‘What explanation can possibly cover the case?’ Jemima ran a hand through her hair. ‘Goodness knows, I like Ferdie, but I cannot see how to explain this!’
Rob got up and drove his hands into his pockets. ‘Bertie was with Ferdie at the inn! If anything had happened, surely Bertie would have known? Ferdie could not simply stroll out, murder Harry Naylor and come back to the card table as though nothing had happened!’
Jemima made a gesture. ‘I agree it sounds far-fetched. But the confession…’
Rob looked stubborn. ‘That does not mean that Ferdie killed Naylor. Jemima, you are talking about my cousin.’
Jemima put her hands on her hips. She understood that Rob had a loyalty to his cousin, but she also had a loyalty to Jack, and he was in hiding for his life.
‘Just because he is your cousin it does not mean that he could not have done it,’ she said.
‘No, of course not.’ Rob ran his hand over his hair. He swung round. ‘But I know Ferdie, Jemima! He would never hurt anyone deliberately, let alone murder them! He cannot have killed Naylor.’
Jemima rubbed her forehead. She knew what he meant. Ferdie seemed quite harmless. There was something gentle about him.
‘But will you speak to him, Rob?’ She pleaded.
‘Very well. I will,’ Rob said. His face was drawn. ‘But I will not do it until after Letty’s birthday.’
Jemima’s head jerked up. ‘Must you wait?’
‘Yes,’ Rob said. He spread his hands. ‘There would not be a great deal for Letty to celebrate were I to accuse Ferdie of murder the day before her party.’
Jemima sighed. She knew he was right. And a part of her did not want him to accuse Ferdie at all. She could not believe that it was true.
Rob picked up the sheets of paper again. ‘Thank you for bringing this to me,’ he said, ‘and not going direct to the constable.’ He shot her a look. ‘Did you not wish to do so, to save Jack’s skin?’
Jemima looked at him. There was no sound in the room but for the spit of the fire. She gave a little smile. ‘I confess that I should prefer it if we could clear Jack’s name straight away. It is awkward for him to be in hiding. I think he may even decide to turn himself in if matters go on too long.’
‘It should not be for much longer,’ Rob said.
‘No, I know. It is difficult for me, but…’ Jemima shrugged lightly ‘…you are my husband and my first loyalty is to you.’
Rob put out a hand and pulled her into the crook of his arm.
‘I am sorry,’ he said.
‘Sorry?’ Jemima turned her head against his shoulder and looked at him.
‘About what I said last night. I was jealous.’ Rob rubbed his jaw. ‘Damnably jealous, to tell the truth.’
Jemima eased away from him slightly. ‘Jealous of Jack?’
‘I envied how close you were to him.’ Rob looked at her sideways. ‘I always have done. Right from the start, when he escorted you to the church for our wedding and I knew he did not like me.’ He smoothed the hair away from her face. ‘It was not just Jack, I am afraid. When Ferdie was so charming to you that day I wanted to run him through.’
‘Rob!’ Jemima was entranced.
‘I had no idea I was so possessive,’ Rob finished ruefully. ‘I did not like myself very much for it, but I could not help it.’
‘I do not believe you should reproach yourself,’ Jemima said, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. ‘I should be the same.’
Rob pressed his cheek against her hair. ‘Truly?’
‘Truly. Look what a fuss I made about all the time you spent on the estate when secretly I thought that you should be with me.’
Rob dropped a kiss on her lips.
They sat very quietly for a little.
‘We have the place to ourselves this evening,’ Jemima said dreamily. ‘It is pleasant, is it not?’ She started to rub her fingers absentmindedly over Rob’s cuff. ‘You could read your newspaper and I could sew, like an old married couple. Or perhaps we could do something else. Robert…’
Rob made an enquiring noise.
‘You know that you said we could find a way to redress the balance after last night…’ Jemima said.
She felt Rob go very still. ‘Yes?’
‘I thought, perhaps,’ Jemima said, blushing a little, ‘that you might show me how that would work.’ She looked up and met Rob’s gaze. There was nothing sleepy in it now. ‘If you do not mind,’ she added politely.
She saw the corner of Rob’s mouth lift in a smile.
‘I admire your spirit of fair play,’ he said, as he drew her to her feet.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack Jewell paused, one hand on the stone banister that led up the wide steps to the terrace at Swan Park. The doors to the ballroom were open and the silver drapes swayed in the autumn breeze, affording a brief glimpse into the lighted world beyond. A thousand silver candles glittered in the sconces. Fabulous silver flowers and decorations adorned the ballroom. Jack stood in the shadows and watched as Miss Lettice Exton celebrated her coming of age.
He had never intended to be there. He knew the whole thing was preposterous. He knew that he should go away and never see her again. He knew that there was no future for them. He stood in the darkness, straining for a single glimpse of his one true love.
The drapes shifted and a figure stepped out of the ballroom, a wraith in silver gauze. Jack caught his breath. He watched as Letty came forward to the balustrade, leaned one elbow on the stone and rested her chin on her hand. She looked sad. And it was her birthday.
Jack kept perfectly still. Behind Letty he could see a couple swirling past the long windows, dancing the quadrille. Jack heard the applause when the dance came to an end, followed by snatches of conversation. He heard the tinkle of the music and the clatter as the servants hurried to keep the buffet tables laden with food. He smiled to see Jemima, stunning in green velvet, dancing with a most patrician-looking gentleman. His little sister, the Countess of Selborne. Some fairy tales did work out, and others did not.
On the terrace Letty stood like a drooping flower. The orchestra struck up for a polonaise. Jack took the steps two at a time.
‘Would you care to dance, Miss Exton?’
Letty put her hand into his. In the moonlight her eyes were a bright silver blue, like the stars.
‘You came to my party,’ she said, and gave Jack the biggest smile that he had ever seen. He bowed.
‘You invited me.’
Letty held him at arm’s length. ‘Jack, your clothes!’
‘Do you like them?’
Letty’s eyes sparkled. ‘You look very fine. You did not steal them, did you?’
Jack laughed. ‘On my honour, no.’
‘And are you still a wanted man?’
Jack shook his head. ‘No. Had you not heard the news? I thought it was all over the county. Mr Beaumaris, the parson, told the constable that he had seen Naylor on the night of the accident. Apparently he was dead drunk. Hit his head on the lych gate, so Beaumaris said, but he staggered off into the dark before the parson could help.’
‘Why did he not say so sooner?’ Letty said indignantly.
Jack smiled at the protective anger in her tone. ‘Beaumaris has been away for a few days. He only got back today.’
Letty sighed, mollified. ‘Then I suppose I must forgive him.’ She paused. ‘Does Jemima know?’
‘Not yet. I am only just returned from Burford.’
A little frown puckered Letty’s forehead. ‘But the highway robbery, Jack? What about that?’
Jack grinned. ‘There was no reliable description of the highwayman,’ he said. ‘Only you or Jemima or your grandmother could give me away.’
‘Jemima and I never would,’ Letty said with a confidence that shook Jack’s heart, ‘but I cannot be sure of Grandmama.’
‘She doesn’t like me,’ Jack said roughly, ‘and I understand why.’
Letty was shaking her head. ‘Grandmama is not like
that, Jack. Yes, she is protective of me, but there is no snobbery in her. Look at the way she has taken to Jemima! She loves Jemima because Rob loves her…’
Jack felt a mixture of happiness and desperation. ‘That is different,’ he said, and they both knew he spoke the truth.
The music struck up and they started to dance. Jack had never danced a polonaise and had absolutely no idea how to go on, so Letty had to give him intensive instruction whilst trying not to laugh.
‘No, circle to the left…And now to the right…Give me your right hand…’
She gave up, and collapsed against his side, laughing silently, one hand pressed to her ribs in a vain attempt to keep the laughter inside.
‘Oh, Jack, you are utterly hopeless…’
‘I know,’ Jack said gravely.
Letty’s laughter died. For a second they looked at one another.
‘I came to say goodbye,’ Jack said.
Letty bit her lip. Her eyes were very wide. ‘Are we not to see each other again, then?’
‘I thought not, no.’
‘It will not be easy, with your sister married to my cousin.’
‘No.’
Letty withdrew from him a little way. ‘I could go inside and tell them that we are betrothed,’ she said.
Jack’s heart jumped. He knew she would do it too, his dauntless girl. No dictates of society or class or even common sense could stop her.
He kept his tone neutral, betraying none of the longing and the hopelessness inside. ‘I do beg you not to do that,’ he said.
‘You would not wish it?’ Her brows were arched with sudden displeasure, her tone even more clear-cut than before. ‘You would not wish to marry me?’
Jack shook his head slightly, more in denial of the situation than to confirm her words. ‘Letty—’
‘Answer my question, if you please, Mr Jewell. It is not every day that I make a proposal to a gentleman and I need to be perfectly clear of the outcome.’
Jack stared at her face, etched silver in the moonlight.
‘I love you,’ he said. ‘But I cannot marry you.’
It seemed that, after all, he had said the right thing. He saw Letty’s eyes widen and the tears come into them, though she was smiling at the same time. He opened his mouth to say more, but she put her gloved fingers against his lips.
‘Hush,’ she said. ‘It is not every day that I kiss a gentleman.’
And she stood up on tiptoe to press her lips to his.
Jemima had been dancing with the Duke of Merlin, an experience that had been enjoyable in one sense, since the Duke was an exceptionally good dancer, and quite nerve-racking in another, since she was still rather in awe of him. They had spoken of music, with Jemima admitting cautiously to her plans for a music room at Delaval and music lessons at the school in the village. Merlin had seemed genuinely interested and had asked some searching questions. At the end of the dance he handed her over to Bertie Pershore, who had put his name down for the polonaise, and who approached his uncle with some trepidation.
‘Take Lady Selborne away and dance with her, Bertie,’ Merlin said affably. He raised his voice. ‘You dance divinely, ma’am. May I have the cotillion before supper?’
Having ensured Jemima’s social success, Merlin then withdrew to the end of the ballroom and was seen in conversation with Lady Marguerite.
‘Two terrifying tartars together,’ Bertie observed, as he and Jemima took their place in the set. ‘Must congratulate you, Lady Selborne. Took me years to win Merlin over and I think he still regards me as an overgrown schoolboy.’ Bertie’s face fell. ‘Probably because I am an overgrown schoolboy. Anyway, don’t know how you did it!’
‘You’re lovely, Bertie,’ Jemima said warmly. ‘Don’t worry, the Duke knows your true worth.’
Bertie smiled. ‘I say, Jemima, you’re quite a girl yourself. Wish I could find one like you. Don’t have any sisters, do you?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Jemima said. ‘You do not wish to marry Miss Vause?’
‘Girl’s wetter than a weekend in Scotland,’ Bertie said. ‘I think I need a managing female.’
‘Miss Selborne?’
Bertie shuddered. ‘No, thank you. Miss Selborne is always so cross.’
Looking at Augusta, Jemima could see what Bertie meant. Miss Selborne was standing in a small group that included several eligible gentlemen, but she was scowling across the ballroom at Chlorinda Vause, who was chatting to Rob. Jemima wondered if it was true that she really had wanted to marry Rob herself, or whether she was simply envious of any young lady who was prettier than she was. Remembering Letty’s comments about her come out, she thought that it must be so. It was a shame, for Miss Selborne spoiled any good looks she might have by scowling so hard.
The ball had been a raging success. They were now well past the supper interval and all the guests appeared to have been enjoying themselves prodigiously. Jemima had danced with Rob four times already, to the apparent disapproval of Lady Marguerite who had berated them for being tiresomely unfashionable. There had been a twinkle in her eye as she had said so.
Bertie excused himself and wandered off to find his next partner, but Jemima stayed where she was, her gaze travelling on to Rob. She realised that tonight was the first time she had ever seen him in such a setting. He looked distinguished, handsome and utterly delicious. Jemima paused. The dancers blurred before her eyes.
‘I want everything. All your trust. All your loyalty. All your love.’
She had given him the trust, the loyalty and as much passion as the terms of the will allowed, though she felt that their interpretation of abstinence was becoming ever more flexible with each passing day. But there was more than trust and passion. Rob wanted everything, everything that she could give.
‘You always hold something back,’ he had said.
Standing there in the ballroom, Jemima felt a huge wash of love and longing that left her shaking. By slow degrees she had abandoned all of her fears: the cynicism that held her back from believing in an honest love, the mistrust that made her deny physical attraction. And now she felt a little foolish that it had taken her so long to realise how much she loved Rob. For she did love him with all her heart.
The drapes stirred beside her and Letty stepped into the ballroom. She looked very pink and pretty, and a little startled.
‘Oh, Jemima! Were you outside?’
‘No,’ Jemima said, shaking herself out of her preoccupation. ‘I was just…standing here…’
‘Watching Rob,’ Letty said. Her eyes were very bright. ‘You love him, do you not?’
‘Yes,’ Jemima said. ‘I feel a little slow. I have only just realised it.’
Letty scanned the ballroom. She frowned. ‘Augusta is planning something. I can tell. She has that look on her face.’
Jemima followed her gaze. Augusta Selborne was still holding court to her small, admiring circle, and as she saw Jemima watching, she gave a small, feline smile. Her triumphant tones seared the air.
‘Nothing but a chimney sweep’s daughter, to be the Countess of Selborne…’
Jemima caught her breath.
‘Oh, no,’ Letty said, in a whisper. ‘The silly fool! It will never work!’ She shot Jemima a look, and then took her elbow in a comforting grasp. ‘She is trying to discredit you, Jemima, but she has not the least idea of Grandmama’s support for you, nor of the Duke of Merlin’s involvement. She is about to humiliate herself dreadfully!’
Jemima took a deep steadying breath. She hoped that Letty was right. Within a minute or two either she or Augusta would be severely socially embarrassed.
Augusta’s audience was looking shocked, though whether at Augusta’s gossip or the news about Jemima was not clear. The scandal spread out from the group like ripples in a pool. Heads started to turn. Across the ballroom, Jemima saw Ferdie grab Rob’s sleeve and say something urgent in his ear. She saw Rob start across the floor towards her. Augusta’s voice soared.
‘She me
t Robert when she was hired to dance at a wedding…Well, you know what men are…I knew there was something rather déclassé about the girl.’
Rob reached Jemima’s side and took her hand very firmly in his own. There was a hard, angry light in his eyes, but he found time to smile reassuringly at Jemima before he turned to his cousin.
‘You embarrass no one but yourself with your words, Augusta,’ he said, with silken politeness. ‘I assure you that there is no one who could bring greater honour to the role of Countess of Selborne than Jemima. I am proud that she is my wife.’
Jemima felt the tears prick her eyes. Her fingers clung to Rob’s and she smiled mistily at him. Such a public declaration of his love for her…
And now Lady Marguerite Exton had turned from her conversation with the Duke of Merlin and was looking Augusta up and down in disgust. By the time that she had finished, Augusta seemed to have shrunk slightly. All conversation in the ballroom seemed to die away.
‘I must add my own support to my grandson’s moving tribute, Miss Selborne,’ she said, studying Augusta with a coldness that made the girl draw back. ‘Jemima graces the position of Countess of Selborne. Her background is of no importance to me, just as it is not important to me that you are the granddaughter of a soap manufacturer.’
Somebody tittered. Augusta flushed bright red. ‘That is different! My grandfather owned five factories!’
‘Oh, my dear,’ Lady Marguerite said, ‘I am sorry that that matters to you. All that matters to me is that I see my grandchildren happy.’ She turned to Rob and Jemima and held her hand out. ‘And as Rob and Jemima are evidently very happy indeed, then I too am content.’
Bertie Pershore was trying to draw Augusta away, trying to save the situation before it was too late. Augusta, however, was standing rooted to the spot as though she had grown out of the ballroom floor. She pointed a shaking finger at Jemima.
‘Maybe you would not be so content, madam, if you knew that you already had a great-grandchild, albeit not one of Lord Selborne’s fathering! There is a child living not so far from here who is the image of Lady Selborne. I think that tells us all we need to know of our new Countess.’
The Penniless Bride Page 24