Nor had they really forgiven Daniel for taking Laurel’s side, though they hadn’t disowned him. They’d needed their image of their perfect son even if they were privately furious with him.
His relationship with them had continued dutifully, but inside it was . . . hollow. When they died, he’d felt sadness and regret, but not true grief.
For whatever mad reason, Jessie Kelham had seemed like a woman who could fill his emptiness. That had proved to be only his desperate imagination. But imagination had been sweet while it lasted....
Closing his eyes, he prayed for peace. Then he forced stillness on himself, limb by limb, muscle by muscle, until he was in a fit state to be in public. Fortunately he was now scheduled to drive to the East End to work at Zion House’s small infirmary. Treating patients would require his full attention, so he could begin to put the Black Widow behind him. He had survived worse than being rejected by a woman he scarcely knew, and he would survive this.
But he wondered how long it would be before his heart stopped bleeding.
It was late by the time Daniel returned to Kirkland House. He had a key, so he let himself in quietly, not expecting to see anyone. But before he could head up to his room, Kirkland emerged from his study. He was coatless and bootless and held a glass of some dark amber liquid in one hand. The fashionable spymaster relaxing at home.
“I assume that’s not your blood on your shirt,” Kirkland said mildly.
Daniel glanced down to see reddish brown stains smudged across his once immaculate shirt front. “I was able to do some surgery. It was quite invigorating.”
Kirkland smiled. “It has to be more interesting than the financial papers I’ve been working on. I’m ready to call it a night before I fall asleep in my chair. Care to join me for some brandy? Or food?”
“I ate at a tavern with several staff members so we could discuss future plans. Very good people.” Daniel dropped his hat on a table, feeling weary. But the work had driven off the worst of the demons. “I wouldn’t object to some brandy, though.”
Kirkland led the way into his study and opened a well-stocked cabinet. As he poured another glass of brandy, he remarked, “It sounds as if you’re expanding your original idea for the Zion House infirmary?”
“There’s a great need in that area. A young surgeon from Bart’s has been volunteering at Zion House when he has the time. He’s capable and versatile, so I’m going to provide a salary that will allow him to work there half-time.”
Daniel settled wearily into a wing chair and stretched out his legs. It had been a long day. Was it just this morning that Jessie Kelham had refused his offer? “There’s a building for lease on the other side of the street from the Zion House shelter, so I’ll have Hyatt get that for the infirmary. Any extra space can be used by Zion House for more shelter areas.”
Kirkland smiled as he took the opposite chair. “You’re finding the advantages of wealth and lawyers who will instantly do your bidding?”
“Indeed.” Daniel sipped his brandy, resisting the desire to toss it back in one gulp. “One of the women at the shelter is an apothecary’s widow. Very knowledgeable. She’s ready and willing to set up a dispensary if I’ll provide the materials.”
“It sounds as if you’ve had a very productive day.” Kirkland sipped at his brandy, his gaze shrewd. “Is that why you look as if you were run over by a mail coach?”
Daniel grimaced. His first impulse was to deny that there was anything wrong beyond simple fatigue. But he felt the need to talk, and because he didn’t want to upset his sister, Kirkland was the only choice. “This morning I asked Lady Kelham for permission to court her. She turned me down. Very firmly.”
Kirkland went still, his brandy glass halfway to his mouth. After a long moment, he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I presume you wouldn’t have asked her without considerable thought.”
Daniel’s mouth twisted. “On the contrary. When I’m around her, I can’t seem to think at all.”
His brother-in-law blinked. “That’s . . . unexpected.”
“I’ve found it so, given that I’ve never had a problem keeping my head where women are concerned.” Daniel managed a halfway genuine smile. “I believe the lady is divine punishment for my lack of understanding of how you and Laurel fell in love at first sight.”
Kirkland swallowed all of his remaining brandy and poured more for both of them. “Very unexpected. I never blamed you for not understanding how we felt. You were right that we were too young and what we felt might have been mere infatuation. As it happens, the love was real, but it took ten years for us to rebuild our marriage after it broke. Love at first sight is more likely to be a shooting star than enduring love.”
It was easy to think of Jessie as a shooting star, swift and brilliant and impossible to capture. “She and I are older and perhaps wiser. She was quite clear about why we wouldn’t suit, and it wasn’t just that we don’t know each other well.”
“Is it because she’s looking for an older man, like her late husband? If that’s the case, perhaps she might change her mind.”
“That’s not why she rejected me.” Daniel toyed with his glass, watching the lamplight refract through the rich, dark brandy. “She says that I’m a good man and she’s a wicked woman, and once the initial attraction wore off, it would be a disaster.”
Kirkland’s brows furrowed. “That’s very blunt, but she might be right.”
“Perhaps she is.” Daniel closed his eyes as pain flared again. “But I wish she’d allowed more time before closing the door so firmly.”
“She may have thought a quick amputation was best.”
Daniel snorted. “Medical metaphors are my province, not yours.” A thought struck him. “I’d asked you to look into her past. Have you discovered why she thinks of herself as a wicked woman?”
“A thorough investigation would require sending people to places she’s lived, and there hasn’t been time or the necessity to do that. But her beauty attracts attention, so anyone who has known her in the past has been gossiping since she arrived in London,” Kirkland explained. “Which means confusion, exaggerations, and outright lies, which are impossible to evaluate properly.”
“I understand the limitations of gossip, but tell me what you’ve heard,” Daniel said, his voice flat. “Perhaps that will make me grateful for her rejection.”
“As you wish, but there’s not much hard data. No one seems to know where she was born or what her family background is.”
“She told me her father was a vicar. I gather that explains part of her distaste for the breed.”
Kirkland’s brows arched. “That’s more than anyone else has known. It makes sense, though. She’s always been considered well-spoken and well-bred. She first entered public view as an actress in Yorkshire. She was young and inexperienced, but her striking looks kept her well employed in ingénue roles. As an actress, she was the target of considerable gossip in York. It’s said that she had many lovers, but the number is probably exaggerated.”
“No smoke without a fire?” Daniel murmured.
“Very small sparks can be blown up to appear like major fires,” Kirkland said dryly. “The actresses I’ve known say that reports of their profligate behavior are greatly exaggerated. Acting is hard work and most of them don’t follow conventional morality, but they don’t have the time or energy to bed every lout who considers them fair game. So they tend to be selective.”
Feeling sick, Daniel wondered just how profligate Jessie had been. “How did she get from a Yorkshire theater to a good marriage in Kent?”
“She had at least one serious lover, Frederick Kelham. He took her to visit his uncle, Lord Kelham.”
Daniel frowned. “Is it plausible that the heir to a barony would take his mistress to visit a respectable old gentleman?”
“Not very,” Kirkland agreed. “Though I suppose it could happen. It’s said that when she saw Lord Kelham’s wealth, she seduced him into marriage. There’s a theory that Fred
erick was complicit in that since he’s been telling everyone that he and the lady continued as lovers and her daughter is his, not her husband’s.”
Daniel winced. “Ugly if true.”
“Which it may or may not be. Lady Kelham has been a model of decorum, and she may not be aware of the gossip. Those who knew her in Kent say that she was a gracious hostess and respectable wife who was devoted to her husband and daughter.”
“So which is the real woman?” Daniel mused. “The scandalous actress or the modest, demure wife and mother?”
“Both might be true,” Kirkland pointed out. “We simply don’t have enough good information to judge. Young men often sow wild oats before settling down to their responsibilities, and such things are viewed with indulgence. For a female to do the same is less common and more hazardous because she’ll be judged much more harshly. But recklessness is not the same as wickedness.”
True, but Daniel was still unnerved by the outlines of Jessie’s past. A moot point, given that she’d refused even to consider him as a possible husband. “Thank you. Knowing more of her background makes it easy to understand why she thinks we wouldn’t suit.”
What a pity that knowing she was all wrong for him didn’t stop him from wanting her.
Chapter 13
“We won’t have many days more like this.” Mariah took a sip of lemonade as she gazed from the Ashton House gazebo to the sunny lawn where Beth and several other children were playing with shrieks of delight. “We’ll be heading home to Ralston Abbey soon. You can stay on if you wish, though. Heaven knows the house is large enough.”
Jessie felt a pang. She’d loved living under the same roof as Mariah and Julia, who had become the best female friends she’d ever had. Writing letters wouldn’t be the same. “No need. We’ve had a wonderful visit, but it’s time to return to Kent.”
Mariah had been idly shuffling through a small stack of invitations that had been delivered to her earlier. She pulled one out to study more closely. “The Dunhavens are having a harvest ball next week, so stay until then. That will be a nice ending to the little season. Any fashionable folk still in town will be there, so we can say our good-byes. The Dunhavens are splendid hosts.”
“I’m not sure I should go to a ball,” Jessie said half seriously. “My resolve to behave might dissolve and I’ll disgrace myself by waltzing.”
“The world wouldn’t end if that happened.” Mariah set the invitation aside to be answered later. “But how goes your quest for a husband? You haven’t said much about that lately.”
“Well, I’ve received indecent propositions from several men anxious to comfort a lonely widow. Most of them married.” She made a face. “One was from Sir Harold Truscott.”
“Isn’t he one of the widowers you considered to be a good husband prospect? Rich, agreeable, and elderly?”
“He seemed a good choice, but alas! It was not to be. When he propositioned me, I told him I’d consider marriage, but not an illicit affair.” Jessie chuckled. “He suggested that he might be willing to marry me, but first he would have to try the goods to be sure of what he was getting. I told him I wasn’t going to lower my market value by giving away free samples. It was all dreadfully mercantile.”
Mariah laughed. “Were you tempted to continue negotiations in hopes of striking an acceptable bargain?”
“Not really. His hands were clammy.” Jessie suspected that she might have been able to charm Sir Harold into an offer of marriage, but she really didn’t want to marry him. She couldn’t help but compare him to Lord Romayne. Though Sir Harold was an easygoing man with a good reputation and good connections, he was boring, and the more she saw of him, the more boring he became.
“I’m surprised that you haven’t received at least one offer,” Mariah mused. “You’ve enchanted any number of gentlemen just by stepping into a room.”
“I don’t count the very young men who offer their hearts and bad poetry,” Jessie said. “There were several of those. I invoke my recent bereavement and refuse very gently but very, very firmly. There’s only been one remotely plausible offer, but that one wouldn’t have worked.”
“Oh?” Mariah gave Jessie a bright-eyed glance. “Who was plausible but wrong?”
Jessie hesitated. She shouldn’t have said anything, but she realized she wanted to talk about him. “Lord Romayne asked permission to court me. I declined, of course.”
“What?” Mariah stared at her. “What do you mean, ‘of course’? Daniel is a lovely, intelligent, charming fellow, and as Laurel’s brother and a long-term friend of Adam, Randall, and Kirkland, he’s a known quantity, not an unreliable stranger. Apart from his age, he fits your conditions perfectly. I’ve seen him at the Zion House infirmary and he’s wonderful with children. He’d be a marvelous stepfather for Beth. He also has a title and powerful connections to help keep you and your daughter safe from the loathsome Frederick. How could you say no?”
Daniel. His name was Daniel. “I was very tempted,” Jessie admitted. “But I don’t think we would suit, and I . . . like him too well to burden him with a wife he’ll soon regret.”
Mariah pursed her lips. “I have the feeling that this is much more complicated than you wish to discuss.”
Jessie’s smile was crooked. “You’re right, and I appreciate your tact in not asking more questions.”
“I can be tactful when there’s no other choice,” Mariah said dryly. “Apparently you’re no longer as worried about your nephew as when you first arrived in London?”
Jessie nodded. “I haven’t heard a word from him, and now I think I reacted too strongly to his threats. He was furious, but he’s also rather lazy. After he got over the initial shock of not inheriting the title, he must have realized that he’ll have a very handsome fortune with none of the responsibilities of running the estate. That should suit him perfectly, considering how averse he is to anything resembling work.”
“As a mother, of course you reacted strongly to a possible threat to Beth,” Mariah said sympathetically. “But if the danger has passed, no need to rush choosing a new husband. It shouldn’t be hard to find a man you like who doesn’t have clammy hands.”
They both laughed. Mariah was right. Now that Jessie’s fears had subsided, there was no need to rush into marriage. In truth, she’d rather not marry at all. Her gaze went to her daughter, who was giggling with the butler’s daughter. While she had her doubts about marriage, she’d love to have more children.
Maybe someday . . .
The Dunhaven ball proved to be worth waiting for. After an initial round of greetings, Jessie found a position by the wall where she could enjoy the music and elegant guests spinning across the polished floor. In her mourning, she felt like a raven at the feast, but even if she couldn’t dance, she could enjoy. Surely tapping her foot to the music wasn’t a serious violation of mourning customs.
The ballroom was less crowded than Jessie’s first rout, and there was a relaxed air as people came to bid farewell to friends they wouldn’t see for months. Mariah and Julia were dancing with their husbands, and very happy all four of them looked. Jessie smiled wistfully. She loved to dance, but Philip hadn’t, so it had been far too long since she’d attended even a simple country assembly.
But next year she could return to London, and she’d no longer be in mourning. Mariah had given her an open invitation to Ashton House, and Jessie looked forward to future visits, not least because Beth needed to grow up as part of this sophisticated world.
She was about to join a group of older women who’d taken possession of one corner of the ballroom when her attention was caught by new arrivals. Lord and Lady Kirkland and their guest, Lord Romayne.
Jessie felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She hadn’t seen him since their last meeting almost a fortnight earlier, and she’d hoped to keep it that way.
Since he hadn’t yet seen her, she retreated through a pair of French doors to a balcony overlooking the extensive Dunhaven gardens. The e
arly autumn air was brisk, but it steadied her nerves. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see Lord Romayne when most of fashionable London was in attendance tonight, but she’d tried not to think about him.
She rested her hands on the wooden railing, thinking of her time in London. Though she was profoundly grateful for the friends she’d made, she was ready to return to the quiet of Kent. London had taken the edge off of her grief over Philip, and now that she wasn’t worried about Beth, she could begin building her new life as a modest widow who didn’t need a husband.
The next time she saw Lord Romayne, he’d probably be happily married to a woman of impeccable reputation. Jessie hoped his wife would also be kind because kindness mattered, and he deserved it.
She was ready to return to the ball when the doors opened behind her, releasing warmth and merriment into the night. Before she could turn, a large male hand trapped the gloved fingers of her right hand where it rested on the balcony railing. She tried to pull her hand free, but the man kept her pinned to the railing.
Thinking it was another lout who wanted to comfort a poor widow, she turned—and was appalled to see Frederick Kelham.
Outraged, she freed her hand with a powerful yank, giving thanks for gloves that meant their bare fingers hadn’t touched. “How dare you! Get away from me!”
He moved a step back, raising his hands placatingly. “Don’t take on so, Jessie! I just need to speak with you in private.” He was a handsome man, and quite charming when he smiled at her as he did now. He had blue eyes and the toffee-colored Kelham hair, and looked rather like a youthful version of Philip.
Best of all, he looked reasonable tonight. Perhaps he wanted to apologize for his outrageous tantrum when he’d learned that he wasn’t heir to the title. “Very well,” she said warily. “Did you want to tell me that you’ve come to terms with Philip’s will?”
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