Her One True Love

by Rachel Brimble

  All these actions had shown her the real man inside, hadn’t they? Or had she imagined she saw something in him that wasn’t really there?

  Jane lifted her chin. No, nobody could be that blind. Which meant there was every chance Matthew told the truth and never truly loved Elizabeth. Jane closed her eyes. Thank goodness she had tamped down her love for him months ago. Putting space between them after this trip to the city together would be the best way to calm her feeling they were meant for one another.

  The increasing volume of comings and goings outside and Jeannie’s subsequent gawping through the window were welcome distractions. Jane leaned forward, close to her friend, all too aware of Matthew’s movement, barely inches from her side. Forcing her gaze upon the streets of the city as the carriage edged deeper into Bath, Jane purposely pushed her feelings for Matthew deep into the recesses of her heart where they belonged.

  They passed by the river and the lowlier parts of the city. The late afternoon mist hung like a network of spiders’ webs over its darkening landscape.

  Jane sighed and pointed to the clusters of women and children on the pavement. “See that, Jeannie? That is why we’re here.”

  “The children?”

  “Yes. See the condition of their dilapidated houses? Look how their mothers wash their meager clothes over buckets.” Jane shook her head, determination rising like a flame behind her rib cage. “I have led a fortunate life, and the sights of those boarded windows and open doors leading to dark hallways and even darker rooms will be all the reminder I need to keep forging ahead in my endeavors.”

  Matthew cleared his throat. “And what is it you have in mind to do exactly?”

  Rather than look at him, Jane continued to stare at the passing houses. “I wish to secure a position where I can at least do something to help these women and children.”

  “Such as?”

  Annoyance scratched at her nerves. She turned and met his eyes, surprised when she didn’t see disparagement in his gaze, but genuine interest. She relaxed her shoulders and leaned back against the plush seat. “I’m not certain yet, but it is my intention to find some way to help. Bath is slowly losing its reputation as one of England’s cities of play. More and more people are choosing Brighton, or even Europe, for their pleasure. I have learned there are women’s groups evolving all over Bath, looking to help those less fortunate. I will seek them out and offer my services.”

  He protruded his bottom lip in contemplation, his gaze on her. “I have no doubt they will gladly accept you.”

  Her stomach knotted with pathetic pleasure. “Thank you.”

  He looked past her to the window.

  “I hope you, too, see the struggles and sense of hopelessness.”

  He met her gaze. “Of course. Once upon a time you didn’t view me as quite the ogre you do now and wouldn’t have had to ask me such a question. I love Biddestone and its people, but that doesn’t mean I am ignorant to problems so much vaster than those the villagers face.” He drew his gaze over her face. “And I suspect all too strongly the good you will do while you are here.”

  She smiled to see the admiration she’d witnessed in his eyes so many times before, and during, his married life, when he looked at her. Could it be the man she admired was still inside Matthew somewhere? Waiting, hoping, to find true happiness again?

  Jane pulled her gaze from his and faced the window. She could not allow herself to linger on such romantic notions. Elizabeth’s betrayal had hurt him deeply, even if he claimed not to love her . . . and his words had confirmed there was little want in his heart for anyone else.

  Jane looked at Jeannie and smiled, forcing away her melancholy. “You are welcome to join me as I look for work, Jeannie. Or if you prefer to stay at the house and look after things there, I will be happy with that decision too. The choice is entirely yours.”

  Jeannie grinned. “Thank you, miss . . . Jane. I am too excited to think of what I want to do just now. The city seems so vast . . . so intimidating.”

  Jane laughed. “I’m certain we’ll become accustomed in no time.”

  As they continued their journey toward the more moneyed side of town, where her father’s—now Jane’s—house was located, the stench from the river Avon lessened. Her visits here during the seasons had been filled with balls, dinners, fun, and laughter. Now she would create a life that meant more than being the dutiful daughter of a wealthy land owner and her mother’s lifelong companion. Those days were well and truly behind her.

  Eventually the grade of the streets grew steeper until the horses’ hooves clip-clopped over the cobblestones of Gay Street, higher still, into the Circus. Her inheritance was situated on the end of one of the three curved rows of houses that made up the circumference of John the Elder’s beautiful Georgian structure of residential homes.

  Matthew had already instructed his groom to her father’s address, having been his visitor several times while in the city on business.

  The carriage drew to a stop outside her new home and Jane stared up at the three-story house. The carriage swayed as Matthew stood and swung open the door. The cold blast of air blew his masculine scent across her, and Jane took a deep breath, sending up silent gratitude that she had at least made it through the first part of her new beginning, considerably unscathed.

  She had no idea if her comments to Matthew about her heartbreak had come across with the cryptic intent she’d hoped for. If he had any suspicions of the depth of her previous feelings for him, she caught no glimpse of it in his expression. Long may his ignorance last. His discovery of her love for him now would be nothing short of mortifying.

  Matthew held out his hand to her at the door, and Jane slipped her reticule onto her wrist before laying her hand in his. Pushing her fears of potential humiliation far from her mind, she stepped onto the cobbled road. Matthew would soon be gone from the city, and then her new life would truly begin. The November evening held a chill, but the air was cleaner and clearer at the elevated height above the city. Jane breathed deep as nerves battled with excitement in her stomach.

  The house’s façade was beautiful, and she couldn’t wait to get inside. Her father had always kept the place to himself, preferring the family stay in her mother’s friend’s house during the seasons he deigned they could come. Jane suspected the house would be as staid and impersonal as Noel Danes. She smiled softly. She would change the décor to her own liking soon enough.

  There was a rustle of clothes behind her and Jeannie came to stand beside her. Jane glanced at her and her smile widened to see Jeannie’s delighted gaze as she stared at the house.

  “Shall we?”

  Jane started at the sound of Matthew’s voice as he leaned close, his masculine scent drifting beneath her nostrils once more.

  “Of course.” She opened her reticule and pulled the front door key from the little pocket inside. Her key. Her very own home. Pride swelled her heart as the final, confused connotations of her father’s surprise bequest slipped away.

  He had been proven right in his decision to leave Monica the Marksville estate. Maybe he would also be right in his decision to leave Jane his Bath property. With a final fleeting glance behind her at the circular parade, Jane stepped ahead of Matthew and Jeannie and walked up the short pathway to the black painted door, complete with a polished brass knocker.

  She slipped the key into the lock and pushed open the door.

  The house was in semidarkness, but with the strike of a match behind her, Matthew lit a lamp and the hallway flooded with faint light. Jane turned. Matthew carried the lit match to another lamp and the hallway illuminated further. He blew out the match. “Would you like Simmons to take your cases upstairs?”

  “Oh. No. Not yet.” Jane smiled at Matthew’s groom, who stood just inside the doorway, one of her suitcases in each hand. “Could you bring all the luggage into the hallway for now? I’ll take everything upstairs once I know which room I’d like for my bedroom.”

  “As you w
ish, miss.” Simmons placed the cases on the tiled floor before returning outside.

  Matthew strolled forward, his eyes tipped toward the staircase. “Are you not familiar with the house at all?”

  Jane looked at him. “You are most likely more familiar with it than me. Papa deemed this place as out of bounds as far as Mama, Monica, and I were concerned.”

  “I’m surprised. He was always most welcome toward my visits here.”

  “My father had certain views on the roles of men and women. You knew that much about him, surely?”

  He smiled. “The previous generation. What can we do?”

  She met his smile. “We keep making changes until the world suits our generation better.”

  Their gazes locked; their smiles stilled. Jane’s heart beat faster as the atmosphere shifted toward their previously shared intimacy, and her attraction toward him threatened to rear its unwanted head.

  Blinking, she turned to Jeannie. “Why don’t you take one of the lamps through to the drawing room and see if there are means to light a fire? We can stock up on everything else we need tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” Jeannie took the lamp Matthew offered and walked slowly along the hallway toward the drawing room.

  Simmons’s returning footsteps saved Jane from having to look at Matthew, and she quickly took a hatbox from the footman’s grasp.

  “You’re very kind to help me, Simmons. It doesn’t seem fair that Squire Cleaves has you fetching and carrying when I’m not certain I have what I need in the kitchen to even offer you a cup of tea.”

  The middle-aged footman smiled. “I’m quite certain the squire won’t leave either of us parched for long, miss.”

  Jane frowned at the twinkle of mischief in Simmons’s eyes, but before she could respond, there was a rush of footsteps at the door. “Jane? Jane, are you in there? You are here! Oh Jane, how wonderful to see you.”

  Jane stiffened, her heart dropping. “Katy? But how did you know—”

  “I didn’t. I saw the carriage and came to introduce myself to what I assumed were new tenants.” She placed her hand on Jane’s arm. “I do so like to make any visitors to the house welcome since your poor papa’s passing. Such a kind man.”

  Jane stared. Kind? Her father? She might have loved and respected him, but kindness wasn’t a word even Jane could bring herself to use when describing Noel Danes. She forced a smile. “Well, it’s very fortunate you live next door. How is your mother?”

  Katy gave a dismissive wave. “You know Mother. Anyway . . .” She turned her gaze to Matthew and appraised him from head to toe.

  Jane inwardly groaned to see the bright curiosity in Katy’s wide green eyes as she shamelessly fluttered her lashes in Matthew’s direction. “Won’t you introduce me to your handsome companion?”

  With her cheeks burning, Jane briefly closed her eyes before meeting Matthew’s unwavering gaze. “Matthew, may I introduce Miss Katy Wrexford. Katy, this is Squire Matthew Cleaves of Biddestone.”

  Katy’s smile froze. “Cleaves? The Squire Cleaves?”

  Unease rippled through Jane at the drop in Katy’s voice and the underlying curiosity, laced with alarm. “Yes. Have you met before?” Jane glanced at Matthew.

  His eyes had hardened, and his jaw was tight.

  “Matthew was kind enough to escort Jeannie and me—”

  Katy laughed, her clear delight obliterating her initial shock. “Well, I must say it is a pleasure to meet you, sir. How exciting to learn you are a good friend of Jane’s.” She took a step forward and dipped a curtsy, holding out her hand. “How do you do?”

  Matthew took her hand, his mouth a straight line and his cold gaze on Jane. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Wrexford.”

  Jane grimaced her apology. Trouble brewed as the atmosphere plummeted, despite Katy’s usual over-the-top enthusiasm. All too aware of Katy’s love of gossip and ardent pursuit of a moneyed beau, Jane cleared her throat. “Well, it was very kind of you to stop by, but as you can see, I am perfectly well looked after. Maybe I can call on you tomorrow?”

  “I think your footman is waiting for instruction, sir,” Katy murmured, her gaze still firmly on Matthew.

  Matthew glowered and turned to Simmons. “Would you be so kind to see if Jeannie has managed to light a fire and some lamps in the drawing room? It seems Miss Danes may have some extra unexpected company this evening.”

  Simmons glared at Katy’s profile before dipping his head. “As you wish, sir.”

  Positively squirming, Jane concentrated on holding her fraying temper as Katy continued to talk at her usual extraordinary rate. Matthew continued to listen to Katy’s chattering, his expression one of unquestionable impatience. Once again, his smile had vanished into obscurity.

  As they walked into the drawing room, Matthew glared at the back of the silly Wrexford girl’s head as her blond curls bobbed and leapt from beneath her overly flamboyant hat. How, in a million years, could Jane have befriended such an excitable woman-child? Her chatter was incessant.

  Jane steered Miss Wrexford toward a seat by the fire, and Matthew cast his gaze around a dingy, male-oriented drawing room that Noel Danes had never seemed to have much care for.

  The lit lamps offered little cheer to the dark walls and furnishings, or the settee upholstered in dark mahogany velvet that clashed blindingly with the lime green curtains. On and on Miss Wrexford talked, her voice sounding more and more like the drone of bees. He wandered to the fireplace and stared into the dust-covered foliage that, at some point, might have served to offer a modicum of brightness to the depressing room.

  He put his hand on Simmons’s shoulder as he rose from the hearth. “Why don’t you join Jeannie in the kitchen? I’m sure she would have at least found a kettle to put on to boil by now.”

  Simmons nodded. “As you wish, sir. Shall I send her through with a tea tray if she’s able?”

  “If she doesn’t mind, it would be appreciated.”

  Simmons nodded and left the room.

  “Matthew? I just explained to Katy that you will not be available for tea tomorrow afternoon, isn’t that right?”

  Jane’s question snapped Matthew’s attention from Simmons’s retreating back, and he quickly bypassed Miss Wrexford’s flushed face and green, excitable eyes to focus entirely on Jane. “I’m sorry? Tea?”

  Her cheeks flushed and she widened her eyes as if pleading with him . . . or maybe offering him salvation. “Yes. Katy suggested we might like to take tea at the Pump Room with her and some acquaintances tomorrow. She’d like to introduce me to a few ladies currently in the city. I said you were here on business, so—”

  “On the contrary . . .” Matthew straightened, before dipping his head in gratitude to Miss Wrexford. “I’d be delighted.”

  Despite his determination that Jane could seek her independence, he wasn’t prepared for that independence to begin quite yet. Every instinct told him Miss Katy Wrexford could not be trusted and as much as he knew Jane capable of taking care of herself, he wanted to be sure her first days in the city weren’t enough to dampen her pursuit of what she came here to do.

  Miss Wrexford burst into a round of clapping and bouncing up and down in her seat. “Wonderful! That is such good news. Mama will, of course, join us. My friends are quite an eclectic bunch, Squire Cleaves, so I am sure you won’t find yourself in want of attention or conversation.”

  Matthew held Jane’s shocked, maybe even furious, stare. “I’m sure I won’t.” He turned to Miss Wrexford. “What time would you like me to attend?”

  “Mama has already reserved a table for four.” She giggled, her cheeks flushing. “Any later, we run the risk of missing people as they enter the tearoom. We do so like seeing who is out and about. I will send my maid to advise the Pump Room of two more places. Now, I had better return home before I get into trouble.” She rose from her seat and held out her hand. “Until tomorrow, Squire.”

  Matthew took her hand and bowed.

  Another gig
gle and she then clasped Jane’s hands as she stood beside her. Their voices faded into the background as they exited the room into the hallway. The moment they disappeared, Matthew gripped the mantel above the fireplace.

  Since when did he take tea with a coven of chattering women?

  He squeezed his eyes shut, the threat of an impending headache thumping at his temples. But how could he not? As dedicated as Jeannie was to Jane, the maid was even more naïve to city ways than her mistress. How was he to go about his business not knowing if they were safe? He opened his eyes and quietly cursed.

  How long would it be before others knew of their vulnerable, unchaperoned position? He couldn’t give a damn of other people’s opinion on the matter, but the risk to their safety scratched at his stomach like sharpened claws.

  Footsteps along the hardwood floor of the hallway pulled him up straight. The murmured voices of Jane and Simmons drifted through the open drawing room door before Jane appeared at the threshold. She briefly glanced at him before firmly shutting the door, closing them alone in the room.

  She stood with her back to him, her tension clear in the high set of her shoulders and her grip on the door handle. At last, she turned and came toward him, her gaze on his. “Jeannie managed to find some tea things in the kitchen. Would you like some?”

  “I would, thank you. I’d better then make my way to the hotel.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “The Francis Private Hotel.”

  She visibly stiffened.

  He frowned. “Is that a problem?”

  “I didn’t expect you to be staying quite so close.”

  He arched his eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

  “Only in that the hotel is within mere walking distance and, judging by your amused expression, the fact pleases you immensely.”