredibly lucky to have you. It’s easy to see that he’s crazy about you.”
Mike smiled at her. “The feeling is returned.” He laughed as he pulled the reins back, stopping the horses. “Do you think it is foolish to love a man who cares so deeply for an animal?”
Jamie shook her head. “Not at all.”
A shrill female voice cut between them like a two-handed sword.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“Ah, for chrissakes,” Jamie muttered, looking over her shoulder. Collette was riding up behind them, her burgundy riding habit looking like spilled wine against her horse’s white flanks. “Here we go again.”
“Miss Dubois,” Mike called in a stern, deep voice. “We are having a private conversation. Please take yourself elsewhere.”
“I will do nothing of the sort.” She brought her horse up to her side of the carriage, eyes snapping at Jamie. “You were to leave Dunnington alone. Why are you still here?”
“Maybe because I couldn’t give a crap about your opinion?” Jamie said, opening her eyes wide and smiling with tight lips.
Collette gasped.
Jamie rolled her eyes. Seriously? Is she really expecting me to hop down and trot away when the bitch snaps her fingers?
“Micah, you will not let her speak to me in this coarse manner. Silence her immediately.”
Mike shook his head. “I will not. You are not wanted here, so Miss Marten can express her displeasure in whatever manner she sees fit.”
Jamie turned back to Mike and smiled at him. “Thanks.”
He nodded.
“This is an outrage, Micah. I cannot allow this to go on. I will inform Mr. Waites about your disgusting paramour living in your home. He’ll make sure that all of society knows before the week is out. You will no longer be invited to anything. Almack’s will shun you for good. The prince himself will censure you. It will be a scandal that even your lofty position will not save you from, not so tidily shoved under the rug as your last contretemps was.” She lowered her voice, fluttering dark lashes at him. “It can all be quite simply avoided, dearest one. I have no wish to harm you; I only wish to free you from this damaging association. Now, are you sure you wish to throw me over for this harlot?”
Jamie hadn’t seen Mike really lose his temper since that night he’d saved her from Beard and Sideburns. He made up for that when he roared at Collette.
“If you insult my intended bride once more, I shall not be responsible for my actions. Mind your tongue, for what is mine, I keep.” His knuckles turned white where he gripped the reins. The force of his yell must have startled the horses, for they stomped nervously, rocking the phaeton wheels back and forth.
Collette stared at Jamie, disgust plain in her wrinkled nose and gaping mouth.
“Intended…bride?”
Twenty-Three
A few days ago, George had struggled with a load of coals down the hallway. Jamie had jumped up from her seat on the piano bench to help him, but they’d spilled all over the rug before she could get there. He’d propped his hands on his hips, scowled at the mess, and said, “Well, that’s torn it.”
The expression seemed particularly apt there too. Collette’s face was the perfect picture of shocked dismay. “You cannot…Micah, it is not…You must…”
“Good day, Miss Dubois.” Mike flicked the reins and the horses obediently started walking.
Jamie glanced over her shoulder. Collette still sat there atop her white mount, mouth working.
“I’m guessing you didn’t mean to do that,” Jamie said to Mike when they’d put some distance between them and his former lover.
“No, I did not,” he sighed. “It was not well done of me. Well, now or later, we shall weather the storm of gossip.”
A heavy weight settled in her chest. “I don’t want to cause you problems, you know.”
He nodded, clucking to the horses to speed them up on the road. “I know.”
Jamie rubbed her gloved fingers together in consternation. She couldn’t stand the thought of Mike being hurt by society the way he had when Louisa had died. “If it would be better for you, I could go. Back, I mean.”
Mike’s sharp command to the horses stopped them in the center of the street. A hoarse shout behind them cursed them for stopping.
“That is not acceptable,” Mike said, his voice as high and mighty as she’d ever heard it. “You will not leave me.”
His possessive attitude was flattering, but the autocratic manner was not. She reached out and laid her hand atop his where it clenched the reins.
“Hey. Listen. I’m not going to make any decisions like that without your input. But remember the partnership part of our agreement? That means both of us get equal say, okay? The whole lord-of-the-manor bit isn’t going to fly with me. Got it?”
He opened his mouth to argue, but she arched a brow at him, refusing to back down. With an angry sigh and flick of the reins, he agreed. “Very well. But you must promise to speak with me before doing anything so rash.”
“I can agree to that.”
The phaeton rolled to a stop in front of Mike’s house, and a footman assisted Jamie as she descended. With a polite bow, Mike said he’d see her at dinner and disappeared into his office.
Muriel followed Jamie up the stairs to help her change. You’d think without sewing machines, people wouldn’t want to change clothes so many times in a day, but apparently not. Jamie had kind of gotten used to the frequent costume changes. They did make her feel kind of pretty and girly, after all. Tonight, Muriel put her in a scarlet-red gown, daring and lovely. She couldn’t wait to see what Mike thought of it.
Jamie was heading toward the stairs when Thornton’s voice floated up from the foyer. “My lord, a missive has arrived from Sir Frederick Lyons.”
Jamie hustled down the stairs. Mike stood by the front door, his jaw tightening as he read the letter.
“What does it say?” Jamie crossed her arms over her middle nervously. Without a word, Mike handed her the letter.
Lord Dunnington,
I have received a report from Mr. Waites of a quite serious and alarming nature. It is rumored that you are not only harboring an unwed woman of no reputation in your very home, but that you have offered marriage to this same person. As you have been squiring my Felicity about, we have been led to believe that you intended to propose marriage.
Do know, sir, that
if these tales prove true, I will have no recourse but to swiftly inform my many acquaintances how you have used my family so abominably. I pray, for your sake, that these rumors are false.
Sir Frederick Lyons
The letter fluttered from her fingers as she stared at Mike in bewilderment. As a footman retrieved the paper, Mike offered a stunned Jamie his arm and escorted her into the sitting room.
“Have a seat, dearling.” Mike crossed over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. When he offered Jamie one, she shook her head vehemently. She’d had enough alcohol to last her a while, thanks.
“What are we going to do?” she asked Mike when he sat down beside her.
He took a sip of his drink before replying, “If Mr. Waites is spreading Collette’s venom for her, then the tale will have reached throughout the ton by noon tomorrow. There is naught we can do to stop it.”
“Great. Absolutely wonderful.” On second thought…She took a tiny sip of Mike’s drink. Ugh. Brandy. She coughed, her eyes watering.
“Are you all right?” Mike took the glass that she shoved back at him.
She nodded, hand gripping her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she wheezed.
Mike rolled his eyes and thwacked her on the back.
“Sorry,” she said when she had her breath back. “I’m better now.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “What will this mean for you? I mean, I know it’s bad, right? Exactly how bad could it get?”
The dark, stony look on his face was all the answer she needed, but he went on anyway. “It will not be pleasant. I worry not so much for myself but for you. The stares and whispers are not unfamiliar to me, after Louisa’s strange death, but you should not be exposed to their waspish ways.”
“How can we stop them? I don’t want to deal with them any more than you do, but I don’t see how—”
“I must hide you,” Mike said. He tossed back the rest of his brandy and set the glass back on the side table. “I will send you to my country home. You will be safe there, and I can weather the storm of gossip here alone. Once the worst has passed, I shall meet you there, and we can wed. When that has happened, the wagging tongues will soon find other targets.” He came back to the couch, grasping both her hands as he sat beside her. “I will not let anyone harm you again, Jamie.”