“Our Jane.”
“My sister, Jane Seraphina Bailey.”
“The very same.” Lady Hawthorne’s grin skirted the edges of wickedness.
They were ridiculous. Adam liked it as much as he liked the room.
“Does she know he’s here to see her?”
“She does.”
“Has anyone checked to see if she’s actually coming down?”
Adam laughed. “You can tell her I’ll come up and bring her down myself if she’s hiding. It ought to mortify her into action.”
Charles gave his aunt a very pointed head nod. “He’s here to see our Jane.”
“I know.” Lady Hawthorne’s grin nearly split her face.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. They both put on serious expressions and straightened their spines.
Jane entered the parlor apologizing. “I’m sorry, Lord Wesley. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Adam jumped to his feet. “I didn’t tell you I was coming.”
“Have you been waiting long?”
“Not very.”
“We’ve been entertaining him,” Charles said.
Jane’s face paled. She looked between her relatives and then back to Adam. “In what way?”
“Nothing untoward,” Lady Hawthorne assured her.
She did not look assured.
“Jane—Miss Bailey—I was wondering if you’d like to walk with me.”
She paled even further. “You were?”
“I was.”
Her brother leaned back against the settee. “Jane would be delighted.”
“Charlie—”
“She has no other plans for the afternoon. You could stay out all day,” her aunt added.
“Aunt Matty!”
Adam chose to wait silently.
Jane looked between the three of them. “Fine. I guess we’re going for a stroll. Right now?”
“If you’d like.”
“I doubt I’d have much choice if I objected.”
They collected her cloak and set out faster than was probably decorous, but it suited Adam just fine.
“I apologize for my family,” Jane said once they were away from the town house. “They can be a little unusual.”
“I like them.”
Jane looked around—everywhere but at him, in fact. “The weather is warmer than I expected it to be.”
“Jane.”
“Usually, around this time of year, it’s—”
“Jane, stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Being polite.”
She was hiding behind a wall of manners and suitable subjects. Adam wanted the woman from last night back. The one who railed and yelled and laughed in the grass. The one he’d been vulnerable with, who hadn’t made him feel pitied or judged.
“I’m not sure what you mean. Politeness is . . .”
“Polite?” He stopped, pulling her into a recessed doorway. “Last night was not polite, but it was the most enjoyable thing that has happened since I got back. Maybe before then.”
A light blush spread across her cheeks.
Adam forged on. “I want to be your friend. Not the ridiculous society construct of friendship, but your actual friend. We could be genuine allies, and help each other.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’m losing my mind in this city. It would be nice to have someone to talk to without always feeling out of place.” Last night, something in him had shifted. He didn’t feel so on edge anymore, and he didn’t want to lose the feeling. “And I can help you. Keep you calm if you feel overwhelmed. Be a ready excuse if you need to leave a room.”
Jane studied his face, brow furrowed. Adam took it as a good sign that she wasn’t looking away.
“People will think . . .”
“That I’m courting you?”
“Yes.” The blush on her face deepened.
“I don’t mind. Will you mind that I’m not?” It was best to get it out of the way sooner rather than later. If she did agree to be his friend, it could be very easy for things to get misconstrued.
“Courting me?”
He nodded.
She took a deep breath, considering. “No. I won’t mind.”
“Even if it stops someone else from courting you?”
“Especially if it stops someone else from courting me,” Jane answered. “I don’t think I’m meant to marry. All right, I accept your proposition. No more politeness.”
They shouldn’t stand around in someone’s doorway forever, so Adam set them back on a slow pace down the pavement. “I would have thought you’d be eager to marry.”
“Why?”
“Well, you seem . . .” Like the marrying kind. “You don’t seem like the spinster type.”
“Why type is that?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Difficult. Unattractive. Opinionated.”
“Since I’m no longer being polite, I think it’s important for you to know that you sound like an absolute ass.”
It surprised a laugh from Adam. “Enlighten me.”
She shook her head. “I have plenty of opinions, and you only need to ask my brother to find out how difficult I am. As to a woman’s looks marking her for spinsterhood . . .”
“It was uncalled for.”
“It was idiotic. A plain woman is just as likely to have wifely qualities as a pretty one—perhaps more so, because she will likely devote herself wholeheartedly to a man who sees her true worth.”
Adam held up his hands in surrender. “Point taken.”
But Jane wasn’t finished. “It’s no wonder you’re unwed. You’re rude and shortsighted, and you show every indication of being quite taken with yourself. I can’t imagine the woman that would choose to saddle herself with you.”
“Mercy, Jane. I concede!”
She glared at him from the corner of her eye. “It’s narrow-minded to judge a woman for something she has no control over.”
“Understood.”
• • •
After how horribly she’d embarrassed herself last night, Jane had expected—and hoped—to never see Lord Wesley again. The strange calm lasted until she fell asleep, but waking up had been horrible. She’d gotten ill. In front of him. It had completely overtaken any embarrassment she’d felt at Drusilla laughing at her. If Jane had expected anyone in her parlor this morning, it would have been a constable asking her to kindly remove herself from the city.
Instead, there he was. Asking her to be his friend. Asking her to be herself. It was ludicrous. And yet, she understood what he meant. Being seen, feeling unburdened for the first time since she was a child . . . it was an intoxicating feeling. She’d slept better last night than she had in years.
Now she was lecturing him as if he were Charlie. Not an earl with impossibly green eyes and the sort of powerfully shifting muscles that drove a woman to distraction, but someone she was comfortable with. And he was laughing, and enjoying himself.
Jane felt like she had swallowed the sun.
“Are you going to the White Ball the Duchess of Montrose is throwing?” he asked.
“I hadn’t thought of it. I’m not sure if we’ve received an invitation.”
“May I secure you one? Sebastian will be there, which means I will be there.”
The offer made her think of Geoffrey. Had he asked for the liberty of getting her invited to the Waverly ball? She couldn’t remember. But Adam had—her actual friend. Her rude, arrogant, utter ass of a friend.
“You may. Do you know how?”
Adam grinned. “I don’t, but my stepmother will arrange it. She has a knack for that sort of thing.”
The stepmother he’d developed feelings for and been exiled over.
Jane’s fingernails pressed in
to her palm. Lecturing on protocol was one thing, but this may very well be crossing a line. “Do you still love her?”
His steps slowed. Jane tensed, waiting for his anger.
“No,” he said eventually. “I still care for her, the way a man cares for his sister, but not the way it was before.”
A jolt of pleasure went through her. She pushed it aside. “What changed?”
“I did. I grew up. I thought I was in love with her, but I was just . . . young. She was the only woman I’d truly spent time with.”
“And now you’ve spent time with more women?”
His sideways glance told her she wasn’t fooling him at all. “Are you trying to ask me something, Jane?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“You’ll never prove it.”
“We’ll see about that.” They turned a corner that brought them back to one of the short streets that led to the square. “Would you walk with me again tomorrow?”
“Is there . . . Will you . . . I mean . . .” Jane exhaled loudly. “Why?”
His eyebrow raised. “Because I enjoy your company?”
There was that feeling again—fizzy warmth from head to toes. “Oh.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You most definitely are. Are you not used to people telling you how delightful you are?”
“I—” She wasn’t. Most likely because she was not delightful. She was strange and nervous and—if she knew them well enough—perpetually lecturing people on protocol. All of which, she realized, added up to one thing. Jane Bailey was a bore. But Adam didn’t think so. “Yes. You may walk with me tomorrow.”
“Good. And while we walk, I’m going to inundate you with compliments. Prepare yourself.”
“What! Why?”
“Because I enjoy seeing you blush, and you should get used to flattery.”
“I should not.” An entire sky’s worth of stars, blinking and burning beneath her skin.
“It will be harder to embarrass you if you’re used to the attention.” He deposited her at her doorstep—bowing from the waist. “Until tomorrow, Jane Bailey.”
“Until tomorrow.” Adam.
• • •
The address on Regina’s note was a few buildings down from Sebastian’s apartment on Jermyn Street. Tailors and bootmakers were doing brusque business as fashionable gentlemen moved up and down the lane. He leaned against the building until the familiar gilded trim of his father’s black and gold carriage appeared.
It rolled to a stop in front of him. He stepped forward, beating the groom to the door and helping his stepmother down. “As ordered, I have presented myself at precisely half three. Now can you tell me what I’m doing here?”
She beamed at him. “You live here.”
“I what?”
“The flat I promised you. This is it.”
Adam looked back at the building he’d been leaning against. It was in excellent repair. “Regina.”
“Don’t argue yet. Just come see it.”
He shook his head in resignation and held the door for her. She ignored the ground-floor doorway, heading up the stairs. They passed the first-floor landing, stopping on the second in front of a solid oak door.
Regina pulled out a key, turning it in the lock. “There’s no kitchen to speak of—just a tiny nook for slicing bread and boiling water—but the housekeeper provides two meals a day if you arrange them with her in advance.”
They stepped inside. Adam counted. Three, four, five . . . Six. Six doors off the hall that stretched back from the small foyer. “I don’t need this much space Regina.”
“Nonsense. What if you want to entertain friends?”
He almost said he didn’t have any friends, but that was no longer true. However, he would not be inviting Jane back to his flat. They might be flaunting the traditional boundaries of friendship, but that was a step too far.
Regina popped open the first door, revealing a room with a street view out of the three windows lined along the wall. “Parlor.”
“Unnecessary.”
She crossed to the opposite door. A high-backed leather chair sat behind a desk surrounded by bookcases. “Study.”
“Did the books come with the flat?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. So, no.
“Regina.”
Ignoring him, she moved down the hall. Next to the parlor, she opened another room with windows onto the street, a sideboard, and a table set for eight.
“If I don’t have a kitchen, why on earth would I need a dining room?”
“You can’t not have a dining room.”
“You would be surprised at how easily I can live without a dining room.”
“Well, you’re not going to,” she insisted, crossing the hallway once more. She opened the fourth door. “Guest bedroom.”
“Who would possibly be—”
The next door opened. “Your bedroom.”
Adam saw his trunk sitting open at the foot of the bed. It was empty, meaning his things had already been unpacked. “What’s the last room? A portrait gallery? How about an armory? You never know when I might need to show off my great-great-grandfather’s claymore.”
Her mouth pursed. She crossed her arms, refusing to open the last door.
Adam reached for the handle, pushing it wide. A pianoforte, a harp, and an easel were arranged advantageously among two settees and a pair of low chairs.
“I don’t play any instruments. Or paint.”
“That doesn’t mean you’ll never have anyone over who does.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, where an ache was forming. “I’m not staying, Regina. Once the season is over—”
“You never know. You might find a reason to stay. But either way, it’s been leased for you, and your things are all unpacked.” She handed him the key.
“What did you tell my father?”
They had successfully avoided each other thus far. Lord Clairborne spent his days out—at his club or plotting global domination with his cronies. In the evenings, they all attended separate entertainments. The only time they could run into each other was breakfast, and Adam had continued his habit of early rising. He ate fast and wandered the city until he was certain his father would be gone.
“If he notices, I’ll tell him the truth.”
If he notices. That sounded about right. “If it causes any trouble—”
“It won’t. Enjoy the flat, Adam. The stable at the end of the street will board your horse.”
“I didn’t bring a . . .” For God’s sake. “Regina? Do I have a horse now?”
“He’s lovely. Just right for you. I have to go. You’ll keep me updated about Sebastian?”
Your son is still an impressionable fool. Your son is a purposeless dandy. Your son doesn’t understand how to treat a lady—likely because he’s spent his entire life watching his own father ignore his mother like a possession that could be picked up or put away on a whim.
“I will.” He wouldn’t say any of those things, but somehow he’d find a way to keep his promise. He would ease her mind, even if he needed to lie a little.
• • •
The door closed behind Jane. Before she could even get her cloak off, Mathilda and Charlie were in the hallway badgering her with questions.
“Was it a nice walk?”
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Did you lecture him?”
“What did you talk about?”
“Please,” Jane shouted over them. “I’m barely in the door. And my walk with Lord Wesley is none of your business.”
Aunt Matty grabbed her hand, pulling her into the drawing room. “I’m your chaperone. I need to know these things to look after your moral fortitude.”
“I’m the acting head of this family,” Charlie insisted.
“You couldn’t be less concerned with moral fortitude. Mine or anyone else’s,” Jane told her aunt. Turning to Charlie, she said, “And you can call yourself the head of whatever you like. You’re not in charge of me.”
Honestly. Busybodies, the pair of them. Not that telling them that made a bit of difference. They were still staring at her like she owed them an explanation.
Jane sighed. They would find out anyway. “He’s coming again tomorrow. And he asked if we would go to the Duchess of Montrose’s ball if he secured us an invitation.”
Mathilda and Charlie shared a look.
Jane rolled her eyes. “He’s not courting me. We’re just going to be friends.”
“Whatever you say.” A smile was trying desperately to sneak onto Mathilda’s face.
It was hopeless. “If anyone needs me—for reasons not concerning Lord Wesley—I’ll be in my room.”
She left them to their wild imaginings and went upstairs. Once she was safely behind her closed door, she let loose the grin that had been waiting to break free. Adam Clairborne.
They weren’t anything more than friends—Jane knew that. But it didn’t stop her from anticipating their walk tomorrow. She was used to living in her head. Used to experiencing an entire world of emotion that no one knew about. So they were only friends. Adam had still given her a gift. For the first time in a long time she wasn’t dreading the next social event—wasn’t thinking about how to survive it. She was excited.
Chapter 8
When Adam came to call the next day, Jane was ready. Her hair was perfectly ordered, and the lines of her lavender walking dress were pristine. She was certain of it because she’d checked seven times. Stepping into the parlor, she was certain she looked perfect. Until she saw Adam.
“Jane.” He smiled wide.
“You’re in riding clothes.”
“I am. I find myself in possession of a horse, so I thought we might ride instead of walk.”
Nerves became a sick ache in her stomach. “I’m not dressed for riding.”
“That’s all right. I don’t mind waiting while you change.”
As if it were that simple. As if she could possibly pay enough attention to the details knowing he was in the parlor, wondering what was taking so long. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
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