‘There was a blockage up the chimney. I merely went up to investigate.’ She tried to make it sound quite an everyday occurrence. ‘I think that you will find that the chimney will not smoke now.’
‘Well, thank the Lord for that,’ Rob said. His lips twitched. His eyes came up to hers and there was an expression in them that made Jemima quake. She had never been particularly self-conscious when climbing before; sweeps quite often climbed in the nude if it meant that they could navigate the chimneys more easily, although Jemima had not favoured this as it gave the body absolutely no protection against scrapes and grazes. Nevertheless, she had never possessed any false modesty about climbing in her underclothes. Until now.
Rob stepped closer. With deliberation he took hold of Jemima’s upper arms and bent his head to her collarbone, blowing very gently on the skin. The particles of soot clung to her, but Jemima’s skin heated from the contact. She felt the goose pimples run along her skin and her nipples hardened. Rob raised a negligent hand and brushed some of the soot gently from the soft skin of her upper breasts. His touch was light, but the expression in his eyes was anything but impersonal. His hand fell to her bodice, grazed the side of her breast, and a tiny moan escaped Jemima’s lips. She felt completely breathless, melting.
‘You need dusting down,’ her husband said, very softly.
Jemima turned away and hunted about desperately for her pile of clothes. ‘N…no I don’t. I need to get dressed and to see Lady Vause.’
Rob’s hand slid around to the nape of her neck. ‘She has gone now.’
‘But my clothes—’
‘You cannot put them on. They will become dirty.’
Jemima gave a little wail. ‘Robert, I cannot stand here in the library in my petticoats.’
‘Indeed, you look delightful, my love,’ Rob said, his fingers stroking the curve of her neck. ‘I had no idea that chimney sweeping could be such an exciting experience.’
He picked her up and placed her gently on the big sofa. Jemima struggled half-heartedly.
‘Robert, the servants—’
‘Are busy turning away visitors,’ Rob said. He touched the curve of her eyebrow. ‘You have a smudge of soot here…’ He touched the tip of his tongue to the corner of her mouth. ‘And here…’
Jemima’s lips parted on a gasp and he smothered them with his own. She could not believe that she was in a state of undress and that they were kissing so naughtily on the sofa where Lady Marguerite had recently sat with such perfect propriety. Somehow it made everything seem even worse. More wicked, more exciting.
‘I worry about you, Jemima,’ Rob said, against her lips. ‘You might hurt yourself doing things like that. You really must not climb chimneys any more. Especially not in your underwear.’
‘Some sweeps climb naked,’ Jemima said not quite innocently, then gasped as her provocation received the response it deserved as Rob’s mouth took hers again, roughly this time, plundering, demanding surrender. She slid down further against the cushions.
‘Damnation, Jemima,’ Rob groaned, when at last he could speak again. ‘You said that deliberately! You may climb the chimneys any time!’
He pressed little kisses against her throat and the swell of her breasts until the skin was pink and stung. His hand slid up her leg beneath the shredded petticoats.
The door opened. ‘My lord, the chimney sweep is here from Cheltenham—’ Giddings, the butler, broke off in shock as his gaze took in the Earl and Countess romping on the sofa. He withdrew and closed the door with studied quietness. Jemima and Rob fell apart. They stared at each other.
‘I never thought that I should be grateful for Giddings’s intervention at a time like that,’ Rob said, trying to master his breathing, ‘but if he had not come in then I do not know when I should have stopped.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Jemima said, rolling away and resuming the search for her gown and shoes, ‘we have shocked him, Robert!’
Rob lay back on the sofa and put his hands under his head. He grinned at her as he watched her hunt for her clothing. ‘At least that will give the servants something else to talk about,’ he said.
Chapter Twelve
‘Dear Lady Selborne,’ Augusta crooned, as she, Jemima and Letty sat in the carriage on the way to Burford two days later, ‘it is so utterly splendid to make your acquaintance! You have no idea how I have longed to see Robert married.’
‘She means that she longed to see Robert married to her,’ Letty whispered in Jemima’s ear. ‘Pray do not be taken in, Jemima dear!’
Jemima folded her lips on a smile. All the way from Delaval she had been plagued by Augusta’s insincerities, just as Letty had predicted. Rob’s cousin clearly had no idea that she was buttering up the little sweep’s girl whom she had so disparaged at the wedding. It made Jemima feel a little more confident that she could carry off her role as Countess of Selborne with aplomb.
‘I am delighted to meet you too, Miss Selborne,’ she said politely.
‘Oh, call me Gussie,’ Miss Selborne murmured. ‘All my special friends do!’
Jemima smiled. ‘Thank you.’
Augusta inclined her head graciously. The ostrich plumes in her hat bobbed like a débutante at her presentation. To Jemima’s eyes she looked far too grand for a country outing, particularly in comparison to Letty, who was looking charming in pale blue muslin.
‘I understand that you are from London, Lady Selborne,’ Augusta continued. ‘Do you not find the country so dreary in comparison? I suppose you shall be persuading Robert to take you to London for the Little Season?’
‘I doubt it,’ Jemima said dryly. ‘Rob’s work is here at Delaval for the foreseeable future. We do not have the time nor the inclination to visit Town, Miss Selborne.’
Augusta’s lips formed a disapproving moue. ‘Oh, but surely…Delaval is so parochial in comparison to the company one meets in London…’
‘There is Letty’s birthday ball next week,’ Jemima pointed out, with a smile for the other girl. ‘Surely that will present the perfect opportunity to meet new acquaintance?’
Augusta shrugged. ‘I suppose that Merlin will be there. And his son, that rakish Marquis. He might be worth cultivating.’
‘The Marquis of Merlin is married now, Augusta,’ Letty said, not without satisfaction. ‘You could make up to his wife and try to procure an invitation to Merlinschase, I suppose. After all—’ she shot Miss Selborne a look of dislike ‘—a Marchioness is a greater catch as a special friend than a mere Countess!’
Jemima could not help laughing, turned it into a cough and buried her nose in her handkerchief. This was an entirely different side to Letty Exton from the sweetness that she had seen before. She inferred that Letty disliked Miss Selborne extremely, though why, she could not guess. There was something more to this than a simple dislike of Miss Selborne’s malice.
‘I know it is bad of me to bicker with Augusta so,’ Letty said later, as she and Jemima walked slowly up Burford High Street that afternoon. The party had gone its separate ways and was to meet at the Lamb Inn later. Fortunately Augusta had elected to accompany Mr Pershore instead of the girls, trying, Letty said, to fix his interest.
‘The thing about Augusta is that I know her to be such a troublemaker,’ Letty continued. ‘She was the same when we were at school. She was always trying to cause trouble for the other girls, especially the ones who were more popular or pretty than she. She is the same with you now! I hate to see that false flattery!’
Jemima patted her hand. ‘Pray do not concern yourself, Letty. I met girls like Miss Selborne when I was at school too—I know exactly what they are like! Though I must confess,’ she added, ‘that until now I have never been in the position where they wished to be my special friend!’
They laughed together. ‘Where did you attend school, Jemima?’ Letty asked artlessly. ‘I went to a seminary in Bath and it was the most tedious bore!’
Jemima felt a pang. Her own education had been so much more than tha
t. Perhaps she had valued it more because she had been so desperate to learn. Or perhaps she had just been fortunate.
‘I went to one of Mrs Montagu’s schools at Strawberry Hill,’ she said. ‘It was wonderful.’
‘Mrs Montagu!’ Letty stared in confusion. ‘Lud, then you must be a prodigious bluestocking, Jemima! I had no notion. I am quite in awe of you now!’
Jemima laughed. ‘I am scarcely a bluestocking.’ She took Letty’s arm. ‘And the one thing I am nervous about is choosing a new ball gown! I have not bought a new gown in an age.’
Letty’s face cleared. ‘Now I may help you there!’
The steep High Street was busy with carriages, horses and carts rumbling down the hill towards the fine old bridge across the Windrush. They walked slowly through the narrow streets, admiring the magnificent church and the neat almshouses on the green next door. The sound of children’s games rose over the wall of the school opposite.
Halfway down the main street was Madame Belinda’s, a supremely elegant modiste, very superior for a provincial dressmaker. Jemima was not at all sure that she would have had the courage to go in there on her own.
She came out with her ball gown, two other gowns, one for walking and one for evening, a figured silk shawl, two hats and a very pretty bandeau for her hair. There had been plenty of other outfits that Jemima had coveted but, despite Rob’s assurances, she felt guilty to have spent as much money as she had. They had little to spare and what there was had to go on restoring the estate. Besides, Jemima could not see why anyone would need a whole wardrobe full of clothes. You could only wear one gown at once, after all.
Jemima was just starting to relax and enjoy the outing properly when the disaster happened. They were walking along Sheep Street, with the intention of meeting the gentlemen at the Lamb for some refreshment before they started the journey back to Delaval. They had left the shops behind and were passing a line of extremely pretty cottages, when the door of the nearest one swung open without warning and two children tumbled out over the threshold. Behind them a woman’s voice was raised with a note of alarm, but the girls paid no heed. They were chattering—quarrelling, Jemima realised, over possession of the golden-haired doll that one had clutched in her hand. The girl raised it above her head, out of reach of the other, and pirouetted around. The smaller child was jumping up and laughing, an infectious giggle that was so familiar it tore at Jemima’s heart.
A carriage rattled along the road. The woman called again from inside the cottage, then came to the door, a baby in her arms. There was a man standing in the shadows beyond her shoulder but Jemima scarcely noticed him. She was staring at the smaller girl, all tumbled black curls and big black eyes, just like her father. So now she knew. Jack’s daughter was the image of him.
There was a shriek as the elder child caught her foot in the cobbles and Jemima jumped, dragging her gaze away from Tilly. She caught the other child almost as a reflex, putting her gently back on her feet. The woman started to thank her and Jemima smiled and said something in return. She was not sure what. She could not concentrate. Jack’s daughter was watching her with her solemn dark gaze. She looked well fed and well cared for. She looked healthy and happy. Very happy.
Jemima stood stock still, staring at the little girl. She bore an alarming likeness to Jack—or to Jemima herself. Perhaps there was the merest hint of Beth in the lines of her face and the way her mouth tilted up a little to one side when she smiled. She was smiling at Jemima now, slipping her warm little hand confidingly into Jemima’s own and tugging at her. For a moment they stood side by side.
It was the shock on Letty’s face that brought Jemima back down to earth. Worse, she could see Augusta Selborne coming towards them from the direction of the High Street. Augusta was leaning on Rob’s arm and chattering to him, and they were still some distance away, but Jemima knew that they had seen her. They had seen her and they had seen Tilly, and they were coming closer by the second. Jemima felt a little sick.
She released Tilly gently and smiled down at the little girl.
‘You had better go with your mama and your sister, poppet. Perhaps we shall see you again soon.’
The woman was still thanking her as she shepherded the children in front of her into the house. The little dark girl went last, clutching the woman’s skirt.
‘Come along, Tilly,’ the woman said a little impatiently. She turned to the man, who had stepped past her now and out on to the pavement. ‘Good day, your Grace. Thank you for your visit.’
The gentleman raised his hat and the door closed quietly behind the woman and her children. Jemima struggled to move. Her knees were suddenly rather shaky. To have stumbled across Tilly here seemed the worst possible coincidence, but to do it in company was even more unfortunate. And in addition to the little girl, she had also stumbled upon Tilly’s guardian, the fearsome Duke of Merlin. Even now he was putting a hand under her elbow to steady her and any moment he would recognise her and then she would be even more deeply in the suds.
‘Are you quite well, ma’am?’ the Duke asked.
Jemima looked up into his face and registered the shrewd, dark eyes, and hard, hawklike features. It was a long time since they had met, but she had not forgotten his face and it seemed he had not forgotten hers. How could he, with Tilly to remind him? She saw the recognition come into his eyes and with it a mixture of shock and deep disapproval.
‘How do you do, Miss Jewell?’ the Duke of Merlin said frostily, releasing her arm abruptly. ‘It is a great surprise to see you here.’
There could be no explanations on the pavements of Burford. The Duke bowed coldly and Jemima thought that probably he would have moved on there and then had it not been that she was in company with Letty Exton. This was another disaster. Jemima saw the Duke hesitate as he recognised Letty, and then he looked back at her with the suspicion and dislike deepening in his face. Jemima knew exactly what he must be thinking—that she had come to cause trouble, or to ask for money, or to presume on a connection that was tenuous at best. He would imagine that she had already ingratiated herself with Letty and her family and that maybe she had presented herself under false pretences. Jemima struggled to think of a way that she could explain herself, but no easy solution presented itself. She felt as though she had lost all her normal composure.
‘Uncle Merlin!’ Letty said. ‘What a surprise! How do you do, sir?’
‘How do you do, my dear.’ The Duke was smiling at Letty but it faded quickly enough when Letty said, ‘I believe that you must already know my companion, sir, but she is no longer Miss Jewell, rather Lady Selborne.’
The Duke absorbed this latest piece of information with no more than a flicker of a disapproving eyebrow, but Jemima felt the force of his anger. His tone was arctic. ‘Indeed? My congratulations, Lady Selborne.’
There was a curious silence. Jemima’s mind was totally blank. She did not know how to start to explain. It was complicated enough trying to think what to say about Tilly, let alone explain her marriage to Rob, the Duke’s godson.
And Letty, looking from one to the other, suddenly seemed to recall the strange circumstances of the encounter, and the child who looked just like Jemima, for she blushed bright red and stammered, ‘I…I beg your pardon, sir…Did you wish to speak with Lady Selborne alone?’
The Duke’s lips quirked mirthlessly. ‘I imagine that I should, but not here. We seem to be attracting quite a crowd…’
It was true. Not only had Rob and Augusta and Bertie Pershore come upon them now, but a number of curious passers-by were lingering in the street. People were starting to stare. Jemima wanted to sink with despair.
‘Your Grace!’ Augusta Selborne was pushing forward. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’
Her sharp gaze turned to Jemima. ‘And Lady Selborne, what a dark horse you are! I had no notion that you had family here in Burford!’
Jemima felt angry and vulnerable. It seemed imperative to prevent Augusta from saying anything else stupid, bu
t she could not think what to say. She could summon up no easy excuse that would not seem like an obvious lie. Her desperate gaze sought Rob. He was standing a little back from the others and he had not yet greeted his godfather. His jaw was set hard and there was an angry light in his dark eyes. As Jemima looked at him he turned, and his cold gaze settled on her. Her heart froze at what she saw there.
‘Robert—’ she said.
‘Robert.’ The Duke greeted his godson with an ironic inclination of the head. ‘How pleasant to see you again! It seems that we have urgent matters on which we need to catch up. I deeply regret that I am engaged for the rest of the afternoon or I would most certainly discuss them now. Does tomorrow suit?’
Rob nodded. ‘Thank you, sir.’ His tone was clipped.
‘I will ride over to Delaval in the morning,’ the Duke continued. He nodded to the group. ‘Until then, Robert.’ His gaze fell on Jemima and hardened. ‘Lady Selborne…’
There was a moment of silence after he had gone, then Letty caught Augusta’s arm and hustled her along the pavement.
‘Come along, Augusta! Grandmama will be waiting at the inn.’
Augusta’s pansy brown eyes mocked Jemima’s face. ‘And won’t she be pleased to hear our news!’
For a moment Jemima thought that Rob was going to turn on his cousin, but after a second he took a very deep breath and instead offered Jemima his arm. Jemima felt a sick lurch in her stomach. She wished that she had trusted Rob and chosen to explain everything to him before now. She wished she had told him about Tilly. She wished she had disclosed her connection with the Duke of Merlin. But it was too late for that now.
She looked at him. Rob’s eyes were very dark and expressionless. He looked towards the window of the cottage where both little girls, one dark, one fair, were clambering up on the seat to stare and wave at them. Jemima opened her mouth to speak, then saw Augusta and Letty watching her and closed it again.
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