‘And you might almost be right. And now, charming as this conversation is, I really ought to return to my sister. Please excuse me.’
‘Not so fast.’ He grasped her shoulder and Jemima was acutely aware of the warmth from his long, capable fingers penetrating the fabric of her gown and searing her skin. ‘You are plotting something, I can sense it. Something to do with Quinn and gulling him into giving himself away.’
‘I am doing no such thing!’ she cried, a little too vehemently.
‘I thought as much. Let me make one thing crystal clear.’ He was no longer flirting and his expression had turned deadly serious. ‘Quinn is nobody’s fool. He would not have reached the position he is in today if he was. He will see through you in a heartbeat and your life will not be worth a penny if you try to dupe him. Consider what he did to your sister, if you doubt me. Leave it to us, Jemima.’ His ardent tone softened to one of gentle and earnest persuasion. ‘I would not have you placing yourself at risk. Quite apart from anything else, the world would be a considerably less interesting place without you in it.’
She swallowed. No one had ever shown half so much concern for her welfare before, and she was genuinely touched by his consideration. ‘My first priority is to see Annabel returned to good health.’
‘I am sure it is, but I still require you word, if you please.’
Damnation, he noticed that she had avoided giving it. ‘You have my word that I will not say or do anything that will risk derailing the delicate negotiations between the government and the Irish Radicals.’ She swallowed, a little overwhelmed by the imposing stance of the man who stood before her. A stance that exuded an air of dangerous determination. A stance that embodied a destructive force of arresting masculinity that both enticed and frightened her. ‘There, will that satisfy you?’
His predatory smile returned, sinful and deeply capricious. ‘Not nearly, but it will suffice.’ He picked up her withered hand and kissed the back of it. ‘For now.’
Jemima had survived the shock of seeing her poisoned sister and all that her condition implied without losing her senses, but the touch of Ros’s lips on her hand made it feel as though her knees might give out on her.
‘Go,’ he said softly. ‘Go and sit with your sister.’
Jemima nodded, somehow managed to make her legs move, and went.
*
Olivia looked up from their sleeping son’s cot when Jake joined her in the nursery and smiled, holding a finger to her lips.
‘Crisis averted?’ he asked in a whisper.
‘Yes.’ Olivia stood and led her husband away from the infant, lest their voices should waken him. ‘Needless to say, Tom was the cause of it. He was leaning out of the window, attempting to catch a butterfly apparently. He lost his footing and had to be rescued.’
Jake shook his head. ‘Is he all right?’
‘Full of himself, as always. Naturally, it was not his fault.’
‘Oh, naturally.’
Tom appeared in the doorway looking abashed but, Olivia sensed, anxious to justify his misadventures. ‘It was a very pretty butterfly, Papa,’ he said. ‘I wanted to add it to my collection.’
Olivia watched as Jake fought a smile and resisted the urge to empathise. He had often remarked that Olivia’s son’s adventurous spirit reminded him of his own at that age. ‘And would break your bones in the process,’ Jake said sternly, ‘to say nothing of giving your mother the most awful fright.’
‘But Papa, it kept banging against the window. It wanted to come in, so I opened the window and leaned out to show it the way. But then I got stuck and Nanny had to pull me back in by the legs. It hurt.’
‘Have we not talked about you opening windows before now?’
‘Are you going to thrash me?’ Tom asked, sounding interested rather than unduly concerned, never having been physically chastised before.
‘I am considering the possibility.’
‘I expect you are, but I have already had a punishment.’ He screwed up his features. ‘Nanny made me have a bath,’ he said in an aggrieved tone. ‘I think I would prefer a thrashing.’
Olivia was perfectly sure that he would. This time Jake couldn’t contain his smile and turned away from Tom before he saw it. ‘I see,’ he said gravely. ‘And have you apologised to your mama for scaring her?’
Tom, the most affectionate of children, ran up to Olivia and threw his arms around her legs. She crouched down to his level and buried her face in his tumble of curls as she breathed in his clean, wholesome smell, enjoying the precious moment.
‘I declare that child could negotiate his way out of a war zone,’ Jake said, laughing as they watched him walk off with Nanny, still talking about the butterfly and what a shame it was that it had escaped.
‘We will have to get Isaac to take him on as an apprentice barrister when the time comes,’ Olivia agreed. ‘He is a natural.’ They smiled at Sebastian, who had slumbered through the entire butterfly drama, and crept from the room. ‘I ought to join Jemima in her sister’s room. She will probably be grateful for the support.’
Jake chuckled. ‘I left her and Ros in close conversation downstairs. She didn’t seem in any great hurry to return to her sister.’
‘Really!’ Olivia elevated both brows. ‘Excellent. I thought I detected an interest on his part.’
Jake shook his head. ‘Whereas the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.’
‘I am not surprised to hear it,’ Olivia said as they entered their suite of rooms on the first floor. ‘Men never see what is beneath their noses. Jemima is every bit as attractive as her sister, even if it is less obvious at first sight. Ros has the good sense to see it and to appreciate her quick brain and sound common sense.’
‘I have sent Parker with a message for Riley, asking him to join us for dinner if he is not otherwise engaged. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Not in the least. I enjoy his society. I suppose you want to explain the situation to him and see if he is willing to involve himself. I am perfectly sure that he will be. Ros will remain too, I hope.’
‘With your agreement. He has gone off to Westminster to discharge his duties there, but will return later.’
‘Jemima will have to come down. She will not want to leave her sister for long, but she will have to eat and…oh lud!’ Olivia clapped a hand over her mouth.
What is it?’ Jake asked sharply.
‘Jemima didn’t think to send for any clothes.’
‘Good God woman, don’t do that to me! I thought it was something serious.’
‘It is. How can we encourage her interest in Lord Glynde if she has nothing to wear to show herself at her best?’
‘Olivia,’ Jake replied with exaggerated patience. ‘Her mind is otherwise engaged. Her sister is fighting for her life.’
‘True.’ Olivia gave a grim nod. ‘But she will not die. Vomiting saved her, or rather your presence of mind in waking her, getting her upright and forcing her to do so had the desired effect. Dr Sawyer thought it unlikely that she will succumb to the poison now that there is less of it in her system. I checked on her a while ago. The sweating has subsided and she is breathing almost normally again, so the signs are good. We do not know if there will be any lasting damage to her health due to the arsenic she ingested, of course, but at least I am optimistic that she will live.’
‘She can look forward to short term abdominal pain and perhaps hair loss,’ Jake replied. ‘Apart from that, she is young and ought to recover completely, at least physically.’
‘But her other problems will not be so easily overcome.’ Olivia shook her head, angry on Annabel’s behalf. ‘There can be no worse fate for a young woman than the loss of her virtue. It is shocking that Quinn took advantage of her. I know he intended for her to die, but even so, raping her beforehand seems somehow even more cold-blooded.’ She offered Jake a determined expression. ‘Something must be done to stop the horrible man.’
‘W
hich is why I have invited Riley to dine,’ Jake said, patting her hand. ‘Together we will think of a convincing way to get Quinn here.’
‘I am sure he will take little convincing, especially when he realises that Annabel has survived and is in this house, but I don’t see how that will help. He will hardly confess to what he did and if you try strong-arm tactics it could have devastating consequences for the delicate negotiations between the government and the Irish, which is all Aitken seems to care about.’ Olivia gave a disgruntled huff. ‘Honestly, Jake, I was disgusted with his disregard for Jemima’s feelings. He doesn’t seem to realise how affected the poor girl is by her sister’s plight and barely acknowledged her stalwart determination to weather the histrionics when Annabel regains her senses and realises what has happened to her.’ She scowled. ‘And I am not referring to the poisoning.’
‘He is disappointed in his personal life, so he has detached himself from it and immersed himself in politics. I have seen men behave in such a fashion too many times before.’ Jake gently touched her face. ‘Not everyone is as fortunate as we are when it comes to matrimonial contentment, my love.’
‘True.’ She batted Jake’s hands away when they began to wander. ‘I cannot think about that now. Susan and I must find suitable clothing for our guest.’
Jake chuckled and pulled her into a tight embrace. ‘You really do have a skewed sense of priorities that challenge a man,’ he said, treating her to a drugging kiss. They were both breathing heavily when he finally released her from it. ‘Still short of time?’ he asked with a suggestive quirk of one brow.
‘Well, since you put it so persuasively,’ she replied with a reckless little laugh. ‘I dare say Jemima can manage without me for just a little longer.’
Chapter Twelve
‘Sorry to have been detained,’ Jemima said as she slipped back into her sister’s room. ‘How is she, Susan?’
‘Take all the time you need, miss.’ Susan seemed surprised by the apology. ‘She seems much less agitated and is sleeping more or less naturally now. I’ve seen a person or two suffering from accidental poisoning in my time and I’d say she’s over the worst. When she wakes up, she’ll feel confused, forgetful and will probably have a headache, but it could have been so much worse for the poor lamb.’
‘Indeed.’
’Anyway, see for yourself.’
Jemima stepped up to the bed and breathed more easily when she glanced down at her sister, who did appear to be sleeping off her ordeal. No more mumbling, tossing and turning, and her brow was cool to the touch. That had to be a good sign. She took the chair that Susan had just vacated and grasped her sister’s hand, which was no longer cold.
‘She does seem much better,’ Jemima said, speaking in a normal voice in the hope that it would penetrate Annabel’s brain. She would be disorientated when she woke and would probably appreciate hearing a familiar voice. Even Jemima’s. ‘I had not imagined that her recovery would be so rapid.’
‘She’s young and strong and it looks like she was found in time.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Jemima sighed. ‘’Go about your duties, Susan. I will stay with her now.’
‘As you wish, miss.’
The door closed softly behind Susan. Jemima straightened the covers that Annabel had thrown off, held her sister’s hand and with no other duties to distract her, she fell into contemplation. Her most urgent priority was, of course, to somehow encourage Annabel to waken, although she was unsure if she was prepared for the hysterics when she did so and realised the full consequences of her stupidity.
Jemima felt no strong sisterly bond towards Annabel. Any such feelings had long been extinguished by Annabel’s spiteful selfishness, and worse. Be that as it may, Annabel was still her sister and Jemima would see justice served for the manner in which the foolish child had been so callously manipulated. Once they had satisfied themselves that Quinn masterminded the manipulating, Jemima would put her weight behind to ploy to bring him down. She felt confident that Lord Torbay and Ros would have made plans in that regard, thinking it telling that she did not harbour the same degree of faith in her father’s abilities.
Ros. She allowed her mind to wander to their earlier interlude. He had taken an interest in her wellbeing, behaving as though he was her brother and she his responsibility. Not that his attentions had remained brotherly, she conceded with a small smile and a rush of warmth to her core. Ros’s wickedly suggestive smiles and the deep, probing looks he continuously fixed her with had definitely transcended the brotherly, wreaking havoc with her equilibrium. That in itself was an oddity, since gentlemen with seductive eyes and handsomely sculpted features who exuded vital, rugged manliness had absolutely no effect upon her as a general rule.
None whatsoever.
He had simply caught her at a weak moment and was amusing himself for reasons she had yet to fathom. She imagined that women of all ages would gravitate towards such an Adonis, given the slightest encouragement—or even without any encouragement at all. Annabel had certainly been taken with him, and she was notoriously selective. Perhaps Jemima’s disinterest in him had wounded his masculine pride and he had a point to prove to himself. Vanity was not restricted to the female of the species. She wished she had someone with whom she could discuss a subject that had never interested her and about which she knew precious little. She felt disadvantaged when sparring with him and struggled to hold her own—a feeling which she found most disconcerting.
He had even guessed that she was using her withered hand as an excuse to avoid society, which implied that he had given the matter more than a passing thought. No one else to the best of her knowledge even suspected the truth, and she had been loath to admit to it for fear of the stream of intrusive questions such a confession would promote. Some things were simply too personal to be aired in public.
‘Why does it matter to him?’ she wondered aloud, thinking the sound of her voice might soothe Annabel. ‘If he didn’t like you, Annabel, when you are so pretty, and sweet natured…’ She swallowed, willing to perpetrate that myth given Annabel’s current situation. ‘You are accomplished, lively, and all the admirable things that a young woman ought to be, but he isn’t impressed by you. I realise just how infuriating that must be for you, but I can honestly say that I don’t have the first idea why he has spared me more than a passing glance. I suppose it could be because I saw you in his rooms and he’s worried that I might let something slip that would compromise his position.’
Jemima paused to glance at her sister. Her breathing was still regular and despite her wan complexion, she looked deceptively angelic in sleep, the tangle of curls that had escaped their constraining ribbon spread beneath her.
‘Lord Glynde is aware that I know he is not responsible for your travails,’ she said, continuing with her verbal speculations, ‘so that cannot be the reason. Besides, he singled me out even before you were discovered in his lair. I wish I could ask you about his behaviour. Not that I ever would. It’s not as though you would believe that a man of Lord Glynde’s sophistication would have any lasting interest in me.’ Jemima sighed. ‘For once, we are in agreement, since I cannot persuade myself that he has either. There must be some other reason that I have failed to take into account. He works closely with Papa. Perhaps it has something to do with that.’
She paused to take a sip of water, wondering if she had imagined seeing Annabel’s eyelids flicker. She watched her closely, squeezing her hand quite hard in the hope that it would make her stir, but if the lids had flickered, the process was not repeated. Thinking it unwise to continue articulating her thoughts in case Annabel could actually hear her, she sought an alternative means of engaging the attention of a sister around whom experience had taught her to tread warily. If Annabel survived and even suspected that Jemima had formed a friendship of sorts with Ros she would be green with envy and would seek to drive a wedge between them.
Jemima grasped a book and started reading aloud,
giving no attention to the words that spilled from her lips, still preoccupied with thoughts of Ros. He had been right to suppose that she had plans to draw Quinn out—just as soon as she had the dubious pleasure of making the odious man’s acquaintance, that is. He would want to know if Annabel had regained her senses and what she’d had to say on the subject of her abduction. He would probably assume that Jemima’s presence at a social gathering implied she remembered little, but he would almost certainly seek a quiet word with her to reassure himself on that score. When he did…
‘Jemima?’
The sound of Annabel’s voice, weak and rasping, jolted Jemima back to awareness. She had been so deep in contemplation, reading without conscious thought, and hadn’t been aware that Annabel’s eyes had opened.
‘Annabel!’ She cast the book aside and moved to sit on the edge of Annabel’s bed, squeezing her hand. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Terrible. Sick. Thirsty, and my stomach hurts.’
‘It will pass.’
‘My head hurts too. What’s happened to me? Where am I?’
Jemima lifted a glass of water to Annabel’s lips and supported the back of her head whilst she drank it down.
‘Be careful!’
Jemima rolled her eyes. Her position required her to take the glass in her weak hand and water had spilled onto Annabel’s chest because she couldn’t hold it steady enough. It hadn’t taken Annabel one minute of consciousness before she scolded Jemima for her clumsiness. But still, if she could do that, there was nothing seriously wrong with her brain. Recalling that the doctor said she should drink as much as possible, Jemima awkwardly refilled the glass and Annabel drank half of it.
‘Better?’
‘A little. What happened to me? Where am I?’ she asked for a second time. ‘Where is Mama?’ Tear spilled down her cheeks. ‘I must have Mama.’
‘Soon.’
Jemima stood and rang the bell. Susan responded to it with alacrity and smiled when she saw that Annabel was awake.
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