“Please. Enough. I’m hanging my future on the advantages of a title and fortune outweighing the challenges of being…tongue-tied. Your grandfather had an excellent excuse for not speaking but I don’t, so please just leave it.”
Sanders ducked his head in consent. “Shall I arrange for a hot bath? Before you change for dinner?”
“No and I’ll take dinner in my room tonight.”
Sanders’ look of disappointment wasn’t lost on Nick but he held his ground.
“As you wish.” Sanders left, closing the door behind him, and Nick was finally alone.
I can’t believe I’m jealous of a man without a tongue. Damn it, my heart is still pounding from that ridiculous start with Lady Weston. If I fail…
No, not ‘if’, when.
When I fail.
This was a mistake.
I’ve made a mistake.
I’ll stay the night, then plead illness and go. I can spend the holidays at an inn for a week or two and then just—
Nick pressed his palms against his eyes in defeat. Loneliness was the chasm ahead and behind but terror ruled his path. He skirted social situations not just out of a vain wish to avoid humiliation. He avoided them because every time his anxiety seized the reins he feared that it might not let go.
Bursts of panic were bad enough, but a lifetime of the torture was unthinkable.
Nick dropped his hands to look out the window, leaning against the cold glass. If I am as mad or weak as my father suspected, then what other fate awaits me beside Bedlam or solitary corridors in my own empty home?
“No.” He spoke aloud, the sound of his voice anchoring him to sanity. “I am here. This was my choice. I will not slink off like a coward. Damn it, it’s a few guests, hot toddies and card games. Any idiot could muddle through this.”
He let out a slow breath. “And if all else fails, I’ll write out a marriage proposal on paper and give Sander’s grandfather a run for his fame.”
He smiled humorlessly.
At least my spelling might be better than a stonemason’s.
Chapter Three
“If ever you loved me…”
“Must my love for you be put into the balance of the scales every time? Especially when it feels as if my toes are at the edge of a precipice?”
Winnie was such a delightful force of nature it had always been impossible not to say yes to her. No matter what the scheme, and for a generally unlucky Jane, no matter the consequences.
She and Pru both had more than their fair share of mishaps and had long sympathized with each other, but Winnie had stood by them and the love they all shared would withstand any troubles.
Even the challenge of a potential wobble.
“What precipice? What could be more natural than you being in the hall of your own home?”
Jane sighed. “I’m not sure it’s as natural as you think. I avoid that hallway whenever I can. I think it’s my ancestors’ portraits. They stare back and make me feel very, very small.”
“Jane!” Winnie laughed. “Please!”
“Very well. If you need to have a private conversation with your brother, who am I to get in the way?”
“Thank you, dearest. I simply need to know that we won’t be interrupted and to have the time I need to convince him that I know my own mind. If I can somehow win back James as my ally, my mother will have to see reason.”
Jane tried not to blink. Making a mama see reason when it came to matters of the heart was no small feat. “I’ll wish you luck and do my best to see that you have whatever time you need.”
“You’re a godsend!”
“I’m a willing fool, but for your happiness, I shall do my best.” Winnie kissed her on the cheek and retreated to the study.
Jane forced herself to make a slow circuit of the corridor. It was all completely familiar but her promises to Winnie demanded a careful study of the ancient clock on the marble table and each painting that looked back at her with flat and unfeeling eyes.
As she did her best to look natural and unconcerned, if such a thing were possible, Jane realized that in their hurry, they’d failed to cover what one did if someone came. Did she call out or just start speaking loudly to alert the pair or…
Jane sighed.
I am the worst lookout. How is anyone who gets in trouble as often as I do so inept at avoiding it?
She rearranged the flowers on the tables and then recircled the space until footsteps on the landing upstairs froze her in place. Jane couldn’t tell if they were ascending or descending and panic swept through her. She rushed to the study door and pounded on the door, silencing the raised voices inside but setting off alarms on the landing above.
“Baxter, is that you?” Teller called down over the railing and Jane raced to press her back against the wall to stay out of sight. Her fingers brushed over an inset handle to the recessed servant’s door, and Jane lifted it to practically stumble into the sanctuary of shadows and a hidden passage.
The narrow servant’s door to his room opened in a quick swing that was not precipitated by a knock, and when a young woman stepped through, Nick instantly knew that events for his holiday had taken a serious turn.
Because servants or maids did not wear embroidered silk and velvet evening gowns that heralded a young woman’s status.
Because the horror and surprise on her face when she saw him was confirmation that he wasn’t alone in his shock at her sudden entrance. Nick stood slowly, aware that he’d removed his boots and his shirt to relax by the fire. It was not how one generally dressed to receive intruders.
He set his book aside and reached for his shirt draped over the back of the chair but the movement apparently was too much for the fragile stillness of his female visitor.
She shifted back without taking her eyes off him, her hands clawing for the door handle behind her to make her escape, but she was rewarded with the sound of it latching and then by the startling sound of the metal knob falling onto the floor. Her eyes widened and they both glanced at the surreal sight of a useless door.
I don’t think either of us saw that coming.
The lady’s reaction was one of total defeat. She covered her face with her hands, a small sound between a sigh and a whimper escaping her lips as she slid to sit forlornly against the wall, looking like a lost soul on the doorstep of Hades. “Oh, God!”
Speech deserted him. What did one say when a beautiful girl landed in your rooms and was more distressed about it than you were?
“Do you ever wish that the floor would just open up and swallow you whole?” she whispered through the blades of her fingers.
“All the time,” he replied softly.
She spread her fingers slightly to peek at him miserably. “Really?”
He nodded.
She dropped her hands and unknowingly reaffirmed her beauty. “Whatever else you may think of me, sir, I am not in the habit of—this is an innocent mistake. It seems I am cursed, sir, with the worst luck of anyone I know.”
“Curses can be…challenging.”
“I am not a scandalous person, sir. I swear to you that I’m innocent of—oh, God, I’m in a man’s bedroom.”
All he could do was nod again, hating the way it felt. A hollow and empty gesture that only underlined their dilemma.
“I was downstairs and…” her words trailed off, her courage faltering as if she was still undecided about her confession. But then she smiled sadly and went on. “I am the world’s most dreadful lookout. I don’t know why friends think to call on me when I—especially after I’ve sworn to my mother not to get into any more trouble! But when I heard someone coming around the corner and I knew I couldn’t explain why I was there without giving—without betraying…” She sighed, exhaling hard enough to blow one of the loose curls from her forehead. “It is a tangle.”
Nick’s throat tightened but not with anxiety for himself. “So it seems.”
She stood slowly, still pressed against the wall as if it might
yet miraculously give way. “In any case, I ducked into the nearest doorway and then realized I was in the servants’ corridor. Which was startling but survivable except then I heard two of the footmen coming and I panicked. I ran and then it was like being a rabbit in a warren! Every time I tried to turn right, I was forced to go left and by the time I thought I should just surrender, I was so far into places in the house I’m fairly sure that no respectable lady would ever casually be found that I…” Her hands crept back up to touch the heat in her cheeks. “I thought I’d try to make my way to my own bedroom…”
“And this is not your bedroom,” he said and then winced at his own stupidity to state the obvious.
She shook her head slowly, her eyes filling with tears. “It is decidedly not.”
“The doors aren’t marked on the other side?”
It was not the time for detailed questions and Nick learned that fact immediately. Her tears gained momentum but did not tumble down her cheeks as she fought for control.
“They are but if a person is too stupid to carry a candle because they’re afraid that someone will catch them being an idiot, then they use their lack of genius to count doors and end up hurling themselves into a strange man’s bedroom so that whatever dregs of a reputation they had or whatever hopes they possessed can finally die in a swift and glorious torrent of shame. It’s quite a trick, wouldn’t you agree?”
Nick’s jaw dropped and his lips opened a little in shock. She’d not drawn breath throughout the entire speech and where he would normally be backing away in awkward discomfort—he felt quite a kinship with her.
“No.”
“What?”
He cleared his throat, amazed that he was so comfortable in her presence. He kept waiting for the anxiety of introductions to seize him but so far, her unhappiness had completely arrested his own. “You mustn’t say such things of yourself.”
Her confusion was endearing. “What things?”
“You have not the look or the manner of a fool, miss. Never…say anything of your own soul that isn’t true.” Nick took a deep breath before finishing his speech, amazed at the length of it. “The world has a way of punishing you for it and you seem too—gentle to endure that kind of pain.”
“Oh!” Eyes the color of jade widened. “You’re very kind.”
“Well,” Nick began, then did his best to avert her distress, holding out his handkerchief to her. “I’m not—that is to say, I’m not a threat. You and your reputation are…safe. There’s no scandal for you here.”
“Truly?” She took the embroidered linen square from him, her fingers innocently touching his before retreating to dry her eyes. “I shouldn’t have doubted it. I didn’t mean to insult you by reacting like a rabbit in a snare.”
“Truly.”
“As for this meeting, no one will ever know that—”
A sudden knock at the door interrupted him followed by a muffled voice on the other side. “Just coming with the tray, your lordship, to—”
They both jumped. Her eyes widened in terror, her fear matching his.
“No!” Nick took her hands in his and called out loudly, “Don’t come in!”
“Oh, God, I’m ruined!” she exclaimed softly, her voice catching as the reality of being found alone in his bedroom enfolded her. “It’s ruin!”
“Pardon?” A muffled voice on the other side of the door replied.
Nick released her and took two steps toward the door, modulating his tone to try to sound more calm. “I meant… Wait one moment.”
Before she could protest, Nick raised the lid on his traveling trunk at the foot of the great bed and then without waiting for her permission or even for her comprehension, he swept her off her feet and placed her inside it in one rushed motion. She was as light as a feather, her squeak of protest quietly cut off by the isolation of the luggage’s latches falling into place. It was a bold move. Before he could question his choice, her reaction, or the supply of oxygen in such a place, he straightened his spine and called out, “Come in!”
The footman’s startled expression was almost comical as he stood in the doorway with the tray. No doubt, there’d been talk of the earl’s eccentricities already. Normally, it would have rattled him but Nick had far more on his mind.
“Shall I put the tray here, your lordship? Cook said this would tide you over until dinner but she wasn’t sure if you—”
“Thank you.” Nick opened the door wider and seized the tray from the man’s hands. “I’ll take it myself.”
“B-but—I should….” Shock held him in place, his arms still up as if he were holding an invisible platter. “As you wish.”
“Yes, thank you.” Nick stepped back and set the tray down on a chair near the door but at the footman’s gasp of protest, he redirected it to the nearest table. “There. Better?”
“I can set it all out for you and—”
“No.” Nick swallowed the taste of his anxiety and squared his shoulders. I have a woman in a trunk and this is no time to worry about flatware and how the napkin is folded.
“Very well, your lordship.” The man stood still, covertly making a study of the room. “Was there anything else I can get for you?”
“No. Thank you. That will be all.” Nick firmly shut the door behind the footman, barely restraining himself from closing it on the man’s heels. He waited only a few seconds, until he was sure the man had retreated, before racing back to the trunk to kneel and lift the lid.
She looked up at him, blinking at her swift liberation, disheveled but unharmed. “That was most unexpected, sir.”
He held out his hand, helping her to stand as they awkwardly faced each other in the new dynamic of co-conspirators. “I panicked.”
“I’ve never been in a trunk before,” she said and then managed a shaky smile.
“I’ve never put a woman in a trunk before,” he countered and realized he was smiling, too. “Here, let’s…retrieve you.”
Nick helped her to step out, trying to avert his eyes as she was forced to lift her skirts and reveal slender shapely ankles before alighting safely next to him. The fair scent of her skin, the heat of her fingers against his palm was magic, a magic he did his best to ignore.
“Thank you.”
“I’m not sure you should thank a person for…” Nick’s confidence faltered. “Nearly suffocating you to death in a box.”
“Your quick thinking kept us from—the worst.” She smoothed out her skirts with nervous hands. “I’m Jane Pemberly,” she offered quietly.
She is my hostess’s daughter and I am on thin ice.
“I’m Nick Chesterfield.”
“You’re the Earl of Athmore.”
He nodded.
“Mother said you were unwell and…” Jane sighed. “And I’ve rudely burst into your rooms, which was bad enough, but I hope I haven’t made you worse or disturbed your rest, I hope.” She stopped to make a study of him, her eyes full of earnest regard. “Although, if you don’t mind me saying it, you do not look ill. You look…very handsome—I meant, hearty.” She blushed as she finished her thought aloud. “I should apologize for the intrusion.”
“No apologies between us. I’m not ill.” Nick clasped his hands behind his back, determined not to crumble in front of her. He was caught in the lie and unable to compose another. “I am not…good in company. I was considering taking dinner in my rooms to spare you my presence.”
“Are you really such a villain?”
“No. Just a worthless man in social situations. I won’t be missed. I am no good at parties.”
“I don’t believe you.”
It will be my painful duty to prove it to you then. He moved to the door. “I wouldn’t be missed. Here, I’ll go look in the hall and make sure no one is there so that you can escape.”
“Oh.” Jane blinked as if recalling her dilemma. “How kind of you.”
He opened the door to check the corridor and then signaled the all clear. “You should be safe enough
.”
“But you will come down for dinner tonight?”
He wanted to say no but something stopped him. “I’m…not sure it’s a good idea. I truly am useless at gatherings.”
“You mustn’t say anything of yourself that isn’t true, and I for one would look forward to seeing you there. I meant,” she blushed as she spoke, “to have the chance to properly meet you.”
He nodded. “I should…hate to miss it then.”
She smiled up at him, eyes shining. “Thank you, Lord Athmore. For everything. Until tonight then.”
She slipped out into the empty hall and he forced himself to close the door, not to stare as she gracefully retreated out into the scandal-free safety of the corridors where she could be seen without explanation or worry.
He leaned his forehead against the solid surface of the closed door, shutting his eyes to absorb the twist and turns of his quiet country holiday. On the downside, he’d met his hostess’ daughter in less than ideal circumstances, dropped her in a trunk and shut the lid, and inadvertently confessed he was a liar. And then casually agreed to make an appearance at dinner…
And the upside?
I think I just met the reason I’m going to run this gauntlet.
God help me.
Chapter Four
After rushing through a quick tidying of her gown to ensure that no telltale traces of her adventures might show, Jane hurried into the salon, slowing only when she realized that her entrance had drawn more than a few puzzled looks from her friends and from the other guests. She slowed to her best ladylike pace but that transition only made Pru and Winnie smile at the effort.
“Jane, you look positively flushed. Are you unwell?” Her mother rose from her chair by the fire, the embodiment of motherly concern.
“I’m fine.”
“Here, take this.” Lady Weston held out a fan to her daughter then lowered her voice to press home her point. “Jane, your complexion is as ruddy as a field worker’s. See that you do not flap that fan about like a bird with its tail feathers on fire, dearest, but you must compose yourself.”
A Very Matchmaker Christmas Page 19