“May I have at least one day to think on it, Lady Stamford?” Jess feared the confident expression she strove for didn’t quite meet her eyes. Fear overrode everything. Fear of the future. Fear that service would become her fate, and not just for a year. Fear that even if she attempted to rebuild the shop and lending library, she’d fail again.
But if Lady Stamford noticed any sign of Jessamin’s reservations, she chose to ignore it.
“One day, Miss Wright. I shall expect your answer tomorrow.”
Tomorrow was not precisely giving her a full day to ponder the offer, but Jess could hardly quibble with a woman who’d just proposed a salary double, even triple, what most in service expected to earn.
“Tomorrow you shall have your answer, my lady.”
As she led Lady Stamford to the door and watched the two small dogs scurry after their mistress, Jess suspected the countess already knew what answer she’d give. She needed a new start, and she’d never find another post that would set up her up so well, allowing her to save for the future, whatever it might bring.
Chapter Seven
“AND SHE INSISTS on your answer today?” Alice tried a sip of coffee and reared back as if she’d been stung. They served their aromatic brew scalding hot at Sampson’s, Jess’s favorite coffeehouse just around the corner from her father’s shop.
“I think she wanted it last night. She seems eager to return to the countryside.” Jess blew across the surface of the inky liquid in her own cup before attempting a sip.
“Do you think it’s anything to do with the . . . you know?” Alice lifted an eyebrow and glanced down at the scandal sheet Jess had purchased. It was the signal she’d used throughout their conversation to refer to the kiss Jess had given Lord Grimsby.
Though they’d found nothing in the broadside mentioning the incident, Jess would never forget the crush of people packing the overheated space. The kiss had been witnessed by a teeming crowd. Surely it would cause a bit of gossip. Apparently it was so scandalous even Alice couldn’t bring herself to speak of it openly, despite her obvious curiosity.
“It makes it worse when you don’t say the word.”
“I suspect I’ll find it easier to say when I’ve actually done it.” Now it was Alice’s turn to go red in the face. Since Alice usually eschewed the notion of marriage, Jess hadn’t given much thought to whether her friend wished for a suitor or had ever had one.
“Well, I’d certainly never kissed a man before last night.” Jess said the words a bit too emphatically and glanced over her shoulder to make sure the young men playing chess at a table nearby hadn’t overheard.
When she turned back, Alice leaned forward, her face inches away.
“What was it like?” she whispered.
Jess took a long draw of her now pleasantly warm coffee and looked Alice squarely in the eyes.
“Astonishing.” She swallowed and continued, determined to be just as honest with Alice as her friend had always been. “I was nervous and very nearly turned back. But I’d already taken Lady Katherine’s money and even delivered it to Mr. Briggs at the bank. I couldn’t turn back.”
“Yes, but the act itself. Was it very awkward? You’d never met the man.”
None of what she’d done had been proper, and parsing the details made it seem much worse. Discussing it, even with someone Jess trusted completely, had her squirming in her chair and sipping her coffee too quickly. She told herself that was why her cheeks burned as if she’d been sitting in the sun overlong.
“It was awkward at first, but then . . . it wasn’t.”
Alice looked awestruck, as if Jess had just imparted a newly discovered law of the universe.
“I always imagined it would be wretched at first, and one would improve with practice.”
Jess frowned. “Perhaps I was wretched, but I suspect he’s had a good deal of practice.”
Alice choked out a laugh before falling silent, waiting for Jess to continue.
“The kiss was electrifying. I didn’t expect that. And I probably shouldn’t even admit it. But it’s true, even if it cost me the shop. I should regret it more than I do.”
Though she wasn’t usually given to physical gestures of affection, Alice reached across the table and patted Jess’s hand.
“What’s done is done. I’ve always appreciated your honesty.” Alice sat up straight and circled her warm mug of coffee with her hands. “But what will you do? His aunt is offering you a remarkable salary, but what will the viscount have to say about it?”
Alice’s reassurance settled her nerves a bit, and Jess was grateful to broach the topic at hand. Should she accept employment with the aunt of a man with whom she’d shared that electric kiss?
“Lady Stamford promised I’d see him rarely, and she didn’t seem concerned with his reaction.”
“She’s quite the Good Samaritan. Perhaps she’d like to contribute to the union.”
Jess grinned before lifting her cup again. “I’ll be sure to tell her about the union.”
“You’ve already decided, then?”
Jess cocked her head and released a breath. She had decided. When she’d asked for Alice’s advice, she’d already been halfway to accepting Lady Stamford’s offer. Now she was certain, and that certainty eased her heart and mind.
“Yes, I suppose I have. It’s just for a year and it will provide sufficient funds to set me on a new path.”
“More than sufficient, especially with Lady Katherine Adderly’s contribution.”
Jess set her cup down harder than she intended, nearly upsetting it and spilling the dregs of her coffee.
“No, Alice. I have to return that money to Kitty.”
Alice tipped her mouth wryly. “I don’t think you do.”
“I do. It would be wrong to keep it.” One hundred pounds was a sufficient sum to tempt anyone, but whether Kitty truly intended the money to aid Jess’s shop or buy her complicity in a harebrained scheme, every penny of it seemed tainted now.
“Because you enjoyed it?”
When Jess glared at her, Alice added, “When you . . . you know with the dandy.”
As if she needed that additional bit of explanation, especially with Alice’s refusal to even speak the word. As if it was the ultimate sin. As if it was wicked. And while kissing a stranger had felt a bit sinful and, if she considered it too long, yes, wicked, it had been so much more. A revelation, a rare moment of bliss.
Jess pushed her empty cup away. “Yes, maybe. I don’t know. I kissed him. All right? I kissed him!” Confession was shockingly liberating, and yet the leers from the gentlemen seated at the table next to them quelled the pleasure of it.
“Do you want me to go with you to see Lady Katherine?”
“I’m not afraid of Kitty Adderly. Besides, I’m returning her money. She’ll surely be pleased.”
Alice looked dubious. “I hope you’re right.”
THE ADDERLYS’ DRAWING room was as cold and miserable on her second visit as it had been on her first. More so because Jess hadn’t allowed Alice to accompany her. But she couldn’t involve her in this business. Kitty might have presented it as charity, but her one hundred pounds represented a good deal more now.
Reaching inside her pocket, Jess pulled out the check and smoothed it across her lap, attempting to work out all the crumples and folds it had acquired since Kitty placed it in her hands two days before.
“And who might you be?”
Jess jumped and her back stiffened at the man’s imperious tone. She turned to glance at her questioner, but three heavy footsteps brought the older man into view. He was tall and elegant, handsome and beautifully attired, and he exuded an unmistakable air of authority. She’d expected Lord Grimsby to be intimidating, but he’d been encouraging compared to the man standing inches away, examining her and looking increasingly impatient for an answer.
“My name is Jessamin Wright, sir.”
She shot to her feet and nearly dropped the check before clutching it
ungracefully against her skirt and remembering it was men who were to stand when women entered a room, not the other way around.
“And I am Lord Clayborne. This is my home, and I am not a sir. But you couldn’t have known that as we’ve never met.” The high-handed tone faded from his voice as he spoke, and he ended with a smile so warm and seemingly genuine that Jess almost forgot his earlier bluster.
“Please retake your seat. My guess is that you’re here to see one of my daughters.”
“Yes, my lord, Lady Katherine.”
He sat and crossed one slim leg over the other while he studied her, narrowing his eyes and reaching up to stroke his neatly trimmed beard.
“May I ask your business with my daughter?”
Jess began tapping her foot and pressed down on her knee to stop herself. What could she say? Before taking Kitty’s money, they’d barely exchanged glances at the Women’s Union meetings.
“We are members of the same ladies’ organization, my lord.”
The information seemed to shock him, though if Jess hadn’t been watching closely, she might have missed the twitch at the edge of his mouth and the moment of confusion that shadowed his gaze.
“I see. And what is the purpose of this ladies’ organization? Charitable ventures?”
Charity was certainly among the union’s initiatives, but they’d first come together over the cause of women’s suffrage. Based on the man’s surprise about Kitty’s involvement in the group, Jess hesitated to mention its political aims.
“We wish to see all women given the right to vote.” Speaking as she glided into the room, Kitty’s voice trailed like a ribbon of sound behind her.
She perched on the edge of a chair and beamed at her father, who’d begun to go slightly pink along his neck and forehead, as if he’d taken too much pepper in his soup, or swallowed a hot coal.
Kitty held her smile until her cheeks looked tight and unnatural. Her father’s color heightened, but he too tipped his mouth in a perverse semblance of a smile. Jess shifted her glance from one to other, wondering if a skirmish was about to commence in the middle of their pristine drawing room.
“I’ll leave you two ladies to carry on with your visit.” Lord Clayborne stood and patted his waistcoat before spearing his daughter with a final glance. “And do come and speak to me after Miss Wright departs, Katherine.”
“Of course, Papa.” Kitty watched the doorway for several beats after her father strode away before finally easing back into her chair and exhaling a long breath.
“Looks like I’ve frightened him off. Now we can breathe.”
She’d had her fair share of disagreements with her father, but Jess didn’t think they’d ever generated the sort of palpable tension she’d just seen flare between Kitty and Lord Clayborne.
When she met Kitty’s gaze, she felt a new understanding for the young woman, and a bit of sympathy she suspected Kitty would loathe.
“Thank you for seeing me, Lady Katherine.”
She shot one slim finger in the air. “Kitty, please. My father’s the one obsessed with titles, not me.”
“Kitty, then.” Jess no longer felt animosity toward Kitty. She attempted to convey warmth in her gaze, and Kitty’s mouth slid up into a tremulous almost-grin, as if she wasn’t trustful of kindness. “I’ve come to return your check to you.”
Kitty began shaking her head so emphatically the pearls around her neck clicked as they slid against the beading on her gown.
Jess pressed on to get past the most difficult part.
“I’ve lost my shop, and I’ll be leaving London.”
“Lost your shop?”
Tears, little pinpricks of moisture at the corners of her eyes, welled up, and Jess sniffed them away.
“Because of . . . what happened at the gallery.” She’d apparently caught a bit of Alice’s timidity and couldn’t bring herself to say the word, despite the fact she’d just shouted it several times in her favorite coffeehouse.
“You lost your shop because you kissed a man?”
It did sound implausible in Kitty’s incredulous tone. And yet Jess felt the truth of it, the grief of it fresh and heavy, like a substance she carried with her, weighing her down.
“Well, then you can’t give back the check. You’ll need those funds now more than ever.”
“No.” Jess thrust the check toward her, willing to leave it lying in the middle of the Adderlys’ beautiful Aubusson carpet if need be.
When Kitty hesitated to reach for the slip of paper, Jess leaned forward, lifting it up like an offering, flat in the palm of her hand. Other than the summer she’d caught the chicken pox, she’d never been more eager to be rid of anything in her life.
“Please, Kitty.”
The plea seemed to strike a chord. Kitty’s eyes softened and she finally lifted her hand to retrieve the check.
“What will you do now?”
Jess sighed, relief lightening her, before focusing on Kitty’s question. There was genuine concern in her tone, but Jess was reluctant to reveal the identity of her new employer.
“I’ve accepted employment with a noblewoman.”
“Goodness. You do rebound quickly.” Kitty looked truly impressed and Jess sat a little straighter in her chair.
“I’m made of stern stuff, or so my mother used to say.”
Kitty scrutinized Jess, assessing her much as Lord Clayborne had moments before.
“So it seems. Well, good luck to you. We’ll miss you at the meetings.”
Jess doubted Kitty would attend any more meetings than she had before their strange bargain, but she nodded and thanked her for her well wishes.
As she stood to depart, she gripped the chair’s arm, momentarily dizzy. Returning the check to Kitty was the last item ticked off her list before departing for Wiltshire and a different sort of life. The prospect of leaving London, the Women’s Union, and even Kitty, whom she barely knew, seemed daunting, heart-wrenching, despite her boast about being strong.
If Kitty noticed her distress, she didn’t let it show. She merely led Jess to the front door, where a maid appeared to help her into her coat.
The maid opened the door and Jess took the first step out before Kitty clasped her arm.
“Jessamin, I can trust your discretion, and Miss McGregor’s, regarding Grimsby, can’t I?”
Revealing her part in the scheme would be as mortifying to Jess as it might be damaging to Kitty, and that alone ensured her silence.
“Yes, of course. Who would I tell?”
Kitty’s full mouth tipped as if she was satisfied with Jess’s answer.
As she walked away from Clayborne House, one thought stalled in Jess’s mind. Would Kitty have looked as serene if she knew Lord Grimsby’s aunt would soon be her employer?
Chapter Eight
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE platform at Paddington Station and the doors of Hartwell, Lucius finally untangled himself from thoughts of Miss Jessamin Wright and fell asleep. When the train’s whistle roused him at Newbury, he couldn’t recall his dreams, though his overwhelming sense of frustration indicated they’d probably involved the one woman he had to forget.
He hadn’t been away long, not nearly as long as expected, but his telegram must have put Hartwell’s staff in a dither. None but the estate’s long-suffering butler appeared to greet him. The man bowed as low as his years would allow and followed Lucius inside. Considering the hour, Lucius knew his father would have already dined.
The great house was dark. There was no one in the main living area to require light or warmth. Many rooms were shut up and rarely used. Lucius had tired of the pretense, not to mention the expense, of running the estate as if it was a happy home. He kept to his living quarters and his father to his own. Though he missed Hartwell when he was away, there was nothing particularly welcoming about the house when you first approached, even for Lucius, who’d finally come to think of it as home over the previous two years.
A hazy, remembered image, of windows
aglow with light and laughter and color infusing every room, tickled at his memory, but those days were long gone. They’d fled Hartwell when his mother died so many years ago. The relationship between his parents had been so volatile that his mother left Hartwell on any pretense she could devise—a trip to the continent, a visit to family in Yorkshire or Scotland, a jaunt down to London, even when the season was over. More often than not, Lucius had accompanied her and enjoyed their travels as any child relishes adventure. But her attempts to cool the conflict with her husband with brief separations had only fired his suspicion and fueled his jealousy.
“How is my father, Melville? Would you ask Mrs. Ives to come to my study and give me a full report in a quarter of an hour?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Lucius didn’t miss how Melville answered his last question and ignored his first. Open discussion of his father’s condition seemed to make the staff uneasy, though some had endured his unpredictable moods for much of their working lives.
“Will you take a supper tray in the study too, my lord, or in your rooms?”
“My study, I think. Excellent idea.” Lucius divested himself of hat, gloves, and coat as he spoke, and Melville dutifully built a pile of his master’s outer garments in his arms.
Before the man could depart, Lucius tried again.
“How is my father?” Worry for his father mounted with each moment Lucius spent within Hartwell’s walls.
Melville’s pause told Lucius what he needed to know and he guessed what the old man would say next.
“He was moved to the blue room this afternoon, my lord. Just this afternoon.”
What Melville avoided saying was that his father was worse and in the midst of one of his spells. The blue room was one of the rooms his father used in Hartwell’s east wing. It had been emptied of most furniture, save for a couple of chairs and a bed, a few books his father loved, and thick quilts hung from the walls. It was the room his father occupied when his nurse feared he might harm himself, as he’d done on several occasions when his forgetfulness was most acute.
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