She had sworn never to remarry. She had more freedom as a widow than she could have imagined as Charles’s wife. She could come and go as she pleased, and thanks to her widow’s portion and Aunt Eleanor’s generosity, she never had to worry about money.
Only one thing could have changed her mind. Did she want her child to be born a bastard? The thought made her blood run cold. She knew firsthand how cruel society could be. Even if she fled to the country, word would get out that the widow of the Earl of Stanwell had a baby out of wedlock.
What type of future could she offer her child then?
From the beginning, Gareth’s mindset had been clear. He never wanted to marry. He didn’t want children. He’d wanted an illicit liaison—just as she did. If she told him about the baby, would he feel honor bound to marry? Would he look upon her and their child with regret and dislike for forcing his hand?
He disposed of unwanted wives, for goodness sakes. He’d certainly never wanted one for himself.
Things were even worse now that she’d learned Gareth kept secrets—dark secrets that hinted of dangerous and underhanded activities. She may not know for whom he worked, but she had enough sense to know that it did not bode well to illegally search someone’s home and steal documents. Whatever he was involved in, it was clearly unsafe and could put her and her baby in danger. She couldn’t allow it.
Her course of action was clear. If she wanted to keep her child safe and she didn’t want the baby born illegitimate, she’d have to find another man.
This time a husband and father.
Could she do it? Could she purposely set out to deceive a man into believing the child was his? Could she marry another when her heart was engaged elsewhere?
Yes. She’d do anything to protect her unborn baby. Sacrificing herself was a small price to pay.
…
Once her plan was set, Jane was able to think things through clearly. Her mood was still heavy, but her spirits lifted slightly when she dressed in a new emerald gown trimmed with Brussels lace. She had originally ordered it from the modiste with Gareth in mind. She pictured him admiring her in the silk and enthusiastically removing it afterwards.
She pushed the erotic images aside. That part of her life was over. She didn’t need another man’s lies or deception. Taking one last look in the cheval glass, Jane smoothed her skirts and departed from her bedroom.
The dress was meant to flatter and draw masculine interest, and she would use it for that purpose at Almack’s tonight. The Wednesday night assembly would be a special night, and not just because Jane intended to flirt and dance all evening, but because Aunt Eleanor felt well enough to accompanying her.
Eleanor waited at the bottom of the stairs. Dressed in a dark blue gown with an embroidered overskirt, her blue eyes twinkled. “Shall we?” Eleanor said.
“I’m pleasantly surprised you feel well enough to attend,” Jane said.
“Staying inside is not good for anyone’s disposition. I also admit my good friend from my school days, Lady Turner, is visiting from the country with her nephew, and I’m eager to see her. She was always quite entertaining.”
Jane helped her aunt as they stepped inside Almack’s assembly rooms. She instantly felt the heat. The smell of expensive French perfume did little to disguise the odor of perspiring bodies in the crowded space. The all too familiar queasiness roiled in her stomach.
Oh, no. Not here.
“Smile, my dear. The gentlemen are watching you,” Eleanor said.
Jane obediently smiled as her gaze wandered longingly to the open French doors leading onto the terrace. “Would you like a glass of lemonade?”
“That would do nicely,” Eleanor said.
Jane hurried to the refreshment table, which was near the French doors. A cool breeze of fresh air brushed her heated cheeks and lifted the hair on her nape. She breathed in slowly until her stomach settled and she was no longer in danger of embarrassing herself from getting sick.
Sipping a glass of cool lemonade, she scanned the room. She knew Gareth wouldn’t attend Almack’s. He stayed far away from the marriage mart. Although a part of her longed to see him, she knew it was for the best. She needed to put him out of her mind.
The baby, she thought. Think of the baby.
She looked about the room with renewed interest. Fetching a second glass of lemonade, she returned to her aunt’s side only to find her engaged in conversation with another woman. The lady was close to Eleanor’s age and was dressed in a purple gown and tall turban with a matching dyed ostrich feather. She gestured with her hands as she spoke, and the feather bobbed vigorously with her movements.
Eleanor waved Jane over and made the introductions. “Jane, this is my old school friend, Lady Turner.” Eleanor turned to the woman. “My niece, Lady Stanwell.”
Jane smiled and tried not to stare at Lady Turner’s towering turban. She understood why her aunt had called Lady Turner entertaining during their school days. Just then they were approached by a gentleman Jane didn’t recognize.
Lady Turner beamed and rested a jeweled hand on the gentleman’s sleeve. “This is my nephew, Captain Liam Turner. Captain Turner, may I introduce Lady Hollister and her niece, Lady Stanwell.”
Captain Turner bowed and Jane curtsied. A handsome older gentleman with brown hair and blue eyes, he was dressed in his regimentals.
“May I have the pleasure of this dance?” Captain Turner asked her.
For a brief instant, Jane wanted to refuse. The Captain wasn’t Gareth. But that was the point, wasn’t it?
She smiled and placed her hand in his. “I’d be delighted.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gareth walked into Gentleman Jackson’s at 13 Bond Street wanting to fight. He entered the main salon, and his eyes immediately homed in on the large roped-off square ring, anchored with stakes driven into the floor at each corner. He was restless and frustrated, and angry at himself for the cause.
Daniel waited by the ring as an assistant finished tying his boxing gloves. “You’re early.”
Gareth scowled. “And you’re obsessed with time.”
The assistant approached to help Gareth with his own gloves.
As soon as Gareth was ready, Daniel dismissed the assistant and came close. “Simon Marbury is preparing to leave the country,” Daniel said.
“I know. At least he’ll leave with a black eye and a broken nose.”
Daniel grinned. “You did well.”
“I still think the bastard got off too easy.” Gareth also knew what society thought. That the elegant and wealthy Simon Marbury, the ton’s favorite, had become bored and sought adventure on the Continent. The news had irked him.
“I agree,” Daniel said. “He should have been forced to fire one of his own inferior cannons.”
“Now that would have been justice,” Gareth scoffed. “No more talk. Let’s fight.”
Both men stepped into the ring. They circled each other, each slightly crouched at the knees, head and shoulders pressed forward. They jabbed and punched as they made their way around the ring, their athletic moves like a well-practiced dance. Their guttural groans and the scraping of their shoes on the hardwood floor echoed off the bare walls as they fought.
Gareth was taller, more heavily muscled, but Daniel was sinewy and quick on his feet. Both got in several solid punches. When Daniel struck Gareth’s jaw with a fierce uppercut, Gareth’s head snapped back. For a brief instant, he relished the pain as it pounded through his skull.
He narrowed his eyes, focusing on his opponent. In his mind he saw his next move; he’d attack quickly, jab at Daniel’s weaker left side with ruthless efficiency. But the pain and something else—something foreign and against every instinct of self-preservation he possessed—slowed his movements.
Daniel took advantage of Gareth’s hesitation to land a quick two-punch combination to his midsection. Startled, Gareth staggered backward and doubled over. His ribs ached as he gasped for air. Pain reverberated thro
ugh his head, jabbed at his stomach, and sparked thoughts in his brain.
He was going crazy without Jane in his bed. Without her laughter, her seductive touch, and God help him, without her company.
Work held no interest for him. No matter how many new cases Gareth took on or how many hearings and trials he conducted at the Old Bailey, his thoughts kept returning to Jane.
Worse still, other women held no interest for him. They all paled in comparison to Jane. He had lust, but only for her.
His attempts to see her had failed. Her elderly butler was like a military sergeant when it came to protecting his mistress. Gareth knew she was home, and he’d spotted her bedroom curtains flutter open as he approached her Piccadilly residence. If this continued, he’d end up forcing his way inside.
His mouth twisted wryly at the thought. Brutality outside the boxing ring wouldn’t help his cause with Jane at all.
“Enough,” Daniel said, stepping from the ring. His assistant came forth to remove his gloves, and Daniel wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel. “What’s the matter with you?”
It took a few more breaths before Gareth was able to answer. “Nothing.” He reluctantly left the ring and had his own gloves removed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and saw a streak of blood.
Daniel dipped a dented metal cup into a bucket of water, took a drink, then handed the cup to Gareth. “It’s not like you to let anyone beat you to a bloody pulp.”
He deserved a beating. His conscience, which had never bothered him in the past, had taken over. He didn’t like it.
“You’re like a caged tiger ready to pounce, but for some insane reason you’re holding yourself back. I’m wary of you,” Daniel said.
Gareth took a long drink.
Daniel leaned against the rope. “You needn’t be so uptight. The mission was a success. Simon’s leaving. The corrupt military inspectors are being dealt with as we speak.”
“Good. I need another mission. Tell me you have one in mind.” He needed to immerse himself in work. Maybe then he’d be able to think of something…anything other than Jane.
“There will be no future missions for you until you exorcise the demons that are haunting you. You’re dangerous and not fit for duty.”
“Christ! Is that what you think?”
“That’s what I know.”
Gareth’s eyes narrowed. “Sod off.”
Daniel shrugged. “The mission is almost over.”
“So?”
Daniel shuffled his feet. “Tell her, man.”
Gareth’s gaze snapped to Daniel’s. “What did you say?”
“You wouldn’t be the only agent to confess his secrets to a woman,” Daniel admitted.
Gareth knew Daniel referred to their friend Robert and his wife Sophia.
“Are you saying I can tell Jane the truth? The entire truth?”
Daniel exhaled as if relieving a great weight upon his shoulders. “I’m speaking as your friend now and not in an official capacity. Use your discretion. I trust your judgment.”
…
Gareth left Gentleman Jackson’s and had taken two steps when he collided into a passerby. He spun about to see a young woman in black and white servant’s garb. A hatbox she had been carrying thumped to the ground and rolled to the curb.
“My box,” the young woman cried out.
Gareth immediately ran after the package. Retrieving it, he saw that the side of the hatbox was caked in mud. “I apologize, miss. I didn’t see you.”
It was odd since he rarely collided with anyone, and he wondered how he hadn’t seen the young maid. It was almost as if she had intentionally walked into him.
“Never mind that, Monique,” a female voice said as an elderly woman with a cane stepped forward.
Gareth faced the woman. She looked vaguely familiar, but he had just taken a beating in the ring and many older women were similar in appearance to him.
“Pardon, my lady. It seems I accidently collided with her.” He wanted to say the girl ran into him, but he didn’t want the young servant to be disciplined. Her elder employer was obviously wealthy with her fine pelisse and gown, and Gareth knew the rich could be cruel to their servants who depended on them for their livelihood.
“A little mud on a box is no harm, sir. I’m Lady Hollister. And who are you?”
Gareth bowed. “Mr. Gareth Ramsey.”
She tapped a gloved finger on her chin. “Ah yes, Mr. Ramsey. I’ve heard that name before.”
No doubt she’d heard of his professional accomplishments. He had no desire to defend himself when the old lady recalled just where she’d heard his name before. He was praised at the gentlemen’s clubs, but never in the ladies’ drawing rooms over tea.
Lady Hollister suddenly stomped her cane. “I remember now! My niece has mentioned you.”
Her niece? Just splendid. He wondered if her husband was his client. “How nice. If you will please excuse me, I must be on my way.”
The lady stretched out her cane, blocking his path. “Lady Stanwell. Do you recall meeting my niece?”
Gareth froze. An image of an old woman with a cap the shape of a large mushroom rushing into the vestibule the night he had escorted Jane to her home from Vauxhall Gardens rose to his mind. He’d thought the woman was Jane’s housekeeper. Never had he suspected she was Jane’s aunt. Lady Hollister may be elderly, but her eyes were sharp and alert, and he had the distinct impression she knew more than she let on.
“I’ve had the pleasure of your niece’s acquaintance. How is she faring?” Gareth asked.
“Ah, one can never quite tell with Jane. A darling girl, she is.”
Darling didn’t do her justice. Jane was a fantasy in the bedroom.
His fantasy.
“You are a strapping young man. Do you mind helping me to my carriage? My old bones are suffering from shopping for too long,” the woman said.
“Of course.” He couldn’t help but wonder if Jane was waiting in the carriage for her aunt.
Lady Hollister chatted the entire way. Her carriage was parked down the street. She seemed to be managing just fine. He carried the muddied hatbox and her maid trailed behind.
Jane. He wanted to see Jane. His blood ran hot just thinking she may be close.
“Is Lady Stanwell in the carriage?” he asked, attempting to keep his tone light.
“Goodness, no. She’s busy with the captain.”
“The captain?”
She looked at him as if he was a simpleton. “Captain Liam Turner, of course. The man fancies her. My niece never wanted to remarry, but the captain is so dashing in his regimentals that even she is taken with him. Everyone knows he’s seeking a wife.”
The hatbox slipped from Gareth’s grasp to whack on the ground. His insides twisted.
“Be careful with that, Mr. Ramsey,” she chided. “It took me a quite a bit of time at the milliners to find just the hat I was looking for.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lady Hollister waved a hand. “The hat is for tonight. My niece and I are attending the Vogleson’s ball. I’m certain Captain Turner will attend as well.” They reached the carriage. “Here we are.” Her footman jumped down and took the hatbox from Gareth. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Ramsey. I assume I will see you at the Vogleson’s ball, then?”
Their eyes caught and held. For a brief moment, he couldn’t help but wonder whether she had sought him out for just this purpose. He mentally shook himself. It made little sense. Lady Hollister didn’t know him, and if she did know the truth between him and Jane, he doubted the lady would want him anywhere near her niece.
He bowed deeply. “I wouldn’t miss it, my lady.”
…
Jane had returned from a walk in the park and was startled to find Captain Turner waiting for her in the sitting room.
Captain Turner rose from a chair as soon as she entered. “Good afternoon.” He was well-groomed with cropped brown hair, his crisp uniform, and polished bo
ots. He exhibited an air of command that she’d come to associate with a military man of his rank.
“What a pleasant surprise.” She wasn’t expecting him. A week after dancing with him at Almack’s, the captain had called upon her twice—once with a bouquet of flowers and the second time with a box of chocolates.
He took her hand and led her to the sofa and sat beside her. “I wanted to see you again, Jane.”
The thought occurred to her that she hadn’t given him permission to call her by her Christian name. Her brows knit. She should be happy by his visit and his use of her name. Surely it meant he was serious in his pursuit.
That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?
Her temples started to throb. She feared a headache would be quick in coming. She resisted the urge to rub her temples.
“I find myself most fortunate to have been introduced to you at the first ball upon my return to town.”
“I feel the same, Captain Turner.”
“Please call me Liam.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s no secret I’ve returned to London during the season in the hopes of finding a wife.”
She didn’t know quite how to respond. A part of her was happy, wasn’t it? She needed this. Needed the security and safety he offered for her unborn child. And she required things to move along quickly.
If only she didn’t think of Gareth, and compare the captain’s established looks to Gareth’s virility. Her headache increased in intensity.
“I’m a military man. I prefer things to run smoothly and as efficiently as possible.”
Smoothly and Efficiently? He made her sound like one of the soldiers under his command. She inwardly cringed. Would there be no romance as his wife? Would she be expected to obey his commands? Just like one of his soldiers?
It didn’t matter. He offered her and her unborn child a safe haven. If she had to rise at five in the morning and perform calisthenics and march in a straight line, she would do it.
He knelt before her and took her hand. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
At the Spy's Pleasure Page 18