The Rebel

by May McGoldrick

  The housekeeper smiled in agreement.

  “Trust me, you shall love them.” Fanny nodded with all the conviction of a true woman of the world. “And they shall love you.”

  ***

  No stone had been left unturned. Of that he was certain.

  As the result, Nicholas was late in arriving at his friends’ Berkeley Square townhouse for dinner. Philip, Stanmore’s ancient steward, greeted him with uncharacteristic warmth, however, just inside the front door.

  “And how was your day today, Sir Nicholas?”

  Nicholas studied him with suspicion as he handed his hat and gloves to a doorman. In light of the rigidly unresponsive manner with which the steward customarily addressed anyone, the simple query constituted a fortnight’s allowance of pleasantries. Perhaps a month’s worth.

  “Very well, thank you. And how was yours, Philip?”

  “Despite it being a little cold for September, I was able to accompany Lady Stanmore and the young masters to St. James’s Park this afternoon. Master James is starting his session at Eton this fall a month late, you see, on account of the excitement of having a new brother. Of course, Daniel…you remember my brother Daniel, sir? the steward at Solgrave? Of course, sir. Well, Daniel has already arranged for the lad’s tutor, Mr. Clarke, to meet with us at Solgrave. As was the case last year, we already know that Master James will be far ahead of other pupils when he arrives at school next month.”

  Very well, Nicholas thought. That constituted roughly a year’s measure of chitchat for Philip. He bit back his smile at the change in the steward. Rebecca’s positive influence during the past year on Stanmore and on everyone else around them had been the most amazing thing to observe. But this drastic change in Philip since Nicholas’s last visit was inexplicable. He was a hard old nut, but something had managed to soften his shell.

  “And where is everyone, Philip?”

  “His lordship and your sister and Master James are in the East Room, sir. Her ladyship and Miss Purefoy, however, went upstairs to put Master Samuel to bed, as he was becoming quite assertive, sir.”

  Nicholas paused by the upward sweep of stairs in the hope of catching a glimpse of Jane. All of the arrangements he’d made with his mother to send Jane and Frances ahead while she took Clara to Bath had worked out perfectly. Now he had to capitalize on his efforts.

  He was certain that Jane’s change of heart and disappearance from Woodfield House had been the result of some discussion with Clara. Whatever words had been exchanged between the sisters had once again planted in Jane’s mind the idea that Nicholas was destined to be married to the younger sister.

  The ship out of Cork City had not even passed Knockadoon Head before he realized his only opportunity lay in separating the two. That way he would at least have a chance to talk some sense into Jane.

  “May I be bold enough to congratulate you, sir?”

  Nicholas turned in surprise and found Philip standing beside him. There was no reason for denial. The man’s meaning was very clear.

  “She hasn’t agreed to marry me yet.”

  “Fear not, sir. I believe you are second only to his lordship himself in persuasiveness. If he was happy enough to succeed, then I shall place my wager on you.”

  Nicholas smiled and fell in with the steward as he started toward the East Room. “I know it has taken me a long time to admit this, Philip, but I am actually starting to like you.”

  “Your secret is safe with me, sir.”

  ***

  Everything Fanny had said about this family was true.

  In spite of the fact that Jane was quite prepared to dislike the Earl of Stanmore, a well-regarded member of the House of Lords, after only a few hours in his company she could not stop herself from liking and respecting him. Quiet and direct in speech, Stanmore was a dashingly handsome man as well as quite obviously intelligent and surprisingly broadminded.

  And the countess was a rare gem. Unpretentious in a manner unlike any of the aristocracy Jane knew, Lady Stanmore had a beauty that radiated from within. Rebecca, as she insisted on being called, had welcomed her as if the two of them had been lifelong friends. By the end of the evening, Jane had fallen under her charm so much that she found herself wishing that a long term friendship between them could be possible.

  Why, even these couple’s children were exceptional. Their older boy, James, who had turned eleven this past summer, appeared slightly hard of hearing in one ear and only had two fingers in his deformed right hand. But neither of the problems affected either the lad’s spirit or his attachment to his infant brother.

  The young Samuel Fredrick Wakefield, only two months old, demonstrated his strong personality at regular intervals. Holding the round-faced baby had made Jane’s heart swell with unexpected emotion. And later on, when she’d watched Rebecca nurse the child herself and put him in his crib, Jane had found a startling maternal yearning clutching at her breast.

  The only thing that had exceeded those feelings had been the fluttering heat that had erupted within her upon coming downstairs and finding Nicholas standing in the East Room. His eyes smiled warmly when he saw her enter.

  Other than some cordial and public pleasantries, not much more had been said between them. But he rarely ever took his eyes off her for the remainder of the evening.

  As the farewells were said and they prepared to leave, Rebecca pulled Jane aside for a private word.

  “Jane, I have already done my best to impress it on Nicholas, but now I am petitioning you. Do please come and stay a few days with us at Solgrave. Our short visit tonight has only managed to whet my appetite for getting to know you better, and I am so eager to have a longer visit with you.”

  Jane was pleased with the invitation and said so. “My sister and Lady Spencer should be arriving in London tomorrow or the next day, I should think. I should tell you I am very much under their direction for the length of our short stay in England.”

  “Very well.” Rebecca smiled and looped her arm through Jane’s. Together, they walked toward the open front door. “Then I shall send a letter to Lady Spencer about it and make sure you all come to Solgrave.”

  “I, for one, would be delighted.” She returned the warm smile of the countess and said goodbye to Stanmore before following Frances out onto the pleasantly cool night. A carriage and a groom were waiting for them on the street, as well as several of the Stanmore’s footmen.

  “I had the best of times.” Fanny’s happy smile turned into a yawn that she hardly tried to hide. “But I believe I should spend most of the day tomorrow in bed.”

  She was handed into the carriage first, but just as Jane started to climb in after her, Nicholas’s firm grip on her elbow held her back. “You go on to the house, Fanny. Jane and I will walk the few blocks home.”

  Jane’s stomach leaped pleasantly and her heart began pounding hard in her chest, but she was not so blinded not to notice the glint of Fanny’s mischievous smile as the young woman sank back into the carriage seat. “I hope you won’t think me impolite, Jane, but I am not waiting up.”

  After the carriage had pulled away, Nicholas’s hand tightened on her arm. “I hope you have no fear of walking with me.”

  She shook her head, but couldn’t bring herself to look into his face. His touch, his voice, the promise of the two of them alone together again set the tingling feelings racing along her skin. He dropped his hand, but they fell in step as they strolled down the street.

  “How careless of me not to ask! How is your ankle?”

  “Perfectly well, thank you.” She looked about contentedly. “They are a lovely family.”

  “It is hard to believe that they have already been married over a year.” He cast a parting glance back toward the house. “Time passes by so quickly.”

  “Lady Stanmore told me how she and James had been living in the American colonies for nearly ten years before coming back to England and meeting the earl.”

  “She does not share the story of her li
fe with many people. She obviously likes you.”

  “The feeling is mutual. I believe I am quite fortunate to have had the opportunity of meeting them. Thank you.”

  “Well, after the relentless questioning that Stanmore subjected me to this morning—during which time he forced me to talk about nothing but the mysterious and beautiful Miss Jane who I was so absorbed in—there was no getting away with it.”

  Surprised, she glanced up at him, only to be staggered by the look of tenderness in his blue gaze.

  “I have missed you, Jane.”

  The force of the simply spoken words caused her heart to lodge immediately in her throat. She couldn’t say the words, but her hand moved on its own accord and slipped through his arm. The streets on the next block were darker, with only a single lamp hanging from a house near either end. He tightened her hold against his side.

  “Though I knew the horrible chaos of war in my army years and even sought out the pleasures of confusion later in my unpredictable, unprincipled rogue’s life, I had never truly understood the painful joy of turmoil until I fell in love with you.” They halted in the darkness. “No one could have described it to me. No matter what my past experiences were with women, I was unprepared for the ups and downs of what we have gone through this past week.”

  “I am sorry, Nick,” she whispered guiltily. “I know I’ve done a great deal that needs explaining, but nothing about me has ever been simple. I should have done a better job of protecting you…”

  “No.” Nicholas’s hand pressed hers on his arm. “Perhaps it sounds foolish, but I am trying to become a better man—a more worthy human being—because of you. And finally, I find I am able to feel, to love, to plan, to want a future for us. And all because of you. I have no regret for any of this. My only problem is I am impatient to begin having you beside me for the rest of my life.”

  She turned her head away abruptly to hide the sudden tears. A carriage rolled by them on the street, the driver eyeing them suspiciously as he passed. They continued along the sidewalk in measured steps, but Jane was too numb to feel the ground.

  “I had promised myself that I would not rush you again. And here we are, our first moments alone together in days, and I am doing just that.” He pulled her closer to his side until their arms and hips brushed and their bodies moved in unison. They turned onto Leicester Square. “I shall try to be better. Can you forgive me?”

  She laughed through the tears and brushed away the wetness with her free hand. “Yes, I think so.”

  “Then it is settled,” he said more cheerfully. “Being the paragon of courtesy that I am and knowing that you must be quite tired from the day of traveling, I shall allow you to get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

  “That is very generous of you, sir.”

  “But tomorrow is a different matter,” he warned.

  “And how is that?”

  His voice dropped, his tone low and confidential. “Because tomorrow I need you to arise early. I plan to take you around London and show you some of the unsavory elements of Sir Nicholas Spencer’s life.”

  “Are you telling me you are not perfect?”

  “Far from it, my love.” He walked her up the stairs to the front door of his townhouse. After a rather weary looking doorman opened the door and greeted them, Nicholas walked her as far as the bottom of the stairs. “Now you go up and latch your door before another unsavory part of me comes out.”

  Jane smiled, but before she could turn away he brushed his lips across hers. It was a chaste kiss. Curiously enough, it was entirely different from everything they had previously shared. But it was a also a reminder of the passion that flared between them whenever they touched, and of the love that lurked just beyond the mist.

  CHAPTER 28

  Jane stood over the trunk, staring at the layers of clothing separated by delicate papers. How Fey had managed it, Jane wasn’t quite sure, but there was not a single black dress in the thing.

  She smiled. How could she be angry? Fey had just known intuitively that Jane’s few days in London should be unrelated of anything in her past. This was a time for color and silk and lace.

  Frances had not yet stirred when Jane came down around seven, but to her delight Nicholas was already up and ready to start the day. His weariness had disappeared, and he looked refreshed and buoyant.

  “I am very happy that you awakened so early. I have much to show you.”

  “How about your sister?”

  “I would suppose she shall be sleeping for most of the morning. After that, she will want to visit some of the slew of friends that Charles tells me have been beating a daily path to my door since we left for Ireland.”

  She couldn’t think of any reason to object, considering she was so looking forward to spending this day in his company.

  Once they had breakfasted, her host escorted her to his waiting phaeton, and helped her in.

  “For two night owls like us,” he remarked with a smile as he took up his whip, “to set out so early in the day is rather an accomplishment,”

  “Where are you taking me this morning?”

  “You ask too many questions. Patience, my love.” He touched her affectionately on the knee. “You shall find out soon enough.”

  With a groom mounted behind them, Jane found herself rolling through narrow side streets. Skirting Covent Garden, they were very soon cutting into the heavy traffic of the Strand and heading for the Temple Bar and the City of London. Carriages and carts vied for space and pedestrians risked their lives on the crowded thoroughfare, and very shortly Nicholas turned off onto a lane so narrow she wondered how he even saw it. It was soon obvious that he knew it well, as he drove on with confidence through a rabbit warren of twisting alleys and lanes.

  As her host maneuvered around carts and an overturned sedan chair that had been stripped of its essentials, Jane realized that this was not the fashionable London that she remembered. The neighborhoods quickly grew poorer. The light and air here became dark and heavy with dampness and the smells of poverty. Many of the houses—mere skeletons lacking windows and doors—seemed to lean upon one another for support. Some had simply collapsed into themselves from neglect.

  And everywhere she looked, it seemed, Jane saw people who equaled the houses in obvious need.

  “You are still not telling me where we are headed!”

  “You shall see in just a few moments.”

  True to his word, at the shadowy twist in the alley, they came upon a squalid river or canal. Jane was unsure what is was, for it was filled with slow moving liquid of some unnatural color, and Nicholas reined in his team. The waterway, lined with dilapidated houses that hung out over it at rakish angles, contained the moss-covered remains of indeterminate objects and reeked of sewage. A rickety bridge led across, and dozens of the neighborhood’s inhabitants stopped to look with surprise at the carriage…until they recognized the driver.

  Cries of “Halloo, Sir Nicholas!” or “If it ain’t our own Sir Nicholas!” or “Oy, Nick, we’ve not seen ye much o’ late,” rang out, and he waved back as he carefully urged his team across the bridge.

  “These people know you,” she whispered with amazement. More people waved at them as he arrived on the other end.

  “I have a bad habit of getting around.” He brought the phaeton to a stop beside a deserted warehouse of crumbling brick, and climbed down. Ragged folk passed going in either direction, but only the legions of street urchins stopped to cast more than a curious glance at them. Along the buildings lining the thoroughfare, men and women stood and crouched in the idleness that poverty breeds.

  Even as he turned to smile encouragingly at her, it occurred to Jane that she didn’t know of anyone in his class who would dare to step foot in better neighborhoods than this, but Nicholas showed no hint of either fear or disgust. When he reached for Jane and motioned for her to climb down, she didn’t hesitate.

  “Despite its rather unpleasant appearance,” he said, seeming to read her
thoughts, “so long as you are in my company, you can walk in this quarter in complete safety.”

  “I am not worried.” She gave him a confident smile.

  “I know…I know. Nothing is too threatening for celebrated Egan. Nonetheless, hold on tightly to your handkerchief and purse.” He grinned, clutching her hand in his all the same as he turned her down the narrow lane. “Now I can get to the purpose of why I brought you here.”

  They may as well have been strolling in the St. James’s Park. He seemed as much part of this world as that one.

  “You probably already know this, but in England—in the view of most of my well-to-do contemporaries—poverty is a regrettable but necessary state of affairs. The poor must labor to fuel the machinery of society.”

  “It is no different anywhere.”

  “Indeed. And while the working poor are essential to a country, their work and their lives are not considered honorable. Even from the pulpits we hear it declaimed that there is some flaw in their characters that has made and kept them poor. Their sins drive them to poverty and poverty requires them to perform the drudgery that supports the rest of us.”

  Jane held back her own opinion, for she doubted these were Nicholas’s views.

  “There are many distinguished members of our society who still believe that the classes into which we are born were established by God. It is a system established for the purpose of order. To have superiors, then, you must have inferiors. Some exist to serve and obey, while others who are borne to command.”

  “This is the thinking that allows such brutal repression in Ireland.”

  “And other places, as well.” His blue eyes met hers. “And that is why I brought you here. I wanted you to see that the suffering is not limited just to Ireland. Right here in London,” he made a sweeping motion of the people around him, “one finds the poor and hungry. There is suffering right beneath our almighty noses, but our response is the same.”