by Diana Lloyd
“Yes, sir.” Dobbs said, beaming. “And, if I might say so, sir, I wish you happy.”
“You may. And thank you.”
Freshly shaved, bathed, and dressed, Oliver waited in the breakfast room while the footmen laid out the last of the morning meal. Forgetting the bird was yet out of town, they’d even set out the small plate of fruit, nuts, and seeds that Oliver fed to Jones each morning. Funny how much companionship Jones had been over the years. He missed that damned bird.
“Good morning.” Jewel called out the greeting as she walked into the room. “Thank you for arranging for the bath. It was so delightful I soaked a few extra minutes. Hope I’m not too late. I’m famished.”
“Just in time.” Oliver stood and pulled out a chair for her on his right. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Did you sleep well?”
“Very well.” She motioned to the bowl of bird treats in front of him. “Unusual breakfast.”
“My parrot, Jones, is usually my only other company when Penry is out of town.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting him. Jones, that is. I sort of met your brother.” Jewel plucked a slice of toast from the rack and lifted the lid of the jam jar to check the contents. “What am I to say to your brother when he arrives? Will you explain our situation?”
“What is our situation?” Oliver skewered a sausage and brought it to his plate. “You’d better explain to me what you thought you were doing yesterday. Lord Sibley and Mr. Merrick are sure to bring the news back to London. Your uncle will eventually catch on.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Shaking her head, Jewel stared down at her toast and bit her lip. “My only thought was to help somehow.”
“You did. I was feeling cornered like a fox at a hunt until you burst into that room. Your bravado inspired me.” She had been eavesdropping. In other circumstances it would make him angry, but he couldn’t be angry at a helpful distraction. “Your announcement may have helped in the moment, but it created another complication that will come due when people begin to realize we aren’t getting married.”
“If I can stay hidden from my uncle until I hear back from my father, there’s no reason those men need to know we aren’t really engaged until it is too late to do anything about it. But I suppose once my uncle hears about it, this is the first place he’ll come looking for me.”
“I won’t let anyone take you where you don’t wish to go.” Now was not the time to tell her that he held no legal standing on that point. Unless they married, he had no right to keep her from her family. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. It was yet another legal question for Penry to answer when he arrived.
“It should take no more than three or four months.” She took a bite of toast and chewed thoughtfully. “It will all be sorted out as soon as I hear from my father. Like you, he is a prodigious letter writer, and I know he’ll respond as soon as possible.”
“I’m afraid that’s not likely to happen, Jewel.” Oliver chose his words carefully. There was no good way to tell her, but it had to be done.
“You had your man post my letter, didn’t you?” She dropped the toast to her plate and eyed him warily.
“I did.” Oliver pushed his remaining breakfast aside. “But I doubt very much your father will be allowed to reply.” He reached across the tablecloth for her hand as her face blanched. “There’s little way to soften this news.”
“Then just say it.”
“Your father was arrested the day you left Boston. He probably knew it was coming, that’s why he sent you away. Your uncle has heard that your father is being held on a prison hulk in Wallabout Bay.”
“On what charge?” Squeezing his hand, she took a shaky breath.
“Sedition. His alliance with a group that calls itself the Sons of Liberty led to his arrest. Have you heard of them?”
“Everyone has, but only in whispers. It’s not a matter he would ever discuss with me.” Her lip trembled before she got it under control to speak again. “It’s a misunderstanding. It’s all just a big misunderstanding. It will be over soon, it has to be.”
“It won’t be as easy as you wish it to be. It’s a very serious matter.”
“That’s why I have to get back to him as soon as possible.”
“With the war…” Oliver shook his head. “It will be nearly impossible. There’s going to be a lot of saber-rattling before calmer minds prevail and more diplomatic efforts are put forth. You are most welcome to stay here at Winchcombe Abbey for as long as you wish.”
“He needs me.” A tear slid down her cheek, and Oliver reached out to brush it away.
“So do I.” He hadn’t intended to say that out loud, but there it was, hanging in the air between them. “Things aren’t hopeless, just difficult. All those letters I wrote the other night, I wrote on behalf of your father. I run this estate and manage most of the county by letter. Do not underestimate the power of correspondence.”
Jewel pulled her hand away. “You knew he was in prison all along. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I had hoped that my letters would provide additional information and I wouldn’t have to worry you needlessly.”
“Don’t keep secrets from me. My father kept secrets from me and now we are separated by an ocean. He is in one prison and I was nearly in another.” Cheeks flushed with anger, each word was an accusation. “I must demand your honesty.”
“Of course.” Her anger was misplaced but justified. He hadn’t lied, he’d simply neglected to tell the whole truth. A sin of omission, however, was still a sin. “I give you my honesty if you’ll grant me the same. No more listening at doors.” Neither of them was blameless, and he would have her promise, too. “If we work together, we might just be able to remedy both our problems.”
“Agreed.” Her anger softened, but not by much.
“What shall we tell your uncle when he comes calling? Our stories had better match.”
“I don’t suppose he’s going to believe I’m your long-lost cousin.”
“It’s unlikely, even with the name change. Someone is going to figure it out sooner than we want them to, so we must be careful. You’ve got to stop reacting to things in the moment and think ahead.”
“My quick thinking saved your brother, found an escort for me, and saved your hide from Bedlam. It’s easy to be thoughtful when you have the time to compose a letter. Outside of your estate, in the real world, where everyone has hidden motives, it is often necessary to seize the moment.”
“Carpe diem. Point taken, no more lectures.” They were as dissimilar as chalk and cheese, but that didn’t make her wrong.
“Glad we got that settled. As I was saying, there was something about what those men said yesterday that got me thinking last night. They said they were going to interview witnesses. What if they speak to my aunt and uncle? I can’t imagine they’d have anything nice to say about either of us.”
“Your uncle’s ballroom is the only social appearance I’ve ever made, so chances are they’ll start there. Had you no friends there? No one who might vouch for you or put forth a good word?”
“Well.” She chewed her lip and appeared to ponder. “My cousin Edwina, if questioned outside of her mother’s presence, might provide something encouraging.”
“Then we have to get to her first. Write her a note this morning, and I’ll have someone deliver it as soon as possible. Anyone else?”
“Eldridge Ashworth.” She huffed out the name, as if revealing a long pent-up secret that was yearning to be free.
“And he is…?” He almost didn’t want to know. The way she spoke the man’s name was enough to cause his stomach to clench and his blood to warm with anger.
“He used to be…a friend. He was our neighbor back in Boston but now he’s in London. I don’t know why he was at my uncle’s masked ball but we didn’t get a chance to speak so I could ask. He might no
t be helpful, but he’s the only other person I know in London.”
“Then you should write him as well.” Pleased that his voice didn’t betray the war raging inside him, Oliver drew the hand that was out of her sight into a fist. An old friend from Boston who just happened to be invited to the same ball? He no longer trusted convenient coincidences.
“I’m not sure he’ll help, but I might be able to convince him to do no harm, at the very least.”
“Write the note. I’ll see that it gets to him.” Oliver reminded himself that his association with Jewel was based on lies. She was not his cousin, she was not his fiancée. He had no claim on her. They were working together for mutual survival. It was nothing more. “Say something vague about a long engagement. Pretend it’s a love match, if you can, and ask for their support.”
“I’ll include a list of your most outstanding virtues and attributes.”
“Hmm.” He smiled. “A short note.”
“I have to be optimistic.” She returned his smile with one of her perfect ones. “We have little choice but to do what we can and hope for the very best outcome.”
“Whatever happens to me, know that I will do my best to reunite you with your father.”
“The conditions on the prison hulks are dire. I know that men die there. You don’t have to worry about telling me the truth of it. My father is strong and clever, and he is all that I have in this world. I have to believe he’s still alive.” Her bravery was impressive, but she was wrong.
Her father wasn’t all she had.
“Bring your notes to me as soon as they’re done; I’ll send a footman to deliver them straightaway. Penry should be here by evening, and he’ll have a few thoughts on how to proceed as well. Until then, get comfortable here, learn your way around. I’ll give you a tour of the grounds later.”
“I do not regret warning you that your brother was in danger. I hope you don’t regret stopping that carriage.”
“It was impulsive, but it just might be the best thing I ever did. Besides kissing you. I don’t regret kissing you.” The only brash impulse in his adult life was pressing his lips against hers. He couldn’t regret it and would never forget it.
“Ah, so you admit it was you who kissed me.”
“I saw an opportunity and I took it. There have been few beautiful women who let me get that close. I was curious to know what it would feel like to kiss you.” If it was honesty she wanted, he’d provide it.
“Was your curiosity satisfied?” Jewel slid her chair back from the table; the slow screech of the wood scraping against the stone floor might have been a thunderclap. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck prickled with anticipation as she stood.
“Not quite.” His brain hadn’t yet formed the thought of kissing her again before he found himself on his feet and doing so. Before his lips touched hers, he gave her a moment to demure, to have a second thought. Instead of shying away, she leaned in, tilted her head, and brushed her lips ever so gently against his. It was all the consent he needed. He craved their softness. Dear God, she tasted of sweet china oranges. He kissed her as if it was his very last chance.
When their lips parted, they were breathing hard, their hands tangled in each other’s hair. Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, Oliver eased himself away. No words could accurately convey his feelings. He brushed his hand against her hair one last time and committed her kisses to his memory. When she left, there would be no others.
“I know that I cannot prevail without your help,” she said. “I would be in dire circumstance had you not stopped that coach. I’m thankful, but that’s not why I kissed you. I kissed you because I wanted to.”
Chapter Seven
Oliver was right. This small morning room was going to be her favorite. Cozy but not cramped, the room provided both good light and comfortable furniture. It was perfect for reading and hiding away.
She may have made up her mind to stay, but there was still much unsettled in her life. Imagining her sweet father in prison was too much to bear. Oliver’s letters might help, but fussing and crying would not. Strength and cunning would see her father through the ordeal. That and a large dose of luck.
With the letters just beginning their long journey over the sea, waiting might prove to be the most difficult endeavor of all. Keeping Oliver out of Bedlam was a noble distraction. Jewel could only hope it was a successful one.
Everyone she knew back home had grown up hearing frightful tales of witches and ghostly spirits vexing mortals with spells and spectral mischief. They’d been only tales and rumor until now. Her father had claimed it all nonsense, a cowardly way for a man’s ills to be blamed on something other than a man’s own deeds.
A scarred face was a poor reason to persecute a man. Oliver had done himself no favors by hiding away in this house for so many years. His absence had fed all manner of conjecture, gossip, and outright lies. Hiding as if guilty helped the lies take root in minds intent upon mischief.
He’d never told her how he came about his scar. Had Oliver and his brother once looked exactly alike? Was it strange for him to look at Penry and know what might have been if not for fate? Oliver retreated into himself, but his brother stayed at his side. Whereas Jewel had been abandoned by everyone she ever loved. Her mother through death, her father through neglect, and Eldridge by deceit. Oliver’s wound was visible, and hers hidden away like a shameful secret, but they were alike in that they still suffered the pain.
“Hello,” a strange and unnatural voice called out. Thoughts of ghosts and witches were still too close, and the back of her neck prickled with fear.
“Hello?” Jewel spoke into the empty room with a quiver in her voice.
“Hello. Pretty bird.”
What?
“Good afternoon, Miss Latham.” Penry Chalford walked into the room with a large, colorful parrot perched on his arm. “This is Jones’s favorite room; do you mind if he shares it with you for a while?” All this time, when hearing the name or a strange voice from another room, she’d thought Jones was a footman. That Oliver should have a talking bird as a companion made perfect sense.
“I’d love to. I can see why he likes the room. There’s a fine view of a lovely little garden from the windows. If I opened one, he might hear the other birds. Or would he fly out?”
“He’s not much of a flyer.” Penry lowered his arm and Jones hopped down to the windowsill, tapping at the glass with his beak a few times before settling down. “Did Oliver tell you this was our mother’s office? That’s her portrait over there.” Penry pointed to a small painting, and Jewel walked the few steps to see it better.
“She’s beautiful. You and Oliver favor her looks.” The cloud that passed over Penry’s face at her comment was curious. From the portrait of their father that hung in the dining room she could tell that neither son carried his heavy brow and thick features.
“She was beautiful,” Penry answered. “She died when Oliver and I were born, but I think she’d be happy to know that both my brother and I are engaged to two such beautiful, amazing women.”
“I’m sure she’d be pleased.” Why hadn’t Oliver told him they were only pretending to be engaged? “My mother died when I was nine. I’m glad for the time I had with her. I only wish I had a beautiful portrait to remember her by along with my few memories.”
“All my mother’s things are still stored up in the attic. I ran into your maid, a singularly interesting woman, and she asked for cloth. Please know you are welcome to anything you find up there that may be useful to you. Any gowns, however, would be terribly out of fashion, I’m sure. If they can be restyled, take them. Otherwise, they’re just rotting away up there.”
“I’ve only a few gowns, so I may have to take you up on that offer.”
“Anything you need, dear almost-sister, you are welcome to. I’ve never seen Oliver so happy.” Whether or not Oliv
er’s happiness was a pretense, he’d fooled his brother. She was a misplaced Bostonian who’d caused a scandal at the first ball she’d attended, certainly a step down for an earl. She’d not yet dared to imagine that their engagement would prove true. Putting faith in others was the quickest route to disappointment and hurt.
“I don’t wish to make Oliver uncomfortable by asking him, but I have been wondering how he came about his scar. Just so I know, would you mind telling me?” If he refused, she wouldn’t push the matter. Not this time. But, eventually, she would know.
“He rarely speaks of it, so it’s better that I tell you. Our mother died bringing us into this world, and our father never forgave us for it. One of my father’s friends once made the comment that neither of us boys looked much like our sire.” Penry gestured to his mother’s portrait. “As you can see, our features favor our mother’s family.” When he smiled at that, it was easy to see the face in the portrait, especially about the eyes. “Father was already drinking heavily by then,” Penry continued. “The remark was enough to convince him that mother must have been unfaithful to him and left a couple of cuckoos in his nest.”
“Oh, Penry, that’s horrible.” Without a mother and unloved by his father, Oliver’s life must have been as lonely as hers. Thank goodness he had Penry. “I can’t even imagine not having my father’s love.”
“We always had each other. When the bottle took over our father’s life, he became violent. Father could never tell us apart, and Oliver would sometimes take two beatings just to save me one. When we were twelve, feeling cocky and clever as all young men do, Oliver and I thought to take a bit of a joyride on my father’s horse and got caught out in the stables. Drunk and angry, Father made us stand side by side while he cursed and berated us.”
“I’m so sorry.” Rising to stand, Jewel offered what comfort she could by placing her hand upon his arm.
“There we stood, like a couple of matching candlesticks, while he screamed and yelled for what seemed like hours. He mistook me as the eldest and declared I would be punished with a whipping. As he pulled the buggy whip from the hook, Oliver stepped forward and admitted he was the eldest. So as never to confuse us again, our father cracked the whip. I didn’t realize what had happened at first. Not until Oliver dropped to his knees clutching his face.” Penry put a hand to his face as he spoke, his fingers tracing the wound his brother wore.